While nobody ever mistook the palm-shaded asphalt and neon of La-La-Land ("Ellay," as the natives are said to say) for, say, Paris or Manhattan, it is still something of a comfort to note that my own dear Naptown has got, at least on some scales, more culture than Los Angeles, and that despite our distinct shortage of fictional detectives.
Bucolic wasteland? Maybe; I suppose the Eiteljorg's remarkable collection of "cowboy and indian" art might've looked that way, once upon a time Better look again. The broad sweep that runs roughly along the White River from Butler University, past the Indianapolis Museum of Art, past Marian University, through parks and along the restored canal, past the State Museum, IUPUI, NCAA headquarters and museum, the Indianapolis Zoo and our booming downtown, is only the most obvious element of a vibrant culture of no small depth -- hidden in the heart of a city used as a synonym for "unlettered clods" only a little less often than Peoria.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago