United States Playing Cards and the Ghost of the Pacific Garden Saloon

Some years ago I developed an instructive interest in reading the labels of the purchases I make. It’s amazing what you can learn. Pay attention to the information where something originates and you can accumulate for yourself a mental glossary of all kinds of interesting geographical facts. Where exactly is Bingham Farms, Michigan, for instance, the home of my recently purchased brand of hand sanitzer? Turns out it’s not too far from Detroit. Actually, upon closer inspection, the sanitizer itself was made in China but at least it was “distributed” via the motor city.

And upon taking a look at a recent Christmas Gift, prior to tucking it away in the closet of "never see again," I learned that the Mango Mandarin concentrated fragrance spray I received was ironically, despite the name, made in New Albany, albeit with an obvious bit of Chinese marketing leverage employed. New Albany is a suburb of Columbus, not Shanghai. Nevertheless it, too, now enjoys a familiarity in my mind that it never would enjoy if not for the labels on products.

This actually brings me to a point. Just this afternoon I purchased a set of Bicycle Playing cards, read the label, and was freshly reminded of the fact that they are made right here in Cincinnati. Upon further investigation, however, I was surprised to discover that, in fact, they are actually made in Erlanger, Kentucky, a suburb of Cincinnati not too far away from the airport. This revelation led me to check out the company’s website which I must confess was very educational in its own right. Not only are Bicycle playing cards local; but virtually all playing cards used the world over, in Casinos, gambling halls, aw well as friendly, neighborhood card games are made in Cincinnati. Bee, Bicycle, Aviator, Maverick, as well as those personalized terrorist watch list cards distributed by the Federal Government all had their origins in Greater Cincinnati with United States Playing Card.


The company, which began in 1867 as Russel, Morgan and Company, established its first headquarters at 20 College Street on the 1st and 2nd floors of what was then the Cincinnati Enquirer Building and what is presently the next door neighbor of The Cincinnatian Hotel. Many years have come and gone since then, and while the Cincinnatian Hotel (i.e. The Palace) remains, the piece of real estate perched on what is now referred to as the “Old Enquirer Building” and former first home of the largest playing card company in the world has changed many times over the years. The photograph above shows the Enquirer building as it stood in 1903 adjacent to the Atlantic Garden, a pub of some renown I am told, and by the looks of it an excellent place to grab a beer, shoot some pool and play a game of Poker.

Further investigation intriguingly revealed that upon the spot where The Cincinnatian Hotel is now located stood yet another tavern coincidentally called the Pacific Garden. Well, maybe it was not such a coincidence, afterall. I may never delve deep enough to discover which came first – The Atlantic or The Pacific – but I did learn that for many years both were proud participants in a little high-spirited competition and one upmanship, as well as designees in an unofficial mutual appreciation society, most evidently displayed whenever the city or organization saw fit to celebrate an event with a marching band or parade.

In the 19th Century, Parade’s were a much more common form of entertainment. Virturally every occassion it seemed gave the proprietors of some organization, institution or business an opportunity to boast, brag or celebrate with a parade. Given the fact that Cincinnati was largely a walking town in those days, as most towns were, and there were few entertainment options for those who preferred dweliing indoors, people, if they were not already marching in one, would gather outside to take in that month's or even that week's inevitable parade.

This, of course, was the era of extravagent marching bands and military music, headed by such magnificent figures as that musical impresario John Philip Souza; and what went better with a raucous marching song, especially in a German drinking town such as Cincinnati, than a cold beer on a hot day. Keep in mind that way back when, in order to get a cold beer, you couldn't just make a detour towards your referigerator. Rather it was more than likely you had to procure one at a saloon, ice-house, or garden (the preferred designations for pubs or bars in the 19th Century); for very few people could afford the luxury of their own ice-house and therefore bottled beer was an innovation that had yet achieved much relavance.

It is hard for us to appreciate now; but 19th Century Urban Americana was replete with Saloon life. The saloon or beer garden was where business was conducted, politics were practiced, speeches were given, and the daily rituals of countless personal interactions were performed. In fact, so commonplace were the saloon and the parade to 19th and erly 20th century existence that it's easy to see the pageneatry that must have been involved when these two fixtures of daily existence met under the auspices of a marching band.




Here in Cincinnati, it is said that, whenever a marching or Military band would pass near the corner of 6th and Vine streets, just as it reached the threshold between the two ocean-christened taverns, The Atlantic and The Pacific, the band would strike up a rendition of “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” as they were marching by. So popular was this song that, until the “Star-Spangled Banner” was formally adopted as the National Anthem in 1931, it was one of a handful of songs used unofficially as the Nation’s anthem by many if not even most people in America. Perhaps it was because of its beer-soaked roots as a party and parade song, as well as a patriotic favorite, that kept “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” from achieving similar long-term fame.

Truly the most interesting little details of life – those things, in other words, which really flesh out a story – often arrive as a coincidental annex to the information we originally intended to find. I merely glanced at a playing card, which inspired me to learn more about the history and current whereabouts of the US Playing Card Company, only to be tossed about from one piece of information to another until I’d woven together what I think amounts to quite a little piece of Americana. The thread of a great story never ends and so I’m certain there will be plenty of time to revisit this particular one in future posts.

In the meantime, it leaves me pondering a number of things. First, how truly fantastic it is that such a culturally signficant company like the U.S. Playing Card Company got its start. Second, I don't think I'll ever pick up a deck of cards again, whether in a local supermarket or a card game in Vegas, and forget the debt card-lovers everywhere owe to our town. Third, I wish I could have seen that parade so many years ago.

Finally, and perhaps a little eerily, it makes me wonder about that peculiar 19th century figure that a Cincinnatian Hotel employee has reported seeing exiting my office late at night, an inebriated, older gentleman perhaps still thinking he's stalking the ancient cellar corridors of his old watering hole, the Pacific Garden, dressed in a top-hat, humming a song and attired like he was on his way to a parade. Was this friendly apparition humming “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean?” Perhaps he was! One thing's for certain. It makes me want to learn how to hum that song in homage to the old man and the garden he used to frequent.