Ah, the 80s—neon lights, big hair, and big visions of a future filled with sleek, elevated monorails gliding through our city streets.
Columbus was no stranger to dreaming big, and in May 1987, the city flirted with the idea of a monorail system that could have revolutionized our transportation landscape. It was a vision of the future that felt tantalizingly close, yet ultimately, it slipped through our fingers.
Let’s take a look back at the monorail that never was and imagine, for a moment, the Columbus that could have been.

In the spring of ’87, Swiss manufacturer Von Roll Habegger painted a compelling picture: an elevated track linking key points in the city—Ohio Center, the Ohio Penitentiary, Central High School, Columbus City Center, and possibly even the Ohio State Fairgrounds.
The promise was grand, the timeline ambitious: by 1992, if only they received a contract by 1988. For a mere $40 million, Columbus could have had a four-mile monorail system, operational costs running just $2 million a year. The city was abuzz with the possibilities.
On July 13, 1987, the proposal took a more concrete form.
Von Roll Habegger presented a “very loose” proposal to city politicians and members of the 1992 commission. The plan envisioned an elevated loop on 3rd and High Streets, linking the Ohio Center complex with county offices at Mound Street.
There were whispers of future expansions—an extension to German Village and the brewery district, and loops connecting the Ohio Center to the west, reaching the Ohio Penitentiary, Veterans Memorial, and Central High School.
The projected costs varied.
Initially, the downtown loop was estimated at $27 million, excluding passenger station costs. Von Roll suggested that property owners benefiting from increased pedestrian traffic could cover these expenses. It all seemed plausible, especially with the capacity to move between 4,000 and 8,000 passengers per hour at a top speed of 30 mph. Imagine rubber-tired cars gliding smoothly along welded steel box girders, seamlessly integrating with the urban fabric.
City officials, including those from COTA, even went on a fact-finding mission to Vancouver, British Columbia, to see a similar Von Roll monorail system in action. There was hope, excitement, and a tangible sense of progress.
Yet, despite the glossy presentations and earnest discussions, the dream began to falter.
In November 1987, a committee led by Upper Arlington Mayor Priscilla Mead reviewed the monorail proposal. The committee, perhaps swayed by the practicalities and financial implications, did not endorse the Von Roll plan. Instead, they recommended an automated people mover system, akin to those in Detroit and Miami.
This alternative had a steeper price tag—$60-$80 million to build, with projected operating deficits of $1.6 million-$4 million per year. The predicted daily ridership of 6,000-8,000 people was modest but hopeful.
Yet, like the monorail, the automated people mover never materialized.
Columbus continued to dream of futuristic transportation, only to wake up to the reality of our current system—buses and traffic, with a persistent longing for something more efficient and innovative.
Today, as we navigate our growing city’s transportation challenges, it’s hard not to wistfully think back to the monorail proposal. What if those elevated tracks had become a reality? Would we now glide effortlessly above the congestion, connecting seamlessly from downtown to the neighborhoods? Would Columbus be hailed as a pioneer in urban transportation?
Instead, we’re left with what-ifs and the practical concerns of modern transit.
Columbus is a city of growth and potential, but also one that still grapples with its transportation infrastructure. The monorail remains a symbol of our ambitious spirit, a reminder of the future we once envisioned but never quite reached.
So, here’s to the monorail that never was—a dream that, despite its failure, still inspires us to think big, push boundaries, and perhaps, one day, find the transportation solution that will elevate Columbus to new heights.