In Memoriam

“Police opened fire on a parade of striking steel workers and their families at the gate of the Republic Steel Company, in South Chicago. Fifty people were shot, of whom 10 later died; 100 others were beaten with clubs.”  Dorothy Day

police go on rampage during 1937 Memorial Day Massacre

I mourn for all the soldiers who lost their lives protecting America’s freedoms, Paul Curry, who died of the coast of Vietnam, and all the labor militants who sacrificed to help gain a living wage and safety protections for their comrades.  As is his annual tradition, former rank-and-file union stalwart Mike Olszanski reminded Facebook friends of the 1937 Memorial Day Massacre at Republic Steel.  He wrote: “SWOC, Lodge 1010 lost four members at the Memorial Day Massacre: Alfred Causey, Earl Handley, Kenneth Reed, and Sam Popovich. John Sargent, several times president of Local 1010, was there and survived to tell us about it.”  

I received this inquiry from Margaret Ford: 

My paternal grandfather, Joseph Zolondz, was killed at U. S. Steel in Gary in the early 1940’s when a tornado blew in and severely damaged a smokestack (chimney).In all there were four men killed that day. My mother told me the story. She said she knew my dad and his  family, but they were not married at the time. One of my brothers saw the plaque at the steel company with the men’s names on it, but I am unable to find a story on it. My grandfather and the family lived in New Chicago, Indiana at the time, and my dad had seven siblings. How do I go about finding information about my grandfather’s death? I live in Granger, IN, but have siblings still in the region. Any help would be appreciated.

I responded: “I don't know about the incident to which you refer, but you might contact Steelworkers Local 1010 (Gary Works) or 1066 (Gary Sheet and Tin) depending on where he worked.  Also Marc Chase of the NWI Times  may know something or inquire in a column if anybody recalls it.  Let me know if you find out anything.”

 Danica Patrick crash; below, Jerry Trump

Danica Patrick, participating in her final Indianapolis 500, crashed into the wall on Turn 2 of Lap 68.  In the stands, Packers QB Aaron Rogers watched.  Post-Tribcolumnist Jerry Davich wrote about 80-year-old Crown Point resident Jerry Trump, who attended “The Race” for the 70^thstraight time.  When his dad first took him in 1949, the trip took over five hours because I-65 didn’t exist. He recalled that the 1951 winner was driven by Lee Wallard and owned by Murrell Belanger, who had a Crown Point Chrysler dealership.  Jerry’s worst experience was in 1973. Salt Walther crashed and was badly burned on the first lap; then rain postponed the action for two days and shortened the race on the third after 133 laps.

 Linda Teague and Angela Lane

Linda Teague passed away; daughter Angie wrote this touching notice:

We lost my mom, Linda Teague, yesterday and we dearly miss her today and always. She fought a long hard battle with ALS, and was able to overcome obstacle after obstacle so that she could still be a part of our lives but her body finally couldn't take it anymore even though her mind was willing. Although we knew this day would come, it doesn't make it any less difficult and I wish she could have stayed with us longer. But, I know that she is at peace now and no longer in pain. She was a wonderful mom and grandma and she will live in our hearts forever. Love you Mom! XOXO

I first met Linda when she worked at the Kmart in Miller.  After it closed down, she became an A student at IUN and received a Bachelor’s degree in Allied Health with a specialty in Medical Coding.  Despite the ravages of ALS – during the past year she could communicate only by blinking – she lived to see grandkids James and Becca mature into talented and personable young adults.

photo above by Miranda, below by Alissa  (of Miranda, Carly, Jimbo, Josh)

Carly and Miranda at Krka National Park

Alissa, Josh, Miranda and friend Carly spent the night before catching flights to London.  Final destination for Alissa and Josh was Valencia on the Mediterranean coast of Spain.  Miranda and Carly were headed to Dubrovnik, Croatia, on the Adriatic.  Josh has been listening to Spanish music and plans on visiting Madrid for a live concert.  One reason Miranda selected Dubrovnik is because scenes from Game of Throneswere filmed there.  Also, it’s just a day trip to the waterfalls at Krka National Park.  Phil, meanwhile, is in Long Beach, where in 1986 Toni and I attended an Oral History Association conference on the RMS Queen Mary, converted to a troop transport ship during World War II.  In 1967 the Cunard Line retired the Queen Mary after a voyage from Southampton, England to Long Beach, where it remains permanently moored.

Laura Dern starred in the harrowing HBO film “The Tale,” a true story written and directed by Jennifer Fox, about a 13-year-old sexually abused by a female riding instructor and male track coach. Fox began examining her past after her mother, played by Ellen Burstyn, came across an eighth grade paper she’d written titled “The Tale.”  In the biopic we learn that this odious behavior was common practice for the two coaches.  When they wanted to involve the 13-year-old in a four-way with a collegian, she rebelled and broke off further contact.

A conversation with a high school classmate got me thinking about my 12th grade homeroom at Upper Dublin in Mrs. Margaret Davis’ large Home Economics classroom.  It contained folks I’d once been friends with but whom I’d drifted apart from due to the school’s academic tracking system. I was particularly fascinated by Italian-American Marianne Tambourino, who talked like the girls on American Bandstandfrom South Philly, exotic, tan-skinned Charmayne Staton, who was every guy’s fantasy, and red-haired Gaard Murphy from Maine, who sported a deep New England accent.  I was somewhat of a class clown, hoping to get their attention.  I gave and received back rubs from some of the girls at day’s end but don’t think I worked up the nerve to approach Marianne, Charmayne or Gaard.  In my 1960 yearbook Marianne wrote: “To a very nice boy who made my homeroom bearable.”  So, who knows, maybe I rubbed her back.  Charmayne died young.   I’ve been friends with Gaard since the 1980 reunion and Marianne since our fiftieth in 2010.

I recall Buck Elliott saying that Mrs. Davis had a great figure.  Previously, I hadn’t noticed, but after that, I enjoyed getting a rise out of her.  Each student was required to take a two-week turn doing the morning Bible reading.  Every day I read the same verse, Ecclesiastes 11:1-6, beginning, “Cast thy bread upon the waters, for you shall find it after many days” and ending with “in the morning sow thy seed,”which I found to be risqué.   Nobody seemed to notice.  The verse is from a letter by King Solomon of Israel, son of David and Bathsheba, advising sinners that generosity and hard work will in time be rewarded.  In my yearbook Gaard wrote: “Be good to your teachers.  Think of what you did to Mrs. Davis.”  Her best friend Linda Rutherford, no doubt dating college upperclassmen by then, wrote: “To a nice boy who can really be a pest.  I’ll never forget Ecclesiastes in homeroom.”  At our fiftieth reunion, I apologized to Music teacher Mr. Foust for my at times unruly behavior.  He replied, “Oh, you weren’t so bad.” I’m certain he experienced much worse.

I spoke to Steve McShane’s students about their oral history assignment: to interview a bowler.  My main point was that memories are tricky and so follow-up is important.  One student interviewed her 93-year-old grandmother and got her aunt to provide details on things granny was fuzzy on.  Citing my own experience, I initially had no recollection of bowling with my family or being in a youth program but did recall asking Vic how he did when he’d come home from bowling, incidentally smelling like cigars (the only other time the “Old Man” smoked cigars was playing poker).  He carried an average in the 180s and threw a ball that started near the right gutter.  The only way I could have known that was to have bowled with him.  In high school I’d outbowl most of my friends, and that must have been from having experience.  While dating, Toni and I bowled on a team with two others, but I can’t recall who they were or where the alley was.  We went to an establishment in Maryland that to our amazement used miniature balls and short, squat duckpins.  I suggested students inquire about the history of their subjects’ leagues.  My Sheet and Tin League at Cressmoor Lanes once consisted entirely of steelworkers.  Our present league, Mel Guth Seniors, is named for a bowler who recently died.  Previously, it was similarly  named for Rob Tucker, Sr.

ABC cancelled the sitcom Roseanne after Roseanne Barr tweeted a racist comment about former senior Obama adviser Valerie Jarret, calling her an offspring of the Muslim brotherhood and “Planet of the Apes.” Barr attempted to claim that she was on Ambien and wrote: “I apologize to Valerie Jarrett and to all Americans. I am truly sorry for making a bad joke about her politics and her looks. I should have known better. Forgive me - my joke was in bad taste.”  Ray Smock wrote:“Trump weighs in on Roseanne firing by demanding that ABC apologize to him!”  Matthew Simek responded:“Where is the vomit emoji when you need one?”  On “Full Frontal” comedian Samantha Bee is under fire for calling Ivanka Trump a “feckless cunt.”  She has also apologized and so far hasn’t been taken off the air, despite howls from Fox commentators.  In “For America” from the 1986 “Lives in his Balance” album Jackson Browne sang this final verse:

The kid I was when I first left home
Was looking for his freedom and a life of his own
But the freedom that he found wasn't quite as sweet
When the truth was known
I have prayed for America
I was made for America
I can't let go till she comes around
Until the land of the free
Is awake and can see

              And until her conscience has been found

Terry Bauer, back left; Yuan Hsu front middle

Dee Van Bebber and I finished third in duplicate after being mostly on defense.  Terry Bauer reported on competing in the Grand National Team Finals in Southfield, Michigan, with Taiwanese native Yuan Hsu, who used a strong Club precision bidding system developed in Taiwan and now very popular among experts that Terry normally does not play. Teammate Mike Brissette told Newslettereditor Barb Walczak that Terry played above his potential, gained a lot of insight and was “a big nuisance against the precision players.”  I told Terry about flying to Taiwan after a month in Hong Kong.  He said his daughter will be moving to Honk Kong soon.  “You’ll have to visit her,”I interjected.  “I’m planning to,” he replied.

Dave and I hope to visit the Estonian coastal city of Talinn while in Finland.  Rick Stevens’ Scandinavia asserts: “Getting off the boat in Talinn is a bigger cultural step than you will take anywhere else in the Scandinavian region.”  Originally called Reval, it thrived during the fourteenth century as a member of the Hanseatic League, a mercantile and military alliance centered in Lübeck, Germany. I know about the League because of my former IUN colleague Rhiman Rotz.  In contrast, two hundred years ago, Helsinki was a mere village.

Playing' Around

posted by Jim Spicer

“Playin’ around with some sweet señorita
Into her dark hallway she will lead ya
In some lonesome shadows she will greet ya
Billy, you’re so far away from home”

         Bob Dylan, “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (Billy4”)”

Bob Dylan not only wrote and performed the soundtrack for “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid” but appeared in the 1973 Sam Peckinpah movie as someone who goes by Alias.  Kris Kristofferson plays Billy and James Coburn his onetime friend Pat Garrett, hired by corrupt cattle barons to track him down.  

Dave, Tom Wade, and I played board games, first time in a long while.  I went two for four, pulling out a rare victory in St. Petersburg thanks to receiving bonus points for amassing the most different orange Noble cards after getting a blue card that enabled me to draw from that pile on each subsequent turn. I won at Stockpile  by employing what we call the “Brady strategy,” named for Tom’s son, who liked to start the bidding process at zero, thus leaving his options open and not giving away his ultimate objective. The ploy often backfires, but in the final bid on piles of property (some cards hidden, others face up), it worked perfectly.  In North Carolina working for the Democratic Party, Brady has been doing stand-up comedy, Tom informed us.  He even videotapes his routines to study demeanor and hand motions.  Performing in several comedy clubs, he can ascertain what works best with audiences.  Tom and Darcy caught his act, and were impressed.

Tori with dead microphone; some of her entourage cheer her on

Tori’s graduation from Wyoming H.S. took place at the Grand Rapids First mega-church. Before an audience numbering more than a thousand, she was delivering the Student Welcome when the microphone went dead. Rather than panic, she handled it with a smile and a shrug as classmates cheered.  I was really proud.  In front of us was an African-American family.  A teenager and two older women remained seated during the National Anthem. When Tori’s name was announced, they cheered and must know her.   The school’s nickname, Wolves, produced many references to the obligations of the pack.  The choir sang “Shenandoah,” originally about an Iroquois chief leaving dear ones. Retiring school superintendent Thomas Reeder gave each student two one-dollar bills (one for celebrating, the other for a good cause) and his cell phone number in case they even needed his help. Nice.

 at New Beginnings

In the massive parking lot afterwards we witnessed a heated argument.  A graduate bumped the back of a pickup truck at about 2 mph, causing no damage but eliciting in a stream of cuss words from the driver.  The girl’s friends gave as good as they got; an older woman joined in.  Many threats and taunts ensued but no fisticuffs or weapons drawn.  Next morning at New Beginnings Diner, Miranda discussed vacationing in Dubrovnik, where I spent a week 30 years ago participating in an IU-sponsored conference on Pluralism.  I told her about checking out a nude beach on the nearby island of Lokrum and staying at the Imperial Hotel now part of the Hilton chain.

Ray Smock commented on Trump nixing (or maybe not) meeting with Kim Jong Un:

   The much-ballyhooed summit was unilaterally and arbitrarily scuttled today in a one-page letter from a petulant president who gave as his excuse the fact that North Korea said nasty things about Vice President Pence, calling him a “political dummy.” To earn this insult, Pence had made comparisons to our strategy to stop North Korean nukes using methods like those used years earlier with Muammar Gaddafi in Libya.

   Gaddafi was subsequently overthrown and murdered in 2011. This is not the kind of thing Pence should have been talking about weeks before the summit was to take place. But it does reveal with strong documentary evidence how amateurish and childish our president can be. Someone ought to remind Trump of the adage, sticks and stones make break my bones, but names will never hurt me. He was hurt, or feigned being hurt, by a verbal insult. If he is that thin-skinned, how could he possibly negotiate a complex agreement to denuclearize North Korea?  Trump’s withdrawal came as a complete surprise to our State Department and to our allies in South Korea and Japan. President Moon of South Korea was just here in the States two days ago. Why wasn’t he told of Trump’s sudden change of heart? I can only conclude that Trump decided this on his own, on the spur of the moment. It is a monumental foreign policy blunder.

Dave with Jimbo (1976) and Christian Montemayor

Jack Serynek sent me vintage photos from Porter Acres softball days.  He complimented my red pants; I replied:  “I recall those red pants – the fly buttoned rather than zipped, kind of a pain.”  On Facebook was a photo of East Chicago Central top 20 student Christian Montemayor with Dave, whom he credited with being the greatest influence on his intellectual development.

For my Cedar Lake workshop, I decided to give participants an exercise.  Here is a summary of my intended opening remarks:

    Cedar Lake has the most fascinating history of any community in northwest Indiana, starting when Native Americans encamped by its water’s edge.  The changes Cedar Lake has undergone in the past 200 years are truly profound, beginning during the Pioneer Era with the forced removal of the Potawatomi and construction of the area’s first school, church, library, saw mill, and brick kiln, followed by the coming of the Monon Railroad and tourist resort heyday between 1870 and 1930.  Then followed the Great Depression and the pollution of the lake, as otherwise homeless people and then World War II steel and defense workers from the South moved into what had been summer cabins, and phosphates from detergents blocked the natural flow of underground springs. The last 50 years have seen Cedar Lake’s incorporation, installation of modern sewers, and revival, auguring a promising future. 

  I hope to convince you in the short time given to me that collecting oral histories of Cedar Lake residents is vitally important.  Thus, your workshop assignment is to write down the name of someone you’d like to interview, if not an actual person then a description – ranging in age from student to senior citizen; newcomer to longtime resident; occupation from laborer or businessman; and either male or female. 

Back in the town of Cedar Lake for the first time in 20 years, I recognized Lassen Hotel (now a museum) and the Lighthouse Restaurant, where Bob Petyko and his wife once took Toni and me, but gone was Tobe’s Tavern, famous for gigantic steak sandwiches and scene of more than a few parking lot rumbles.  I said hello to Naomi Millender of the Gary Historical and Cultural Society and Miller community organizer Jessica Renslow, who would be directing one of the workshops. A contingent of Purdue Northwest students and faculty arrived, including old friend Kenny Kincaid and 51-year veteran Saul Lerner.  Department chair Kathleen Tobin said she used to be an adjunct at IUN.   While eating a filet minion lunch at a table with mostly historical society officers and museum directors, I noticed that instead of merely conducting a workshop, I was listed as keynote speaker.  I learned later that when historian Scott Bocock got wind of my coming, he lobbied for me to be afforded that honor.  Fortunately, I came well prepared, with anecdotes about how I came to put together Steel Shavings,volume 26 (1997), “A History of Cedar Lake,” combining writings by town historian Beatrice Horner with oral histories covering the postwar years. 

 Saul Lerner

Kenny Kincaid

My talk sparked much discussion.    Especially interesting were comments from longtime residents who knew Bob Petyko, whom I credited with piquing my interest in Cedar Lake.  One had been a childhood neighbor in blue-collar Cedar Point Park; another knew him as a school teacher.  When I mentioned that Scott Carnahan had interviewed his dad about working at the roller rink as a teenager, a woman noted that girls would fall on purpose so Bob Carnahan would come help them up.  Saul Lerner mentioned Richard Dorson’s folklore classic “Land of the Millrats” and suggested looking into Cedar Lake folklore.  I brought up several possibilities, including boating and fishing tales, sightings of Potawatomi, gypsies, and Al Capone as well as Jazz Age all-night parties at San Souci Hotel frequented by Tin Pan Alley celebrities such as Paul Ash (famous for “Wabash Blues”).  On the spur of the moment, I decided to conclude by reading the final paragraph of volume 26, this remark by Bob Petyko:

I wouldn’t change growing up in Cedar lake for anything.  We had woods.  You were always outside.  Your mother would have to scream for you to come home. We camped out a lot and had campfires.  None of it was supervised by adults.  Since then I’ve raised two children, and they never had that.  They were more structured.  I got them into Little League and wrestling.  It was difficult for them not to become bored easily..

I’ve moved to the west side now, I’m almost embarrassed to say, but I’m still a Lake Rat.  My house is just a small place rather than some snobby middle-class subdivision-type house.

When I sat down, Lerner patted my shoulder and said, “Good job.” 

I attended hour-long workshops conducted by Serena Sutliff-Ard from Westchester Township History Museum in Chesterton and Jane Lump of Strategic Innovation, who stressed that she was a facilitator, not a consultant. Serena concentrated on how to handle controversial issues in museum exhibits.  Since hers houses records of the Prairie Club, I imagined an exhibit that touched on its members interest with nudism and, in some cases, male-male sexual exploration.  Jane elicited discussion on strategies to involve volunteers of all ages in local boards. When I mentioned having students interview senior citizens, she interjected that perhaps seniors could interview young people.  As a social historian interested in examining the contemporary history of adolescence, I thought it an excellent idea.

 John G. Shedd

At a wine and cheese reception at Lassen Museum, Scott Bocock told me that he’s been unable to find tangible evidence that John Shedd, who donated three million dollars to the Chicago aquarium that bears his name, ever lived in Cedar Lake.  A New Hampshire transplant, he rose to prominence as President of Marshall Field. While he probably never lived in Cedar Lake, a company bearing his name stored blocks of ice harvested from the lake.

Saul Lerner and I caught up on mutual acquaintances. Until recently director of the graduate program, Lerner had students interested in public history work under Purdue archivist Joe Coates, my former student.  Former Purdue librarian, a former neighbor, was Saul’s regular lunch companion.  I told him that Lance Trusty, who recently passed away, had been my mentor when it came to speaking to community groups. Lerner first got me interested in writing reviews for Magill’s Literary Annual,which both of us continued to do for about 30 years until it ceased publication. Kenny Kincaid introduced me to one of his students and vowed to enlist me to speak to his Fall class about the history of Latinos in Northwest Indiana, as I’ve done before.  Since then, he’s moved from the Westville to the Hammond campus. 

VU professors Liz Wuerffel and Allison Schuette invited me to end-of-semester party.  I had mentioned their Flight Paths project linking Gary and Valparaiso, and several museum directors were familiar with it.  When Kenny Kincaid brought up the use of oral history in Reconciliation projects in South Africa and Peru, where his wife is from, I made the analogy with Flight Paths  bringing former Gary residents in touch again with their old neighborhoods.

 Jack Johnson

In the news: the NFL, in reaction to Trump’s pressure has mandated that players stand for the pregame National Anthem or remain in the locker room.  Pretty silly. Sylvester Stallone convinced Trump to issue a posthumous pardon for black heavyweight champ Jack Johnson, jailed on trumped up charges of transporting a prostitute across state lines for immoral purposes.  The woman in question was his white girlfriend whom he later married.  In my Cedar Lake talk I mentioned that Jack Johnson and his entourage stayed at the Mitch Hotel while training for a fight.  In the Archives the following day, Region historian John Hmurovic noted that during one trip through Hammond on the way to Chicago from Cedar Lake, Johnson’s roadster got stopped by a train and crowds gathered to meet the champ and admire his flashy auto.

Twin City Tales

Hey you, don’t help them bury the light

Don’t give in without a fight

         “Hey you,” Pink Floyd, from “The Wall”

 "The Wall" album cover

The protagonist in “The Wall,” Pink Floyd’s 1979 double album rock opera, is a jaded rock star whose father perished in World War II.  He was reared by an overprotective mother, tormented by abusive teachers, and betrayed by an unfaithful wife.  These metaphorical “Bricks in the Wall” made him depressed and, pumped up by hallucinatory drugs, he performs on stage in the manner of a fascist dictator.  Side 1 ends with “Mother” (one of my favorites), side 2 with “Goodbye Cruel World,” side 3 with “Comfortably Numb,” and side 4 with “Outside the Wall.” The final couplet of “Hey You,” which opens side 3, offers a slither of hopefulness: 

Hey you, don’t tell me there’s no hope at all

Together we stand, divided we fall

Given the many contributions of Mexican-Americans who grew up in the Indiana Harbor section of East Chicago, nicknamed the “Twin City” (at one time a vast railroad yard and industrial canal separated the immigrant neighborhood from the more affluent western section), it is maddening that Trump has demonized Mexican immigrants and turned the issue of welcoming newcomers into a political football.  He has categorized Region native Judge Gonzalo Curiel as a Mexican and a hater who should have recused himself from a case involving bogus Trump University because of the then-candidate’s vow to build a border wall. How much poorer culturally the Region would be without its legacy of ethnic diversity.

2016 E'Twain Moore basketball camp at East Chicago Central

A column by veteran NWI Timessports reporter Al Hamnik featured NBA star E’Twuan Moore in advance of a summer basketball camp in his hometown of East Chicago.  In 2007 Moore led East Chicago Central to a state championship in a 87-83 victory over North Central, whose leading scorer Eric Gordon now plays for the Houston Rockets. Moore tallied 28 points; as Coach Pete Trgovich exclaimed, “Big players set up in big games; that’s what he did.” Moore bemoaned the recent death of 11 year-old David Anderson, struck by a stray bullet while in a park where he frequently shot hoops.  Moore said: “I remember seeing him walking the halls, on the court with instructors, joking around. It was pretty tragic what happened to him.” Moore grew up in a third floor apartment on Guthrie Street in a rough neighborhood where, as Hamnik wrote, “gangs, drugs, sirens and gunshots were a common occurrence.”  Parents Ezell and Edna Moore insisted that he and his two siblings be home before dark and get good grades.  All three became college grads, E’Twaun from Purdue on a basketball scholarship.  He was drafted by the Boston Celtics, played with the Chicago Bulls, and in 2016 signed a four-year contract with the New Orleans Pelicans for $34 million.  On his biceps are tattoos reading “Ezell” and “Edna” honoring his parents’ sacrifices.

On the tennis courts of Moore’s alma mater I witnessed the Lady Cardinals’ Sectional victory, 5-0, against Hammond Noll.  The Dave Lane-coached league champs finished the regular season with a record of 10-2. After Areli Enriquez won at number 1 singles, 6-0, 6-0, I moved closer to a doubles contest.  Down 5-1 in the first set, Cresencia Alvarez and Abigail Pozo won 6 games straight and then prevailed in set 2, again by a score of 7-5.  They were aggressive at the net and virtually never double-faulted, in contrast to their opponents.  Dave introduced me to players afterwards, as well as talented athletic director Monica Maxwell, a 1995 Central grad who led Louisiana Tech to 2 Final Four appearances and starred in the WNBA with the Indiana Fever, leading the Eastern Conference in 2000 with 62 three-pointers.

 above, Monica Maxwell; below, East Chicago Central student Carolina Delgado with Mr. Lane and Mr. Trey at Teacher Appreciation Night

Several students asked if I taught Coach Lane tennis. My reply: I got him started at a young age.  A Noll player complimented my East Chicago Central t-shirt that contained the saying “Tennis, Eat, Sleep, Repeat.”  It was good to see Ashley Pabey, star of the team four years ago, who recently graduated from Purdue Northwest with a Nursing degree. A senior said that he’d be attending IVY Tech in the fall and earlier in the day was in the new building IUN shares with that institution.  When his friend who has received scholarship money from the University of Indianapolis found out I was a History professor who’d written about East Chicago, he lamented the demolition of so many buildings in the old ethnic wards.  I met Math teacher Gunnson Trey, who was born in Taiwan and returned for a month last summer, which afforded me an opportunity to describe my two days in Taipei in 1994 after lecturing in Hong Kong.  When my Taiwanese taxi driver guide drove past a statue of President Chiang Kai-shek, he cursed out the interloper for slaughtering thousands of native Taiwanese after fleeing Communist forces on mainland China.

William Drummond, Jimbo, Bob and Sheryl Burrell

At the Archives I interviewed 90-year-old William Drummond, who hired in at Youngstown Sheet and Tube Company (now Arcelor Mittal and before that LTV), located in East Chicago’s Indiana Harbor district, during the late 1940s. Assigned to a labor gang, he boarded with relatives in North Hammond until he could afford to bring up his wife and kids from downstate Illinois.   William received union support when a plant superintendent unjustly sought to punish him. William bowled with his dad as a kid at a four-lane alley and joined a coke plant team in a league composed entirely of Youngstown employees.  He finally gave up bowling last year due to bad eyesight and periodic dizziness but sometimes accompanies daughter Sheryl Burrell to Hobart Lanes when she competes as a member of Fab Four in my seniors league.  Husband Bob, a U.S. Steel retiree came with them and found reading material in the Archives to keep him busy. William’s great-grandson is an IUN student. 

 Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Wolfe

Tom Wolfe, author of “The Right Stuff” (1979) and “Bonfire of the Vanities” (1987) expired at age 88.  I’ve long admired has hyperbolic prose  that made no pretense of objectivity.  Like other exponents of the so-called New Journalism, such as Norman Mailer, Truman Capote, and Hunter S. Thompson, Wolfe employed elements commonly associated with fiction to explore personal foibles and idiosyncrasies.  In a Sixties class I used Wolfe’s “Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,” about Ken Kesey and his hippie band of Merry Pranksters traveling the country on a 1939 school bus dubbed Furthur.   Omar Farag made a presentation on Wolfe’s 1965 book of colorful essays, “The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby” that contained chapters on customized cars, auto racing, and deejay Murray the K, who billed himself as the “Fifth Beatle.” Wolfe coined the phrases “Radical Chic” for Manhattan socialites who hosted fundraisers for Black Panthers and “Me Decade” for the 1970s. The difference between the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, he bantered, was that one wanted to hold your hand while the other wanted to burn down your town.

Understanding Finnish words and phrases may come in handy during my upcoming trip.  I finally learned how to pronounce the city of Jyvaskyla (like it begins with a Y), where Dave and I will first stay.  We’ll be in Helsinki for Midsummer (Juhannus). Heiis hello and Nakemiinor Moi Moimeans goodbye.  Joo (pronounced yoh) or Kylla (Kuul-la), is yes while Ei means no.  Kiitos (Kee-tohss) is thank you and Ole hyva(OH-lay-va) is you’re welcome. A phrase I might need is Missa on vassa?– where is the toilet (or WC)?

 Cedar Lake Museum, once Lassen Resorts

At a workshop next week sponsored by the Cedar Lake Historical Society, I’ll note that I first heard about the “Lake of the Red Cedars,” as the Potawatomi named it, from self-styled “Region Rat” Jean Shepherd’s fishing tale “Hairy Gertz and the 47 Crappies.”  Shepherd recalled being in a rowboat knee-deep in beer cans with his Old Man and seven others:

   It is 2.A.M.  The temperature is 175, with humidity to match.  And the smell of decayed toads, the dumps at the far end of the lake, and an occasional whiff of Standard Oil, whose refinery is a couple miles away, is enough to put hair on the back of a mud turtle.  Seventeen thousand guys clumped together in the middle, wishing for the known 64 crappies in the lake.

    The surface is one flat sheet of used oil laying in the darkness, with the sounds of the Roller Rink floating out over it, mingling with the angry drone of the mosquitoes and muffled swearing from the other boats.  A fistfight breaks out at the Dance Hall (Midway Ballroom).  The sound of sirens can be heard in the Indiana blackness.  It gets louder and then fades away. Tiny orange lights bob over the dance floor.

Ray Smock, who introduced me to Jean Shepherd and grew up in Harvey, Illinois, called Cedar Lake in the 1950s a blue collar mecca where he spent many idyllic summer days.  One time he decided to swim to the other side for bragging rights. Part way across, he got tangled up in thick weeds and before he could struggle free, a half-dozen leeches were attached to his body. He recalled:

When I finally got to the other side, the first thing I did was to scratch off those damn bloodsuckers.  I had to walk back to the other side of the lake. That was the hard part. I had no shoes on and it took me a lot longer than I had planned.  This was the beginning and end of my long-distance swimming career.

I’ll also read this paragraph from the 1990 novel Blossom by Andrew Vachss

    The Chevy blended into the terrain, at home on the back roads.  I followed Rebecca’s directions to Cedar Lake. Found Lake Shore Drive.  A resort area, mostly summer cottages.  I stopped at a bench set into a wooden railing across from a funeral home.  Smoked a cigarette and waited.  The sigb said Scenic Overlook.  Told me the lake was 809 acres.  Three miles long, a mile and a half wide.  Twin flagpoles on either side of the bench.  Electricity meter on a pole.  I stood at the railing.  Somebody had carved Steve & Monica inside a clumsy heart.  I traced it with my fingers.  Three bikers went by on chopped hogs, no helmets.

below, "Far From the Maddening Crowd" by Tom Brand

Driving to the Gardner Center for an exhibit featuring the work of Michigan City artists Tom Brand and Carole Stodder, I found Lake Street to be a mess and the lane adjacent to my destination blocked off by big equipment.  Persevering, I enjoyed the abstract pieces.  Some of Stodder’s images reminded me of jigsaw puzzle pieces, and Brand’s suggested multiple possibilities of meaning.  Spotting artist and VU curator Gregg Hertzlieb, I had him explain to me how Stoddard achieved her surface texture.  Tom Brand’s bio indicated that he had once been a printer and in the 1960s had produced the original Hairy Who comic books by the Chicago Imagists.  He was surprised when I told him I’d seen the documentary about them at a Munster Art in Focus event.

from a 1968 Hairy Who comic book