“Oh yeah. And every time we did a take, he’d create a different joke. It was really challenging because he just coming up with so many fantastic ideas — he was just so funny. But the biggest challenge was when we were shooting, we actually had to keep a straight face because Robin would be so funny. Everyone would break character and just bust out laughing. There were even some takes where the camera man would laugh and the camera would shake. Robin would just waste film. He would ruin everything because he was so doggone funny.”—
Reginald Hudlin on the late great Chicago comedian Robin Harris.
For two years I would go by the abandoned Frank Cuneo Memorial Hospital at Montrose and Clarendon on my way to my apartment. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or late at night, I always thought, “That building creeps me out.”
After years of trying to find a new development for the site, it looks as though luxury housing will go on the site, a project which will receive about $14 million in Tax Increment Financing funds. This led to protests and criticism from Uptown residents upset with the project.
On this episode of the Barbershop Show, we discuss the many faces of gentrification after Spike Lee’s rant earlier this week about gentrification in Brooklyn went viral. We welcome to the show: • Christyn S. Henson, New Communities Program Director at Quad Communities Development Corporation. • J. Brian Malone, Executive Director of the Kenwood Oakland Community Organization (KOCO) • Bernard Loyd, a developer in Bronzeville • Nelson Soza, Executive Director of The Pilsen Alliance and • Eric Lynch, who plays “Jackson” in the Goodman Theatre’s current production of “Buzzer”. The play runs until March 9th.
Tune in Fridays at noon on www.vocalo.org | 90.7fm (Chi) | 89.5fm (Nwi).
“An outsider witnessing this recent Saturday in the life of Rahm Emanuel might assume it is election time and he is campaigning. Only there is no campaign. The next Chicago mayoral election is February 24, 2015. He could stay hidden in City Hall, working the levers of power, and let his money—he’s already raised more than $5 million for the 2015 election—do his runny-nose wiping. But he doesn’t. Either because he loves people—his explanation—or because his disapproval numbers have never been higher, especially among black voters. He works seven days a week, a dawn-to-dusk whirling dervish, spinning like the dancer he once was, to assault the city’s problems. The gun-violence epidemic that has earned Chicago the top spot on the FBI’s murder rankings and headlines such as “the murder capital of America”; the ticking pension time bomb that could blow the whole place to kingdom come (or, worse, Detroit); the perpetually broken four-hundred-thousand-student school system in which more kids are shot each year than enter Ivy League universities, a funnel of failure in which, for every one hundred freshmen entering high school, six graduate from college: All come together in a veritable firestorm, one woe feeding the other, and his worst critics can’t say he isn’t trying to live up to LBJ’s famous dictum to do everything—everything possible—to succeed, though as recently as Christmas, Chicagoans thought less of Rahm Emanuel, clean-living fitness buff, beavering away at Chicago’s forest of woes, than the citizens in Toronto thought of their crack-cocaine-smoking mayor.
Chicago is just that kind of place, too.
“I got challenges, yes,” he says, and he knows, better than anyone, how much is at stake. “The next two years will decide whether or not Chicago will be in the top tier of twenty-five global cities or not. London is secure. New York. Tokyo. Chicago could go up or down.” And for the mayor of Chicago, a man who, like countless others before him, arrived at his dream job only to find a godforsaken mess, the next two years will determine whether he’s the savior that he so desperately wants to be or just another politician who gets heckled at Walmart.”—Rahm Emanuel Mayor Interview - Rahm Emanuel Profile - Esquire (via jasmined)
“Dominga took me through the worst intersections: Logan and Western, Lawrence and Elston, Fullerton, Elston, and Damen. We went to the Jewel parking lot on Division and Ashland, where she’d tell me to look around, look around, adjust my mirror, look around again, account for people meandering through the shifting sea of cars. She told me to watch out for bikers and pedestrians and never to pull up in the middle of the crosswalk, even though a lot of people did.
“Slow down before you stop, or you’ll get hit from behind — you’ll get a kiss, a kiss you won’t like!” she cackled. She liked checking out guys jogging in tiny shorts, and if they were shirtless, even better. “Mmmmm,” she’d say, “that’s sexy. What do you think?” I’d smile big, corners of my mouth twitching, not letting myself laugh for fear I’d lose an ounce of white-knuckled concentration.
I almost always knew where I was going, and she liked that. We drove through Humboldt Park. “This is where I grew up,” she said, “you probably don’t come here very often.” “I’ve been here,” I replied. “Hmmmm,” she said. “Turn right at Kedzie. You know where that is?” I made a face. “We’re going to Belmont and Kedzie, right? I hate that intersection.” She cackled again. “I know you do, that’s why we’re doing it. It’s good for you.””—Winter Roads | Midwest Coast