I recently watched Geoffrey Baer’s shows on PBS, in which he tours various Chicago neighborhoods on the L, driving, walking, snowboarding, all without getting shot with bullets, or spray-painted with graffiti, and it brought back memories of my experiences.
Some time back, I wrote of my early memories of attending live stage shows with my parents at the Chicago Theater: Sid Caesar & Company, Jackie Gleason doing his sketches (Joe the Bartender, the Loudmouth, the Poor Soul and the Honeymooners) Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis, where we stayed for two shows; you could do that back then without being dragged out kicking and screaming after the first show.
Leaving the State & Lake Theater after a movie one night, my mother, my sister, and I were stopped on State Street by Ernie Simon of WBKB (now ABC7). He had a nightly man-on-the-street TV show called “Curbstone Cut-Up.” He noticed we weren’t men, but he nabbed us for an interview anyway, and we received some prizes for our time.
In my early teenage years a couple of friends and I pretended to be older, paid our 85 cents and slipped into the Rialto burly-que on State Street to see naughty things that today we can see on broadcast television.
Entertainment brought many visitors into the City, so the aforementioned are experiences I share with millions. Other experiences were a bit less common.
As a teen, a way for me to impress a date, and needing all the help I could get, was to take her into the City…and to keep on her parents’ good side, bring her back. One day I drove downtown in my convertible, young lady at my side, to see a movie at the Loop Theater on State Street. I parked on State, a couple of doors down from the theater, stuff some of quarters in the parking meter, and go to the show. I even left my top down. If I did that today, I’d return to find an empty space that once held my car, or if still there, it would be loaded with trash or maybe have a body dumped in the back seat, all of which would spoil my date.
There was always a good time sailing out of Lake Michigan and down the Chicago River in my friend’s cabin cruiser. One memorable day I brought my lady friend (a Chicago Bears’ Honey Bear) out for the day. I’ll never forget the guys on the Michigan Avenue Bridge waving and hollering as she lay on the deck in her bikini while we passed under them. A smile was on my face for weeks.
Heading home after night engineering classes at the Allied Institute of Technology on South Michigan Avenue, I discovered that if I hit the gas when the light turned green while I was pointed west on Congress at Michigan, driving at four miles per hour over the speed limit, I could high-tail it down Congress, make all the green lights, zip over the singing bridge, through the old post office building and be home in my driveway without ever encountering another traffic signal. This skill has served me well.
Seems like only yesterday my rock group was in the recording studio at King Records on South Michigan Avenue while the Rolling Stones were across the street at Chess Records recording their first album.
Then there were the half-dozen feature films shot in Chicago in which I took part as an indispensible piece of “atmosphere.” One film, Making a Case for Murder, required an afternoon and evening of shooting (film, not participants) at the Cook County Jail on 26th and California. When finished, guards escorted us to our cars for our safety.
This memory lane is what we old geezers do: Sit around commiserating about the good old days while eating stewed prunes. I have many more memories of incidents that tie me to the Windy City, but I noticed that I’ve already sent it in to The Voice. Another time for those other memories.