No End to Ben

 The Reader let Ben Joravsky go.  Ben Joravsky!  Their ace writer.  

The one who has been with us forever.  Everyone knows the Reader is dying.  It’s glorious Chicago run is about to run out.  Oh, Reader:  Couldn’t you stay intact as you leave us? Cutting Ben is cutting out your heart.

The Reader has meant a lot to me.  It was through a Reader singles ad that I met my best man.  Southwest side guy meets north side gal. 

Back to Ben.  I never forgot his epic series A Simple Game.  He followed the Roosevelt High School basketball team in the 1992 season.  It is a perfect story for those of us who love our city and are capable of facing its truth. 

 We’re lucky that Ben has had a podcast for the past several years.  I am addicted.  You can find it on Apple Podcasts and other sites.  I hope Ben and his merry band of lefties will keep me company for as long as I’m here to listen.

Openings

  

The two grand openings I attended and remember most were the Treasure Island Grocery on Cornelia and Broadway and the Harold Washington Library on South State Street.

Treasure Island made it a party.  There was a whale for the kids to climb on and admire.  Workers were dressed up like pirates.  Best of all, the food was so much more interesting than from other stores in the neighborhood.  Over the years, they opened up several locations so  there was always a Treasure Island nearby.  I heard that a family feud caused trouble and Treasure Island eventually closed.

The Library opening told another story.  There had been a competition for the design.  I absolutely don’t know who could have chosen the ugly, out-dated structure that was built.  I’d like to think that Harold Washington would have preferred something more sleek bearing his name. This is Chicago!  We take pride in our architecture!

I guess the Library was in a hurry or ran out of money because the inside had no decoration.  But there was a lovely sun filled room on the top floor and a comfortable auditorium below.  Of course, there were books on the shelves so I guess that’s what counts most.  

The Chicago Public Library system is the most well run organization in the city. Bravo!

A Good Group

I enjoyed the time I worked for the Chicago Council of Lawyers.  Founded in 1969 by Jud Miner, It was a group of younger, less established so less constrained, attorneys. (Obama worked for Jud’s firm when he first came to Chicago.)

I organized the committee meetings, the annual luncheon, took care of the office.  You’ve heard me tell stories about the friendly elevator operator in the Monadnock Building or the time the Women’s Rights Committee broke the B-girl law at Mr. Kelly;s. Everything ran smoothly…until it didn’t.  

The Council hired a nice enough man to be the Executive Director.  Thus, my boss.  Territorial imperative took over and I behaved like a petulant child.  I don’t remember how I left, just that I did.

I was so pleased a few years ago when Ron,  one of the attorneys in my class at the Senior Center, said:  “I remember you Joan. from the Chicago Council of Lawyers.”  We had a good chat about Chicago back then.  A time of upheaval and hope

 

Adlai and Harry

 One of my early jobs after college was working on Adlai Stevenson’s campaign for President in 1956.  You may remember my talking about the headquarters on Washington Street in the building where atomic secrets were kept during WWII.

Looking back, I guess “I Like Ike” was unbeatable.  But then, we were filled with enthusiasm and hope. How could you do better than Eleanor Roosevelt showing up to shake hands with us all?

One of the perks of my lowly job was to be able to attend fundraisers featuring famous people and great food.  My favorite was one at which Harry Belafonte was the featured guest. He made a point of mingling with the “help” which included us and the people cooking and serving.  

When I was in college, I almost saw Harry at the Empire Room in the Palmer House downtown.  It was a group of housemates, celebrating a birthday, black and white. We had reservations, but were turned away.  I’m sure if Harry Belafonte had known he would have seated us up front.

Serenity

 My quest for serenity comes and goes and has taken me in several directions.  One of them was when I took a job with The Midwest Center for Human Potential.  I found them space on Harrison Street in the South Loop. It was in the 1970’s, a time when Esalen, est, encounter groups and Gestalt Therapy attracted many seekers.

The “money man” who funded the Center called me to his office for a chat.  I had showed up late for a program and he was concerned. I left feeling satisfied that we had cleared the air.

The Board was comprised of four or five therapists active in the Center.  Mr. Money was the President.  “I recorded a meeting with Joan which I will play now”, he announced.  He secretly taped me??? I was appalled.  

As I voiced my strong objections, the “human potential” people sat silently.  So much for serenity. Or for legality. I quit on the spot.

Looking back, I don’t regret this path completely. I met some interesting people. My friend Marsha and I got a lot out of a weekend we spent at Esalen in Big Sur, CA.

The Big Snow

 Some days are like no others.  You know, the ones when everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing.  In Chicago on January 27, 1967 it was The Big Snow.  It had started the night before.  Diane, our baby sitter, decided to stay overnight rather than try to come back the next morning.  I had an important appointment downtown.  I was getting divorced.

I still can’t believe I trudged over to the el and it was running.  When I arrived at Daley Plaza I was alone in a sea of white.  We were in an “arms race” then and there was talk of nuclear war. And, after the bomb, “the nuclear winter.” 

End of the marriage?  End of the world?  I took a breath.  No, I’m here now and it is gorgeous.  Downtown Chicago. Silent and calm.

I stayed for a few minutes to deliberately take it all in. The el would take me back to whatever waited for me at home.

I Read the Articles

 I’m not going to apologize for feeling more plus than minus about Hugh Hefner and Playboy magazine.  I even went to a fundraiser at the mansion once and had a great time. 

A lot of my good impression stems from being neighbors with Nat Lehrman, the Playboy 

Editor, and his wife Kus. Nat was funny, generous and smart.  He founded the Playboy Foundation which supported civil rights, women’s rights and social issues.  He was just a great guy. 

My other positive connection to Playboy was as a friend of Judy Wax, whose husband Sheldon, was Managing Editor.  Judy comforted me during a scary time.  My daughter was traveling around the world and there were weeks on end when she disappeared into the ether.  Judy understood. Her son had also taken up life in India.

Judy’s career as a writer was just beginning with her book: “Starting in the Middle.”  I certainly identified with that. She and Shel were headed to a booksellers convention in LA when their plane crashed at O’Hare.