Don't look back. Unless...

Yorkville Collage

The idea was to get a photo of the patriotic (or suggestive?  You be the judge) sign for Pride Pantry, but the end result is a picture that speaks a thousand words; a representation, perhaps, of the people from the little town of Yorkville, Illinois.

Oh, well.

While hiking through the woods last weekend, I stumbled upon this oddity.  It is a long-abandoned well, in the middle of the woods, forgotten by time.  According to an historical aerial map of the area, the pump was once adjacent to a driveway connecting the road to a picnic grove.  The driveway is long gone.  Nearby, there are some recreational areas used for picnics, sports, and family gatherings.  There is even a more modern pump down the road.  Sadly, this one has been out of sight and out of mind for decades, rusting away and slowly being swallowed by wilderness.

Squirrel Nest Sunset

I snapped this from my roof today as the sun was setting.  I imagine a boy squirrel and a girl squirrel cuddling in that nest, also watching the sun set.

Grey juxtoposition

Alley Boat.

The Jefferson Nickelodeon

The Jefferson Nickelodeon, located at 4768 N. Milwaukee Ave, first opened in 1914.  It was a small single-screen theater of a Neoclassical design, designed by architect E.M. Newman.  Seating 294, it primarily served the growing Jefferson Park neighborhood, and by 1917 became the Progress Theatre.  It closed as a theatre in 1923, several years before movies had sound.  In the ninety years since it closed as a theater, it has housed many small business, the latest of which was a cabinet maker. Currently, it is vacant and for rent (according to the signs). 

Many people pass this small building up without ever noticing the "Jefferson" epigraph.  Recently, the entire building was painted a dark maroon color, further obscuring the word.  Previously, the building was painted in such a way that the word "Jefferson" really stood out.  This building is one of my favorite buildings due to its historical significance as one of the neighborhood's earlier (if not earliest) theaters, and because of its low-key existence and mysterious nature.

Cry me a river and build me a bridge.

This bridge crosses the North Branch of the Chicago River north of Foster Ave, in Labagh Woods.  It was a train bridge until some years back when the route was discontinued.  Last year or so, the tracks were pulled up and plans to turn this abandoned right of way into a trail are supposedly in the works.  As of now, the path isn't really conducive to biking or jogging, since the large rocks are still there, unless it's intended to be an "extreme" trail.  Mostly, this area is frequented by people walking dogs.  And photographers.  And evidently, taggers.

For as long as I can remember, up until recently, this section of woods attracted the kind of ghoulish grime you never would see in everyday life.  My friends and I would ride our bikes on the nearby trails, and it wasn't unusual to see "odd" people out there.  We used to think they were Satanists.  Maybe they were homeless, maybe they were just rebellious teens.  Whatever the case, they used a lot of drugs and trashed the place.  We'd see needles and little baggies all over the ground.  Beer cans, beer bottles, all kinds of trash.  It was kind of like a mecca for crackheads and wayward hobos.  One evening, as a couple friends of mine and I were heading out of the woods after hitting the bike humps, we encountered a group of crazies coming in- and they all wore black trench coats and looked to be preparing for an animal sacrifice.  I was thankful to be leaving at that time!

Another regularity were the cars.  Just under this bridge, on any given day, there would be up to three cars, minivans, or Jeeps upside down in the river.  They had been completely charred and then bombed with graffiti.  The act itself wasn't what confused me, considering the usual clientele.  It was a question of how did they ever get the cars there?  It would have been impossible to drive them up the bridge to push them over at that spot.  The only possible way was if they pushed the cars down the embankment, but even that seems unlikely, seeing as how narrow and jagged the embankment is between the trees. 

And the bridge has always been artfully decorated, but these days it seems people are putting a lot more time and effort into the project.  Mostly, these are taggings and not gang graffiti.  I often wonder how someone could do this much work and not get noticed.

The demise of the mom & pop pet shop

When was the last time you went to a REAL pet shop?  I'm not talking about Petco.  I'm not talking about Pet Supplies Plus, and I'm not talking about PetSmart, and I sure as heck am not talking about the cute little doggy and kitty boutiques that have popped up on every corner in every hip neighborhood in Chicago (and elsewhere).  I mean, when was the last time you went to a real pet shop, where you were greeted by the owner with a smile, where you could almost always find what you're looking for, where you could chat with the employees about biological filtration and the effectiveness of Bio-Balls vs. porous ceramic rings?  Where, in the summertime, there's always a fan on?  Where the bell rings when the door is opened?  Where the employees are always wet with aquarium water?  And the smell- the aroma of aquarium water and pine bedding, maybe some dry dog food thrown in the mix. 

I have noticed that over the last few years, the classic pet store model is a dying breed among the giants and the holistic/organic/fair trade chihuahua boutiques.  It seems shops like this are losing popularity as various factors arise- the birth of the Internet, and the appeal of websites such as Ebay, Craigslist, and a barrage of pet supply websites (including PetSmart, etc).  People don't want to spend a little extra, but there's one thing they always expect from the little guys- information.  They know where the real good information is.  And they want it free, so they can go home to their Petco-bought aquarium setup and their puggles they bought on the Internet.

When I was very young, there was no Internet to buy and sell pets and pet supplies, and it seemed there were pet stores all over.  There was "Your One Stop Pet Shop" in my neighborhood.  That's what it was called.  It was a tiny little store. I bought some of my first aquarium stuff there.  And I bought my first Solomen Islands ground boa there too.  The store was run by a young couple.  It was great.  Once they knew me, they were cool with me just coming in to look at the fish, unattended.  No pressure on their part.  That store has been gone for awhile now.

And I remember King Coral, back when it was on Milwaukee Avenue, just northwest of the Portage Theater.  I remember the racks and racks of fish aquariums, no substrate, just fish in tanks on wrought-iron racks, wall-to-wall.  They had a store iguana in there that would just hang out.  He would often be found basking on top of a fluorescent light fixture for the aquariums.  Later, they'd switch locations and move to Montrose and Central.  The same setup, same awesome variety of fish, same humid fish tank/lemon scent combo aroma.  I think they are still open in Mount Prospect somewhere...

And who can forget Animal Kingdom in Logan Square, with its gaudy, outdated hand-painted exterior (with neon!) and its chaotic interior, featuring exotic residents ranging from a jaguar, coyote, spoonbill, ducks, and Moe and Curly, the two red-tailed boas?  Though I personally wasn't a huge fan of the place in general (the owners hired anyone who'd work for minimum wage and therefore stuff kinda got out of hand at times), there was a certain appeal the place had.  The sounds of scores of birds cheeping/squawking, floors that never stay clean longer than a few hours, people shouting over the sounds of parrots or dogs, and of course, getting to see a real electric eel on display. 

Many of these places are gone forever, to be replaced by another Cricket, another currency exchange, another eye doctor.  A few places remain.  Coral Reef, in Norridge, is still there.  Living Sea Aquarium is still in business, as is Bit-O-Tropics (surprisingly).  And then of course, there is Ocean Design Aquarium in Dunning Square, where I worked for some years.  It was my first job, meant to be a short-lived one (I was supposed to make enough money to buy a drum set and then quit to pursue my rock star dream).  I was sixteen, just about to begin my junior year in high school.  Soon, I turned seventeen and did buy my drum set.  But I liked the job so much I stayed.  Besides, I never got THAT good at drumming.

And did I stay.  At 18, I graduated high school, and went to college full time at times and part time at others, all the while working at the pet shop.  I worked my way to manager and enjoyed my surroundings, and most of the time, the people too.  The first few years were some of the best times I have ever had.  I spent a lot of time in that shop, and learned a great deal.  Mostly, I learned about people.  I learned about how to communicate with all kinds of people.  I learned to deal with adversity, and to appreciate the bonuses.  And, I learned that I really really hated getting electrocuted.  But that's another story.

Eventually, I moved on, much later than I had intended, but with a whole bunch of learned lessons and memories to cherish (and some to forget!).  Once in a while I think back to those days.  I think that I am who I am partly due to my having worked in such a genuine place, a place free of corporate rule and dress code, surrounded by reptiles and reef aquariums.  And there was certainly a sense of  innocence.  And that's how I had always seen small mom & pop pet shops- small businesses run by honest, hard-working people with mouths to feed, all the while enjoying doing what they loved doing, and ultimately having to make big choices once their breed began to phase out in favor of the big box pet shops and the Internet.  Most couldn't keep up.  Many are still struggling to hang in there, making desperate adjustments and hasty decisions just to make sure they can flip the "closed" sign to "open" the next day. 

I don't think the big stores are bad.  I do think that people should support the small businesses when they can, because otherwise, it's only a matter of time before small pet shops exist only as "retro novelties".  Or worse, become extinct.

National Tea Company

                                         Taqueria El Tapatio, 4238 W. Fullerton Ave.

From the Encyclopedia of Chicago:

Beginning with one store on North Avenue in 1899, National Tea became the region's largest retail grocery chain. By 1920, when there were about 160 stores in the chain, annual sales approached $13 million. By the end of the 1920s, National Tea had over 600 locations in the Chicago area and another 1,000 stores nationwide; sales had grown to about $90 million a year. Many of these stores were closed or sold during the Great Depression, but National Tea remained among the 10 largest grocery chains in the United States for most of the twentieth century. During the 1950s, it acquired about 500 new stores by buying up smaller chains. In 1956, when annual sales topped $600 million and the company had nearly 20,000 employees nationwide, National Tea was purchased by George Weston Ltd., a Canadian company. There was little growth during the 1960s, when the company operated about 240 stores in the Chicago area (where it had fallen behind Jewel as the number one chain). During the mid-1970s, when it still employed about 9,000 people around the region, National Tea/George Weston suddenly abandoned the Chicago grocery market. By the end of the century, there was little trace remaining of what had once stood as one of the area's leading enterprises and the source of groceries for a large fraction of Chicago's population.

No Dumping

This sign has been painted on the back of this building for as long as I can remember. I've always wanted to photograph it- not like it's going anywhere soon.

Alley, Blizzard of '11

The future of America 2

The future of America

Walk this way...

One of my new favorite things to do is take walks at night with Aimee. Even though it is bitter cold out there and Chuck Taylors are my most insulated shoes, it's great getting out there and really familiarizing myself with the neighborhood. Talking long walks really make me feel like I am missing out on so much when I'm driving, or even biking. I notice little things when I'm walking- little, intriguing things. A long, long time ago, before people got too lazy to walk to the corner store, and way before video games, Ipods, internet, and cell phones, walking was a very common and popular pastime as well as necessity. Often, when I am looking through old boxes of photographs from the 20's through the 60's and even 70's, I see people outside. In the backyard with the family, having a picnic. Proud, hard-working homeowners posed in front of their own homes. People playing on the block, riding bikes and scooters, pulling wagons, standing next to their father's car, or taking a dip in the little pool. Obviously, I wasn't around then, but I'm going to assume people appreciated simple things such as walking in the neighborhood and talking with neighbors. And because people spent a lot of time doing these things, they inevitably left some signs behind that still exist to this day...signs that are hard to come across if you're driving down the street.

Aimee and I like to admire some of the houses in our neighborhood. I love to identify houses I think might be old, and verifying the date it was built online via the Cook County Assessor's Office. One of the houses on the next block over is a beautiful frame Victorian with beautiful detailing and an impressive front porch. In fact, we looked into this house when househunting, but ended up passing since it had recently been totally gutted on the inside. I was slightly surprised to find out this house was built in the 1880's. That alone isn't surprising, but the fact that it is surrounded by mostly mid-century cookie-cutter-style ranch houses is. I imagine this house as a farm house in the middle of a big field, before the area was subdivided in the 1920's. I imagine horses and wagons being the sole method of transportation, I imagine no electricity, no plumbing or hot water, and I imagine a hard-working farmer sitting on that front porch after a hard day's work, probably unaware of the pending expansion of the city of Chicago and the huge housing boom that followed. I wonder if the family still lived in that house as the fields quickly went from corn to curbs.

That's the stuff I often think about.

And when the Kennedy Expressway was built in the early 1960's, I wonder how the neighborhood (and the city altogether) felt about having this huge scar dug into the ground right through their neighborhood to allow fast cars and trains and the accompanying noise to invade the once-tranquil neighborhood. We were walking toward the expressway when the sidewalk abruptly came to an end. The last house on the street- a lucky survivor spared by the city- predates the expressway by a good forty or fifty years. How did those people cope with the change in atmosphere? I notice the sidewalk stamp directly in front of the house. This sidewalk was built in 1924 with pride. If that sidewalk could talk.

I guess my point is, is that little things like these can be seen everywhere, you just have to look. There are signs of good times, and bad times, but all of it is history and there is always something we all can learn from. In this era of wireless this and that and a constant need for the Easy Button, sometimes it's nice to just get out and walk, and observe.

I'll end this with a photo I took yesterday with my new camera (which, by the way, I plan on using regularly for this blog). This is right behind my garage and harks back to the 1950's, when it wasn't unusual for kids to spend hours playing in the alley (and not tagging).