Showing posts with label Bill Matteson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bill Matteson. Show all posts
August 1, 2013
Uptown Notables
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Uptown always was and always is in my mind. It is hard to believe what our Uptown area and Chicago has given to the world. Just looking at the entertainment genre: movie stars,writers, directors.
I was so close to the area where they came from.
Writer Ben Hecht wrote about Uptown.
Dan Greenberg from Stewart School, a very proficient writer, director, actor, and classmate.
Phil Kaufman, also a classmate, writer, director, gave us pod people from outer space, Josy Wales, Han Solo, and Indiana Jones.
Classmate Billy Friedkin also from Stewart gave us the French Connection and The Exorcist.
As a 8th grade patrol boy, I would help younger kids cross the street. Kids like second grader Harrison Ford. Harrison Ford, well, I don't need to tell you his movie accomplishments. But he with some other kids used to watch me and a couple of my buddies work out with our bull whips in the school yard. We wore leather jackets.
Actor Robert Ryan who lived his pre-Hollywood days on the 4800 block of Kenmore across from St Thomas of Canterbury.
Clayton Moore the real Lone Ranger went to Senn High School about 20 or so years before I did. Clayton lived on the north side of Edgewater and attended the Stephen Hayt Elementary School.
Johnny Weismiller the real Tarzan, lived for awhile at 226 West North Ave. His father and brother were brewers and worked at the Fullerton and Elston Brewery. He attended LaSalle Elementary
school. I lived around the corner at 1964 Linclon Ave and went to the same school, many years later.
Clayton Moore was a circus acrobat at age 8, he would learn tumbling and swimming from Johnny Weismiller at the Illinois Atheltic club where Wiessmiller worked so he could get swimming instructions from the coach there.
Put yourself back in time for a minute. Could you ever imagine watching this only to find out they would become Tarzan and the Lone Ranger?
Uptown has a Legacy that was passed on to the world.
Uptown, I miss you
July 27, 2013
Eddie Waitkus...The Natural
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Eddie Waitkus was a born baseball player. He was so good that when he played minor league with a small town in Maine, they called him a Natural. He was born of immigrant Lithuanian parents on Sept. 4th 1919.
He signed with the Chicago Cubs in about the1939/1940 time bracket, playing full time in 1941. Then the war broke out and most able-bodied ball players signed on to serve their country.
Eddie went with the Army and fought many a bloody battle in the Philippines, winning 4 bronze stars.
He returned to the Cubs in 1946 playing 1st base, replacing Phil Caveretta, who moved to left field.
Eddie was a highly educated sportsman and everyone liked him. He could speak five languages and was the poster boy of sportsmanship for the media. Yes, everyone loved him; maybe a little too much.
In 1948 he was traded to the Philles for three players, including Dutch Leonard, a great knuckleballer.
Now the Phillies had been scheduled to play 11 games over the 1949 season.
Arriving in Chicago June 14th, 1949, he registered at one of Uptown's finest hotels, the Edgewater Beach. A lot of out of town sports figures stayed there, while most of Chicago's players stayed at the Sheridan Plaza.
Unbeknownst to Eddie, he was being stalked. He had an admirer.
Ruth Ann Steinhagen was uncontrollably infatuated with Eddie. She registered at the hotel under the name of an old classmate of Eddie's and sent him an urgent message to meet her in her room.
When he walked in, she shot him in the chest with a 22 cal. rifle; she then called the desk and explained what happened. When help arrived, she was cradling Eddie's head in her lap. Eddie almost died several times, but they were successful in removing the bullet, which narrowly missed his heart.
On Aug.19., 1949, just 2 months after being shot, Eddie suited up and played at Shibes Park for Eddie Waitkus Night.
Today, our highly paid athletes get a hang nail or a sprained finger, they sit out the season.
Ruth Ann Steinhagen never went to trial. She spent a long time in a mental institution and died of natural causes last December 2012.
Sometime in 1952, a book was published, written by Bernard Malamud, inspired by these events. Malamud took parts of the Eddie Waitkus story and then borrowed from the life of Shoeless Joe Jackson, a few more baseball role models, including Christy Mathewson, the greatest pitcher of his day and the inventor of the fade-a-away, the present day screwball, a reverse curve, so to speak.
Christy was a role model for all young boys, not ever drinking or smoking and going to church. Christy even became the role model for the Frank Merriwell adventure series with over 800 books, movies, and radio programs
(I like to mention this part about Christy because his family changed their name from Matteson to Mathewson while living in Pennsylvania.)
Bernard Malamud wrote The Natural. Roy Hobbs was molded after all players mentioned.
A lot of good things come out of Uptown, or at least Uptown played a major part in them.
Editor's note: Bill Matteson grew up in Uptown in the forties and fifties. You can read more of his recollections by clicking the link "Bill Matteson" below.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Eddie Waitkus was a born baseball player. He was so good that when he played minor league with a small town in Maine, they called him a Natural. He was born of immigrant Lithuanian parents on Sept. 4th 1919.
He signed with the Chicago Cubs in about the1939/1940 time bracket, playing full time in 1941. Then the war broke out and most able-bodied ball players signed on to serve their country.
Eddie went with the Army and fought many a bloody battle in the Philippines, winning 4 bronze stars.
He returned to the Cubs in 1946 playing 1st base, replacing Phil Caveretta, who moved to left field.
Eddie was a highly educated sportsman and everyone liked him. He could speak five languages and was the poster boy of sportsmanship for the media. Yes, everyone loved him; maybe a little too much.
In 1948 he was traded to the Philles for three players, including Dutch Leonard, a great knuckleballer.
Now the Phillies had been scheduled to play 11 games over the 1949 season.
Arriving in Chicago June 14th, 1949, he registered at one of Uptown's finest hotels, the Edgewater Beach. A lot of out of town sports figures stayed there, while most of Chicago's players stayed at the Sheridan Plaza.
Unbeknownst to Eddie, he was being stalked. He had an admirer.
Ruth Ann Steinhagen was uncontrollably infatuated with Eddie. She registered at the hotel under the name of an old classmate of Eddie's and sent him an urgent message to meet her in her room.
When he walked in, she shot him in the chest with a 22 cal. rifle; she then called the desk and explained what happened. When help arrived, she was cradling Eddie's head in her lap. Eddie almost died several times, but they were successful in removing the bullet, which narrowly missed his heart.
On Aug.19., 1949, just 2 months after being shot, Eddie suited up and played at Shibes Park for Eddie Waitkus Night.
Today, our highly paid athletes get a hang nail or a sprained finger, they sit out the season.
Ruth Ann Steinhagen never went to trial. She spent a long time in a mental institution and died of natural causes last December 2012.
Sometime in 1952, a book was published, written by Bernard Malamud, inspired by these events. Malamud took parts of the Eddie Waitkus story and then borrowed from the life of Shoeless Joe Jackson, a few more baseball role models, including Christy Mathewson, the greatest pitcher of his day and the inventor of the fade-a-away, the present day screwball, a reverse curve, so to speak.
Christy was a role model for all young boys, not ever drinking or smoking and going to church. Christy even became the role model for the Frank Merriwell adventure series with over 800 books, movies, and radio programs
(I like to mention this part about Christy because his family changed their name from Matteson to Mathewson while living in Pennsylvania.)
Bernard Malamud wrote The Natural. Roy Hobbs was molded after all players mentioned.
A lot of good things come out of Uptown, or at least Uptown played a major part in them.
Editor's note: Bill Matteson grew up in Uptown in the forties and fifties. You can read more of his recollections by clicking the link "Bill Matteson" below.
April 3, 2013
Uptown Chicago Revisited
Bill Matteson
Uptown Correspondent
A friend of mine gave me a book titled Landmarks and Legends of Uptown. I really loved looking through it, as it's always a trip down memory lane for me and my wife. We both grew up in Uptown on Kenmore Ave.
So today it's 10 AM and we're both a little older than our Uptown days. I just blurted out, "Hey hon, let's take a trip to the old neighborhood." She was at the closet getting her jacket before I finished my statement. We gassed up the car in Harvard, Illinois, where we now live, hit the tollway outside of Marengo, and headed east, to Lawrence Ave.
Both of us were reliving our youth as we talked about our old friends, at least the ones we could remember, the things we done, and the old buildings.
The trip east on Lawrence was exciting. I had long forgot city driving and pedestrians, who all seem to have a deathwish as they dart out in front of you in the middle of the street. I slam on my brakes so I won't run into them and they give me the evil eye ... I was thinking they should be thanking me instead.
Lawrence was always a melting pot of diverse ethnic groups, and it still is really diverse. I do believe we made a world tour just on one street. As we passed Clark St. and St Boniface, things started to really change. The stately high brick wall that used to run down Lawrence was gone, someone dismantled it, took it down, or just allowed it to fall into ruin. I wanted to get out of the car and find the person responsible. As we get east of Broadway, we start to get into our "hood." The old El station, no Marquis lunch cafeteria, no National T store, no watchmakers shop, no pawn shop. Progress, I guess.
I saw the old Ritz grill still standing,empty and dilapidated, but no one would know that the best hamburgers and chili were once made there. The New Lawrence Hotel was almost unrecognizable. Sir James Night Club was missing, the Viceroy hotel—well, the building is still there, and all the windows of Garys Payless drug store were bricked in. The empty lot that used to be south of the Viceroy was in our time built into a single story structure that housed a Laundromat and is now boarded up. The corner where Happy Jacks Deli was is still there, although it's something else now. I couldn't tell what. All the old buildings at Lawrence and Sheridan to the north on both sides of the street were razed and replaced. No C.C. Club, no 21 Tap.
We turned south on Clarendon to Leland then turned east. I forgot they blocked off some parts of Leland so we turned around, continued south to Wilson, then East to Kenmore, the street of our youth. On the southwest corner was a large building. Gone were the apartment buildings that used to predominate the neighborhood. Leibermans Drug Store, Ma Skinners Diner, the Pretzel Benders Bar, the very corner that was so sacred to us for hanging out on, for playing pinner, for lagging coins, now all gone.
On the opposite corner Barney's Tavern is now some other store...sadly. I parked in front on 4734. My wife lived at 4740 and me at 4737. We got out, I took a picture of her in front of her old building. We couldn't get close because of a large locked iron fence—the same as in front of the house I once lived in. In our day the front doors were rarely locked but privacy was always respected.
My wife had to go back to the car and rest. A young lady walked by and I said, "Hi, could you do me a favor?" The look on her face was priceless and a little quizzical. "That depends," she said. I smiled my best grampa smile and asked her to take my picture in front of my old house. I told her we just wanted to see the old neighborhood. She asked, "Both of you?" "Yes. She lived there and I lived here." "You were childhood sweethearts; oh how sweet." Now we were pals; she took two pictures of me and walked off saying, "How sweet, how sweet."
We went up Kenmore past St. Thomas to Argyle then west, past where the old Agmore used to be. We turned south on Winthrop Ave, which turns back into Kenmore.
Winthrop Ave from Leland to Kenmore in our day was all black. An empty lot on Leland used to house the Colliers Chicken shack. They made the best fried chicken. They even delivered it in a 1949 Crosley. The same empty lot was also home to a traveling carnival once a year.
West on Wilson, then north on Broadway. Our hearts fell as we saw what used to be a very majestic structure, the Wilson Ave El.. What happened here? OMG, it's criminal to let this beautiful old building fall into such a state. I'm blaming Richard Daley for this, him being a southsider, a sox fan and all. Glad to see all the stores on Broadway, even though I wouldn't go in one. No Kresge's dime store, no Woolworth dime store.
And as we passed Leland Ave no Majestic Men's store. No Goldbaltts, now that is sad..
We drove around becoming more depressed. LOOK WHAT THEY DONE TO OUR SONG, MA was the tune running through my head. Our movie theaters, all gone. The Uptown, our Friday night home, gone. The Rivera, the Lakeside, the Argmore, the Pantheon, the Mode, the Sheridan...At Irving and Sheridan the bar on the NE corner, the Berlitz, featuring the "Dynatones," is now a lot. Then to cap it all they've closed my old school, the same school that gave us the Exorcist, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Harrison Ford. We ended up driving west on Montrose. We found Hagen's fish Market. Glad to see it still in business. We drove home with a bag of shrimp and a bag of scallops.They advertised Lake perch. I asked which lake, they said Erie. I said make that a 1/2 pound.
Was the trip worth it? Yes... will we do it again... no, we want to remember our Uptown, the Uptown of our youth, and the Kenmore Ave of our memories.
To the Residents of Kenmore Ave: I am glad you are there. You have painstakingly restored Kenmore back to an era in time and made it better. Thank you for this. 4737/39 looks like it's a 6-unit condo now instead of the 25 cut-up apartments when I lived there. Wish I could have seen the backyard, the scene of many a marble tournament, baseball, and football games.. but then maybe it's better this way.
Bill Matteson, 4737 Kenmore
Eileen Griffin, 4740 Kenmore
married 58 years
9 children
21 grandchildren
11 G grand children
LOOK WHAT THEY DONE TO OUR SONG MA
Uptown Correspondent
A friend of mine gave me a book titled Landmarks and Legends of Uptown. I really loved looking through it, as it's always a trip down memory lane for me and my wife. We both grew up in Uptown on Kenmore Ave.
So today it's 10 AM and we're both a little older than our Uptown days. I just blurted out, "Hey hon, let's take a trip to the old neighborhood." She was at the closet getting her jacket before I finished my statement. We gassed up the car in Harvard, Illinois, where we now live, hit the tollway outside of Marengo, and headed east, to Lawrence Ave.
Both of us were reliving our youth as we talked about our old friends, at least the ones we could remember, the things we done, and the old buildings.
The trip east on Lawrence was exciting. I had long forgot city driving and pedestrians, who all seem to have a deathwish as they dart out in front of you in the middle of the street. I slam on my brakes so I won't run into them and they give me the evil eye ... I was thinking they should be thanking me instead.
Lawrence was always a melting pot of diverse ethnic groups, and it still is really diverse. I do believe we made a world tour just on one street. As we passed Clark St. and St Boniface, things started to really change. The stately high brick wall that used to run down Lawrence was gone, someone dismantled it, took it down, or just allowed it to fall into ruin. I wanted to get out of the car and find the person responsible. As we get east of Broadway, we start to get into our "hood." The old El station, no Marquis lunch cafeteria, no National T store, no watchmakers shop, no pawn shop. Progress, I guess.
I saw the old Ritz grill still standing,empty and dilapidated, but no one would know that the best hamburgers and chili were once made there. The New Lawrence Hotel was almost unrecognizable. Sir James Night Club was missing, the Viceroy hotel—well, the building is still there, and all the windows of Garys Payless drug store were bricked in. The empty lot that used to be south of the Viceroy was in our time built into a single story structure that housed a Laundromat and is now boarded up. The corner where Happy Jacks Deli was is still there, although it's something else now. I couldn't tell what. All the old buildings at Lawrence and Sheridan to the north on both sides of the street were razed and replaced. No C.C. Club, no 21 Tap.
We turned south on Clarendon to Leland then turned east. I forgot they blocked off some parts of Leland so we turned around, continued south to Wilson, then East to Kenmore, the street of our youth. On the southwest corner was a large building. Gone were the apartment buildings that used to predominate the neighborhood. Leibermans Drug Store, Ma Skinners Diner, the Pretzel Benders Bar, the very corner that was so sacred to us for hanging out on, for playing pinner, for lagging coins, now all gone.
On the opposite corner Barney's Tavern is now some other store...sadly. I parked in front on 4734. My wife lived at 4740 and me at 4737. We got out, I took a picture of her in front of her old building. We couldn't get close because of a large locked iron fence—the same as in front of the house I once lived in. In our day the front doors were rarely locked but privacy was always respected.
My wife had to go back to the car and rest. A young lady walked by and I said, "Hi, could you do me a favor?" The look on her face was priceless and a little quizzical. "That depends," she said. I smiled my best grampa smile and asked her to take my picture in front of my old house. I told her we just wanted to see the old neighborhood. She asked, "Both of you?" "Yes. She lived there and I lived here." "You were childhood sweethearts; oh how sweet." Now we were pals; she took two pictures of me and walked off saying, "How sweet, how sweet."
We went up Kenmore past St. Thomas to Argyle then west, past where the old Agmore used to be. We turned south on Winthrop Ave, which turns back into Kenmore.
Winthrop Ave from Leland to Kenmore in our day was all black. An empty lot on Leland used to house the Colliers Chicken shack. They made the best fried chicken. They even delivered it in a 1949 Crosley. The same empty lot was also home to a traveling carnival once a year.
West on Wilson, then north on Broadway. Our hearts fell as we saw what used to be a very majestic structure, the Wilson Ave El.. What happened here? OMG, it's criminal to let this beautiful old building fall into such a state. I'm blaming Richard Daley for this, him being a southsider, a sox fan and all. Glad to see all the stores on Broadway, even though I wouldn't go in one. No Kresge's dime store, no Woolworth dime store.
And as we passed Leland Ave no Majestic Men's store. No Goldbaltts, now that is sad..
We drove around becoming more depressed. LOOK WHAT THEY DONE TO OUR SONG, MA was the tune running through my head. Our movie theaters, all gone. The Uptown, our Friday night home, gone. The Rivera, the Lakeside, the Argmore, the Pantheon, the Mode, the Sheridan...At Irving and Sheridan the bar on the NE corner, the Berlitz, featuring the "Dynatones," is now a lot. Then to cap it all they've closed my old school, the same school that gave us the Exorcist, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Harrison Ford. We ended up driving west on Montrose. We found Hagen's fish Market. Glad to see it still in business. We drove home with a bag of shrimp and a bag of scallops.They advertised Lake perch. I asked which lake, they said Erie. I said make that a 1/2 pound.
Was the trip worth it? Yes... will we do it again... no, we want to remember our Uptown, the Uptown of our youth, and the Kenmore Ave of our memories.
To the Residents of Kenmore Ave: I am glad you are there. You have painstakingly restored Kenmore back to an era in time and made it better. Thank you for this. 4737/39 looks like it's a 6-unit condo now instead of the 25 cut-up apartments when I lived there. Wish I could have seen the backyard, the scene of many a marble tournament, baseball, and football games.. but then maybe it's better this way.
Bill Matteson, 4737 Kenmore
Eileen Griffin, 4740 Kenmore
married 58 years
9 children
21 grandchildren
11 G grand children
LOOK WHAT THEY DONE TO OUR SONG MA
February 26, 2013
Parachute Jumping, Costume Making, and Halloween
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Now, as a kid I wasn't stupid, but I sure did my share of dumb things. Right after the war, surplus stores opened up, and I couldn't wait to buy a parachute.
Now just about every kid my age needed a parachute, but most of them wouldn't admit it. So I bought one from the surplus store on Broadway just North of Montrose for fifty cents; it was bright yellow and came in a canvas backpack. It was originally designed to drop supplies to the troops.
I couldn't wait to get home and open it up; it was a little bigger than I thought, so I repacked it, put in on my back, and climbed up on the garage roof, which was only a maximum of 15 feet off the ground. But as a kid it looked high enough, so I spread out the chute on the roof and jumped off.
I landed hard on the ground, and the chute was still on the roof top. I didn't allow for the 20 feet of shroud line, I had my tongue in between my teeth, and when I smacked the ground my chin hit my knee and I almost bit it off. It bled a lot and I had to keep the injury hidden from my parents. I mumbled for a few days.
So I packed the chute away until the following Halloween.
One of my favorite Saturday afternoon movie serials was "The Scarlet Horseman," so I decided to cut up the parachute and make my costume out of this bright yellow material. I made a hood, mask, shirt, and pants. I am not a particularly gifted tailor, but for my purpose, it was good enough.
In those days, if you needed a costume, you made it. On Halloween, Stewart School always took pictures of the class. I wore it to school, the teacher asked who I was, so I told her and the class I was the Scarlet Horseman. She started laughing, they all started laughing. All Serials were black and white, and I had no idea that Scarlet was a color.
When I got home, Mom and Dad asked me how my day went, so I told them. They laughed, too, so did my little sister.
I guess I was the Scarlet-Faced Horseman
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Now, as a kid I wasn't stupid, but I sure did my share of dumb things. Right after the war, surplus stores opened up, and I couldn't wait to buy a parachute.
Now just about every kid my age needed a parachute, but most of them wouldn't admit it. So I bought one from the surplus store on Broadway just North of Montrose for fifty cents; it was bright yellow and came in a canvas backpack. It was originally designed to drop supplies to the troops.
I couldn't wait to get home and open it up; it was a little bigger than I thought, so I repacked it, put in on my back, and climbed up on the garage roof, which was only a maximum of 15 feet off the ground. But as a kid it looked high enough, so I spread out the chute on the roof and jumped off.
I landed hard on the ground, and the chute was still on the roof top. I didn't allow for the 20 feet of shroud line, I had my tongue in between my teeth, and when I smacked the ground my chin hit my knee and I almost bit it off. It bled a lot and I had to keep the injury hidden from my parents. I mumbled for a few days.
So I packed the chute away until the following Halloween.
One of my favorite Saturday afternoon movie serials was "The Scarlet Horseman," so I decided to cut up the parachute and make my costume out of this bright yellow material. I made a hood, mask, shirt, and pants. I am not a particularly gifted tailor, but for my purpose, it was good enough.
In those days, if you needed a costume, you made it. On Halloween, Stewart School always took pictures of the class. I wore it to school, the teacher asked who I was, so I told her and the class I was the Scarlet Horseman. She started laughing, they all started laughing. All Serials were black and white, and I had no idea that Scarlet was a color.
When I got home, Mom and Dad asked me how my day went, so I told them. They laughed, too, so did my little sister.
I guess I was the Scarlet-Faced Horseman
February 12, 2013
Bicycle Trails and Various Modes of Transportation for Boys in Uptown
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
I was in fourth grade when my dad bought me a Monarch bicycle from Goldblatts. My Dad brought it home in a box and we spent the day putting it together.
I rode it around the block a few times, and I noticed the the handle bars were shaped funny and low. Dad and I just thought it was the new style until my Mom came out, made us remove the handle bars, and flip them over. We were embarrassed.
The Monarch didn't rate up there in style, like the Schwinn, but it was mine. It had a belly tank with a horn, and a headlight that fit into the front fender, but no knee action.
We all used the bridal paths in the park that ran parallel with the lake, and it didn't take us long to find trails that ran through the Sumac Jungles from Leland Ave all the way down to the Zoo. There used to be water fountains all along the way, with some very ornate and unique fountains in recess areas, sort of a rest stop.
We would pick up the secret trail at the edge of Montrose Harbor around the golf coarse and follow it into the Zoo. There was a pond in the Waveland Golf course that was fun to sneak into and catch bluegills.
As we got a little older, we became motorized. About 1948, the Travis Bike motor came out and we all had to have one. Now the Travis motor fit on the front wheel. It was a small engine; we could get speeds of up to 15 MPH,. which was fast enough for us. It had a small gas tank attached with it that held 1/3 of a gallon.
We must have gotten over a hundred MPG at about 16 cents a gal. I think the price of motor was about 30 or 40 dollars.
A lot of the neighborhood kids rode the Travis to school. Some were in sixth grade—no insurance, no city tags, no plates, and best of all, no license required.
One of our friends, an eighth grader from Stewart, was killed when the tires of his Cushman box scooter got caught up in the streetcar tracks on Broadway. Cushmans were very popular and safe as long as you avoided the tracks and sharp turns. There was about three inches of free space from the road to the bottom, the box on the scooter, so if you made a sharp turn that edge could come in contact with the road, catch, and throw you off.
Another friend used to drive a car to school. We were in eighth grade. He was 14 but could pass for 20; he was in the army when he was caught and sent home from Italy.
The next progression was the Whizzer. What a bike! Up to 30 MPH and a hundred MPG easy. I think gas was up to 19 or 20 cents now.
Then came the Simplex Service Cycle, which was in reality a small motorcycle. I believe we needed to get certified on these, but I am not sure. They were fun to ride, easy to maintain. The Servicycle, like the Whizzer and the Travis, started by friction or magneto. The Cushman had a kick start.
Last in the line was the motorcycle my friend Don French somehow managed to buy: a 1947 Indian Chief 80 with a sidecar, more about that later and the trouble we got into!
When I hear someone say, "Let the good times roll!" my mind snaps back to that bygone era of my life.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
I was in fourth grade when my dad bought me a Monarch bicycle from Goldblatts. My Dad brought it home in a box and we spent the day putting it together.
I rode it around the block a few times, and I noticed the the handle bars were shaped funny and low. Dad and I just thought it was the new style until my Mom came out, made us remove the handle bars, and flip them over. We were embarrassed.
The Monarch didn't rate up there in style, like the Schwinn, but it was mine. It had a belly tank with a horn, and a headlight that fit into the front fender, but no knee action.
We all used the bridal paths in the park that ran parallel with the lake, and it didn't take us long to find trails that ran through the Sumac Jungles from Leland Ave all the way down to the Zoo. There used to be water fountains all along the way, with some very ornate and unique fountains in recess areas, sort of a rest stop.
We would pick up the secret trail at the edge of Montrose Harbor around the golf coarse and follow it into the Zoo. There was a pond in the Waveland Golf course that was fun to sneak into and catch bluegills.
As we got a little older, we became motorized. About 1948, the Travis Bike motor came out and we all had to have one. Now the Travis motor fit on the front wheel. It was a small engine; we could get speeds of up to 15 MPH,. which was fast enough for us. It had a small gas tank attached with it that held 1/3 of a gallon.
We must have gotten over a hundred MPG at about 16 cents a gal. I think the price of motor was about 30 or 40 dollars.
A lot of the neighborhood kids rode the Travis to school. Some were in sixth grade—no insurance, no city tags, no plates, and best of all, no license required.
One of our friends, an eighth grader from Stewart, was killed when the tires of his Cushman box scooter got caught up in the streetcar tracks on Broadway. Cushmans were very popular and safe as long as you avoided the tracks and sharp turns. There was about three inches of free space from the road to the bottom, the box on the scooter, so if you made a sharp turn that edge could come in contact with the road, catch, and throw you off.
Another friend used to drive a car to school. We were in eighth grade. He was 14 but could pass for 20; he was in the army when he was caught and sent home from Italy.
The next progression was the Whizzer. What a bike! Up to 30 MPH and a hundred MPG easy. I think gas was up to 19 or 20 cents now.
Then came the Simplex Service Cycle, which was in reality a small motorcycle. I believe we needed to get certified on these, but I am not sure. They were fun to ride, easy to maintain. The Servicycle, like the Whizzer and the Travis, started by friction or magneto. The Cushman had a kick start.
Last in the line was the motorcycle my friend Don French somehow managed to buy: a 1947 Indian Chief 80 with a sidecar, more about that later and the trouble we got into!
When I hear someone say, "Let the good times roll!" my mind snaps back to that bygone era of my life.
February 5, 2013
Lake Front Lovers Lane — Creating Havoc
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
With all the activity going on in Uptown, why would anyone go out of their way to cause trouble?
Sometimes in the evening with nothing to do, we would borrow Don French'ss big Indian Chief with the side car and head out to the park to harass the people along "Lovers Lane."
Lovers Lane, as we called it in those days, was any place along the lakefront and on any night of the week. It would be almost impossible for me to convince anyone today about the amount of sex that went on in the park. The street that runs adjacent to the south side of the harbor was always crowded down into the turnaround and back up from there on Simmons Drive to Lawrence Ave. I am talking bumper to bumper sex, hundreds of cars. There were no hotels / motels around in those days.
The police would do a slow drive by, the couples would make an attempt to show nothing was going on, and then they'd resume whatever they were doing as soon as the police passed by.
Now these are just the cars. Other couples without cars just walked to the park with a blanket. They were sprawled all across the grass. The area around Cricket Field was a hot spot of activity.
So one warm summers evenings, me and Lionel Rowe headed to the lakefront to create some havoc.
There were three lights on the front of the windbreak, so we covered two of them with red cellophane, keeping them turned off until we started a trip across the grass.
The headlight and red lights went on, girls screamed, and guys swore. We saw a lot of bare skin, both genders, then we hit the drive near the harbor. People were jumping and screaming, some guys chased us, and we escaped by the skin of our teeth.
Lionel and I laughed about this for a couple of weeks until we thought it would be fun to do it again.
So somewhere along Simmons Drive we noticed we were being followed by a three-wheel motorcycle cop. He pulled us over, and the next day we had to appear before the desk sergeant at the Town Hall Police Station. Seems like people were reporting being harassed by the police in the park and made some formal complaints
The motorcycle cops that were assigned to that area on the nights we did our dastardly deed were called on the carpet. The desk sergeant didn't believe them. So Lionel and I showed up and told our story. The desk sergeant didn't want to believe us and thought we concocted the story to save the cops on duty.
So we had to show the leftover red cellophane, tell where we got it, and promise never to do it again.
The sergeant then said, that takes care of all three of these incidents. I looked at the cop who busted us and he was laughing, no wonder he was nice to us!
Lionel and I only did it twice.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
With all the activity going on in Uptown, why would anyone go out of their way to cause trouble?
Sometimes in the evening with nothing to do, we would borrow Don French'ss big Indian Chief with the side car and head out to the park to harass the people along "Lovers Lane."
Lovers Lane, as we called it in those days, was any place along the lakefront and on any night of the week. It would be almost impossible for me to convince anyone today about the amount of sex that went on in the park. The street that runs adjacent to the south side of the harbor was always crowded down into the turnaround and back up from there on Simmons Drive to Lawrence Ave. I am talking bumper to bumper sex, hundreds of cars. There were no hotels / motels around in those days.
The police would do a slow drive by, the couples would make an attempt to show nothing was going on, and then they'd resume whatever they were doing as soon as the police passed by.
Now these are just the cars. Other couples without cars just walked to the park with a blanket. They were sprawled all across the grass. The area around Cricket Field was a hot spot of activity.
So one warm summers evenings, me and Lionel Rowe headed to the lakefront to create some havoc.
There were three lights on the front of the windbreak, so we covered two of them with red cellophane, keeping them turned off until we started a trip across the grass.
The headlight and red lights went on, girls screamed, and guys swore. We saw a lot of bare skin, both genders, then we hit the drive near the harbor. People were jumping and screaming, some guys chased us, and we escaped by the skin of our teeth.
Lionel and I laughed about this for a couple of weeks until we thought it would be fun to do it again.
So somewhere along Simmons Drive we noticed we were being followed by a three-wheel motorcycle cop. He pulled us over, and the next day we had to appear before the desk sergeant at the Town Hall Police Station. Seems like people were reporting being harassed by the police in the park and made some formal complaints
The motorcycle cops that were assigned to that area on the nights we did our dastardly deed were called on the carpet. The desk sergeant didn't believe them. So Lionel and I showed up and told our story. The desk sergeant didn't want to believe us and thought we concocted the story to save the cops on duty.
So we had to show the leftover red cellophane, tell where we got it, and promise never to do it again.
The sergeant then said, that takes care of all three of these incidents. I looked at the cop who busted us and he was laughing, no wonder he was nice to us!
Lionel and I only did it twice.
January 29, 2013
Sea Scouts / Explorer Scouts of Uptown
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
About 1949, 1950, when we were 14, we formed a Sea Scout / Explorer Scout Troop. All of us, even though we were inner city kids, were used to being out of doors.
As Sea Scouts we had a ship, the SSS Polaris, at Diversey Harbor. Each "man" had an oar, which was about 16 feet long and maybe 4 inches at the widest part where it seated in the oar locks. The oar locks were two wood "Belayin" Pins that fit into holes at the top of the gunwhales (pronounced gunnel). The oars were our responsibility and were in real bad shape when they were given to us.
We sanded them down and varnished them with a marine spar varnish; I reworked the leather around the area that fit into the oar locks.
Our "ship" was an old life boat about 16 feet long, very similar to the boats that are used for whaling.
We had to strip the old paint away, chink it with the traditional red flannel, then chalking compound, and sand by hand.
When the Skipper Bob French (my friend Dons Brother) was satisfied, we painted it. After two or three weeks, we left on our maiden voyage. We flipped the ship right side up, put the rollers in place, and with ropes attached, pulled it to the launch.
We would row out to and around the crib, about 2 miles. The skipper would announce that the smoking lamp was lit, so we would ship our oars and lite up. In those days we all started smoking at about 13/14. I smoked Marvels; they were 10 cents a pack and had a red rooster for a logo
We kept a good eye on the weather and never had any problems, the only danger we had was from a "CRAB"
Now we had five rowers on each side, each one with a 16 foot oar; if at any time a rower missed timing, the force of the water pinned the oar against the side of the boat. This caused the handle side of the oar to pin the rower against the gunwhale and could crush his ribs. When this happened the rower would call out "CRAB." All would stop, and the rower across from him would jump down on the oar handle, popping the oar blade out of the water.
We all took that as an opportunity to make fun of the "Crabee."
We took our girl friends with us at times, and let them take turns rowing. If their mothers ever knew!
I had to store the oar on my back porch and walk it all the way to Diversey Harbor, from 4737 North Kenmore to 2800 north along the lakefront.
Learning to row took teamwork, and that what scouting is all about.T his was about 60 years ago and my wife was one of the rowers and she still helps pull the oar.
Now camping was different; no girls were allowed. We were too afraid of parents even to suggest it.
There was a Boy Scout camp just off Higgins Road in Des Plaines called Camp Fort Dearborn. They had cabins but they were more like barracks We took our gear on the street cars and buses and it was one long walk from the end of the bus line to the camp.
Our best camping adventures was when we discovered La Bagh Woods at Foster and Cicero.
We would take our gear tents, sleeping bags, mess kits, all army surplus on the Broadway Streetcar to Foster and get off at Cicero; at that time Edens was under construction and La Bagh woods was wide open.
We camped a lot during the summer. We loved cooking on the campfire and never had a problem, until the rangers found us and kicked us out.
We camped in other areas. When we were in the Forest Service Patrol, we would plant trees and even helped fight a couple of small forest fires.
For us at Lawrence and Kenmore, La Bagh Woods became the great untamed frontier. It seemed so far away. Now I live in Harvard Illinois and it still seems so far away.
I think maybe the time is what is so far away.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
About 1949, 1950, when we were 14, we formed a Sea Scout / Explorer Scout Troop. All of us, even though we were inner city kids, were used to being out of doors.
As Sea Scouts we had a ship, the SSS Polaris, at Diversey Harbor. Each "man" had an oar, which was about 16 feet long and maybe 4 inches at the widest part where it seated in the oar locks. The oar locks were two wood "Belayin" Pins that fit into holes at the top of the gunwhales (pronounced gunnel). The oars were our responsibility and were in real bad shape when they were given to us.
We sanded them down and varnished them with a marine spar varnish; I reworked the leather around the area that fit into the oar locks.
Our "ship" was an old life boat about 16 feet long, very similar to the boats that are used for whaling.
We had to strip the old paint away, chink it with the traditional red flannel, then chalking compound, and sand by hand.
When the Skipper Bob French (my friend Dons Brother) was satisfied, we painted it. After two or three weeks, we left on our maiden voyage. We flipped the ship right side up, put the rollers in place, and with ropes attached, pulled it to the launch.
We would row out to and around the crib, about 2 miles. The skipper would announce that the smoking lamp was lit, so we would ship our oars and lite up. In those days we all started smoking at about 13/14. I smoked Marvels; they were 10 cents a pack and had a red rooster for a logo
We kept a good eye on the weather and never had any problems, the only danger we had was from a "CRAB"
Now we had five rowers on each side, each one with a 16 foot oar; if at any time a rower missed timing, the force of the water pinned the oar against the side of the boat. This caused the handle side of the oar to pin the rower against the gunwhale and could crush his ribs. When this happened the rower would call out "CRAB." All would stop, and the rower across from him would jump down on the oar handle, popping the oar blade out of the water.
We all took that as an opportunity to make fun of the "Crabee."
We took our girl friends with us at times, and let them take turns rowing. If their mothers ever knew!
I had to store the oar on my back porch and walk it all the way to Diversey Harbor, from 4737 North Kenmore to 2800 north along the lakefront.
Learning to row took teamwork, and that what scouting is all about.T his was about 60 years ago and my wife was one of the rowers and she still helps pull the oar.
Now camping was different; no girls were allowed. We were too afraid of parents even to suggest it.
There was a Boy Scout camp just off Higgins Road in Des Plaines called Camp Fort Dearborn. They had cabins but they were more like barracks We took our gear on the street cars and buses and it was one long walk from the end of the bus line to the camp.
Our best camping adventures was when we discovered La Bagh Woods at Foster and Cicero.
We would take our gear tents, sleeping bags, mess kits, all army surplus on the Broadway Streetcar to Foster and get off at Cicero; at that time Edens was under construction and La Bagh woods was wide open.
We camped a lot during the summer. We loved cooking on the campfire and never had a problem, until the rangers found us and kicked us out.
We camped in other areas. When we were in the Forest Service Patrol, we would plant trees and even helped fight a couple of small forest fires.
For us at Lawrence and Kenmore, La Bagh Woods became the great untamed frontier. It seemed so far away. Now I live in Harvard Illinois and it still seems so far away.
I think maybe the time is what is so far away.
January 22, 2013
Shooting Pop In Jays in a Tavern with Bow and Arrow
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
In and around the mid 1960s, I worked for I. S. Berlin Press at Belmont and Kimball; I also worked
in the evenings as an instructor at The Blackhawk Archery Range, above the Portage Theatre on Milwaukee Ave (6 corners).
Working at the Archery Range gave me the opportunity to practice a few hours each day and sell my custom made aluminum arrows, strings, belts, and quivers.
One evening, a guy walks in with an arrow, that had a blunt tip on it and asked me if I could get blunt tips and make him a few dozen. I asked what they were used for, his reply was Pop-In-Jay shooting. I never heard of Pop-In-Jay shooting before, but I said I would make him the arrows, wood shafts, with custom cresting.
I made 6 dozen arrows; for the tips, I used blank 38 spl, brass shell casings. I delivered them to a tavern on North Clark Street , on the northern edge of Uptown. I think it was the "Pop in Jay" Lounge or the Wooden Shoe.
I walked in with the arrows. They were happy to get them and they led me to the left side of the bar where a shooting range with a 3 tiered metal rack was set up. The bottom tier held three wooden pegs on each side with feathers stuck in them, the second tier had two pegs each side, and the top post only had one.
The object was to shoot a bird (peg with a feather) off the rack, starting with the bottom and working upwards.
Now here's where the rules get fuzzy. You win if you shoot the top bird; if you miss you have to buy a drink, if you win someone buys you a drink. All I remember is there was a lot of drinking. Man those guys could drink. They were fair shooters but I was a top ranked AA shooter and won a lot of amateur contests.
I just wasn't that good of a drinker. On subsequent orders I made them pick up the arrows at the archery range. I couldn't drink like they could.
There were four or five of these bars on Clark Street, and everyone was from Belgium and they all shot Pop-In-Jay. Pop-in-Jay shooting was a sport that originated in Belgium, by shooting pigeons off of the church steeple .
Each bar had their own club, so I made them silk screens so they could make their own shirts, also each club had their own custom cresting, cresting being the colored bands around the arrow near the fletching (feathers).
Speaking of archery, there was a Buddhist Temple on Leland and Racine. I shot there against some monks; they never beat me! I always had respect for their skill in shooting, but their equipment was not all that great. I don't know if it's still there or not.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
In and around the mid 1960s, I worked for I. S. Berlin Press at Belmont and Kimball; I also worked
in the evenings as an instructor at The Blackhawk Archery Range, above the Portage Theatre on Milwaukee Ave (6 corners).
Working at the Archery Range gave me the opportunity to practice a few hours each day and sell my custom made aluminum arrows, strings, belts, and quivers.
One evening, a guy walks in with an arrow, that had a blunt tip on it and asked me if I could get blunt tips and make him a few dozen. I asked what they were used for, his reply was Pop-In-Jay shooting. I never heard of Pop-In-Jay shooting before, but I said I would make him the arrows, wood shafts, with custom cresting.
I made 6 dozen arrows; for the tips, I used blank 38 spl, brass shell casings. I delivered them to a tavern on North Clark Street , on the northern edge of Uptown. I think it was the "Pop in Jay" Lounge or the Wooden Shoe.
I walked in with the arrows. They were happy to get them and they led me to the left side of the bar where a shooting range with a 3 tiered metal rack was set up. The bottom tier held three wooden pegs on each side with feathers stuck in them, the second tier had two pegs each side, and the top post only had one.
The object was to shoot a bird (peg with a feather) off the rack, starting with the bottom and working upwards.
Now here's where the rules get fuzzy. You win if you shoot the top bird; if you miss you have to buy a drink, if you win someone buys you a drink. All I remember is there was a lot of drinking. Man those guys could drink. They were fair shooters but I was a top ranked AA shooter and won a lot of amateur contests.
I just wasn't that good of a drinker. On subsequent orders I made them pick up the arrows at the archery range. I couldn't drink like they could.
There were four or five of these bars on Clark Street, and everyone was from Belgium and they all shot Pop-In-Jay. Pop-in-Jay shooting was a sport that originated in Belgium, by shooting pigeons off of the church steeple .
Each bar had their own club, so I made them silk screens so they could make their own shirts, also each club had their own custom cresting, cresting being the colored bands around the arrow near the fletching (feathers).
Speaking of archery, there was a Buddhist Temple on Leland and Racine. I shot there against some monks; they never beat me! I always had respect for their skill in shooting, but their equipment was not all that great. I don't know if it's still there or not.
January 15, 2013
Hurdy Gurdys, Monkeys, and Trained Chickens in Uptown
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
There was a woman known as the Hurdy Gurdy Woman, at least that's what we called her, for lack of a better title. She was ancient but still able to push this big hurdy gurdy all over Uptown. The hurdy gurdy stood about five feet tall and about five feet long and three feet wide and it was on wheels (this is to the best of my memory).
The Hurdy Gurdy Woman would stand at its side and crank in order to play a circus style music;
she would just appear then disappear. We never knew where she came from or where she lived, but we always dropped coins in the cigar box.
Then an organ grinder would come by with his trained little monkey; he had a much smaller instrument that had the crank on the side with straps that fit around his neck. We would throw coins and the monkey would pick them up and then tip his hat to us.
An old knife sharpener would push his cart through the alley ringing a bell, housewives would bring out knives and scissors for sharpening.
There were always the traveling musicians, two or three playing guitars and singing, doing requests; people tied money in a handkerchief and threw it down to them from their back porches. The musicians would take the money and leave the hanky on the fence.
On Broadway and Wilson was a guy with a trained chicken that could do all sorts of weird tricks. He would walk around with it on his shoulder.
There was the Vegetable Man with his plaintive cry "tooooooomatoeeeess and fresh fruit"; he had a horse drawn wagon.
The Ice Man also had a horse drawn wagon; we would all run down to the alley just to see the horse and get an ice chip.
We had the Ragman—"old raaags, neeeewspapers,scrap"—he had a horse also.
One thing we did was chew tar, not all the time but on occasion. Someone told us that tar was good for the teeth, so we would find where tar was placed along the streetcar tracks. We would scrape off the top dirty layer then cut off a piece of "clean" tar and then chew that. I did it and I'm still alive. Today I would scream at kid's if I saw them do that.
Meanwhile back at the barber shop, I couldn't wait until I got old enough to get a "singe." Finally I was thirteen and the barber gave me a singe. Now I don't know what a singe did; I just figured it was a rite of passage to enter adulthood. The barber would light a wick then he would carefully singe the edges of your hair. I haven't the slightest idea why, nor do I know what good it did. Hair cuts cost fifty cents.
The last Barber shop in my town just closed; another trade committed to memory.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
There was a woman known as the Hurdy Gurdy Woman, at least that's what we called her, for lack of a better title. She was ancient but still able to push this big hurdy gurdy all over Uptown. The hurdy gurdy stood about five feet tall and about five feet long and three feet wide and it was on wheels (this is to the best of my memory).
The Hurdy Gurdy Woman would stand at its side and crank in order to play a circus style music;
she would just appear then disappear. We never knew where she came from or where she lived, but we always dropped coins in the cigar box.
Then an organ grinder would come by with his trained little monkey; he had a much smaller instrument that had the crank on the side with straps that fit around his neck. We would throw coins and the monkey would pick them up and then tip his hat to us.
An old knife sharpener would push his cart through the alley ringing a bell, housewives would bring out knives and scissors for sharpening.
There were always the traveling musicians, two or three playing guitars and singing, doing requests; people tied money in a handkerchief and threw it down to them from their back porches. The musicians would take the money and leave the hanky on the fence.
On Broadway and Wilson was a guy with a trained chicken that could do all sorts of weird tricks. He would walk around with it on his shoulder.
There was the Vegetable Man with his plaintive cry "tooooooomatoeeeess and fresh fruit"; he had a horse drawn wagon.
The Ice Man also had a horse drawn wagon; we would all run down to the alley just to see the horse and get an ice chip.
We had the Ragman—"old raaags, neeeewspapers,scrap"—he had a horse also.
One thing we did was chew tar, not all the time but on occasion. Someone told us that tar was good for the teeth, so we would find where tar was placed along the streetcar tracks. We would scrape off the top dirty layer then cut off a piece of "clean" tar and then chew that. I did it and I'm still alive. Today I would scream at kid's if I saw them do that.
Meanwhile back at the barber shop, I couldn't wait until I got old enough to get a "singe." Finally I was thirteen and the barber gave me a singe. Now I don't know what a singe did; I just figured it was a rite of passage to enter adulthood. The barber would light a wick then he would carefully singe the edges of your hair. I haven't the slightest idea why, nor do I know what good it did. Hair cuts cost fifty cents.
The last Barber shop in my town just closed; another trade committed to memory.
October 28, 2012
Tonight on Radio or Streaming Web
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Tonight on the radio is the MotherShip Connection, "Your Cosmic link to the other side."
Broadcasting live from Kenosha, Wisconsin, from 8 pm until midight, the witching hour.
AM 1050 on your radio dial or streaming on your computer WLIP.com.
You can call in with comments and or questions 262-694-1050.
Topic for the evening is Ouija boards, Richard Crowe World Famous Ghost Hunter,
and a few quips about Uptown.
The MotherShip Connection is a talk-friendly program about strange occurrences, happenings, and unexplained phenomenon. Moderated by Dobie Maxwell, a well-known Chicagoland DJ, stand up comedian, and all around good guy.
I will be popping in and out with a few comments about Uptown. I lived at 4737 Kenmore and went to Stewart School. My wife Eileen Griffin lived at 4740 across the street; she went to St. Thomas
We've been hanging out a long time.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Tonight on the radio is the MotherShip Connection, "Your Cosmic link to the other side."
Broadcasting live from Kenosha, Wisconsin, from 8 pm until midight, the witching hour.
AM 1050 on your radio dial or streaming on your computer WLIP.com.
You can call in with comments and or questions 262-694-1050.
Topic for the evening is Ouija boards, Richard Crowe World Famous Ghost Hunter,
and a few quips about Uptown.
The MotherShip Connection is a talk-friendly program about strange occurrences, happenings, and unexplained phenomenon. Moderated by Dobie Maxwell, a well-known Chicagoland DJ, stand up comedian, and all around good guy.
I will be popping in and out with a few comments about Uptown. I lived at 4737 Kenmore and went to Stewart School. My wife Eileen Griffin lived at 4740 across the street; she went to St. Thomas
We've been hanging out a long time.
September 17, 2012
My Team, the Chicago Bears, 1946
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
When I was a kid, we lived around the corner from the Sheridan Plaza Hotel where all the sports figures stayed when in town. My dad, being the drinker he was, got around and would drink with various sports celebrities, and they would usually end up at our place on Kenmore Ave.
.
One of the dirtiest football players of the era was Ed Sprinkle. He taught us kids how to play dirty and not get caught. Another was Joe Osmanski, who with his brother, "Bullet Bill" Osmanski, were on the Championship Chicago Bears.
I went to a Bears game only once. They played at Wrigley Field then, and I met most of the rest of the team. I got to say hello to Sid Luckman, which in the day was like talking to God.
I was ten years old then. After Bill retired from football, he became a dentist and actually filled one of my teeth. I seem to remember he had an office in the Uptown Bank building. The tooth finally had to be pulled, but that was 60 years later, At one point in time, Bill Osmanski ran for Cook County coroner at the same time Chuck Percy was running for senator. We were at a get acquainted dinner at a VFW hall in Norwood Park. I approached Bullet Bill and asked if he remembered me. He didn't, but he remembered my father. Chuck Percy won, Bill didn't.
Sid Luckman was the greatest Quarterback of all time (according to me) followed by Johnny Lujack. After that, So Long Bears
This was back in the day when footballers were tough. They played the whole game, there were no offense or defense teams. The quarterback played both sides and did all the kicking. Does anyone remember what a drop kick is? That's how field goals were made back in the day.
Lets look at today's player:
Game time 1 hour
Lets say if it were divided equally, offense plays 30 mins and defense plays 30 min. With each play lasting only a few seconds and the balance of the time is used up before the next play, well, the player only averages about 10 minutes worth of playing time per game. With 18 games that's 180 minutes or 3 hours for several million dollars per year.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
When I was a kid, we lived around the corner from the Sheridan Plaza Hotel where all the sports figures stayed when in town. My dad, being the drinker he was, got around and would drink with various sports celebrities, and they would usually end up at our place on Kenmore Ave.
.
One of the dirtiest football players of the era was Ed Sprinkle. He taught us kids how to play dirty and not get caught. Another was Joe Osmanski, who with his brother, "Bullet Bill" Osmanski, were on the Championship Chicago Bears.
I went to a Bears game only once. They played at Wrigley Field then, and I met most of the rest of the team. I got to say hello to Sid Luckman, which in the day was like talking to God.
I was ten years old then. After Bill retired from football, he became a dentist and actually filled one of my teeth. I seem to remember he had an office in the Uptown Bank building. The tooth finally had to be pulled, but that was 60 years later, At one point in time, Bill Osmanski ran for Cook County coroner at the same time Chuck Percy was running for senator. We were at a get acquainted dinner at a VFW hall in Norwood Park. I approached Bullet Bill and asked if he remembered me. He didn't, but he remembered my father. Chuck Percy won, Bill didn't.
Sid Luckman was the greatest Quarterback of all time (according to me) followed by Johnny Lujack. After that, So Long Bears
This was back in the day when footballers were tough. They played the whole game, there were no offense or defense teams. The quarterback played both sides and did all the kicking. Does anyone remember what a drop kick is? That's how field goals were made back in the day.
Lets look at today's player:
Game time 1 hour
Lets say if it were divided equally, offense plays 30 mins and defense plays 30 min. With each play lasting only a few seconds and the balance of the time is used up before the next play, well, the player only averages about 10 minutes worth of playing time per game. With 18 games that's 180 minutes or 3 hours for several million dollars per year.
July 23, 2012
More Lake Front Fishing
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
We had lake front fishing at its finest—perch, still the best eating fish bar none. Whether fishing with cane pole or trolley, the fishing was always great. Herring came in twice a year and smelt came in April.
I would bike to Gompers Park with a fly rod for pan fish. Sometimes I would fish the lagoon at the Waveland Golf Course just east of Montrose Harbor. Carp snagging at Belmont Harbor was one of my favorites. The north end of Belmont Harbor was shallow and clear. I would rig my casting rod with a treble hook and a 1/2 ounce lead weight. There weren't any snagging hooks commercially available in those days, so we had to make them. I would tie a piece of white cloth to the line about a foot above the hook. This would allow me to see where the hook was in the water.
We would walk along the edge of the harbor, spot a carp, and then cast over it, and by watching the white strip we could tell where the hook was as it approached the carp. We gave a hardy pull, and if every thing worked right, would snag the carp. All hell broke loose when that fish tried to get away.
There were only 2 or 3 of us that ever did this type of fishing, knowing it would never catch on as an Olympic sport. In addition to carp, people would throw in their gold fish, and these fish would grow to large sizes, looking like the koi fish of today.
Some years later while fishing with my youngest son, age 11 at the time, we were at the dam in Jefferson Wisconsin and I noticed a lot of carp in the still water. So I said, "Dan, watch this trick." I got out a treble hook and cast out to snag a carp, at which time some DNR guy said, "You're under arrest"! Wisconsin had just passed a no snagging law.
I explained to the DNR guy that meant Lake Michigan for salmon, and since there are no salmon in the Rock River, it doesn't apply here.
Well, he had an interpretation that was a little different than mine. The outcome was four hours later; a daughter came up to bail us out. $200 later we were on our way home.
Son Dan wanted to know that if I had any more tricks to show him, if I'd just keep them to myself. We went to court and the judge hollered at the DNR guy for being stupid and wasting his and the court's time and me, I just wanted some of his blood.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
We had lake front fishing at its finest—perch, still the best eating fish bar none. Whether fishing with cane pole or trolley, the fishing was always great. Herring came in twice a year and smelt came in April.
I would bike to Gompers Park with a fly rod for pan fish. Sometimes I would fish the lagoon at the Waveland Golf Course just east of Montrose Harbor. Carp snagging at Belmont Harbor was one of my favorites. The north end of Belmont Harbor was shallow and clear. I would rig my casting rod with a treble hook and a 1/2 ounce lead weight. There weren't any snagging hooks commercially available in those days, so we had to make them. I would tie a piece of white cloth to the line about a foot above the hook. This would allow me to see where the hook was in the water.
We would walk along the edge of the harbor, spot a carp, and then cast over it, and by watching the white strip we could tell where the hook was as it approached the carp. We gave a hardy pull, and if every thing worked right, would snag the carp. All hell broke loose when that fish tried to get away.
There were only 2 or 3 of us that ever did this type of fishing, knowing it would never catch on as an Olympic sport. In addition to carp, people would throw in their gold fish, and these fish would grow to large sizes, looking like the koi fish of today.
Some years later while fishing with my youngest son, age 11 at the time, we were at the dam in Jefferson Wisconsin and I noticed a lot of carp in the still water. So I said, "Dan, watch this trick." I got out a treble hook and cast out to snag a carp, at which time some DNR guy said, "You're under arrest"! Wisconsin had just passed a no snagging law.
I explained to the DNR guy that meant Lake Michigan for salmon, and since there are no salmon in the Rock River, it doesn't apply here.
Well, he had an interpretation that was a little different than mine. The outcome was four hours later; a daughter came up to bail us out. $200 later we were on our way home.
Son Dan wanted to know that if I had any more tricks to show him, if I'd just keep them to myself. We went to court and the judge hollered at the DNR guy for being stupid and wasting his and the court's time and me, I just wanted some of his blood.
June 10, 2012
Lake Front Fishing, Uptown Chicago
We would walk down to Montrose Harbor and buy our bait from "C. Berry for Bait," an old green shack on the northeast side of the harbor. All of our fishing equipment came from there. We could buy a one piece 16 / 18 foot cane pole, a two piece 12/14 foot, or what us professional guys used, a three piece 14/18 footer. One of our prized possessions was an official C. Berrry Bait Can, which was in reality an unused paint can with 6 or 7 nail holes punched in the top.
It cost us a quarter and we had it forever. Styrofoam hadn't been invented yet. A mandatory piece was our Coleman Gas Fired Lantern. For a nickel's worth of white gas at the gas station, we could fish all night. We tied a length of clothesline to the handle of the lantern in order to lower down to the water, usually about two feet above. This helped attract the perch in to our poles, and gave us light when baiting our trolley set ups.
For bait, the Lake Michigan shiner was the best, followed by fat heads, peelers, or softshell crabs, which were really cray fish. We would rip the tail off, peel away the shell, and impale the white meat on the hook. Sometimes we would use small pieces of shrimp. Worms never worked that well on the horseshoe.
I would fish all night, come home in the morning with a stringer of 50- 60 perch. Our tackle box was for the most part an old cigar box.
We would scrounge all of our gear and rarely bought any. I invented a type of hook-dragging device which was an old clothes hanger cut and bent into a circle with 10" lengths of hanger with bent hooks at the end, alternating with one hook up and one hook down until I had 10 lengths. I would throw this out into the lake and let it settle to the bottom, then slowly retrieve it back, snagging anything it came in contact with: hooks, line weights, sun glasses, and a few rods and reels.
A neat old guy named Mr. Service used to come out at sunup with his cart, "HOOOOT COOFFEE," and rolls; then at lunchtime he sold sandwiches and pop. I went to school with his son Jim and always felt sorry for him that his dad had to sell hot coffee for a living. Today I would love to have that concession. When Jim went to high school his dad bought him a car.
The water level on the lake always fluctuated, as far as I can remember, then when Harold Washington was mayor, there was high water and flooding going on along Lake Shore Drive. Some of the lobbies in buildings and LSD was flooded.
The mayor convened a committee to figure out how to keep Lake Michigan from flooding the City. So experts said we had to open the locks and drain the water into the Mississippi; the people down south said if you flood us we'll sue. Another said if we drained a billion gallons a day it would take 10 years to get the level down.
Now mind you, no one was asking the real experts, the Lake Front Fisherman. The following week the water level returned to normal, all the "experts" went home, and no one had an answer as to why.
God and Nature handle things pretty well; all we have to do is stay out of the way. It's a system that has been working up to now.
Bill Matteson
It cost us a quarter and we had it forever. Styrofoam hadn't been invented yet. A mandatory piece was our Coleman Gas Fired Lantern. For a nickel's worth of white gas at the gas station, we could fish all night. We tied a length of clothesline to the handle of the lantern in order to lower down to the water, usually about two feet above. This helped attract the perch in to our poles, and gave us light when baiting our trolley set ups.
For bait, the Lake Michigan shiner was the best, followed by fat heads, peelers, or softshell crabs, which were really cray fish. We would rip the tail off, peel away the shell, and impale the white meat on the hook. Sometimes we would use small pieces of shrimp. Worms never worked that well on the horseshoe.
I would fish all night, come home in the morning with a stringer of 50- 60 perch. Our tackle box was for the most part an old cigar box.
We would scrounge all of our gear and rarely bought any. I invented a type of hook-dragging device which was an old clothes hanger cut and bent into a circle with 10" lengths of hanger with bent hooks at the end, alternating with one hook up and one hook down until I had 10 lengths. I would throw this out into the lake and let it settle to the bottom, then slowly retrieve it back, snagging anything it came in contact with: hooks, line weights, sun glasses, and a few rods and reels.
A neat old guy named Mr. Service used to come out at sunup with his cart, "HOOOOT COOFFEE," and rolls; then at lunchtime he sold sandwiches and pop. I went to school with his son Jim and always felt sorry for him that his dad had to sell hot coffee for a living. Today I would love to have that concession. When Jim went to high school his dad bought him a car.
The water level on the lake always fluctuated, as far as I can remember, then when Harold Washington was mayor, there was high water and flooding going on along Lake Shore Drive. Some of the lobbies in buildings and LSD was flooded.
The mayor convened a committee to figure out how to keep Lake Michigan from flooding the City. So experts said we had to open the locks and drain the water into the Mississippi; the people down south said if you flood us we'll sue. Another said if we drained a billion gallons a day it would take 10 years to get the level down.
Now mind you, no one was asking the real experts, the Lake Front Fisherman. The following week the water level returned to normal, all the "experts" went home, and no one had an answer as to why.
God and Nature handle things pretty well; all we have to do is stay out of the way. It's a system that has been working up to now.
Bill Matteson
June 8, 2012
Oh It's So Hot — Summers in Uptown
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Corresponent
Oh it's hot out. Oh, my, what will we do?
Oh, turn up the air conditioning.
But back in the day before air conditioning, we had Conditioned Air: a fan and a block of ice. The ice man came through the alley and looked up on the back porch to see if the ice sign was in the window.
Now the amount of ice needed was told to him by the placement of the sign. A 12"-square with a number printed on each edge so the number showing right side up told how much ice to bring. He would chip out a size of ice block to correspond to the price shown.
The ice block was placed in a porcelain tin dishpan with an oscillating fan behind it , usually in front of an open window. This was the Conditioned Air of the Day.
That is if you could afford ice and had a fan.
When it was real hot at night and we couldn't sleep we would all pack up ourt bedrolls and head for the park. Sis, Mom, Dad, and me walked up Leland Ave to the park. We would meet a lot of our neighbors doing the same thing. Nobody was afraid then and the Park District Police patrolled regularly.
I don't even remember any bugs. I used to lie there and watch the rabbits run around, and then as it got later watch some couples wrapped in blankets.
Today I heard on the news that if you get too hot you can call the Fire Dept. and they will take you to a cooling center. (I won't comment on this.)
I am glad that I had the opportunity to grow up in an age where people took care of themselves rather than to rely on others. As our doctor told my wife and I, people from your generation were tougher; you just sucked it up and walked it off. As a kid I might remember one person that took a prescription drug, today I don't know any one who doesn't.
Uptown Chicago History Corresponent
Oh it's hot out. Oh, my, what will we do?
Oh, turn up the air conditioning.
But back in the day before air conditioning, we had Conditioned Air: a fan and a block of ice. The ice man came through the alley and looked up on the back porch to see if the ice sign was in the window.
Now the amount of ice needed was told to him by the placement of the sign. A 12"-square with a number printed on each edge so the number showing right side up told how much ice to bring. He would chip out a size of ice block to correspond to the price shown.
The ice block was placed in a porcelain tin dishpan with an oscillating fan behind it , usually in front of an open window. This was the Conditioned Air of the Day.
That is if you could afford ice and had a fan.
When it was real hot at night and we couldn't sleep we would all pack up ourt bedrolls and head for the park. Sis, Mom, Dad, and me walked up Leland Ave to the park. We would meet a lot of our neighbors doing the same thing. Nobody was afraid then and the Park District Police patrolled regularly.
I don't even remember any bugs. I used to lie there and watch the rabbits run around, and then as it got later watch some couples wrapped in blankets.
Today I heard on the news that if you get too hot you can call the Fire Dept. and they will take you to a cooling center. (I won't comment on this.)
I am glad that I had the opportunity to grow up in an age where people took care of themselves rather than to rely on others. As our doctor told my wife and I, people from your generation were tougher; you just sucked it up and walked it off. As a kid I might remember one person that took a prescription drug, today I don't know any one who doesn't.
May 27, 2012
Memorial Day
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
One afternoon I stood on the corner of Armitage and Lincoln and watched troops debark from the Red Rocket Street Cars and watched them as they marched East on Armitage Ave. I didn't realize my dad was behind me until I heard him blow his nose; he had tears in his eyes and we waved good bye to every soldier that passed by. It was hours later and dark when we went home. As a kid I didn't understand what the big deal was; today as a father and grandfather I know how he must have felt. I have sons and grandsons who served in Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan.
It was Summer 1942 I was 6 years old. The war was on. We were issued ration books ( I still have them). My dad tried to enlist but was told he was too old. He had served in WWI. He was wounded in France. Mustard gas. The left side of his face was paralyzed and he was deaf in his left ear.
We always were a very patriotic family; its in the blood, with direct linage on both sides going back to the Revolutionary War.
I had a pair of bib overalls that day in 1942, and my mother sent away for a patch in the shape of a shield,
and on that patch it said "I AM AN AMERICAN." Mom sewed the patch on the top portion of the bib and I wore it proudly and would march up and down the street showing it to anyone who would look.
I had two chores that had to be done each day: watch my little sister and roll cigarettes, Tip Top or Bugler, on a cigarette rolling machine. After rolling I had to keep the supply in a cigar box.
That year we moved to Uptown and my mom got a job at Advance Transformer, as a coil winder.
Within a year the war effort went into high gear. Mom was proud that she got to help. They converted her coil winding machine to making parachute shrouds.
She earned an "Efficiency Pin" for putting in the extra effort. For her it was the Medal of Honor.
Our home was always open to any soldier or sailor that happened by, usually at dinner time. We bought War Stamps in school and at the movie theater.
In August 1945, when I was away at summer camp, everyone started shouting something about an Atomic Bomb. We all packed our gear and went home. It was over.
The enemy didn't only have to fight our servicemen, It had to fight the entire nation. Because we as a nation, we put all our thoughts, prayers and efforts into defeating him. Behind each and every soldier was the community he came from, the town that community was in, the county, the state, and the whole country. Everyone pitched in and did their share or more.
We as a country collected our old weapons and donated them to countries, like England and Russia, where people couldn't own firearms. We sent them through the Lend Lease Program and it was a damn good thing that our Founding Fathers foresaw the need to keep and bare arms.
Japan would never invade America, they knew the citizens were armed.
Even "Lucky Strike Greens" went to war. On a package of Lucky Strike Cigarettes where you now see the white background, well, that used to be green. The government needed all the green pigment it could muster. Jays Potato chips used to be Japps. We had meatless days, we had rationing. Black-marketeers were beaten. Hoarders were turned in. We collected scrap metal, rags, and newspapers. We saved bacon fat and turned it in for red and blue point chips.
I never knew what chocolate was until after the war. Hershey Bars were for the fighting men and women
The woman next door became Rosie the Riveter, the woman's labor force was as large as the military.
Women pilots ferried bombers and fighters across the Atlantic, unarmed, and were in as big or bigger danger than any other flyers.
There was only one thought, one goal. No one person, no one group did it. We as a nation did it. We are one nation, under God.
—Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
One afternoon I stood on the corner of Armitage and Lincoln and watched troops debark from the Red Rocket Street Cars and watched them as they marched East on Armitage Ave. I didn't realize my dad was behind me until I heard him blow his nose; he had tears in his eyes and we waved good bye to every soldier that passed by. It was hours later and dark when we went home. As a kid I didn't understand what the big deal was; today as a father and grandfather I know how he must have felt. I have sons and grandsons who served in Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan.
It was Summer 1942 I was 6 years old. The war was on. We were issued ration books ( I still have them). My dad tried to enlist but was told he was too old. He had served in WWI. He was wounded in France. Mustard gas. The left side of his face was paralyzed and he was deaf in his left ear.
We always were a very patriotic family; its in the blood, with direct linage on both sides going back to the Revolutionary War.
I had a pair of bib overalls that day in 1942, and my mother sent away for a patch in the shape of a shield,
and on that patch it said "I AM AN AMERICAN." Mom sewed the patch on the top portion of the bib and I wore it proudly and would march up and down the street showing it to anyone who would look.
I had two chores that had to be done each day: watch my little sister and roll cigarettes, Tip Top or Bugler, on a cigarette rolling machine. After rolling I had to keep the supply in a cigar box.
That year we moved to Uptown and my mom got a job at Advance Transformer, as a coil winder.
Within a year the war effort went into high gear. Mom was proud that she got to help. They converted her coil winding machine to making parachute shrouds.
She earned an "Efficiency Pin" for putting in the extra effort. For her it was the Medal of Honor.
Our home was always open to any soldier or sailor that happened by, usually at dinner time. We bought War Stamps in school and at the movie theater.
In August 1945, when I was away at summer camp, everyone started shouting something about an Atomic Bomb. We all packed our gear and went home. It was over.
The enemy didn't only have to fight our servicemen, It had to fight the entire nation. Because we as a nation, we put all our thoughts, prayers and efforts into defeating him. Behind each and every soldier was the community he came from, the town that community was in, the county, the state, and the whole country. Everyone pitched in and did their share or more.
We as a country collected our old weapons and donated them to countries, like England and Russia, where people couldn't own firearms. We sent them through the Lend Lease Program and it was a damn good thing that our Founding Fathers foresaw the need to keep and bare arms.
Japan would never invade America, they knew the citizens were armed.
Even "Lucky Strike Greens" went to war. On a package of Lucky Strike Cigarettes where you now see the white background, well, that used to be green. The government needed all the green pigment it could muster. Jays Potato chips used to be Japps. We had meatless days, we had rationing. Black-marketeers were beaten. Hoarders were turned in. We collected scrap metal, rags, and newspapers. We saved bacon fat and turned it in for red and blue point chips.
I never knew what chocolate was until after the war. Hershey Bars were for the fighting men and women
The woman next door became Rosie the Riveter, the woman's labor force was as large as the military.
Women pilots ferried bombers and fighters across the Atlantic, unarmed, and were in as big or bigger danger than any other flyers.
There was only one thought, one goal. No one person, no one group did it. We as a nation did it. We are one nation, under God.
—Bill Matteson
April 27, 2012
Clarendon Park Field House
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
As I look back, it was a long walk from Lawrence and Kenmore to The Clarendon Park Field House, and we thought nothing of walking that distance in the middle of winter with ice skates tied together by the laces and flung over the shoulders.
About six blocks there, then skate for a few hours, six blocks home. I don't ever remember getting cold. Now if it's under 70 degrees I wear a sweater.
As soon as it got cold in the late fall, we would speculate as to when "they" would freeze Clarendon. I always thought they had some kind of machine that put ice down until I watched a city worker use a big fire hose. He was covered in ice when he was finished; we all cheered him
It usually took a few days of applications before we had a good skating surface. There were always big shovels with two handles in case it snowed, then we volunteered to shovel the ice.
We would go in upstairs then down to ground level, put on our ice skates, and leave our shoes under the bench. No one would ever steal them. After skating a while it was a treat to come back in the warm basement and have Hot Chocolate from the concession stand, listen to the juke box at 5 cents a tune or 6 for a quarter, or play ping pong. We could get the paddles and balls from the counter. Everything was free in those days.
Before it became the Clarendon Park Field House, it was known as the Clarendon Park Beach House because at one time the beach was right on the east side of it. Then progress and landfill pushed the lake even farther east to its present location. In and about the 1949/50 time bracket, someone decided to open a teen center in the building just south of the field house. We went there a few times, but our group didn't like it because there was too much supervision.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
As I look back, it was a long walk from Lawrence and Kenmore to The Clarendon Park Field House, and we thought nothing of walking that distance in the middle of winter with ice skates tied together by the laces and flung over the shoulders.
About six blocks there, then skate for a few hours, six blocks home. I don't ever remember getting cold. Now if it's under 70 degrees I wear a sweater.
As soon as it got cold in the late fall, we would speculate as to when "they" would freeze Clarendon. I always thought they had some kind of machine that put ice down until I watched a city worker use a big fire hose. He was covered in ice when he was finished; we all cheered him
It usually took a few days of applications before we had a good skating surface. There were always big shovels with two handles in case it snowed, then we volunteered to shovel the ice.
We would go in upstairs then down to ground level, put on our ice skates, and leave our shoes under the bench. No one would ever steal them. After skating a while it was a treat to come back in the warm basement and have Hot Chocolate from the concession stand, listen to the juke box at 5 cents a tune or 6 for a quarter, or play ping pong. We could get the paddles and balls from the counter. Everything was free in those days.
Before it became the Clarendon Park Field House, it was known as the Clarendon Park Beach House because at one time the beach was right on the east side of it. Then progress and landfill pushed the lake even farther east to its present location. In and about the 1949/50 time bracket, someone decided to open a teen center in the building just south of the field house. We went there a few times, but our group didn't like it because there was too much supervision.
April 10, 2012
Treasure Hunting in the Alleys
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
As a treasure hunter the alleys were our gold fields. Things we could find that became our treasure were
an old pair of roller skates and a 2 x 4. This was the birth of modern day skate boarding. We would take the skate apart and attach the ends to the front and back of a 2X4, this was the skate board.
Now to make a scooter we would take the 2X4 with the two pieces of skate wheels and attach a wooden orange crate to it. We then attached an old broom stick to the top of the crate; this became our handle. We would paint them if we could find paint. Old baby buggies were prized for the wheels; we always wanted to enter a soap box derby but we never progressed that far. Most of the time it was a cardboard box on top of a collapsed buggy.
A rare find was an old inner tube. We would find one and patch it up. This became our Lake Michigan Yacht. If it was shredded and couldn't be patched we would cut it into strips and make rubber guns.
This was a carved piece of wood that resembled a rifle; a spring clothes pin was the trigger and we would shoot a large cut piece of rubber out of it.
Match guns were made by taking a spring clothespin apart and reversing one of the handles with the spring on the outside. By pushing in the lever of the spring, it fit into a notch that we cut in on the inside of the pin. Then when we inserted a kitchen match and pulled the spring/trigger, the spring shot out a lit match. This was great for burning down small forts we made out of popsicle sticks.
Finding bottles was the same as finding money. Cereal box tops and the inner liner of a jar of Ovaltine was the same as a pot of gold. Kellogs PEP sponsored Superman, Ovaltine, Captain Midnight, Ralston Tom Mix, Wheaties Jack Armstrong. Cherrios The Lone Ranger* We listened to all their radio serial programs, 15 minutes each.
When we found a piece of wood about a 2X2 we would taper it at each end them put numbers on it. 1 on one side then 2 then 3 then 4. We then would hit the tapered end with an old broom handle, the piece would fly up and then when it landed the number showing on top was your score. We played to 21.
Speaking of patch kits for inner tubes, which we could buy at the Dime Store, we would also buy repair kits for shoes. A rubber sole the could be glued over the hole in your shoe, along with new rubber heels. I even remember the "Cats Paw" brand.
Metal crescent shaped cleats were essential in order to be noticed walking down the street. We would attach them to the heels and the tips of our shoes. As young kids we developed a way of walking, double bouncing and dragging the cleat on the sidewalk that made a terrible racket. Especially in the school hallways.
Most every kid in Stewart School collected trading cards. We would start out with an ordinary old deck of cards and the trade one of your cards for a different card from someone else. Over a period of time, we would end up with a hundred cards all different, most valuable was any card that that had a scene on it. Pin ups were the best.
We did this for a couple of years, then some company started selling trading cards with an already mixed set and blank on the suit side. Well, that took all the fun out of what we were doing, so we all quit. I think the Dime Store got stuck with a lot of inventory
Thanks for reading!
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
As a treasure hunter the alleys were our gold fields. Things we could find that became our treasure were
an old pair of roller skates and a 2 x 4. This was the birth of modern day skate boarding. We would take the skate apart and attach the ends to the front and back of a 2X4, this was the skate board.
Now to make a scooter we would take the 2X4 with the two pieces of skate wheels and attach a wooden orange crate to it. We then attached an old broom stick to the top of the crate; this became our handle. We would paint them if we could find paint. Old baby buggies were prized for the wheels; we always wanted to enter a soap box derby but we never progressed that far. Most of the time it was a cardboard box on top of a collapsed buggy.
A rare find was an old inner tube. We would find one and patch it up. This became our Lake Michigan Yacht. If it was shredded and couldn't be patched we would cut it into strips and make rubber guns.
This was a carved piece of wood that resembled a rifle; a spring clothes pin was the trigger and we would shoot a large cut piece of rubber out of it.
Match guns were made by taking a spring clothespin apart and reversing one of the handles with the spring on the outside. By pushing in the lever of the spring, it fit into a notch that we cut in on the inside of the pin. Then when we inserted a kitchen match and pulled the spring/trigger, the spring shot out a lit match. This was great for burning down small forts we made out of popsicle sticks.
Finding bottles was the same as finding money. Cereal box tops and the inner liner of a jar of Ovaltine was the same as a pot of gold. Kellogs PEP sponsored Superman, Ovaltine, Captain Midnight, Ralston Tom Mix, Wheaties Jack Armstrong. Cherrios The Lone Ranger* We listened to all their radio serial programs, 15 minutes each.
When we found a piece of wood about a 2X2 we would taper it at each end them put numbers on it. 1 on one side then 2 then 3 then 4. We then would hit the tapered end with an old broom handle, the piece would fly up and then when it landed the number showing on top was your score. We played to 21.
Speaking of patch kits for inner tubes, which we could buy at the Dime Store, we would also buy repair kits for shoes. A rubber sole the could be glued over the hole in your shoe, along with new rubber heels. I even remember the "Cats Paw" brand.
Metal crescent shaped cleats were essential in order to be noticed walking down the street. We would attach them to the heels and the tips of our shoes. As young kids we developed a way of walking, double bouncing and dragging the cleat on the sidewalk that made a terrible racket. Especially in the school hallways.
Most every kid in Stewart School collected trading cards. We would start out with an ordinary old deck of cards and the trade one of your cards for a different card from someone else. Over a period of time, we would end up with a hundred cards all different, most valuable was any card that that had a scene on it. Pin ups were the best.
We did this for a couple of years, then some company started selling trading cards with an already mixed set and blank on the suit side. Well, that took all the fun out of what we were doing, so we all quit. I think the Dime Store got stuck with a lot of inventory
Thanks for reading!
March 12, 2012
Of All the Grills I Have Known Before
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Uptown was a place where you could get something to eat almost any where you went and at any time.
Every drug store and dime store had a lunch counter. If I started out at Gary's Payless drug store in the Viceroy Hotel on the SW corner of Lawrence and Kenmore, I could get a grilled cheese sandwich at the long counter that ran parallel with Lawrence. Moving west, the next door was an entrance to the Viceroy Restaurant. Just past the alley was the Ritz Grill, cheese burgers,fries and chili, further up the street next to the El was Marquis Lunch, next to the Riveria and the Uptown were soda fountains that served sandwiches. The best hot dogs came from the deli in the basement of Goldblatts. On Leland and Broadway was Kresges Dime Store; they had a soda fountain and served food, complete with a menu.
South on Broadway at Wilson was Woolworths Dime Store, again counter and menu. At Wilson and Kenmore was Square Burgers, next to the bank (old Wilson Theater); SE corner was Angelos Pizza, NE corner was Thomsons Cafeteria. At Leland and Kenmore NW corner was Leibermans Drug Store with lunch counter. Wilson and Hazel had a Steinway Drug Store on the S.W. corner, also a Steinway Drug Store on the S.W corner of Lawrence and Sheridan.
Every Drugstore had a lunch counter/ soda fountain, and on the soda fountain end was a Big Blue Bromo Seltzer jar. The counter attendant / soda jerk would turn a lever on the stand of the jar and bromo crystals would come out into a little glass of soda water. The soda jerk would then make a big display of pouring the bromo and seltzer water back and forth from one glass to another several times before he served it; this was the hangover cure of the day.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Uptown was a place where you could get something to eat almost any where you went and at any time.
Every drug store and dime store had a lunch counter. If I started out at Gary's Payless drug store in the Viceroy Hotel on the SW corner of Lawrence and Kenmore, I could get a grilled cheese sandwich at the long counter that ran parallel with Lawrence. Moving west, the next door was an entrance to the Viceroy Restaurant. Just past the alley was the Ritz Grill, cheese burgers,fries and chili, further up the street next to the El was Marquis Lunch, next to the Riveria and the Uptown were soda fountains that served sandwiches. The best hot dogs came from the deli in the basement of Goldblatts. On Leland and Broadway was Kresges Dime Store; they had a soda fountain and served food, complete with a menu.
South on Broadway at Wilson was Woolworths Dime Store, again counter and menu. At Wilson and Kenmore was Square Burgers, next to the bank (old Wilson Theater); SE corner was Angelos Pizza, NE corner was Thomsons Cafeteria. At Leland and Kenmore NW corner was Leibermans Drug Store with lunch counter. Wilson and Hazel had a Steinway Drug Store on the S.W. corner, also a Steinway Drug Store on the S.W corner of Lawrence and Sheridan.
Every Drugstore had a lunch counter/ soda fountain, and on the soda fountain end was a Big Blue Bromo Seltzer jar. The counter attendant / soda jerk would turn a lever on the stand of the jar and bromo crystals would come out into a little glass of soda water. The soda jerk would then make a big display of pouring the bromo and seltzer water back and forth from one glass to another several times before he served it; this was the hangover cure of the day.
February 7, 2012
The Viceroy Hotel at Lawrence and Kenmore and Duke the German Shepherd, Uptown Chicago
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
The Viceroy Hotel on the S.W corner of Kenmore and Lawrence changed it's name to the Wilton and then to the Lorali. The Viceroy was a swank place, but not as a swanky as the New Lawrence Hotel.
On the Lawrence Ave. side of the Viceroy was a restaurant that featured Friday night fish fries. It was a treat to eat there.
A World War 2 Vet lived in the Viceroy with his German Shepard "Duke," and the neighborhood story was Duke was in the German Army and was saved by the WW2 Vet, or he saved the vet, it was never clear as to who saved whom, but to us kids, it was the stuff movies were made of.
In those days guys hung out on corners or in front of the Viceroy Door. Just to the south of the Viceroy was an empty lot, and a lot of guys would stand around there swapping war stories, smoking cigarettes, and drinking wine with the bottles in paper bags. I never could figure out why they went through all that trouble to disguise the wine. Everyone knew what was in the bag. You could always tell the wine connoisseurs in the neighborhood, they used clean bags.
Duke and his owner were always there. Myself and all the neighborhood kids liked Duke. We would walk by and pet him or at least say hi when we walked by.
One day Duke and his owner were outside when some idiot drunk walked by and threatened Duke's owner. The Owner said something in German to Duke. Duke's facial features changed to wolflike characteristics, fangs were bared, and the meanest low growl came out from the inside of Duke.
We all stood there in amazement, the drunk took off very quickly; I think he had a very sobering moment.
Duke got a pat on the head, and was back to being Duke.
That's all anyone ever knew of Duke and his owner. But we always felt there was a fantastic story about them finding each other.
The empty lot was our domain. Baseball, football, ring a leave o, catch one catch all, kick the can, draw around circle and hide and seek. I don't think kids know what games those are today; we had no cell phones even a phone in the house was rare, so if you wanted to talk to a friend, you walked to see them, usually into the back yard, and then it was "yoohooooooo Johnny oollie ollie oceans freeee."
One day, we found some refrigerator packing cases in the alley and they were made out of sturdy plywood. So with a few more pieces of scrap lumber and some Kenmore Avenue ingenuity, we built a club house. Well that only lasted until the older boys in the neighborhood took it over for drinking and shooting craps. One night it burned down. I figured some neighbors did it to get rid of problems it caused. Maybe it was the first Uptown Urban renewal project.
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
The Viceroy Hotel on the S.W corner of Kenmore and Lawrence changed it's name to the Wilton and then to the Lorali. The Viceroy was a swank place, but not as a swanky as the New Lawrence Hotel.
On the Lawrence Ave. side of the Viceroy was a restaurant that featured Friday night fish fries. It was a treat to eat there.
A World War 2 Vet lived in the Viceroy with his German Shepard "Duke," and the neighborhood story was Duke was in the German Army and was saved by the WW2 Vet, or he saved the vet, it was never clear as to who saved whom, but to us kids, it was the stuff movies were made of.
In those days guys hung out on corners or in front of the Viceroy Door. Just to the south of the Viceroy was an empty lot, and a lot of guys would stand around there swapping war stories, smoking cigarettes, and drinking wine with the bottles in paper bags. I never could figure out why they went through all that trouble to disguise the wine. Everyone knew what was in the bag. You could always tell the wine connoisseurs in the neighborhood, they used clean bags.
Duke and his owner were always there. Myself and all the neighborhood kids liked Duke. We would walk by and pet him or at least say hi when we walked by.
One day Duke and his owner were outside when some idiot drunk walked by and threatened Duke's owner. The Owner said something in German to Duke. Duke's facial features changed to wolflike characteristics, fangs were bared, and the meanest low growl came out from the inside of Duke.
We all stood there in amazement, the drunk took off very quickly; I think he had a very sobering moment.
Duke got a pat on the head, and was back to being Duke.
That's all anyone ever knew of Duke and his owner. But we always felt there was a fantastic story about them finding each other.
The empty lot was our domain. Baseball, football, ring a leave o, catch one catch all, kick the can, draw around circle and hide and seek. I don't think kids know what games those are today; we had no cell phones even a phone in the house was rare, so if you wanted to talk to a friend, you walked to see them, usually into the back yard, and then it was "yoohooooooo Johnny oollie ollie oceans freeee."
One day, we found some refrigerator packing cases in the alley and they were made out of sturdy plywood. So with a few more pieces of scrap lumber and some Kenmore Avenue ingenuity, we built a club house. Well that only lasted until the older boys in the neighborhood took it over for drinking and shooting craps. One night it burned down. I figured some neighbors did it to get rid of problems it caused. Maybe it was the first Uptown Urban renewal project.
January 12, 2012
Roller Skating at the Arcadia Roller Rink
Bill Matteson
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Roller skating at the Arcadia was what we all lived for: A Saturday afternoon skating on the new blue plastic floor with live pipe organ music.
I bought my first pair of shoe skates for $20, case included, at the Arcadia for a couple of bucks down and .50 cents per week. You could own your very own shoe skates; they would be kept at the rink until they were paid for.
Life was simple in those days; boys skates were black, girls were white. Now that I think of it our ice skates were the same
In my skate case I had two sets of wood wheels: regular wheels, two inch diameter and a one inch width, for normal rink skating and racing, and another set for dancing 1-1/2 inch diameter and a two inch length, also a small wrench for replacing the wheels and a spray container of dry graphite. I had another set of composition wheels for street skating.
Also in the case I had to have a decal of a pin up girl on the inside lid; these we bought at the dime store.
We would skate around in a clockwise rotation keeping to the tempo of the music, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. If we started skating too fast the organist would slow down the tempo, and at times we would have to skate counterclockwise.
Then we would have announcements over the speaker, "Ladies Choice" or "couples only." Now this was the fun part; we would have our "dancing wheels" on, find a girl to dance with, and then standing side by side put your right arm around the waist of the girl and her left hand in yours, skate around with the girl of your dreams. We would take turns skating backwards. First I would and she would steer me around then we would switch and she would skate backwards.
The center of the rink was left open for more advanced skaters and dancers, while the outer perimeter was left for beginners and novices. It was always a rite of passage to skate in the "inner circle."
In the early to mid 40's we skated on a hardwood floor. One day they closed the Arcadia down for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month, and when it opened, we couldn't believe our eyes. A solid deep blue plastic floor; it was to us the same as when Dorothy opened the door and realized she wasn't in Kansas anymore.
We soon found out the if you skated fast and then touched someone they would get a static shock; we had fun with that caper.
My favorite skating music was "I'm Looking over a Four Leaf Clover" and "Pistol Packin Mama." I'm sure that I had others but they are long forgotten.
Every Friday after school a "hawker" from the Arcadia would give out discount passes; we could skate all day noon to 5pm for 12 cents. They would hold races before closing and the winners would win a free pass for the next week. I would win because I would enter a younger age bracket; I did this until they got wise to me.
I skated there until I went high school in 1950. The Arcadia burned down somewhere in the mid 1950's, and a lot of old memories went up in smoke.
Ah yes the good old days; do kids roller skate today?
Uptown Chicago History Correspondent
Roller skating at the Arcadia was what we all lived for: A Saturday afternoon skating on the new blue plastic floor with live pipe organ music.
I bought my first pair of shoe skates for $20, case included, at the Arcadia for a couple of bucks down and .50 cents per week. You could own your very own shoe skates; they would be kept at the rink until they were paid for.
Life was simple in those days; boys skates were black, girls were white. Now that I think of it our ice skates were the same
In my skate case I had two sets of wood wheels: regular wheels, two inch diameter and a one inch width, for normal rink skating and racing, and another set for dancing 1-1/2 inch diameter and a two inch length, also a small wrench for replacing the wheels and a spray container of dry graphite. I had another set of composition wheels for street skating.
Also in the case I had to have a decal of a pin up girl on the inside lid; these we bought at the dime store.
We would skate around in a clockwise rotation keeping to the tempo of the music, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. If we started skating too fast the organist would slow down the tempo, and at times we would have to skate counterclockwise.
Then we would have announcements over the speaker, "Ladies Choice" or "couples only." Now this was the fun part; we would have our "dancing wheels" on, find a girl to dance with, and then standing side by side put your right arm around the waist of the girl and her left hand in yours, skate around with the girl of your dreams. We would take turns skating backwards. First I would and she would steer me around then we would switch and she would skate backwards.
The center of the rink was left open for more advanced skaters and dancers, while the outer perimeter was left for beginners and novices. It was always a rite of passage to skate in the "inner circle."
In the early to mid 40's we skated on a hardwood floor. One day they closed the Arcadia down for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month, and when it opened, we couldn't believe our eyes. A solid deep blue plastic floor; it was to us the same as when Dorothy opened the door and realized she wasn't in Kansas anymore.
We soon found out the if you skated fast and then touched someone they would get a static shock; we had fun with that caper.
My favorite skating music was "I'm Looking over a Four Leaf Clover" and "Pistol Packin Mama." I'm sure that I had others but they are long forgotten.
Every Friday after school a "hawker" from the Arcadia would give out discount passes; we could skate all day noon to 5pm for 12 cents. They would hold races before closing and the winners would win a free pass for the next week. I would win because I would enter a younger age bracket; I did this until they got wise to me.
I skated there until I went high school in 1950. The Arcadia burned down somewhere in the mid 1950's, and a lot of old memories went up in smoke.
Ah yes the good old days; do kids roller skate today?
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