My First Time in Chicago
Sometime in the 80s as Lee and I ran our company. I needed to go to Chicago for the annual “Material Handling” show. Hard to believe now, that you needed to get on an airplane in the middle of winter and take a 3 or 4 day trip to see what was new and build relationships. But before the internet, trade magazines and word of mouth were the way news traveled. Except for this once a year extravaganza at McCormick Hall in the “Windy City”.
That Sunday that I arrived proved to be all the things I expected….cold, windy and did I mention cold. Not knowing the city I had made reservations somewhat near the exhibition hall in an area of town known as Hyde Park. After a $30 cab ride, a record for my naïve self, I checked into nice enough hotel but one without a gift shop (under construction) and of course I needed something. It being almost dark I asked the desk clerk
- Me – Are there any drug stores close by?
- Him – yes..up on 53rd St
- Me – Where am I?
- Him – 49th
Chicago’s South Side
Now 4 blocks to my strong young self was a no brainer. I would roll up there and make my purchase and be back before dark…and off I went. The desk clerk had not lied, but he had not been forthcoming with the entire truth. 49th St was not followed by 50th St and no other number was followed by another number but by something else. People’s names, types of trees and other nouns read the street signs. And just like that, 4 blocks turned in to 8 and did I mention it was cold. I had made my trip on the side street behind the hotel to avoid traffic. It was a mixed use neighborhood with housing intermingled with 2 and 3 story old brick buildings…that I would learn held businesses on the street level and housing up top.
When I finally arrived at my destination I learned that nearly all the businesses in that neighborhood were closed on Sundays but the drug store closed at 6:00pm. I read that sign about 6:15pm. It was about this time I started humming….
“Well, the south side of Chicago
Is the baddest part of town
And if you go down there
You better just beware
Of a man name of Leroy Brown”
Looking up and down the street I could only see neon lights on one block and headed there hoping to get inside for a few minutes and warm up. As I approached there were two businesses in that block long building. Each with their own entrance marked in reddish neon declaring “Bob’s Bar” and “Bob’s Cafe”. Figuring I could score a cup of coffee in the bar…in I went.
Bob’s Bar
I was met with a din of of conversations that came out of the large single room that housed both the bar and the café. Easily over a hundred people eating as family units in the warm well lighted dining area separated by a partition from the dimly lit bar with only a couple of chairs empty. No music, just the sounds of friends talking. To avoid taking a table I popped up on a bar stool (a trick I can no longer do) and asked if I could get a coffee. I was quickly engaged in several conversations that all began with “you are not from around here…where are you from”. Being from Texas sparked several questions ranging from the Kennedy assassination to the Dallas Cowboys. I settled in for an enjoyable hour or so.
I noticed a guy in a sports wheelchair come in and it was apparent he was a regular. He almost immediately came over to me and started talking as if we had known each other before. I learned he had been born three blocks from this bar and now lived upstairs in a building across the street. There was no elevator in the building and each night he would “hub up” on his butt to the top floor where he had another chair. Leaving his outside chair chained to a pipe. He had never lived more than a few blocks from where we sat.
Outside
There was a circle of conversation between maybe 8 or so standing to allow me, sitting on my stool, to be part of the circle. And then someone asked “Wanna go outside?” To my amazement everyone said yes and headed out. I followed wondering what could possible cause these guys to abandon the warm room for the street.
I was greeted by a scent I had not smelled since I played wheelchair basketball with my buddies who were almost all Viet Nam vets. That group had endured pain and humiliation and loss…many nights in the wards of the VA hospitals and had mostly overcome disabilities that made even me wince. But the one thing on which they all agreed. Good conversation is always better with a “joint”. During those years, marijuana was never a daily thing with me but I usually had a “dime-bag” at my apartment if anyone visited. A habit I gave up as my relationship with Lee grew.
So it was not shock that I felt as I found my place in the circle, moved outside under the street light. As the joint was passed I would hand it on without “a hit”. I thought that would be OK since I was enjoying these guys and the cold was not as bad as before. That lasted until a Chicago PD unit drove past us and gave a short bark on his siren. Everyone waved at him and continued as if nothing had happened. But here is what crossed my mind.
I’m A Deacon
I thought to myself. I have a wife and two daughters who I love. I own my own business and am a Deacon in a small Bible Church. Yet here I sit on a street corner in inner city Chicago passing a joint to people I just met. One of which might be named LeRoy. I probably should move on.
As I was saying my goodbyes to the guys one asked if I needed a ride. I said no it was a straight shot and I wasn’t suffering from the cold like before. Plus I felt safe…to which that all grimaced and told me to keep my head on a swivel. I got in the middle of the road and did my 7 minute mile pace covering the 8 blocks back to my hotel. About half-way I had a car shadowing me a hundred feet behind. When I stopped to force the car to pass me…it was a couple of the guys saying they just wanted to make sure I got back safely.
What I Learned
Most people are really the same everywhere. There are good and bad and our environment moves us towards different “normals”. But most love their family, value their life and want to matter. God sent Jesus to die for each one and I should always give each one attention when I can.
Plus when I hear the song now I think….LeRoy is a friend of mine…kinda like Jeramiah (of bullfrog fame).
PS
When I got in my room and ready for bed I fell prey to an old phobia I had forgotten. I think it stems from growing up in the Cold War days…living 12 miles from a SAC base (Dyess)…and checking the markings on every aircraft that flew overhead to see if it was “one of ours”.
I can’t go to sleep without knowing which way is north. In case I need to find my way home due to some apocalypse. I went down to the front desk…asked and he pointed…I was asleep in 10 minutes. Safe from my night out on the “Southside”.