VOICES: Make the choice to show up, Dayton

Mathew Klickstein is a longtime writer, producer, and instructor who has worked in all realms of all conceivable media/entertainment - from books and journalism, to comics and podcasts, film and television, live theatre and arts therapy. His latest book is the just-released “See You at San Diego: An Oral History of Comic-Con, Fandom, and the Triumph of Geek Culture” out through Fantagraphics Books. (MathewKlickstein.com) (CONTRIBUTED)

Mathew Klickstein is a longtime writer, producer, and instructor who has worked in all realms of all conceivable media/entertainment - from books and journalism, to comics and podcasts, film and television, live theatre and arts therapy. His latest book is the just-released “See You at San Diego: An Oral History of Comic-Con, Fandom, and the Triumph of Geek Culture” out through Fantagraphics Books. (MathewKlickstein.com) (CONTRIBUTED)

When my wife and I moved to Dayton two-and-a-half years ago, no one we met hesitated before interrogating us with astonished curiosity: “Why did you move here?!

In particular, many of the Daytonians we’ve gotten to know regularly vent to us about the challenges of drawing a sizeable audience for artistic, cultural, and community productions/meetups. The lack of support. Lack of funding. Lack of distribution. Lack of exhibition. Lack of awareness. Lack of exposure. Lack of manpower. Lack of unity. Lack of interest.

The resigned if not jaded self-defeatist fatalism of “why bother?” or snider swipe of “that’s Dayton for you.”

I went to a friend’s gallery launch downtown and was not only dispirited by the miniscule number of attendees but was shocked when I went up to congratulate him afterward, he seemed even more shocked: “Wow! You actually showed up!” It appeared unfathomable to my friend that, yes, someone who said he’d show up did indeed show up.

Who showed up in droves at the Neon in early August was a fascinating cross-section of local oddballs and weirdos who proudly donned the identifiable tells of their geeky-and-proud tribe. A bright-eyed, mop-haired young fanboy had decided to rent a theater for the evening and pay the licensing fee to at last experience on the big screen David Cronenberg’s 1983 cult classic “Videodrome” with some friends.

The ever-swelling hive of ticket buyers beforehand and after in the lobby was not only energized by the excitement of a favorite sci-fi/horror film being shown on the big screen. They were abuzz too with the palpable, almost telegraphic notion that: “Look what’s possible. We showed a relatively obscure film that was originally supposed to be for one small group of friends, and all these people showed up to enjoy it together too.”

It’s not the first time my wife and I felt an indisputable sense that we had made the right decision in settling here. How could we not feel that way during Porch Fest last year right on the heels of COVID-19 lockdowns? Not to mention our continued enthusiasm for what our friends over at 1913 Studios are conjuring up before our very eyes.

There’s potential here, is maybe the ham-fisted point. And I’d like to think I’ve lived in Dayton at least long enough and gotten to know enough people here to be able to confidently answer the still-regularly-asked inquiry, “Why did we choose to move to Dayton? So that people will stop asking us that question.”

I want to continue doing my part to ameliorate Dayton’s arts/culture/media offerings while galvanizing others to do the same. To really invest the time, energy, resources, and when possible underwriting into organizing together to make a place that’s not merely a home but a flourishing community … or perhaps eventually a destination point.

It happened to Portland, Oregon. Austin, Texas. Boulder, Colorado. It’s happening as we speak to where my wife and I met and lived a few years back in Lawrence, Kansas, of all places! None of these diverse locales around the nation are that much different than Dayton at its base, especially when it comes to the people who choose to live there and choose to make those spots into what they’ve become.

And it is a matter of choice for the people who have lived here most of their lives or outsiders like me. It’s also worth mentioning that, considering the calamitous mess of today’s big cities elsewhere, there’s definitely many more of us on the way.

So, get off the computer. Look up from your phone. Turn it off for a while. Go out and support small events. Make time for it. See something you normally wouldn’t go to, something you might not necessarily have an interest in. You may learn something. You may have a surprisingly good time. You may break out of your bubble, if only a little bit.

Especially if you’re in the media or are a local tastemaker, help get the word out beyond what’s just getting promoted on social media or through your enclosed circle. Make “inclusivity” into more than just a trendily marketable buzzword. Don’t be afraid of people and places you may not be familiar with. Go some place you haven’t been to before. Inquire with the servers, bartenders, baristas, sales clerks: “Anything going on here this month I should know about?”

When my wife and I are at a (free) jazz night at Wholly Grounds, we’re not only thoroughly enjoying the show but looking around wondering why there’s no one there covering it to help promote that this does go on here … yes, even in Dayton and not just for hefty fees at the larger performance venues via out-of-town acts. Similarly, if you’re part of one of the local college systems, nudge your students out into the community off from campus – get the next generation to see Dayton as more than just a waystation before they have to go somewhere else to “really make it.”

Better yet: make something happen here yourself. Don’t let the self-denigration of the town get you down. Maybe no one will show up, but enjoy the process of doing it, of collaborating with others to make it happen. If we keep doing the same over and over again, persistently, regardless of the obstacles faced, the spirit of innovation that made Dayton a nationwide hub of innovation decades ago may very well return. It won’t happen on its own.

Don’t give up, Dayton. Instead, try seeking options in places you may not have looked into before.

I myself have been grateful to partner with such a hearty handful of local organizations and scenester gadabouts who have created with me in less than three years, at times during great societal strife: devised theater shows for children, interactive movie screenings, lecture series, community discussion groups, and in November my string of various area stops on my upcoming national book tour.

A book, I’ll add, that is itself about the building and evolving of one of the largest impassioned community gatherings worldwide – Comic-Con – with many inherent century-long connections to Ohio and Dayton such as comic strip pioneer and Stivers alumnus Milton Caniff.

Why did we move to Dayton? If it was good enough for Caniff … and the Wright Bros., Erma Bombeck, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, Mike Peters, the Ohio Players, and the people who created Cheez-It one hundred years ago last June … I think my wife and I can make an earnest go of it. And we can’t wait to keep going out to, supporting, and making all the great things that will continue to bring in the next generation of Dayton legacies too.

Mathew Klickstein is a longtime writer, producer, and instructor. His latest book is the just-released “See You at San Diego: An Oral History of Comic-Con, Fandom, and the Triumph of Geek Culture” out through Fantagraphics Books. (MathewKlickstein.com)

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