It's sometimes thought that the modern era of anticorruption efforts and good-government laws have put the old-fashioned big-city political machines out of business.
DePaul University freshman David Krupa learned otherwise after he collected enough signatures on a filing petition to run for alderman in Chicago's 13th Ward, which includes DePaul, against incumbent Marty Quinn.
Quinn is closely tied to Mike Madigan, the speaker of the Illinois House of Representatives and a very powerful figure in Chicago and Illinois Democratic politics. For some unaccountable reason, he viewed the quixotic campaign by a college freshman as the kind of threat that needed to be squashed before it got too far. So organizations friendly to him submitted petitions that people signed which said they had either not intended to sign Krupa's petition or that the person collecting the signatures had tricked them into signing something they would not have signed. Such a "I did what?" petition is a part of Chicago law, so that action wasn't shady.
But the wrinkle comes in when you look at the numbers. Krupa's petition required a minimum of 473 valid signatures in order to get him on the ballot. His effort collected just more than 1,700, more than enough. Quinn's counter-petition, though, collected almost 2,800 signatures of people who said their signatures were obtained through deceptive means -- meaning that a thousand more people said they were tricked than even signed the original Krupa petitions. When the two lists were compared, only 187 names on the Quinn "Oh, no you don't" petition were from people who actually signed Krupa's petition.
The party machine is alive and having a ball in Chicago, even if sometimes it can do some really stupid things. From wherever he resides in the afterlife, Da Honrable Richard J. Daley, Mare a da Great City a Chicago an All Its Great People, was heard to comment, "Ward bosses ain't what they use ta be."
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Monday, January 7, 2019
Saturday, March 31, 2018
No Debits
My favorite sport is still baseball. But when the National Hockey League has things like this, it makes it really easy to pick a #2.
Scott Foster, an accountant who played goalie for the Western Michigan University Broncos about a dozen years ago, is on backup as an "emergency goalie" for the arena in case either team loses both of its regular goalies. Most of the time that means watching the game from a good seat and having a good time, but in the Chicago Blackhawks Thursday game against the Winnipeg Jets, Chicago started the game one goalie down when starter Anton Forsberg hurt himself during the morning skate practice. So Foster was signed to the emergency one-game contract.
When backup Collin Delia went down with fourteen minutes left in the game, in came Foster, who racked up seven saves and allowed no goals during what may very well be his entire pro hockey career. The Blackhawk crowd greeted his first save with an appreciative roar, and the team presented him with their "championship belt" in the locker room afterwards.
Gabriel Baumgaertner, writing for Sports Illustrated, outlines a way that major league baseball could conceivably have a similar arrangement with an "emergency backup catcher" on hand in case the same kind of need arises. He puts a couple of restrictions on it to avoid making the backup too much of a liability and points out a couple of things that the team employing the backup might have to overcome. For example, to qualify for the spot a candidate would have had to have played collegiate, professional or highly-comptetitive recreational baseball within the last three years and pass a Major League Baseball evaluation and physical. He also wouldn't have to hit.
It's a little complicated, but this rule has an advantage over this year's minor league experiment of starting extra innings with a runner on second base: It's not the single stupidest thing ever devised by the mind of man. Plus, it could be fun. The Blackhawks operation is going to get a lot of public relations mileage out of the "regular guy plays a night in the pros" thing, and Foster himself had a once-in-a-lifetime experience. What's bad about that?
(Charles has a video here.)
Scott Foster, an accountant who played goalie for the Western Michigan University Broncos about a dozen years ago, is on backup as an "emergency goalie" for the arena in case either team loses both of its regular goalies. Most of the time that means watching the game from a good seat and having a good time, but in the Chicago Blackhawks Thursday game against the Winnipeg Jets, Chicago started the game one goalie down when starter Anton Forsberg hurt himself during the morning skate practice. So Foster was signed to the emergency one-game contract.
When backup Collin Delia went down with fourteen minutes left in the game, in came Foster, who racked up seven saves and allowed no goals during what may very well be his entire pro hockey career. The Blackhawk crowd greeted his first save with an appreciative roar, and the team presented him with their "championship belt" in the locker room afterwards.
Gabriel Baumgaertner, writing for Sports Illustrated, outlines a way that major league baseball could conceivably have a similar arrangement with an "emergency backup catcher" on hand in case the same kind of need arises. He puts a couple of restrictions on it to avoid making the backup too much of a liability and points out a couple of things that the team employing the backup might have to overcome. For example, to qualify for the spot a candidate would have had to have played collegiate, professional or highly-comptetitive recreational baseball within the last three years and pass a Major League Baseball evaluation and physical. He also wouldn't have to hit.
It's a little complicated, but this rule has an advantage over this year's minor league experiment of starting extra innings with a runner on second base: It's not the single stupidest thing ever devised by the mind of man. Plus, it could be fun. The Blackhawks operation is going to get a lot of public relations mileage out of the "regular guy plays a night in the pros" thing, and Foster himself had a once-in-a-lifetime experience. What's bad about that?
(Charles has a video here.)
Monday, October 23, 2017
Saturday, January 24, 2015
So Long, Mr. Cub
In the Field of Dreams where one hopes Ernie Banks plays now, everyone says, "Let's play two!"
And they're all day games.
And they're all day games.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Vend-O-Moron-Matic
On track to see more than five hundred murders this year, His %#@&in' Honor Rahm Emanuel, Mayor of Chicago, has decided to take decisive action to improve the lives of some of the citizens of his fair city.
He's banning high-calorie snacks in vending machines on city property.
Between Emanuel and New York City's Michael Bloomberg, I'm beginning to believe you really don't have to be all that smart to be the mayor of a major American city.
He's banning high-calorie snacks in vending machines on city property.
Between Emanuel and New York City's Michael Bloomberg, I'm beginning to believe you really don't have to be all that smart to be the mayor of a major American city.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The Student Becomes the Master
Back when I lived in the Chicagoland area, the traditional Democratic "machine" opposed the reformist mayor Harold Washington. The machine, built by Hizzoner Da Honrable Richard J. Daley, Mare a da Great City Chicago and All Its Great People, was sort of leaderless in this time frame, as Daley's son Richard M. Daley had yet to make his move for the mayor's office. Cook County Democratic Party Chairman and Alderman Edward Vrdolyak led the opposition to Washington, assisted by Alderman Edward Burke. Vrdolyak was sometimes known as "Fast Eddie," with the less flamboyant and significantly younger Burke referred to as "Increasingly Fast Eddie" or "Slow Eddie."
Well, Washington died in office. Vrdolyak was indicted on federal corruption charges but before that, committed the unpardonable sin (in the machine's eyes, anyway) of becoming a Republican. Daley the younger retired. But Eddie Burke is still kicking, chair of the city Committee on Finance and several other carefully selected committees.
And now, in a move that would surely bring an approving tear to Daley the elder's eye, Burke's committee is holding hearings on whether or not the city of Chicago should use its fairly broad powers of property condemnation to seize "underwater" homes and force refinancing. "Underwater" means that the property value of the home has fallen so much that it is now worth less than the amount still owed on the mortgage. If the city seized the property, then it could force the mortgages to be refinanced at terms that homeowners could afford. Burke says that it would also help lessen the frequent abandonment of such properties, which leaves them vacant and destabilizes neighborhoods.
But that ain't all, baby -- as this item on New Geography notes, Alderman Burke has a huge role in setting Chicago's tax code, and he slates the judges who would hear the cases if banks tried to appeal the seizures. His day job is with a property tax appeals firm. His wife is a judge on the Illinois Supreme Court. His brother is the Assistant Majority Leader of the Illinois General Assembly.
Chicago -- where what's mine is mine and what's yours can stay yours as long as I get my cut of it.
Well, Washington died in office. Vrdolyak was indicted on federal corruption charges but before that, committed the unpardonable sin (in the machine's eyes, anyway) of becoming a Republican. Daley the younger retired. But Eddie Burke is still kicking, chair of the city Committee on Finance and several other carefully selected committees.
And now, in a move that would surely bring an approving tear to Daley the elder's eye, Burke's committee is holding hearings on whether or not the city of Chicago should use its fairly broad powers of property condemnation to seize "underwater" homes and force refinancing. "Underwater" means that the property value of the home has fallen so much that it is now worth less than the amount still owed on the mortgage. If the city seized the property, then it could force the mortgages to be refinanced at terms that homeowners could afford. Burke says that it would also help lessen the frequent abandonment of such properties, which leaves them vacant and destabilizes neighborhoods.
But that ain't all, baby -- as this item on New Geography notes, Alderman Burke has a huge role in setting Chicago's tax code, and he slates the judges who would hear the cases if banks tried to appeal the seizures. His day job is with a property tax appeals firm. His wife is a judge on the Illinois Supreme Court. His brother is the Assistant Majority Leader of the Illinois General Assembly.
Chicago -- where what's mine is mine and what's yours can stay yours as long as I get my cut of it.
Monday, February 27, 2012
That Toddlin' Town
A new study by political scientists at the University of Illinois-Chicago claims to show Chi-town is the most corrupt city in the United States and has been so, more or less, for quite some time.
The first recorded conviction of a Chicago alderman for corruption happened in 1869 -- he accepted a bribe to rig a city contract. Since 1973, 31 aldermen have been convicted of corruption and about 100 different people have served as Chicago aldermen. This means that over the last 40 years, almost a third of Chicago aldermen have been convicted of corruption or, in Chicago terms, "gotten sloppy."
Illinois will become the first state to have the distinction of having back-to-back ex-governors serving time simultaneously. George Ryan (1999-2003) is doing a stretch for a 2006 conviction for his role in a scheme that handed out truck licenses to people whose qualifications consisted of a donation to the Ryan campaign fund. His successor, Rod Blagojevich, will report to lockdown in March to serve his conviction for using the Illinois governor's power to fill a U.S. Senate vacancy as his own sort of fund-raising tool. Ryan and Blagojevich along with two others make four of Illinois' last seven governors who were convicted of some kind of bribery or corruption charge.
The City Council corruption has some "only in Chicago" themes. Eighteenth Ward alderman William Carothers was convicted in 1983; his son Isaac served the 29th Ward and in 2010 was convicted on similar charges. Some wards have had several aldermen convicted at different times; the same zoning scheme got 23rd Ward aldermen Joseph Potempa and his successor Frank Kuta convicted in 1973.
The link comes via a story on NewGeography.com here, in which the writer suggests that one of the problems academic folk often have when they study or theorize about political systems is a belief that all politicians within those systems are people "that rise above petty self interest to promote the common good." This would make politicians unlike any other group of people since Australopithecus afarensis decided their hands worked better grabbing than walking.
Although folks studying politics in Chicago don't have the luxury of presuming a uniformly noble class of public servants -- they're studying politics in Chicago, after all -- one would hope they don't measure only by that yardstick. I may frequently refer to politicians as of lower than average intelligence and of greater than average greed, primarily because the consequences of their errors ripple a lot more widely than most folks' do. But the truth is that they are much like every group: A few good, a few bad and many many more who are a mixture of the two.
Plus, when we voters make our choices based on which candidates promise us the most goodies for free (or at least at someone else's expense), can we really claim to be all that separate from their corruption?
The first recorded conviction of a Chicago alderman for corruption happened in 1869 -- he accepted a bribe to rig a city contract. Since 1973, 31 aldermen have been convicted of corruption and about 100 different people have served as Chicago aldermen. This means that over the last 40 years, almost a third of Chicago aldermen have been convicted of corruption or, in Chicago terms, "gotten sloppy."
Illinois will become the first state to have the distinction of having back-to-back ex-governors serving time simultaneously. George Ryan (1999-2003) is doing a stretch for a 2006 conviction for his role in a scheme that handed out truck licenses to people whose qualifications consisted of a donation to the Ryan campaign fund. His successor, Rod Blagojevich, will report to lockdown in March to serve his conviction for using the Illinois governor's power to fill a U.S. Senate vacancy as his own sort of fund-raising tool. Ryan and Blagojevich along with two others make four of Illinois' last seven governors who were convicted of some kind of bribery or corruption charge.
The City Council corruption has some "only in Chicago" themes. Eighteenth Ward alderman William Carothers was convicted in 1983; his son Isaac served the 29th Ward and in 2010 was convicted on similar charges. Some wards have had several aldermen convicted at different times; the same zoning scheme got 23rd Ward aldermen Joseph Potempa and his successor Frank Kuta convicted in 1973.
The link comes via a story on NewGeography.com here, in which the writer suggests that one of the problems academic folk often have when they study or theorize about political systems is a belief that all politicians within those systems are people "that rise above petty self interest to promote the common good." This would make politicians unlike any other group of people since Australopithecus afarensis decided their hands worked better grabbing than walking.
Although folks studying politics in Chicago don't have the luxury of presuming a uniformly noble class of public servants -- they're studying politics in Chicago, after all -- one would hope they don't measure only by that yardstick. I may frequently refer to politicians as of lower than average intelligence and of greater than average greed, primarily because the consequences of their errors ripple a lot more widely than most folks' do. But the truth is that they are much like every group: A few good, a few bad and many many more who are a mixture of the two.
Plus, when we voters make our choices based on which candidates promise us the most goodies for free (or at least at someone else's expense), can we really claim to be all that separate from their corruption?
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
IOU? No! UO Us!
Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel, formerly the White House Chief of Staff, has suggested to City of Chicago employees that they do something a little out there...pay their parking tickets.
Of course, His @#%*& Honor would like everyone in Chicago to pay their parking tickets, but he has a vested interest in city employees doing so, as their non-payment makes it kind of tough to get regular folks to pony up what they owe. He also has a little bit bigger handle with which to grab them, as a failure to pay or set up a payment plan will result in garnishment of their paychecks. Such a move is certainly a way to make city government a little bit more efficient, since removal of money owed to the city from checks paid by the city is probably a very simple process these days. Wherever he is, Da Honrable Richard J. Daley, Mare a Da Great City a Chicago and All Its Great People, is probably verry jealous of the possibilities for securing contributions offered by the direct-deposit systems many people use these days.
Emanuel has taken it one step more, though, as city employees who owe more than $1,000 will result in even bigger savings because they will be dismissed. Chicago's municipal code prevents the hiring of someone who is in debt to the city. This means in the strict fiscal sense, of course, as city employees since the time of Da Mare and before knew darn well who they were indebted to and what they owed for the jobs they had.
The story at the link details which city departments are the worst in paying. The CTA or Chicago Transit Authority owes the most, while the mayor's executive staff owes the least. More than one-fifth of the former will be writing some new checks soon, while only one person in the different mayoral offices has some @#%*& 'splainin' to do. Of course, the story was filed Tuesday. I'm betting that guy doesn't owe anything anymore.
Of course, His @#%*& Honor would like everyone in Chicago to pay their parking tickets, but he has a vested interest in city employees doing so, as their non-payment makes it kind of tough to get regular folks to pony up what they owe. He also has a little bit bigger handle with which to grab them, as a failure to pay or set up a payment plan will result in garnishment of their paychecks. Such a move is certainly a way to make city government a little bit more efficient, since removal of money owed to the city from checks paid by the city is probably a very simple process these days. Wherever he is, Da Honrable Richard J. Daley, Mare a Da Great City a Chicago and All Its Great People, is probably verry jealous of the possibilities for securing contributions offered by the direct-deposit systems many people use these days.
Emanuel has taken it one step more, though, as city employees who owe more than $1,000 will result in even bigger savings because they will be dismissed. Chicago's municipal code prevents the hiring of someone who is in debt to the city. This means in the strict fiscal sense, of course, as city employees since the time of Da Mare and before knew darn well who they were indebted to and what they owed for the jobs they had.
The story at the link details which city departments are the worst in paying. The CTA or Chicago Transit Authority owes the most, while the mayor's executive staff owes the least. More than one-fifth of the former will be writing some new checks soon, while only one person in the different mayoral offices has some @#%*& 'splainin' to do. Of course, the story was filed Tuesday. I'm betting that guy doesn't owe anything anymore.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Bleepin' Guilty
Former Illinois Governor Rod "The Bleepinator" Blagojevich was found guilty of several corruption charges connected with his attempts to "sell" an appointment to the U.S. Senate seat vacated by Barack Obama when he became president.
This was Blagojevich's second trial. The first jury deadlocked on most of the charges, including the major ones, and federal prosecutors no likey losing cases against officials when they have them committing the crimes on tape. Blagojevich had long since been booted out of Springfield, the state capitol, being removed from office after being impeached. His successor, current Governor Pat Quinn, has presided over a substantial income tax hike needed to keep the Illinois government functioning. Once Quinn leaves office, Blagojevich will probably not be Illinois' most hated ex-governor anymore.
Again, we have to wonder what Illinois' most famous machine politician, Da Honrable Richard J. Daley, Mare a Da Great City a Chicago an' All Its Great Peoples, would think of these issues. Blagojevich was convicted based on several phone conversations with others that were being taped by investigators, and Da Mare would probably just shake his head at someone who trusted important matters of state like this to the phone. He knew that you never knew who might be listening, and he even owned all the Chicago cops. In the end, I imagine he might have said something like what most Chicago politicians might say about why state government officials seem to get caught doing stuff that Chicago pols would think of as remedial-level graft: Springfield makes you stupid.
You got to stay amongst the best there is if you want to stay amongst the best there is.
This was Blagojevich's second trial. The first jury deadlocked on most of the charges, including the major ones, and federal prosecutors no likey losing cases against officials when they have them committing the crimes on tape. Blagojevich had long since been booted out of Springfield, the state capitol, being removed from office after being impeached. His successor, current Governor Pat Quinn, has presided over a substantial income tax hike needed to keep the Illinois government functioning. Once Quinn leaves office, Blagojevich will probably not be Illinois' most hated ex-governor anymore.
Again, we have to wonder what Illinois' most famous machine politician, Da Honrable Richard J. Daley, Mare a Da Great City a Chicago an' All Its Great Peoples, would think of these issues. Blagojevich was convicted based on several phone conversations with others that were being taped by investigators, and Da Mare would probably just shake his head at someone who trusted important matters of state like this to the phone. He knew that you never knew who might be listening, and he even owned all the Chicago cops. In the end, I imagine he might have said something like what most Chicago politicians might say about why state government officials seem to get caught doing stuff that Chicago pols would think of as remedial-level graft: Springfield makes you stupid.
You got to stay amongst the best there is if you want to stay amongst the best there is.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wha?
I am sure that somewhere, Hizzoner Da Hon'rable Richard J. Daley, Mare a Da Great City a Chicago and All Its Great People, is confused.
The City of the Broad Shoulders has just elected a ballet dancer as its mayor. And he won without a runoff, easily breaking the 50-percent line with a 55 percent total. His closest opponent only had 24 percent of the vote. Emanuel is a former congressional representative and had served as White House Chief of Staff to President Barack Obama.
Daley's views on dance were never widely known, but it is probable he thought the only dancing a man should do was with his wife at wedding receptions, or maybe with a woman he wanted as his wife at a USO function. He did not have a record of public support of the arts, in any event.
Of course, it would be foolish to suppose Emanuel's collegiate career as a dancer somehow unsuits him for the rough-and-tumble world of Chicago politics. For one, the college where I used to work had a phenomenal dance program and I used to see those guys in the gym -- few of them looked as though they would be unable to give a good account of themselves in feats of strength or that they lacked for grit when it came to hard work. For another, the man sometimes called "Rahmbo" seems to have no problem understanding "The Chicago Way" when planning on how to deal with opponents. Although he was certainly speaking metaphorically in that last story, the mindset is clear.
Emanuel has also been noted as a man who is free with his language -- we could here have a case of Chicago deciding that those downstate dumbos who elected Rod Blagojevich as a governor need to learn just what the effective use of profanity sounds like. Daley, according to the biography Boss by Mike Royko, didn't much care for hardcore profanity or off-color humor and so this habit of Emanuel's might puzzle him also. Of course, the late Mayor was known to relax his restrictions now and again.
One might also, if one were inclined, see something in the fact that the Mayor of Chicago grew up in Wilmette and went to school in Evanston (his time there overlapped mine, but I do not believe we met. Luckily for me). Both of those are suburbs of Chicago, and one might very well see Emanuel's election as the Revenge of the North Shore Suburbs.
That much, I believe, the late Mayor Daley would understand quite well. And disapprove.
The City of the Broad Shoulders has just elected a ballet dancer as its mayor. And he won without a runoff, easily breaking the 50-percent line with a 55 percent total. His closest opponent only had 24 percent of the vote. Emanuel is a former congressional representative and had served as White House Chief of Staff to President Barack Obama.
Daley's views on dance were never widely known, but it is probable he thought the only dancing a man should do was with his wife at wedding receptions, or maybe with a woman he wanted as his wife at a USO function. He did not have a record of public support of the arts, in any event.
Of course, it would be foolish to suppose Emanuel's collegiate career as a dancer somehow unsuits him for the rough-and-tumble world of Chicago politics. For one, the college where I used to work had a phenomenal dance program and I used to see those guys in the gym -- few of them looked as though they would be unable to give a good account of themselves in feats of strength or that they lacked for grit when it came to hard work. For another, the man sometimes called "Rahmbo" seems to have no problem understanding "The Chicago Way" when planning on how to deal with opponents. Although he was certainly speaking metaphorically in that last story, the mindset is clear.
Emanuel has also been noted as a man who is free with his language -- we could here have a case of Chicago deciding that those downstate dumbos who elected Rod Blagojevich as a governor need to learn just what the effective use of profanity sounds like. Daley, according to the biography Boss by Mike Royko, didn't much care for hardcore profanity or off-color humor and so this habit of Emanuel's might puzzle him also. Of course, the late Mayor was known to relax his restrictions now and again.
One might also, if one were inclined, see something in the fact that the Mayor of Chicago grew up in Wilmette and went to school in Evanston (his time there overlapped mine, but I do not believe we met. Luckily for me). Both of those are suburbs of Chicago, and one might very well see Emanuel's election as the Revenge of the North Shore Suburbs.
That much, I believe, the late Mayor Daley would understand quite well. And disapprove.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Original Sin = Job Security
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Football Notes
1. When last we saw the Northwestern University Wildcats, representatives of all that is good, just and right with the world, they were valiant in a losing effort against the forces of evil. These forces, represented at that time by the Tigers of Auburn, cunningly rendered the Wildcat kicker inoperative during overtime, thus assuring their win.
This Friday, representatives of Northwestern, along with the servants of darkness of the University of Illinois, announced that the annual meeting of the two teams will take place at Wrigley Field in Chicago, home of the Chicago Cubs. The last college football game held at Wrigley was in 1938, and the Cats and the Illini last played there in 1923. Wildcat coach Pat Fitzgerald has suggested that any Northwestern fans who do not wear purple to the game will receive a personal visit from him, along with an invitation to explain their backsliding ways.
2. Three of the top four players taken in the 2010 NFL draft were from the University of Oklahoma. Only Ndamukong Suh of Nebraska, picked by the Detroit Lions (my condolences, Mr. Suh) , broke a Sooner sweep of the top picks. Three out of the top four picks and they don't even play for the conference title? Sounds like a coaching problem.
3. Live TV coverage of the fifth round of the draft? Really, ESPN? No shuffleboard tournaments available?
(PS for the satirically challenged: No, I do not believe Auburn intentionally injured the NU kicker in order to seal the game in overtime, nor do I believe OU head coach Bob Stoops is bad at his job. I just like to exaggerate after the manner of sports radio callers. However, the University of Illinois actually does represent the forces of darkness).
This Friday, representatives of Northwestern, along with the servants of darkness of the University of Illinois, announced that the annual meeting of the two teams will take place at Wrigley Field in Chicago, home of the Chicago Cubs. The last college football game held at Wrigley was in 1938, and the Cats and the Illini last played there in 1923. Wildcat coach Pat Fitzgerald has suggested that any Northwestern fans who do not wear purple to the game will receive a personal visit from him, along with an invitation to explain their backsliding ways.
2. Three of the top four players taken in the 2010 NFL draft were from the University of Oklahoma. Only Ndamukong Suh of Nebraska, picked by the Detroit Lions (my condolences, Mr. Suh) , broke a Sooner sweep of the top picks. Three out of the top four picks and they don't even play for the conference title? Sounds like a coaching problem.
3. Live TV coverage of the fifth round of the draft? Really, ESPN? No shuffleboard tournaments available?
(PS for the satirically challenged: No, I do not believe Auburn intentionally injured the NU kicker in order to seal the game in overtime, nor do I believe OU head coach Bob Stoops is bad at his job. I just like to exaggerate after the manner of sports radio callers. However, the University of Illinois actually does represent the forces of darkness).
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Slow Warming
As we gradually begin thawing here in OK, it's interesting to see how quickly perspectives change on what words like "cold" and "warm" mean. Since we'll climb past freezing, we say it'll "be warmer." Well, technically, it won't be bone-chilling cold, but I suppose it's perspective.
During one of my Chicago winters, we had a stretch of almost two weeks when the temperature didn't rise above five degrees. And since my school was on Lake Michigan, we were lucky; away from the lake the highs were minus five degrees. You simply got used to covering every bit of skin possible and layering on a good percentage of your total wardrobe each time you ventured outside. For that matter, you kept a good percentage of those layers on when you were inside, too -- a couple of the dorms I lived in were old buildings not overburdened with insulation or window caulk.
Then one day, as I trudged out the doors into the city-wide meat locker that had taken up residence on my campus, I felt strange. After only a half a block or so, there was an uncomfortable stuffiness about all of the layers I had on, and I found myself loosening my scarf. Not very much further on, I'd rolled my hat up from my eyebrows. And by the time I stopped at a crosswalk, I had -- avert the children's eyes, this is the kind of risky behavior we don't want them knowing about -- unzipped my coat.
Around me, I noticed similar daredeviltry. Well, we were college students, and that group is known for wearing the potential consequences of its behavior but lightly. But even the professors were walking around with their parkas open and ancient, first-generation polyester "knit" hats stuffed in their pockets.
What a wonderful day! Across campus, friendships were re-kindled as people discovered that the overstuffed red ski jacket they had walked past each day was actually someone they knew! The air was sweetened by romantic stirrings as it became possible to determine gender in the person to whom one was speaking (hair length doesn't help in that nearly as much as you'd think it would when you're on a college campus, even back in the mid-80s). The cold would return the next day and linger for another week, but it could not chill the spirit of renewal that had come onto campus. Many indeed were the students who enshrined the wonderful day of warmth in their memories, promising children yet unborn that they too would hear of this miraculous time.
The next morning I looked at the newspaper. The recorded high had been twenty-five degrees.
During one of my Chicago winters, we had a stretch of almost two weeks when the temperature didn't rise above five degrees. And since my school was on Lake Michigan, we were lucky; away from the lake the highs were minus five degrees. You simply got used to covering every bit of skin possible and layering on a good percentage of your total wardrobe each time you ventured outside. For that matter, you kept a good percentage of those layers on when you were inside, too -- a couple of the dorms I lived in were old buildings not overburdened with insulation or window caulk.
Then one day, as I trudged out the doors into the city-wide meat locker that had taken up residence on my campus, I felt strange. After only a half a block or so, there was an uncomfortable stuffiness about all of the layers I had on, and I found myself loosening my scarf. Not very much further on, I'd rolled my hat up from my eyebrows. And by the time I stopped at a crosswalk, I had -- avert the children's eyes, this is the kind of risky behavior we don't want them knowing about -- unzipped my coat.
Around me, I noticed similar daredeviltry. Well, we were college students, and that group is known for wearing the potential consequences of its behavior but lightly. But even the professors were walking around with their parkas open and ancient, first-generation polyester "knit" hats stuffed in their pockets.
What a wonderful day! Across campus, friendships were re-kindled as people discovered that the overstuffed red ski jacket they had walked past each day was actually someone they knew! The air was sweetened by romantic stirrings as it became possible to determine gender in the person to whom one was speaking (hair length doesn't help in that nearly as much as you'd think it would when you're on a college campus, even back in the mid-80s). The cold would return the next day and linger for another week, but it could not chill the spirit of renewal that had come onto campus. Many indeed were the students who enshrined the wonderful day of warmth in their memories, promising children yet unborn that they too would hear of this miraculous time.
The next morning I looked at the newspaper. The recorded high had been twenty-five degrees.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Chilled Memories
Here in Oklahoma we're suffering from near-record cold temperatures -- with the worst problem being that while we've had single days with temps this cold or colder, we haven't strung together several days of the zero-neighborhood readings for quite some time.
The coldest day I ever experienced was Super Bowl Sunday in January of 1985, when I was regularly freezing my hind end off in Evanston, Illinois. As I recall, some of the wind-chills expected during the daytime were around 80 below. So most everybody stayed inside as much as they could, although there was probably some loon from Minnesota walking around going "What's everyone inside for on a balmy day like today?" They were like that.
Complications developed, however. I was a dorm officer (I can't remember why), a position which, in an all-male dorm on Super Bowl Sunday, carried with it certain expectations. Namely, that a variety of salty snacks needed to be purchased for the evening's game watching.
I know, you would suspect that students at a school like Northwestern would be above plebian entertainments like television, let alone televised sporting events, let even more alone an event like football instead of something refined and dignified like badminton or croquet.
In any event, the game would be watched by me and my fellow Hinman House Friars, and in order to sustain our energy and thus help our favorite team win -- they were counting on us, after all -- we would need those salty snacks. But the bitter cold meant that no one's car would start.
The solution arrived in the form of a guy who had parked nearest the door to the dorm the day before and who had run an extension cord out the door, which he attached to an electric blanket placed under his hood. His car would start. And for a fee -- if I recall he was in the school of business -- he would get people around town.
During the day, the Arctic blast moved out and things gradually warmed, with a wind chill factor near zero. So during the game, we were able to order pizza. The delivery driver worked for a company that, at the time, did not allow drivers to take tips. We tried to get our driver to take one, as he had braved what was still pretty frickin' cold weather, some ice and a generally cruddy night to deliver our rations. But he said he couldn't, as it would get him fired. Being college students, we hit upon an alternate solution:
"Well, you wanna warm up here for a minute and have a beer?"
"Drivers are taking forever on their deliveries tonight; the dispatcher don't expect me back for 20 minutes. Sure."
And they all lived happily ever after.
The coldest day I ever experienced was Super Bowl Sunday in January of 1985, when I was regularly freezing my hind end off in Evanston, Illinois. As I recall, some of the wind-chills expected during the daytime were around 80 below. So most everybody stayed inside as much as they could, although there was probably some loon from Minnesota walking around going "What's everyone inside for on a balmy day like today?" They were like that.
Complications developed, however. I was a dorm officer (I can't remember why), a position which, in an all-male dorm on Super Bowl Sunday, carried with it certain expectations. Namely, that a variety of salty snacks needed to be purchased for the evening's game watching.
I know, you would suspect that students at a school like Northwestern would be above plebian entertainments like television, let alone televised sporting events, let even more alone an event like football instead of something refined and dignified like badminton or croquet.
In any event, the game would be watched by me and my fellow Hinman House Friars, and in order to sustain our energy and thus help our favorite team win -- they were counting on us, after all -- we would need those salty snacks. But the bitter cold meant that no one's car would start.
The solution arrived in the form of a guy who had parked nearest the door to the dorm the day before and who had run an extension cord out the door, which he attached to an electric blanket placed under his hood. His car would start. And for a fee -- if I recall he was in the school of business -- he would get people around town.
During the day, the Arctic blast moved out and things gradually warmed, with a wind chill factor near zero. So during the game, we were able to order pizza. The delivery driver worked for a company that, at the time, did not allow drivers to take tips. We tried to get our driver to take one, as he had braved what was still pretty frickin' cold weather, some ice and a generally cruddy night to deliver our rations. But he said he couldn't, as it would get him fired. Being college students, we hit upon an alternate solution:
"Well, you wanna warm up here for a minute and have a beer?"
"Drivers are taking forever on their deliveries tonight; the dispatcher don't expect me back for 20 minutes. Sure."
And they all lived happily ever after.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
WXRT
During my time as an undergrad in Chicagoland, I first decided to try to be a loyal Wildcat and listen to my school's own radio station, WNUR (Northwestern University Radio, if you're curious). It was a short-lived experiment. WNUR was intentional about playing stuff no one had ever heard and only stuff no one had ever heard. I like a radio station that plays new things, but I also like hearing some things I've heard of before.
I toyed with a station called WLUP ("The Loop," which refers to Chicago's central downtown area), which at the time played a hard-rock format similar to the KMOD ("The Rainbow Station") I knew from my high school days. But WLUP was a little more metal-minded than my comfort level admitted, and my tastes were shifting somewhat anyway. Just as well, for The Loop would soon move to the "Classic Rock" abomination of a format that some dubbed "Radio Big Chill" after the early 1980s movie featuring a bunch of thirty-something baby boomers having a nostalgia weekend.
And then one day, sometime in October of 1982, I spun into 93.7 and heard, if I remember correctly, a Dave Edmunds song on the radio. Other than the quick cup of coffee his former band Rockpile's "Teacher Teacher" had with the Billboard charts (No. 51 in 1981), I'd never heard Wales' own king of retro on the airwaves and was astonished. What was this broadcast wonder?
I had found WXRT, "Chicago's Finest Rock." XRT, as we fans called it, played an eclectic mix of just about anything. Each weekday had a featured artist, who would be played a little more heavily that day -- the first of every month meant a trip to Laury's Records to pick up the new Featured Artists Card, which told you the featured artist schedule. Each Sunday had an hour-long live concert recorded at a Chicago venue, from just about any band you could think of. Some box somewhere in my house may still have at least a dozen cassette recordings of these Sunday Night Unconcerts (sponsored by 7-Up, natch) lingering in it.
XRT mixed new music by established artists, older music and brand-new stuff from unknowns in a fascinating gumbo. A friend described it as the station that played songs you wanted to hear but didn't know you wanted to hear until they'd played them. When my trips home for Christmas or the summer were via automobile, I'd leave the dial set there as long as I could possibly distinguish sound from static. On the way back I'd start checking 93.7 somewhere east of St. Louis until it finally came in.
Ye olde Pandora had been losing its luster -- unless you input some modern indie band, the site's ability to match styles and offer great variety wanes quickly. So on a whim I looked at XRT's website and discovered I can listen online. It's not exactly the station I remember. They've pulled back from the cutting edge stuff and have mixed in quite a bit more baby boomer nostalgia music than they did in my days glued to their setting. But they still have New Music Thursday and I heard more new-release stuff that interests me and a wider range of artists in five days than I'd hear in a month of OKC radio broadcasts.
Heck, last Saturday they played Lou Reed's 1984 release "I Love You, Suzanne." I'd forgotten how much I liked that song until I heard it -- hey, maybe XRT hasn't changed that much after all...
I toyed with a station called WLUP ("The Loop," which refers to Chicago's central downtown area), which at the time played a hard-rock format similar to the KMOD ("The Rainbow Station") I knew from my high school days. But WLUP was a little more metal-minded than my comfort level admitted, and my tastes were shifting somewhat anyway. Just as well, for The Loop would soon move to the "Classic Rock" abomination of a format that some dubbed "Radio Big Chill" after the early 1980s movie featuring a bunch of thirty-something baby boomers having a nostalgia weekend.
And then one day, sometime in October of 1982, I spun into 93.7 and heard, if I remember correctly, a Dave Edmunds song on the radio. Other than the quick cup of coffee his former band Rockpile's "Teacher Teacher" had with the Billboard charts (No. 51 in 1981), I'd never heard Wales' own king of retro on the airwaves and was astonished. What was this broadcast wonder?
I had found WXRT, "Chicago's Finest Rock." XRT, as we fans called it, played an eclectic mix of just about anything. Each weekday had a featured artist, who would be played a little more heavily that day -- the first of every month meant a trip to Laury's Records to pick up the new Featured Artists Card, which told you the featured artist schedule. Each Sunday had an hour-long live concert recorded at a Chicago venue, from just about any band you could think of. Some box somewhere in my house may still have at least a dozen cassette recordings of these Sunday Night Unconcerts (sponsored by 7-Up, natch) lingering in it.
XRT mixed new music by established artists, older music and brand-new stuff from unknowns in a fascinating gumbo. A friend described it as the station that played songs you wanted to hear but didn't know you wanted to hear until they'd played them. When my trips home for Christmas or the summer were via automobile, I'd leave the dial set there as long as I could possibly distinguish sound from static. On the way back I'd start checking 93.7 somewhere east of St. Louis until it finally came in.
Ye olde Pandora had been losing its luster -- unless you input some modern indie band, the site's ability to match styles and offer great variety wanes quickly. So on a whim I looked at XRT's website and discovered I can listen online. It's not exactly the station I remember. They've pulled back from the cutting edge stuff and have mixed in quite a bit more baby boomer nostalgia music than they did in my days glued to their setting. But they still have New Music Thursday and I heard more new-release stuff that interests me and a wider range of artists in five days than I'd hear in a month of OKC radio broadcasts.
Heck, last Saturday they played Lou Reed's 1984 release "I Love You, Suzanne." I'd forgotten how much I liked that song until I heard it -- hey, maybe XRT hasn't changed that much after all...
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I Love That Town!
Remember Roland Burris, now the junior senator from Illinois? Former Illinois Gov. Rod "The Bleepinator" Blagojevich appointed him to the seat vacated by now-President Barack Obama. He did that just before the Illinois legislature made him former Gov. Blagojevich for almost literally taking bids over the phone for the senate seat.
Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, in a true demonstration of his authority, said there was no way the Senate would seat Mr. Burris (or anyone else that Blagojevich might have appointed) because any such person would be tainted by association with the governor's fund-raising tactics. He was sure Mr. Burris was a swell guy and all, but there was just no way that the Senate would allow such a taint to stain its reputation. No way. No how. And he kept saying it right up until he seated Senator Burris.
Well, turns out that Senator Burris may have been one of those folks that Gov. Blagojevich reached out to about money, through the governor's brother, Rob. Burris, testifying to an investigative committee in the Illinois legislature, said no one contacted him about money, except when they did, and he never agreed to pay anyone for anything, except when he did, and it didn't matter because all the people he called didn't give any money anyway.
The chair of the Illinois House committee to which the Everchanging Story was submitted apparently sat on it for a week -- a week in which Senator Burris was one of the votes that kept the economic stimulus package from dying a filibustered death in the Senate. Without Burris, those favoring the bill would have had to get four Republican votes instead of three, and that would have been a lot harder -- if possible. Where is the chair from? Some downstate burg or maybe that silly college town, Champaign-Urbana, or even Springfield itself? Nope. She's from Chicago, baby! Again, somewhere Mike Royko is laughing his head off, and Da Mare, Richard J. Daley, is shaking his head at how clumsy these kids are.
Next Christmas, see if you can't give someone a Blago of their very own. It really is a gift that keeps on giving.
Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, in a true demonstration of his authority, said there was no way the Senate would seat Mr. Burris (or anyone else that Blagojevich might have appointed) because any such person would be tainted by association with the governor's fund-raising tactics. He was sure Mr. Burris was a swell guy and all, but there was just no way that the Senate would allow such a taint to stain its reputation. No way. No how. And he kept saying it right up until he seated Senator Burris.
Well, turns out that Senator Burris may have been one of those folks that Gov. Blagojevich reached out to about money, through the governor's brother, Rob. Burris, testifying to an investigative committee in the Illinois legislature, said no one contacted him about money, except when they did, and he never agreed to pay anyone for anything, except when he did, and it didn't matter because all the people he called didn't give any money anyway.
The chair of the Illinois House committee to which the Everchanging Story was submitted apparently sat on it for a week -- a week in which Senator Burris was one of the votes that kept the economic stimulus package from dying a filibustered death in the Senate. Without Burris, those favoring the bill would have had to get four Republican votes instead of three, and that would have been a lot harder -- if possible. Where is the chair from? Some downstate burg or maybe that silly college town, Champaign-Urbana, or even Springfield itself? Nope. She's from Chicago, baby! Again, somewhere Mike Royko is laughing his head off, and Da Mare, Richard J. Daley, is shaking his head at how clumsy these kids are.
Next Christmas, see if you can't give someone a Blago of their very own. It really is a gift that keeps on giving.
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