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

Concussed

  “We can’t last forever on the football field.  You get your head knocked a bit.  They’ve got to fix the helmets so your brains don’t get rattled like they do,” Ted Karras to Al Hamnik (2011)

The word concussed is now in common usage both as an adjective (suffering from a concussion) and a verb (to injure by means of a concussion).  Though the subject comes up most often in regards to football, recent research has shown it to be a problem in wrestling, soccer, and other youth sports.  The fear is that repeated hits to the head will result in long-term brain damage.  I recall a time when euphemisms like “he got his bell rung” and “he got dinged” were used to describe head hits glorified in highlight films.

Columnist John Doherty reported that, according to a recent report in the American Journal of Sports Medicine, college athletes who suffered concussions are more than twice as likely to experience a non-contact leg injury within three months of returning to action.  The report concluded:

Given the demanding environment in which athletes are required to execute complex maneuvers, it is possible that mild neurocognitive deficit may result on judgment errors and loss of coordination.

 above, Ted Karras in 2013; below, Ted and Anna

Ted Karras, starting left guard on the Chicago Bears NFL 1963 championship team, died at age 81.  Five years ago he told NWI Times correspondent Al Hamnik: “You lose your memory and everything else.  That’s my problem right now.  I got knocked around and I can’t remember things.  But I’m glad I’m alive.  I’m 77.  What the hell.”  Hamnik pointed out that the most Karras ever made for a season was $25,000, and his monthly NFL pension was just $975.  I had the honor of visiting Ted and wife Anna at their Miller home  on Shelby a couple years while working on an article about brother Alex Karras for Traces magazine.  Looking a old photos, Ted joked about his memory loss, but I could tell how frustrating it must have been.  He'd say each time that we needed to finish by 11 a.m. when reruns of Webster, an Eighties sitcom starring brother Alex, came on.

 Coach Ryan Shelton and IUN's Lady Redhawks

Friday in a NAIA contest, the 23rd-ranked IUN Lady Redhawks played the College of the Ozarks.  Up 34-32 at the half, IUN stretched the lead to 10 before the fourth-ranked Lady Bobcats rallied.  The turning point: two straight treys by opponent Cass Johnson to put her team up four.  IUN tied the score with two minutes to go, thanks to buckets by Nicki Monahan and Jayne Roach, but lost 80-76, first time this season on their home court to fall to 15-6.  A scary moment occurred when an opponent set an illegal moving pick, and an IUN player fell to the floor, hit her head, and remained down for several anxious minutes.

I paid my respects to the Karras family at Burns Funeral Home in Hobart.  In the crowded room were two photos of Ted in his Bears uniform, taken in 1963 and 2013, and several floral wreaths, including one for “papou” from his six grandchildren.  Anna told me Ted died surrounded by family and just weeks ago was singing  - as the obit noted, he had a beautiful voice and had appeared in numerous musical productions.  I said hello to sister Helene, whom I had visited while seeking information on parents Emmiline and George Karras, a Gary doctor, who ministered to working-class immigrant families, often gratis or for products in trade.  Helene said her brothers got their size from their dad and athletic ability from their mother.

Dave was announcing wrestling Sectionals at East Chicago Central, so I took James to bowling at Inman’s.  Teammate Josh Froman had a chance for a 279 game going into the tenth frame but left a seven-pin on an apparent perfect hit.  Bowling ended early, but we were pleased to discover that Culver’s opened at ten and had lunch.

 "Straight Outta Compton" cast

Of all the black actors snubbed by the Academy, Will Smith, who plays Dr. Bennet Omalu in “Concussion” is the most obvious.  Another travesty is that lightweight (in ability) Sylvester Stallone got nominated for again playing Rocky Balboa, now a trainer, in Creed, while Michael B. Jordon as Adonis Johnson was slighted.  African American F. Gary Gray directed the acclaimed “Straight Outta Compton,” but the film’s only nomination went to two white guys who wrote the screenplay.  Some want Oscar host Chris Rock to boycott the event, but I look forward to hearing his take on the subject.

 Party Animals, Trivia Night winners

I competed on Fred and Diane Chary’s team, “Presidents Gone Wild,” at Temple Israel’s eighth annual Trivia Night.  Diane had a white wig for me as well as a John Adams mask.  On our team were the Blooms (Jack as Abraham Lincoln) and Fred’s son Michael.   The Post-Tribune had won the past several years, and a big cheer went up when Party Animals beat them out.  Our table finished about eighth out of 24 entries.  I wasn’t much help: most questions I knew were pretty obvious – for example, “Hair” and Pete Seeger in the music category. I did know the song “Get Together,” and Jack Bloom came up with the name of the group, the Youngbloods, after I speculated that it was Young Rascals.  My best contribution was recognizing a glass art piece by Dale Chihuly.  I erred on what company produced the first plastic credit card. Diners Club issued credit cards starting in 1950, but the answer, to my dismay, was American Express, whose card made of plastic dated from 1959.

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Trivia Night was a chance to see many old Miller friends.  Greeting me when I arrived at Temple Israel was Bobbi Galler, whose son Andy got Phil interested in working at the IU campus TV station.  Bobbi and Larry Galler used to host New Year’s Day chili and beer parties; that’s where I watched the 1979 Cotton Bowl where Joe Montana led Notre Dame, down 34-12 late in the third quarter, to a 35-34 victory over Houston.  Saying hi were Linc Cohen, who had been at Woodstock in the summer of 1969, and Jack Weinberg, a leader of the 1964 Berkeley Free Speech Movement and, closer to home, the Bailly anti-nuclear fight. Weinberg’s team last year was the Marxists; this year they were dressed as cyclists and went by the Cranks (there is a Calumet Crank Club in Northwest Indiana for bikers).  Gene Ayers and I commiserated over the passing of Ted Karras.  In a recent Ayers Realtors Newsletter Gene had written about working at Jack Spratt’s ice cream shop when Ted came in with two Bears teammates, tight end Mike Ditka and defensive end Ed O’Bradovich. 

Gaming with Tom Wade and Dave, I went one for four, winning St. Petersburg thanks to getting the Warehouse, which allowed me to keep four cards in my hand.  For lunch we made ham sandwiches on marbled rye bread, which reminded Dave of the Seinfeld episode where George’s parents take a loaf of marble rye to girlfriend Susan’s house and then his dad sneaks away with it when the hosts don’t serve it.  George then attempts to replace it with another loaf while they leave their apartment.  When Jerry goes to buy one, a woman in front of him purchases the last loaf.  After she refuses to sell it, he snatches it and calls her an “old bag.”  Of course, George gets caught trying to retrieve it from Jerry with a fishing pole.

 rye snatching scene from Seinfeld

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Rereading “Olive Kitteridge” by Elizabeth Strout, I’d forgotten some of the minor characters that weren’t in the brilliant HBO mini-series, such as hardware store owner Harmon, whose wife Bonnie one day announced that she was done having sex.  At the marina diner Harmon sat next to a young couple smelling like pot (he didn’t mind) and talking loudly about a friend being a bitch lately, upset because she found out her boyfriend had a “fuck buddy” – a sex partner to whom she had no emotional attachment.  Harmon heard the girl say, “I mean, who cares.  That’s the point of a fuck buddy.”  Later on the phone, Harmon asked his son if he’d heard of fuck buddies and was told, “That’s the thing these days.  Just what it says.  People who get together to get laid.  No strings attached.”  At the time Harmon was having sex with Daisy Foster on a weekly basis, courting her with donuts, but found himself falling in love and (to quote Strout) “waiting for the day, and he knew it would come, when he left Bonnie or when she kicked him out.”

The protagonist in Young Adult author John Green’s “Looking for Alaska” (2006) was fascinated with the final words of famous people, such as Frank Sinatra saying, “I’m losing it.”  The last words of benevolent Henry Kitteridge as he got out of the car at Shop ‘n’ Save to buy milk, orange juice and jam were “Anything else?”  The final line in “Olive Kitteridge” has Olive thinking: “It baffled her, the world.  She did not want to leave it yet.” 

Paul Kern posted several emails regarding his and Julie’s “California or Bust” trip:

  January 30: In Texas and New Mexico the Border Patrol was much in evidence. We passed through two check points with dogs sniffing our car, saw many Border Patrol squad cars as well as helicopters that we suspect were Border Patrol. I felt like we were in East Germany or Franco's Spain instead of the United States.

  January 31: Crossing the Mojave Desert, we were buffeted by high winds and then were blinded by a torrential downpour. Finally we were hit by a blizzard. We're holed up in a motel in Tehachapi, CA waiting out the storm.

  February 1 (a.m.): We're stuck in Tehachapi [in Kern County]. Highway 58 to Bakersfield closed because of icy conditions. May open later today, but may not.

  February 1 (p.m.): Highway 58 opened late this morning under police escort and we were able to escape Tehachapi. Made it to West Sacramento around six, ending a three thousand mile road trip. Colin brought us a Chinese dinner and now we are settling into the condo we are renting for the next two months.

Charley Halberstadt and I had our ups and downs in duplicate bridge, but, more often than not, how we did was out of our hands and dependent on how our opponents bid and played.  My worst hand: Charley over-called Chuck Tomes (above) with a good spade suit but nothing else.  With ten points and five spades I jumped from one to four spades, and Charley went down three, doubled.  My best moment: Charley opened light with an Ace, King, Queen of Hearts and little else.  I had just two little Hearts but 17 points and bid Two No-Trump.  Very reluctantly, Charley raised me to Three No-Trump.  We each had four Clubs, with me holding the Ace, King.  I made it on the nose for high board when Clubs split 3-2, allowing me to cash in a low Club.

Catholics vs. Convicts

“Save Jimmy Johnson’s ass for me.” Notre Dame coach Lou Holtz at halftime of “Catholics vs. Convicts” 1988 “brawl” game against Miami

On October 15, 1988, when the number 1 ranked Miami Hurricanes visited Notre Dame Stadium, many students wore “Catholics vs. Convicts” and “Hate Miami” t-shirts. Miami had won 36 straight regular season games but had a reputation for sleazy recruitment practices and tolerating questionable off-the-field behavior from its players.  Prior to the opening kickoff a brawl broke out between the players in the entrance tunnel.  Living up to their nickname “Fighting Irish,” Notre Dame won the contest 31-30 after Miami coach Jimmy Johnson elected to try a two-point conversion with 45 seconds left in the game rather than settle for a tie.

Under the headline “Catholics vs. Convicts?” NWI Times reporter Steve Hanlon reported on a press conference where Guerin Catholic coach Pete Smith badmouthed opponent Griffith in the upcoming 3A state championship game.  Last month Griffith’s season appeared over after a 45-second brawl that ensued after a Hammond player shoved Anthony Murphy, who was going up for a dunk, into a wall.  When twin brother Tremell Murphy went to his aid, someone allegedly punched him in the back of the head.  Judge Pera overturned the IHSAA ruling, citing other cases where the penalty was much less severe.  The main difference: footage of those didn’t go viral on social media.

Coach Smith claimed Golden Eagles fans had taken up the chant “Catholics vs. Convicts” and that, while he doesn’t agree with such a characterization, he believes Griffith does not belong in the tournament.  Speaking out of both sides of his mouth, Smith claimed that it was unfair for Griffith to have had three weeks off to get “rejuvenated” but then surmised that the team had still continued to practice.  He said, “We hope to get into their bench,” a veiled invitation for referees to call fouls on Griffith’s star players the twins Anthony and Tremell Murphy (below).  Downstate refs frequently show bias toward Region teams, so it would not be far-fetched since officials are somewhat beholden to the IHSAA.

Guerin Catholic’s best player, Matt Holba, is from Chesterton.  One wonders if Coach Smith recruited him illegally.  Gary Hayes, the Griffith coach, told Al Hamnik that the Murphy twins, who have lived in Griffith throughout their years in school, have resisted agents trying to lure them to a private school.  Hamnik wrote: “The Murphys, at 6-foot-5 with guard skills, can turn a game around quick as a hiccup.”  In a column entitled “Guerin must lose its elitist attitude,” the veteran Times reporter lit into Coach Pete Smith for his whining and poor sportsmanship and praised Griffith coach Gary Hayes for not getting “into a hissy fit with Smith.” Hamnik added:

How many Guerin fans actually made the ‘Catholics vs. Convicts comments to his face?  Was here a sign-waving, torch-carrying crowd chanting “Catholics vs. Convicts’ through the streets of Noblesville?  Was it that unanimous?

  Or did Pete Smith hear it secondhand, from a few, then pass it on as water-cooler gossip?

  Smith owes the Griffith School Corporation an apology.

Under intense scrutiny the Griffith players, coaches, administrators, and attorneys who took the case to court have been great.   As the headline of Indianapolis Star reporter Gregg Doyle’s column put it, “Griffith kids acting like adults; can IHSAA?”  Doyle wrote:

The kids at Griffith have done everything they can do to make amends.  They were barred from ‘The Region’s’ annual sportsmanship dinner, a petty move by the adults up there, so the kids at Griffith had their own sportsmanship dinner.  They invited the kids from Hammond.  Both teams sat together, ate together, grew together.

They practiced on their own at the YMCA, just in case.  Folks around town were down on them, the whole country was mocking them online, but the kids from Griffith kept it together.  They met every day at the public library because they’d been suspended from school for a week and wanted to keep their grades up – doing homework, studying for tests – just in case they were allowed back onto the court.

East Chicago State Representative Earl Harris (above), stricken with cancer, passed away at age 73. House Democratic leader Scott Pelath (my state rep) called him a true gentleman, “one of the finest and most visionary lawmakers I ever knew” and “a tireless advocate for the future of Northwest Indiana.”  Denzel Smith wrote: “[He was] my Dad's best friend and an awesome man. I am honored to have known him and I'm grateful that he served his community well as State Rep. Mr. Earl always was encouraging and always willing to lend a hand. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. God bless you and rest in peace.”

The Black Student Union and Office of Diversity, Equity and Multicultural Affairs sponsored a screening of “The Trials of Muhammad Ali,” which brought back a flood of memories, including watching the first Sonny Liston fight in 1964 on cable TV in Williamsport at the home of a fraternity brother.  Ali was certainly a trailblazer who suffered mightily for his outspokenness and becoming a Black Muslim.  Many reporters, in fact, continued to call him Cassius Clay long after he took the name Muhammad Ali.

I learned that the unanimous Supreme Court decision that overturned Ali’s conviction of draft evasion and upheld his claim to be a conscientious objector was all set to go the other way when Justice John Marshall Harlan switched his position after a clerk pointed out that the Black Muslim position was identical to the Jehovah Witnesses, a religious group that had been granted conscientious objector status.  Other justices, fearful that all Black Muslims could refuse military service, then found a way to base the ruling on very narrow grounds, namely that his draft board had claimed he was insincere but during oral argument the Solicitor General conceded that Ali was sincere in his belief.  The scene of Ali, suffering from Parkinson’s, lighting the Olympic torch at the Atlanta Games Opening Ceremony caused tears to stream down my face.

I spoke to Steve McShane’s class about Thyra J. Edwards (above), who between 1920 and 1931 was a Gary teacher, social worker, and director of Lake County Children’s Home for orphans.  Thyra was the subject of historian Gregg Andrews’ biography, subtitled “Black Activist in the Global Freedom Struggle.”  In 1925, optimistic over the possibilities for racial progress in the Steel City, Edwards declared: “I am inclined to call Gary the eighth wonder of the world.  A barren, uninhabited waste of sand dunes and thistles has in 20 years developed into one of the largest industrial centers in America.”  She was appointed to several interracial commissions, served on the board of Stewart Settlement House, and was friends with Judge E. Miles Norton.  Moreover, through a circle of Chicago friends, she met the leading social workers and black leaders of that day.

Thyra soon became disillusioned, however, at the possibilities for racial progress in Gary because of the pernicious influence of the Ku Klux Klan, the increasingly segregated housing patterns, and the decision of Mercy and Methodist hospital boards to deny black patients access to their facilities.  In 1934, well on her way to becoming a radical, feminist, and human rights activist, she wrote in the Pittsburgh Courier:

We played childish games, ate rich cake, tea and jelly, and tried to be awfully nice to each other.  Having no common base of interest we had no real conversation – but we chatted and smiled and it might have been Gary, Indiana, or any one of a number of race-Relations fiascos of which I have been guilty.

Beautiful, adventurous, and intellectually curious, Edwards developed an intimate friendship with union leader A. Philip Randolph, who praised her “keen analytical mind, fine poise, modes charm and a fluency of presentation that will capture the admiration of the most critical.”  Biographer Andrews wrote:

She rejected orthodox religion and conventional marriage.  She was a theater critic, passionate lover of the arts, excellent cook, and fashion-conscious beauty writer known for her impeccable taste and collection of peasant blouses.  She led educational travel seminars to northern and western Europe, Scandinavia, Mexico, and the Soviet Union.

The same person who as a young girl was warned by her father to stick to the same street on her way to school every day and never to take a different route later walked down the street to the Kremlin, thrilled when she marched in Red Square in a May 1st celebration.  Edwards visited Napoleon’s tomb, wined, dined, and danced with European politicians and dignitaries; took lovers in a number of countries; and enjoyed nude sunbathing on the Soviet Black Sea Riviera.

Thyra Edwards supported anti-Fascist forces in Spain and Germany, was active in the wartime Double-V campaign, and due to her radical connections came under FBI scrutiny during the Red Scare.  She died in 1953, on the eve, Gregg Andrews concluded, of the civil rights movement she helped nurture.

In the memoir “The Imaginary Girlfriend,” John Irving wrote about being the butt of novelist Nelson’s Algren’s disdainful humor while a participant in the Iowa Writers’ Workshop during the mid-1960s.  Irving suspected that Algren thought him too soft since he was a small-town, prep school brat who didn’t play poker and wrestled rather than boxed.  Years later, when Kurt Vonnegut brought them together, Algren acted like he couldn’t remember meeting Irving at Iowa and pretended to confuse him with Clifford Irving, who had produced a bogus autobiography of recluse Howard Hughes.  Algren said he appreciated a good scam and then winked.

Reacting with disdain to Ted Cruz’s plans to run for president, both Anne Balay and Steve Pickert posted a Dr. Seuss “Green Eggs and Ham” parody.   The frigging Indiana legislature passed a “religious objection” law that will allow businesses to discriminate against gays.  Anne Balay posted: “Indiana, I’m leaving you anyway, you don’t have to pile on the reasons.”  John D’Emilio responded: “Yes, observing its current politics does put your denial of tenure in its true context, doesn’t it?”

Closer to home, Gary Mayor Karen Freeman-Wilson wants the land where the Sheraton Hotel once stood converted into a park and ice skating.  Samuel A. Love posed in front of the Memorial Auditorium façade, all that’s left off that important landmark.