A Cincinnati Colonel
And his controversial motel in Mount Washington
Thanks to a tip from friend/reader Jason Cooper, I have been made aware of El Rancho Rankin Motel and its owner, Colonel Rankin Harrison.
Built in 1940 at the bottom of Beechmont near Lunken Airport, then on its way out of commercial aviation, the motel met its demise in 1997 when it was razed. A grocery store shopping complex briefly existed on the site from 1999 onward, eventually becoming the present day Big Ash Brewing Company (2019) and Skytop Apartments (2023).
The story at CincyShirts sent along by Jason whetted my appetite, and I’ve been obsessed ever since.
As Rankin bragged, the motel, originally billed as a “health spa” was an entire city block long.
Look at this puppy:
Let’s get to the rank of “Colonel” first. It’s unclear if he was a Kentucky Colonel (as I am), some accounts differ as to whether or not he was given that designation. But what is clear is that he created his own order: The Honorable Order of Ohio Colonels.
CincyShirts writes:
He created the group ostensibly after failing in his attempt to be made a Kentucky Colonel, an honor bestowed by that Commonwealth’s governor and secretary of state.
CincinnatiViews says: “Rankin Harrison claimed to be a Kentucky Colonel.”
It is not hard to become a Kentucky Colonel. Maybe it used to be, but Col. Swift here can confirm: they accepted me, so why they wouldn’t accept Rankin Harrison is befuddling to me.
Harrison sounds in part like a wannabe Donald Trump, wannabe Colonel Sanders. He called chicken served at his restaurant “The Colonel’s Chicken”, something I am shocked Sanders did not sue him over. And gold? He loved it.
On the harmless side, he insisted there be no silverware but goldware (or gold-plated). To that end, when he drove his fiberglass horse-adorned Cadillac (another quirk) in local parades he tossed silver dollars, gold-plated, to the crowd.
CincinnatiViews reports, though sadly their photos seem to have disappeared:
One of his favorites was a picture of "The Colonel and his Award Winning Team," which shows Rankin sitting at five different seats around the table. Many of the cards were printed on gold backgrounds, such as the one above, and containing pearls of wisdom such as: "I did it my way. I can't wait around for things to just happen. I must make things happen. I made all my dreams come true. From a pallet to a palace. Yes, I live like a king, and I think all my guests should. I locked the door on yesterday, and threw the key away. Tomorrow has no fear for me, since I have found today. And, you have a nice life, too."
As is typically required of a self-promoter, Harrison thought quite highly of himself, and sounds very Trumpian to boot.
Though, being remembered as one of the nicest guys? Not so much. Two lawsuits, one over housing discrimination and another over harassment ended in confidential settlements.
The offerings at the motel, before it fell into disrepair, were eclectic. It started western, added dancing, and eventually Mexican and Cantonese fare.
Harrison was proud of Ney McCain, a longtime chef.
At some point, the motel became more of low-income housing than it did a glamorous roadside motel. The move of commercial airplane traffic across the river likely contributed to that, but stories like how El Rancho Rankin became the site of a mobile clinic isn’t going to help the image of the place.
Harrison died in 1995, and the hotel didn’t last long after. He promised to leave a third of it to employees, and the other two thirds to various churches. Another problem was that it wasn’t properly permitted to be a motel and an apartment complex, and disrepair added up. The local fire chief in Anderson Township, J. Robert Brown—it was technically outside of Mount Washington, so not in the City of Cincinnati—said he’d rather take the heat for closing it down than “standing out in the parking lot dragging out bodies…after a fire.”
Anderson Township was successful, and a judge condemned it and ordered it closed.
Those controlling Harrison’s estate put it up for sale, and locals were able to get souvenirs to remember the place. I found a postcard suitable for framing on eBay, and you can get one of the shirts from CincyShirts.
The replacement for the property didn’t last, as CincyShirts remembers:
In 1999, the Skytop Pavilion opened, anchored by a Bigg’s supermarket, it featured a Starbucks, Subway, Radio Shack, and Fashion Bug. It was a vast improvement over the seedy hotel, but gradually the shopping center, perhaps haunted by the ghosts of the El Rancho, started to decline. The Bigg’s is now a Remke’s. Starbucks remains, but most of the other storefronts are empty.
An old building at 5194 Beechmont remains, a veterinary hospital, but now occupying the property are a coffee shop (not Starbucks), a Subway, a Jackson Hewitt, a chiropractor, and a Great Clips. Along with the aforementioned apartments and Big Ash Brewing.
Here are some locals remembering the place.
Some old El Rancho Rankin newspaper ads:
A letter from Col. Rankin Harrison in the classified section advertising the long term rentals.
