Alternate Steves: Ohio High Speed Rail

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

My speculation on how different economic and cultural trends could have affected us continues. I’m taking a look at how things may have been different for all of us, using my life as a lens.Today, a fave of mine, the Ohio High Speed rail, which had been speculated on for decades. I wonder what would have happened if it had come to be in the 90s, when I first heard of it. Continuing infrastructure issues were one of my turnoffs living in Ohio.

Let’s check in on another Steve, who watched his home state evolve with high speed rail. What’s he blogging about in alternate 2025?

In college I remember applying for graduate schools, and only one was in Ohio. Turns out I was never going to leave, and I honestly credit the High Speed Rail. Yes, there was a time it didn’t exist, stop making me feel old. At one point we’d killed our rail system.

But anyway here’s my personal take on the Ohio High Speed Rail.

So there I was in the early 90s, guy with a degree, no real plans past that, and living in Ohio. There were a lot of us, judging by the overload of business majors that graduated during my time. You saw some disillusioned people pile up that was for sure.

My idea was to take my psych major and maybe work in city, county, or state services. While I applied for that I made ends meet by temping, which a lot of my friends did. In senior year I’d fallen in with some folks from the college radio station and we’d gotten a place and by place I mean “apartment that was nerd barracks.”

It wasn’t the greatest of course. But somewhere in 92 or 3 I think the High Speed Rail got approved. I hadn’t even heard of it, but I wasn’t as political then.

The High Speed Rail getting approved was both a miracle and obvious. It was a miracle as I’d never felt Ohio was as big on public works as some places, and this was linking Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati. It was obvious because most of Ohio is flat and we didn’t have much of an economic identity in my humble, resident opinion.

How it got pulled off was a miracle and there’s a reason there’s multiple books and that one indie comedy film about it. It was several disparate interests coming together, a small amount of bribery and double-dealing, and a grassroots campaign that was wildly entertaining in its own way. It felt a bit out of control, which was really why it worked.

Different elements and different interests didn’t so much conflict as amplify each other. There were businesses who wanted a piece of the rail system. Small towns on the way to the major cities wanted a stop in their city (more on that later). Politicians wanted to look good and of course make Ohio about something as the last time it made history was Neil Armstrong. There was certainly more enthusiasm for it than, say, the Big Dig.

Sorry Boston, no one made a Big Dig comedy. The Big Dig was a comedy.

The economy started changing as soon as things began moving on the rail, and me and my crew, temping away, figured that this was good for us. But also I realized that temping aside, I didn’t want to bounce around from assignment to assignment even if there were more options coming up. So since I foresaw things getting better, despite my limited knowledge, I made a move in my career.

I decided to get out of the field temping and aim at being a recruiter. The way I figured is that Ohio was actually stepping up it’s game and there were going to be opportunities. Why be the guy taking the temp assignments and contracts when I could set them up? Also that was a portable skillset in case I decided to head out of the state.

Also to be honest, government looked less and less interesting. Yeah, we got the High Speed Rail, but as that was going to dominate things for a decade. I’d temped at enough construction companies I knew that wasn’t for me. Also Ohio government may have pulled off the Rail, but uh, it had it’s moments.

So as things spun up to build the High Speed rail, that was my pitch to the agencies I contracted through. “I’ll temp now, but yeah, I want to get into the office,” and just kept learning and pestering people until things worked out and I got an in-office job. I was the guy placing people in positions, which really meant interviewing people, schmoozing, and record-keeping, but I was good at all of those.

Meanwhile around me Ohio was changing. The rail project brought in interest and money, and business – especially tech. It started slow at first, but around the time the Mansfield and Jefferson hookups happened, you could feel things catch fire. It took seven years from start to finish, but things were definitely changing around the three or four year mark.

Me, I happily kept doing recruiting and, pre-emptively, started doing work further and further outside of the Columbus area (it was still called that back then). Why not spend a few days in Cincinnati? Why not do a week in Cleveland? Why not manage some phone interviews. Ohio was getting smaller in a big way.

I also have to shout-out to my very understanding wife who put up with a few times I wasn’t around for a week.

When the rail was working, then things shifted a lot more. Because Ohio had some real advantages but the big one was it was cheap.

You’ve got a state that has connected its major cities and it’s also incredibly low-cost to live in. Land is flat, there’s plenty of it empty, and you can get a house cheaper than you can on the coasts. Sure you put up with snow and maybe not quite the culture you wanted, but if you lived in Columbus, you had options. Plus on the weekends you can travel to other cities to indulge, I dunno, whatever you wanted to indulge.

People moved in because it didn’t cost a lot and you had all the things you need. Also, as an Ohioan, I always felt my state was unappreciated.

One thing that was not foreseen was the “small town/big city” boom. As the lines were building out, smaller towns became a lot more accessible to the big cities. When the rail was done, you could save even more money by not living in the big cities. Mansfield itself, between Columbus (now Armstrong) and Cleveland, was the place for many people. Lebanon made out really well, even if it was more touristy.

I mean I won’t lie, multiple mall towns were happy with the rail, but not all were happy after the rail. But it worked out on average.

At some point the access, the good rep as we actually did the thing, and the low cost had a multiplicative effect. Me, that was the peak, since I got paid more the more people I placed, and I racked up quite a lot of money.

I also burnt out past a certain point. It took about 20 years, but there I was in my 40’s and I had the year but also it was a year. It was time to change, so I slowed down, took a break, and lept to plain-old HR. Ended up at OSU of all places, more set hours, more paperwork over schmoozing, senior recruiting and benefits.

Still in Ohio, which had changed far beyond the economics.

It was demographic. I would not have believed thirty years ago that someone would get the state to change the name of the capitol. But the whole “honor the local son by changing it to Armstrong” campaign worked. I admit “named after murderous lost guy” and “name after first guy on the moon” seemed to be an easy decision, but even I had my doubts.

It was reputational. Ohio wasn’t the place you expected innovation and there we were, being role models. You know multiple rail projects were based on ours? People don’t talk the Bay Area, they talk Ohio, when they talk rail projects. Remember the Canada conference, with the Saskatoon attendees?

Sometimes I wonder what Ohio would be like if it hadn’t happened. But by now it’s hard, I just can’t imagine Ohio without its high-speed rail lines. I can’t imagine not being able to bop over to Blue Ash on Friday to hit the restaurants. Even if I had a tough few years before my break, I can’t imagine not running around between the cities.

But somewhere out there, there’s a Steve who probably left Ohio as not much was happening. He didn’t have a High Speed Rail, and I feel kinda bad for that guy.

Steven Savage

Dada And Empty Media

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Though i don’t discuss it as much here, I have an interest in the art movement of Surrealism and its origins. Surrealism is fascinating in its many manifestations, it intersects with politics and culture movements, and the many personalities and people are compelling. As I continue to learn about it, I keep finding new lessons, one of which I want to share here.

Surrealism’s origins are rooted in Dada, an art movement that appeared post World War I that was mistrustful of the supposed age of reason and the horrors of the time. Dada appeared to be art, in form of paintings or performances and such, but was intentionally nonsensical. Today it may seem amusing, but at the time people found it infuriating – imagine giving a speech made of nonsense words and angry folk rioting.

Dada laid the groundwork for Surrealism, something else I may discuss, but what fascinated me most about Dada beyond that was that it used the framework of existing media and filled it with nonsense. What an idea that the container of art can be abstracted from any meaningful content! Perhaps its easy to understand people angered by Dada, confronted with a play or a song or a painting that had the form of work but was filled with nothing

You can remove the art from art but still have a form we associate with art.

That idea has sat with me for some time since I had it, but I hadn’t done much with it – as my interests were in Surrealism and how the artistic framework was a vehicle for unconscious, almost spiritual expression. But lately I thought about Dada using a framework of art filled with nonsense and internet content and what we learn from it.

It’s hard to find anyone who won’t complain about nonsense, slop, propaganda, and low-effort content on the internet. I certainly do as any of my regular readers knows, and to my gratitude, tolerate. I’m sure you’re also used to encountering and complaining of such things.

We wonder how people can take such things seriously. How they can fall for propaganda or low-info listicles and the like? Well that’s because, beyond our vulnerabilities or ability to enjoy trash, it comes in the form of information. Internet dross has the shape of information or art or spiritual insight even if it’s filled with B.S.

No different than how Dada took the form of art and blew people’s minds by delivering rampant nonsense.

Think about how easily technology lets us have the form of something useful. It’s easy to spin up a website or a book or a video, pour anything into premade patterns, even go to technology or freelancers to pour something into whatever information container we chose. We have the tools to make nothing look like something, to make form so good we easily mistake it for solid value.

And, sometimes, it rubs us the wrong way. We know it looks like information but it’s not. Maybe it’s easier to understand people enraged over Dada, tricked by form. We’re in the Uncanny Valley of Communication just like they were.

This is why the history of art and media matter and why I treasure these rabbit holes I go down. The past has many lessons for the present. Come to think of it, maybe if we pay more attention to the past we’ll have a better present . . . one with not just form but form delivering real meaning and valuable information.

Steven Savage

Can You Imagine Starting?

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I was going to do a post on media forms and what we can learn about today’s media from the Dada art movement, but Serdar had to go and get all brilliant and discuss how people can’t and shouldn’t wait for the right conditions to start something. It deserves it’s own blogpost, so me discussing art movements has to wait.

Serdar points out how people wait for the right conditions and how you can always find advice, from Doris Lessing to Buddhism that the time is never right, never perfect. The problem of course is helping people understand it’s time to get off their butts and do it. If you’ve ever tried to get someone – or yourself – “going” you know what I mean.

Now I work with Agile methodologies, as anyone who’s known me for five minutes is aware. Agile is about breaking work down, doing it in order of importance, and very importantly getting going. Just start and take feedback later – in fact doing something means you at least get feedback so you can do better (or even just quit). Agile isn’t “move fast, break things” it’s “move fast, make things.”

Thus as you can imagine I have to help people “get started” and “just get going.” Which should be easy as I have a lot of experience, a lot of certifications, and a very irritatingly effective attitude of “just do it.” Should be easy with a person like me, right?

Of course you know the answer is that it’s not, which irritates me at an irrational level. Sometime I “buddy up” with “just give it a try.” Sometimes I “Agile harder.” Sometimes I end up a therapist. But Serdar’s post made me realize in some cases what people lack is the ability to imagine starting. It’s easy to look at a big project or some ambitious idea and be so overwhelmed you can’t imagine starting – and in some cases it’s easier to imagine failing.

It’s easy to imagine not starting. I’ve realized as I mull offer Serdar’s writings that people like me are trained imagining how to start, other people have that imagination of how to start and we have to help others develop that capacity.

Of course easier said than done, and each person or group is an individual case. Maybe we have to inspire. Maybe we have to (in some cases literally) draw a picture. Maybe we encourage a prototype. Maybe we just “give it a shot.” But we need people to be able to see starting despite “imperfect” conditions.

Which means when we’re trying to help someone overcome a fear of imperfect conditions, our first job might be to help them see what’s possible. But the next job is helping them develop that imagination.

Steven Savage