Tuesday, December 27, 2022

The Mower Lady of The Ville

 

The ‘mower lady’ of Greenlawn Avenue keeps her street clean and safe — one cut at a time

Neighbors on Greenlawn Avenue in Cleveland’s Glenville neighborhood hear the “mower lady” early some summer mornings or afternoons. Twenty-year resident Bridget Daniel is a mother of two and a caretaker for numerous family members. She is known on the street for helping those in need.

Daniel’s home is surrounded by abandoned homes and vacant lots, so she’s motivated to help take care of them. When they’re not kept up, she steps in with her lawnmower and other gardening tools.

Vacant lots are a perennial problem in the city of Cleveland. They’re a breeding ground for rodents like groundhogs, a problem which is so out of control that it was recently highlighted for discussion at a Ward 9 neighborhood meeting. They’re also a safety problem; a 2016 study showed that fixing up vacant lots reduced nearby gun violence by five percent.

Each year, crews are responsible for cutting more than 16,000 land bank lots throughout the city. They also tend to more than 3,000 properties where buildings have been condemned and another 8,000 vacant properties that have been abandoned. That’s a heavy load, but the city employs workers who typically mow these properties four times per season.

Yet Bridget Daniel is not waiting. She has made it her mission to keep her street clean and safe. She says the city does not always do a good job cutting the vacant lots, so she steps in to help.

It is her love for the Glenville community that drives Daniel. “I want it to look nice where I live,” she says. “That’s how my parents raised me.”

A bad start

This year, keeping workers safe from the Covid-19 pandemic, coupled with heavy rains in May, meant that cutting crews were very behind, Public Works director Michael Cox said at a recent meeting of Cleveland City Council’s Development, Planning and Sustainability Committee.

The result was that yards grew out of control.

“We had a bad start to this year,” Cox said. “We lost the first round.”

Cox, who deploys about 180 full-time workers to cut grass and handle lot maintenance and about 30 more seasonal workers who are hired for the cutting season, expect to be caught up by mid-summer.

Yet Daniel says the city could do a better job. “First of all, the city people that come out to clean, if they don’t have the right supervisor, they will skip past and won’t cut the grass right,” she says. “And they won’t edge it right and do a half job.” Daniel reached out to Ward 9 Councilman Kevin Conwell about these problems but says she never heard back.

Conwell says the city has been behind in cleaning the vacant lots because of Covid-19 and the damage from the George Floyd protests in downtown Cleveland. “There were staffing problems and they were a month behind,” he says, adding that he spends $54,000 of his own ward allocation to clean up high grass and weeds in Glenville and encouraging residents to call him if they have problems. “I ride the ward constantly, but I cannot be everywhere.”

Keeping Greenlawn clean

Daniel remembers when the city first started tearing down houses on the street during the foreclosure crisis. The city lacked the resources to maintain them and she was worried criminals could hide in the shrubs and small trees growing there.

“I wanted the kids going to school to be safe,” she says. “I saw little girls were walking to school by themselves because sometimes mothers don’t get up with their kids. I just took it upon myself to do something. I got my handsaw and I drove down there with my water, parked my truck, and the whole neighborhood was looking at me. I remember people said, “Wow, you’re really doing a good thing.’”

It took her two days, but she cleared the property.

That’s when her neighbors began calling her “the mower lady.” Daniel battles the overgrown vegetation on Greenlawn which is a typical street in the city of Cleveland. Today, there are at least a dozen vacant lots and a half dozen abandoned homes on the street.

While the city comes out and cuts the vacant lots that sit on the east corners of the street and on the west corner which faces East 105th Street, it does not always mow the lawns of abandoned homes, says Daniel. Even when they do, the empty lots grow back quickly.

Although vacant lots are not as much of a concern in other parts of the city, they remain a big issue in Glenville.

Daniel says there has often been a lack of response from the city to overgrown vacant lots, which is why she continues to mow. “I have called Mayor Jackson’s hotline about the high grass and vegetation and even about these abandoned houses that needed to be boarded up,” she says. “They know me.”

Part of her chores

Daniel once lived in East Cleveland, then moved to Wickliffe where she graduated from high school in 1981. “I got to see how a suburban community is, how they lookout and take care of their own,” she says. “They make sure that their parks and their community are clean. Everybody helps each other out.”

She says that she started mowing grass when she was young. “Part of my house chores or if I got into trouble was to cut the grass. My sister’s backyard was like four yards.”

Daniel also picks up litter and trash to beautify the community. “That look of trash all over the place, it’s just a disgusting look,” she says. “When you see that, it doesn’t make the community look good. It doesn’t make your property look good.”

Now, when the city does not come out to mow the vacant lots and abandoned properties, the residents of Greenlawn have the “mower lady” of Greenlawn turn to.

“Bridget cuts all those lawns and she won’t let anyone give her any money,” says longtime resident Jean Coleman, one of several senior citizens who have benefited from Daniel’s services. “They should recognize her for doing all that work to make our street look good.”

Daniel refuses to take credit and says she simply takes pride in where she lives. “I do not take money from anybody because I do it for my health, to keep my body moving,” she says. “But mostly because I love where I live, and I want it to look nice for me and my family.”

Charlotte Morgan is a journalist and college professor who lives in Cleveland.

Reprinted from the Land.

 

Entrepreneurial fire goads Vivien Phoenix to rise as owner of mobile Bossy Bakery Boutique

Chef Bossy outside her mobile baking truck. Contributed photo.Chef Bossy outside her mobile baking truck. Contributed photo.

So delighted was Vivien Phoenix’s mother with the cupcake tower she made on Mother’s Day 2013, she decided then and there to go into business.

Thus was born Bossy Bakery Boutique, Cleveland’s first Black- and female-owned mobile bakery.

Five years later, Phoenix and her hot-pink bakery truck are going strong, enjoying a lively trade at local festivals, farmer’s markets, and private events. A black female entrepreneur, Phoenix channels her culture, love of food, and vast life experience into a unique and popular menu featuring cake popsicles, funnel cakes, and “Cocoa Bombs.”

“It has given me a way to heal from things that I’ve gone through,” said Phoenix, who prefers to go by her professional name, Chef Bossy. “It was about me bossing up.”

Bossy Bakery hasn’t always been mobile. The chef only hit the road with a towable kitchen last fall, after four years baking in rented kitchens and selling goods at pop-up shops under a tent.

Now, rather than asking customers to come to her, Chef Bossy applies her former experience as a professional driver and goes where the people are, to neighborhood festivals and other gathering places all across Northeast Ohio. It’s a model that works well for her, especially during the pandemic.

“I realized that this is what I’ve been doing for years—driving,” Phoenix said. “Why be ashamed of it? I’ll bring the treats to you.”

A curvy path to “Boss”-hood

Baking hasn’t been her only passion, either. Certainly not her only form of employment. Her journey to become an independent entrepreneur is as colorful as her hot pink mobile bakery.

Into Bossy Bakery Boutique Phoenix has poured a variety of life experiences including hospitality management, retail, theater, and film. For a time, she even worked in a nursing home as a certified nursing assistant.

Working long shifts and earning good money “gave me a good perspective on life,” but left her unsatisfied, Phoenix said. “Here I am a drama queen and thinking I’m going to be famous and you look up and you’re working in a nursing home?”

Growing up in Cleveland during the 1990s, Phoenix moved all over the city. Her parents never owned a home, and so the family lived everywhere from the Woodland, Grandview, and Kinsman neighborhoods to the area around West Boulevard and Madison Avenue, where Tamir Rice was killed.


Chef Bossy shows off her delicious baked goods. Contributed photo.

Chef Bossy shows off her delicious baked goods. Contributed photo.

The interest in baking came from her father’s family. While her mother was at work, her father cooked. He could have been a chef, Phoenix said. Baking itself came from her paternal grandmother and great grandmother.

An early interest in the arts

Somewhere along the line, Phoenix was bitten by the theater bug, and found her way into the Cleveland School of the Arts. After that, she said, “it was theater, theater, theater. We performed all over.”

After high school, Phoenix enrolled at Chicago’s Columbia College, intending to channel her interest in theater and study film and become a film director. Sadly, however, she ran out of money and had to come home and work.

“It hurt my soul,” she said. “If you knew me, you would know how something like that was embarrassing.”

Theater, film, and business might not seem related, but for Phoenix, they are. Chef Bossy is itself a kind of role, and her time on stage was just a different expression of the creativity and outgoing nature she now pours into marketing Bossy Boutique Bakery on Instagram.

“Honestly, I’ve always been this way,” the chef said. “When we were kids, our mother would take us to the nice neighborhoods where they had good candy. I would take a large garbage bag and fill it up. I would take my brother and sister’s candy and put it all together. Then, I would put it in little sandwich baggies and sell it to kids at school.

“I’ve always been a hustler,” she added. “If there was something I wanted, I took the necessary steps to make it happen.”

The “boss” gets an education

The hustling instinct led Phoenix to Kent State University, where she first enrolled as a business major but later switched to hospitality management, after deciding she wanted to own a restaurant.

But the pressure that forced her out of Columbia College reared years earlier its ugly head again at Kent. Needing money, Phoenix took a left turn, earned a commercial driver’s license, and became a truck driver.

“After the whole [Columbia] incident, I realized that it could happen again,” Phoenix recalled. “[S]o I started driving Kent State buses.”

A fortuitous visit to Kent by a representative of The Walt Disney Co. prompted Phoenix to take yet another sharp turn. Reviewing the resumes of hospitality majors, the Disney recruiter was impressed by Phoenix’s CDL and hired her for the company’s transportation department.

This led her to Orlando for a year-long internship and to the realization that in her chosen field, with her skin color, she’d have to make her own way if she wanted to have a true career.

Here the seeds of her “boss” mentality were nourished. Phoenix found that in a hotel or restaurant, her favorite place wasn’t the front desk or hostess stand but rather the kitchen, where she could put her love for cooking to good use.

“I work[ed] in hotels, every area of the hotel industry, but there [was] no real money in that work unless you own the hotel, or you’re the big boss,” Phoenix said. “And I can tell you that back then, there was no place for a black woman in the hospitality industry…I’d rather be in the back of the house cooking and washing dishes with the boys.”

Bossy Bakery Boutique emerges triumphant

While working as a bus driver in Cleveland, degree from Kent State in hand, the “boss” in her began to rise, in keeping with her surname. The cupcake tower for her mother inspired her to sell at pop-up shops around town, and the rest, as they say, is history.

These days, Phoenix hustles in a different way: traversing Northeast Ohio with her hot-pink food truck. Now, she’s in control. Her website, Facebook, and Instagram pages are filled with colorful pictures of her treats and marketing images of her big smile and signature blonde hair.

Her specialty item is a luxury treat collection called the Bossy Box. She’s also proud of her sugar cookies, which she offers to customize. She’ll even bring them right to you, to let you feel like the boss.

“People always said I was bossy,” Phoenix said. “I’ve had to accept who I am.”

According to a report by NBC News, “More than 40 percent of Black-owned businesses shut down by April of last year, compared with a 17 percent decline among white-owned businesses. And while around 75 percent of Black-owned small businesses saw upticks in the two months after George Floyd’s death and subsequent national attention to issues around discrimination and police brutality, sales at many Black-owned businesses soon after plummeted back to their pre-Covid-19 rates, according to a survey by the Black Chamber of Commerce. Even if you shelf the pandemic’s effect on Black-owned businesses, eight out of 10 fail within the first 18 months.”

For more information on prices, items or how to book the Bossy Bakery Express, and to see where she will be in Northeast Ohio, visit  https://www.bossybakery.com. You can also follow Vivien Phoenix on Instagram @bossybakeryboutique or @bossybakeryexpress, call 216-399-0895 or email thebossybakery@gmail.com.

Charlotte Morgan is a journalist and nonfiction writer based in Cleveland, Ohio. Her rideshare journeys enable her to meet interesting people like Vivien Phoenix.

Reprinted from the Land.