More Chicago Solutions

One of my friends called over the weekend, with a typical Chicago story of repairs being made to a 120-year-old house in a hot neighborhood with roving developers. Ah, yes, Chicago. A developer with political connections who thinks he can force an owner to sell by using the Building Department for purposes of harassment. My first advice was, “Act stupid when the inspector comes, and then ask an innocuous question about what you have to do to straighten this out. If the guy says, ‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ then you know you’re going to have to fly straight. If, on the other hand, he smiles, you probably have a chance to get rid of him for a few bucks.” Story to be continued . . .

I was on the board which started the Chicago Mennonite Learning Center. We tussled for hours and hours, trying to figure out how to start an elementary school and whether the Lawndale church would be an appropriate site. Finally, in desperation, I called Marva Collins, who had started a school in her home which evolved into one of Chicago’s most prestigious private schools. Told Marva what was going on and she said, “Honey, have you done what you can to make the building safe? Then, just open the school and go for it. Let them tell you what’s wrong and when the inspector comes out, I’m sure a few bucks will take care of him.” And that’s what we did, though I’m sure all the other board members will disavow it! CMLC just celebrated its 25th anniversary and has a long waiting list of potential students.

My friend came home to find a storm had toppled a tree in her front yard and happened to spy a city truck with all the necessary tree-removal equipment. She flagged it down and asked if they could take care of the tree for her. "Nope. It's totally in your front yard, with none of it at all on city property. Sorry, lady. Unless you can drag it into the street, gotta get a private tree removal company." “Wait,” she yelled. “I just got paid today. I’ve got $50 cash. How about that?” Screeching u-turn in the street, two guys jump out of the truck with chain saws and in 10 minutes, the tree was chopped and chipped, they had their $50 and everyone was happy!

Grocery store owner kept being hassled by a City inspector, resulting in numerous trips downtown for hearings and hundreds of dollars in fines. Finally, he had had enough. When the inspector showed up again, he asked her to come in the back room where he asked what she needed to end the visits. “$50,” she replied. He ran to the cash register, got the money and never saw her again. As he said to my husband, “God damn $50, can you believe it? She went away for $50!”

Only in the City that Works!

My Bus Poop Story

In my former life, while working in Chicago, I rode the No. 22 Clark Street bus to and from work. It made its way through various and sundry neighborhoods and had passengers ranging from downtown professionals to Bug House Square hookers, from Boys’ Town residents to assorted bums and drunks. It was generally SRO during rush hour, full of hot, tired, cranky people.

One evening I was lucky enough to get a seat near the front of the bus, but unlucky enough to be seated next to The Blind Beggar, who was well-known in the Loop for his well-aimed pinches of selected women’s derrières. Much discussion was had about his apparent selective sight or lack thereof! I sighed and opened my newspaper, hoping he’d get off before too long, hoping he wouldn’t try to talk to me and hoping he wouldn’t pinch me if I exited before he did.

We were about two-thirds of the way home, and several people exited the front door of the bus. Suddenly, I smelled a really terrible smell, heard people making all kinds of disgusted noises and watched passengers begin moving rapidly toward the back of the bus. Then I looked and I saw a neat little pile of – how can I say this – human excrement, on the top step of the bus’ front entrance. The bus driver slammed the door shut on passengers who were trying to board, motioning them to move away so he could leave. People were cursing at him, yelling at him to let them on, but he refused to reopen the door. Blind Beggar begs for an explanation – “What’s wrong? What’s that smell? Is someone sick?” – the driver screams at him to stay seated. The rest of us are crowded together at the back of the bus as it speeds toward a CTA barn a few blocks down the street. The driver runs stops signs, and speeds past bus stops, refusing to stop to let people on or off. The Blind Beggar is still plaintively whining, “What’s wrong? What’s that smell?”

By now, the rest of us are laughing hysterically, discussing how in the world someone could have made such a neat little pile, with comments ranging from hilarious to downright disgusting. We finally came to the consensus that it had to have been a woman wearing a dress and no underwear!

The bus swerved into the barn depot, and the driver shouted to some maintenance workers to come give him a hand. When the other CTA employees heard what had happened, they doubled over with laughter, hooting and hollering, while the poor driver begged them to get some equipment to clean up his bus.

We were finally able to exit the bus, through the back door only, mind you, and I walked the rest of the way home, laughing my head off. Only on the #22! Can you beat that one, Amishlaw?