Loading Zones

“I park for free

One stop shop life for the quick fix

Before you get a ticket

That’s the way I live my life

I park for free.”

Kurt Vile

 Kurt Vile

Kurt Vile, 38, was born in Lansdowne, Pennsylvania, and like members of the War on Drugs, my favorite band,  has spent most of his career in the Fishtown neighborhood of Philadelphia near where Toni grew up.  In fact, along with Adam Granduciel, he was a founder of the War on Drugs but parted ways after the release of their first album, “Wagonwheel Blues” (2008). The two remained friends, however, and Granduciel continued to play with Vile’s backing band, the Violators, for another five years. “Loading Zones,” my current favorite song, is on the album “Bottle It In.”  Vile explained: “The original inspiration to this song was me literally driving around my own town of Philadelphia, thinking about how, in your mind, or in real life, you own your town once you’ve lived there long enough.”  After complaining how difficult it is to park legally in the “City of Brotherly Love,” he added: “[But] there’s all kinds of loading zones you can creep around in. And it’s also sort of just a way of life. It’s sort of like a ‘Sopranos,’ gettin by on the back streets–except no murder.”  Vile’s previous hit, “Pretty Pimpin’,” begins:“I woke up this morning and didn’t recognize the man in the mirror.”  

At my emeritus office in the new Arts and Sciences building I picked up a week’s accumulation of mail, something I do infrequently.  There is no elevator in the south end of the two-block long building, where my room is, and the 30 steps to the second floor are tough on the knee.  In addition, there is no parking anywhere near the north entrance except for a loading zone. I do occasionally park there on quick stops, popping the trunk of the Corolla as if I’ll be loading something into it when I return.   Awaiting for me in my office were four pieces of mail: a permission slip from former trustee James Dye that allows access to our recent interview; two copies from John Cain of South Shore Arts of the “Gary Haunts” exhibit booklet that contains my historical essay; an announcement and thank you note from Scott Bocock of the Cedar Lake Historical Society (I evidently became a member automatically when I spoke to the group); and a package containing Steel Shavings, volume 47, that I had sent to Steven High at Concordia University in Montreal.  The post office returned it because it didn’t contain a required customs form.  WTF?

above, Joe Petras; below, Dick Hagelberg, Jimbo, Steve Spicer (photo by Jim Spicer) 

On Saturday I took James bowling and to Culver’s.  His English class is reading “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens, not a book I’d recommend for teenagers.  At noon I attended Big Joe Petras’ Marquette Park Playground fundraiser at Miller Bakery Café, an event that has previously been held at Arman’s and Miller Pizza.  Over the years Big Joe has raised thousands of dollars.  I ran into many old Miller friends, including Jim and Steve Spicer, Jack Tonk, Dan Simon, Ron Cohen, Rich Gonzalez, and Dick Hagelberg, who treated me to a pint draft from Eighteenth Street Brewery, first located in Miller but now in Hammond. I was home in time for the IU victory over Butler, 71 to 68, in the Crossroads Classic on a last-second 30-foot miracle shot by freshman Rob Phinisee (below).  The Hoosiers trailed until the final two minutes, but Juwan Morgan kept them in the game with 35 points, a career high.

Sunday I made French toast and bacon, watched the morning news shows, addressed about 70 Christmas cards, and watched my two favorite NFL teams the Chicago and the Philadelphia, win important games from Green Bay and the L.A. Rams respectively, the Bears to clinch the NFC Central and the Eagles to keep their playoff hopes alive.  The only fly in the ointment: I got eliminated in the Fantasy semi-finals as Houston running back Lamar Miller was injured early in his game with the Jets, my starting QB Carson Wentz didn’t play, and backup Nick Foles hardly ever threw to my tight end Zach Ertz.  Had I played either Dalvin Cook of Minnesota or Chris Carson of Seattle in place of Miller, I’d have won.  As it was, I’d have beaten any of the other semi-finalists.

At the Archives two Ball State grad students, Carrie Vachon and Nick Miller, were working on a grant project to create a virtual museum on the history of civil rights in Indiana.  They were very interested in my publications, especially the Gary pictorial history and my Tracesarticle on Reverend L.K. Jackson.  I suggested several sources on Mexican Americans and referred them to these documentaries: an “Eyes on the Prize II” episode highlighting the 1972 National Civil Rights Convention at Gary West Side High School; “Hoosiers: The Story of Indiana,” based on Jim Madison’s book; John Hmurovich’s “History of Gary”; and an episode of the WFYI series “Across Indiana” on Mexican Repatriation.

 left, Alex Karras; below, Dick the Bruiser

I ran into Mike Chirich, a Lew Wallace grad, and we talked about Gary sports history. He played junior varsity football and recalled legendary Coach Eddie Herbert.  We traded stories about Alex Karras, whom I wrote about for a Traces article and whom I interviewed by telephone shortly before he died.  Suffering from Alzheimer’s, he joked that I could call him the next day and we could have the same conversation since he wouldn’t remember the one we just had. Chirich knew about the Detroit sports bar that Karras had a financial interest in, where he evidently placed bets on games, causing the NFL commissioner in 1963 to suspend him from playing for a year.  During that time he became a professional wrestler and supposedly got into a bar fight with Dick the Bruiser (William Afflis, a former Green Bay Packers lineman) shortly before their scheduled match. According to Chirich, Dick the Bruiser was taken to jail supposedly bleeding from the head due to being struck by a pool stick.  Karras visited him, and “The Bruiser” bragged that the publicity should bring about a full house for the match.

 Janet Jackson, Robert Smith of The Cure, Stevie Nicks

2019 inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame include Gary’s own Janet Jackson as well as The Cure and Radiohead, all deserving.  Others include Def Leppard, Roxy Music, Stevie Nicks, and the Zombies, a Sixties British band whose hits include “She’s Not There” and “Time of the Season.”  

Family Matters

“Be kind.  Do no  harm.  Take care of your family.  Don’t start wars.”  Kurt Vonnegut

Volume 47 of Steel Shavingsended with the above Vonnegut quote.  Now almost two years into the disastrous Trump administration, we need the Hoosier sage’s words of wisdom more than ever.  Trump wouldn’t know the first thing about kindness, means nothing but harm, has no respect for families save for those with Trump blood, and, like any bully, will wage war on any entity weaker than him.  Latest outrage: abrogating the nuclear arms limitation treaty and threatening to use military force against Honduran refugees.

“Family Matters” enjoyed an 8-year run on CBS beginning in 1989.  A “Perfect Strangers” spin-off, it centered around a gruff but lovable cop with an eccentric family and nerdy neighbor.  Most critics compared the sitcom unfavorably to “The Cosby Show,” but reruns are still a BET staple, while anything associated with predator Cosby is toxic.  I can’t recall ever watching “Family Matters.”  The kid on “Webster” adopted by Alex Karras’ character was my favorite African-American waif.

We celebrated Angie’s birthday at Craft House in Chesterton, our first time there.  The place was lively on a Friday evening at 6:30; in fact, at a nearby table, a woman shrieked with laughter every few minutes, annoying at first but palatable after two 16-ounce Yuegling lagers evidently brewed elsewhere.  Having a mini-brewery on-site seems like a can’t-miss endeavor. We shared several appetizers; I ordered a delicious bistro steak and salad.  At the condo for cake, we got in two Uno games won by Angie and James.

Mike and Jimbo; below, Toni, Mike, Max, Janet, Brenden

 

Saturday we drove south on I-65 (a death trap once winter begins) to Carmel for a pre-Thanksgiving dinner with the Bayers. For years this was an annual tradition, which we’ve tried to continue after Mike, Janet, and Shannon moved back to the Indianapolis area, close to daughter Kirsten and husband Ed Petras. With our burgeoning families, scheduling it around Thanksgiving got too complicated.  Toni contributed mussels and other appetizers. Phil took a case of Rolling Rock. Turkey and ham were on hand with all the trimmings, including turnips made to Michael’s liking and glazed cranberry slices – Janet and my preference over cranberry sauce. I saved room for slices of both Beth’s pies, lemon merengue and apple cranberry.

Keeping up a holiday tradition, we played charades. The five Bayer grandkids (two of Brenden’s, two of Kirsten’s, and Shannon’s 3-year-old Max) really got into it after some initial shyness. The lively conversation reminded me of evenings at the Bayers’ Miller house.  Years later, Mike Olszanski said he had thought of me as rather quiet, meeting me on those occasions.  I thought the same thing about him.  Truth was, it was hard to get a word in edgewise with so many competitors.  Phil gave rookie soccer coach Ed tips on drills; I reminisced with Michael about poker games with old lefties Fred Gabourey, Al Samter, Scotty Woods, and AFT union leader Charles Smith.  We talked about the 3-hour memorial service for USWA district director Eddie Sadlowski and how Mike Olszanski and I quoted Mike extensively in “Steelworkers Fight Back,” aSteel Shavingsissue about the 1977 USWA election.  One union leader kept asking, “Who is that guy Michael Bayer?”  Only an invaluable source on what went wrong during Eddie’s campaign for the USWA presidency.  Mike and Janet had spent several weeks in Ireland with his brother Joe Davidow and wife Janna, whom David and I had stayed with in Helsinki.  Janet got out the same album Joe had given me, “Different Moments,” featuring Joe playing his compositions on piano and saxophonist Seppo “Parioni” Paakkunainen.  The album artwork was by Maxwell Gordon, Mike’s uncle, who moved to Mexico in 1961 in the wake of a bitter divorce and for whom Shannon’s kid is evidently named.

"Wounded Angel" by Maxwell Gordon

After a night at Mike and Janet’s in nearby Fishers, we were back in Carmel for  breakfast. Kirsten had prepared a delicious egg dish.  Other contributions included quiche and Polish pastries purchased by Beth.  I saved room for the last remaining piece of Beth’s apple/cranberry pie.  Ed was off to a Colts game, which reminded me of past holiday touch football games.  I told Alissa about meeting Brother Blue’s widow, Ruth Hill, at the OHA conference in Montreal.  When she was just a kid, she was with them on a tour of a Native American museum; she doesn’t remember but does recall Halloweening that same afternoon as a tourist with a camera around her neck in downtown Santa Fe and scooting down a mesa on an Indian reservation faster than we could keep up with her – stories we’ve repeated many times to keep the memory alive. After playing the perfect hostess for 24 hours, Kirsten appeared to have a sore shoulder, so I gave her a five-minute rub, which she thanked me for. She’s like family, having lived with us part of her senior year after her parents moved to Vermont. There were parting hugs all around and vows to come back even earlier next year while the heated salt water pool was still open.

John Riggins Super Bowl ramble

Home for most of the Redskins victory over the hated Dallas Cowboys.  Announcers compared Skins running back Adrian Peterson, 33, to John Riggins, MVP at that ripe old age, and showed a clip of his memorable 43-yard TD run in Superbowl XVII. In the fourth quarter, Washington went up by 10 on a sack/fumble/TD and then barely held on, 20-17, when a false start penalty moved a Dallas last-ditch field goal try back 5 yards to Washington’s 38-yard-line.  At the last moment the ball veered to the left and bounced harmlessly off the goalpost. I called Dave afterwards to make sure he watched.  We both were once diehard Redskin fans, but the advent of Fantasy football has reduced his team loyalty.  One time, much to my shock, when he rooted for a Skins opponent on his Fantasy team to score a TD.

 Nathan Hare and Marvin X, 2017

In the Jeopardy category African-American History a question asked which university instituted, under Nathan Hare, the first Black Studies program.  Answer: San Francisco State in 1968.  IU Northwest launched its program shortly thereafter and offered courses before SFSU did. I knew Sweatt v. Painter, the Texas Law School “separate but equal” case but guessed Sojourner Truth instead of Harriet Tubman as the former slave who helped fugitives escape from her native Maryland.  

On the cover of “IU200: The Bicentennial Magazine” was a bison, IU’s mascot during the late 1960s, and inside Steve McShane’s article about various IUN mascots, including Indians, Blast, and Redhawks. University Archivist Stephen Towne wrote about IU during the Civil War.  In December 1860, when South Carolina voted to secede from the Union, someone placed a secession flag atop the University Building, prompting outraged residents to remove it, drag it through the streets, and burn it at the Court House Square. Two literary societies held boisterous debates on the merits of the war until President Cyrus Nutt insisted that topics be approved in advance.  Towne wrote: “Members of the literary societies raged in protest.  The Board of Trustees suspended students until they submitted.”

 James Dye, honorary degree ceremony, 2009

I called the office of former IU Trustee James Dye to apologize for the various snafus during his visit for our interview.  His son Jim answered and recognized my voice since his sister had taped the interview.  Claiming his dad had enjoyed himself immensely, he strongly suggested I call him at home. Eleven years my senior, Dye still has a keen mind and a quick wit.  We talked for a good half hour; he told me about a buffalo farm he ran during the 1990s. It was hurt by the failure of Ted Turner’s restaurant chain, Ted’s Montana Grill, specializing in bison, to take off.  Unlike cattle, Dye said, only a relatively small portion of a buffalo can be harvested for food, and hides are not profitable.  From what I could gather, the land Dye acquired for his farm turned out to be a good investment.  Dye told me he doesn’t feel his age until he looks in the mirror.  I told him about a 1957 dance party and talk I hosted for South Shore Arts and someone commenting that I seemed to go back in time mentally as the program went on.

Purdue Northwest grad student Jeff Swisher sought advice on his thesis topic, the 1959 Steel Strike and Its Effect on the City of Gary.”  He had read “Gary’s First Hundred years,” so I pulled out some Shavingsmagazines and Ron Cohen and my “Gary: A Pictorial History.”  He is hoping to show that the lengthy labor dispute had a profound effect on the city’s subsequent economic decline, whereas most studies trace that phenomenon to white flight. He has consulted census figures, school enrollment statistics, and plant labor force size. I suggested a few other sources and that he focus the narrative on the work stoppage itself and weigh the multitude of factors behind deindustrialization in a concluding chapter. A Hammond Gavit H.S. history teacher, Swisher is studying under Professor Saul Lerner, who is several years my senior.

Jimbo Jammers had the second most points in Fantasy football, but I lost to Phil, now with a record of 1-6, whose Denver defense earned him an unprecedented 34 points.  On Monday Night Football, I needed 20 points from my wide receiver Julio Jones.  He gained 110 yards but failed to score any TDs.

Lash Out

“I can feel it on the back of my tongue
All of the words getting trapped in my lungs
Heavy like a stone, waiting for the river to run
I wanna lash out”

         Alice Merton, “Lash Out”

In 2017 German-born Canadian Alice Merton scored an international hit with “No Roots.” I like her more recent “Lash Out” even better.  I once had a short fuse.  Now I claim to be “mellow Jimbo,” and Toni just snickers, unerringly aware of my inner thoughts. Every once in a while, I need to give vent to the frustration and lash out, often with a loud “goddammit,” as when the computer is giving me trouble right before I want to leave school.  The first two lines of “No Roots” go:
                    I like digging holes and hiding things inside them
                    When I'll grow old I hope I won't forget to find them

When we were kids, Terry Jenkins and I buried a bottle containing private thoughts in his side yard, hoping someone would come upon it years later. Three years ago, we passed by the site on a tour of our old Fort Washington haunts.  I have no idea what we might have written.

 Maria McGrath at Dickinson College in carlyle, PA, alma mater of Pres. James Buchanan

I told Terry and Gayle Jenkins about meeting food historian Maria McGrath, a professor at Bucks County Community College and daughter of Upper Dublin classmate Susan Floyd, in Montreal at the Oral History Association conference, first at her session on “Queer Voices, Queer Lives,” then at a reception with Anne Balay and her Haverford student Phil Reid. Since then Maria and I have exchanged several emails.  For example, I wrote:

 I  thoroughly enjoyed your excellent paper on Bloodroot Restaurant and the opportunity to talk with you at the conference diversity reception.  What an unexpected and delightful experience, especially since you got to meet Anne Balay, whom I’m so proud to have been part of her scholarly growth.  Here are two books that I recommend if you haven’t read them:Howard Markel’s recently published “The Kelloggs: The Battling Brothers of Battle Creek” is absolutely fascinating (the brothers would turn over in their graves at Kelloggs now selling sugar-coated cereals).Harvey Greene’s “The Uncertainty of Everyday Life, 1915-1945” has wonderful social history material, and the chapter on the food revolution of the 1920s was the basis for an entire lecture in my Twenties course.  By the way, one of my friends in school was Eddie Piszek, whose dad founded Mrs. Paul’s frozen foods.  He’s from Port Richmond, the same Polish neighborhood in Philly my wife Toni is from and started out peddling crab cakes. They lived in a mansion off Pennsylvania Avenue between Fort Washington and East Oreland, and the Piszek chauffeur took Eddie and me to U.D. basketball games before we could drive.

She replied:   

  I'm so pleased that you were able to attend my talk and that we could hang out later that evening. Anne is a fascinating person, I certainly hope someone hires her soon. As far as I can tell, she is a real scholarly "catch."  I've read other Harvey Greene books, but not the one on Everyday Life. I will have to look that one and your other recommendation up.  Make sure you let me know when you are in Philly area. We will have to have a multi-generational reunion. Best, Maria 

Don Cornelius; below, Barry White singing "I Can't Get Enough of You, Baby"

Like Anne, Maria would be a good scholarly catch, especially after the publication of her forthcoming book “Food for Dissent: Natural Food Politics and Cultures Since the 1960s.”  During our two-hour conversation in Montreal, she mentioned learning dance moves on “Soul Train” that she still uses.  I wrote back:

  Chicagoan Don Cornelius started “Soul Train” and TV doesn’t get any better than seeing Stevie Wonder singing "Superstition" or Barry White (“the world’s sexiest fat man”) perform with “Soul Train” dancers  in the background. I would love to see you again in Philadelphia.  Terry Jenkins and I talked about going to a Phillies game with your dad last summer, but the only time the Cubs came to Philadelphia was late August, a bad time for my son Dave to come since he was already in school and coaching tennis.  Terry and Gayle were excited when I told them about meeting you.  I claimed I was a little reticent, wanting to get to know you as a history colleague and not just a friend’s daughter, but when I think about our long chat, I guess the “real Jimbo” came out, as Terry would say.

I recall describing a visit to IU’s Kinsey sex institute, lashing out at IUN’s “old boys” who cheated Anne Balay of tenure, and describing a block party in Miller that terry and Gayle attended and Dave’s band Voodoo Chili played at where an over-exuberant dancer bumped against me and her teeth drew blood from my forehead.

On the radio I heard “A Million to One” by Jimmy Charles. The summer of 1962, when I met Toni, “A Million to One” was playing on my 1956 Buick car radio the night before I was to return to Bucknell for my junior year.  We got out of the car and danced to the lament, performed in Jimmy’s distinctive crying style, which begins:

A million to one
That's what our folks think about this love of ours
A million to one
They say that our love will fade like yesterday's flowers
They're betting everything that our love won't survive

At the time Toni was Catholic and I was Lutheran, and both our mothers were leery of the romance and skeptical that we’d stay in touch. Well, we did, often long distance, fell in love, and beat the odds. Two years earlier, I had said goodbye to my summer girlfriend, said goodbye, and never looked back.

 James Dye

At the bequest of IU’s Bicentennial Committee I interviewed former IU trustee James Dye, 87, a retired builder and large university donor. Since virtually the entire Instructional Media Center staff was at a conference downstate, the camera person was late arriving and we had to halt twice because of a low battery.  It was maddening, but I didn’t lash out at the culprits who didn’t check the battery and then went to the wrong room.  Dye didn’t complain and the interruptions were a blessing in disguise, as Steve took the opportunity to inform him about the Archives and I showed him the Rev. Robert Lowery library study area that the James and Betty Dye Foundation funded.  It also offers scholarships to many IUN students. Like Bernie Konrady Jr., founder of Konrady Plastics, Dye was an imaginative entrepreneur who built his first house virtually by himself at age 20.  

Manager for IU’s football and basketball teams in the early 1950s, Dye recalled a Sigma Chi fraternity party that lasted 48 hours after the Hoosiers beat Notre Dame and then Kansas for the 1953 NCAA championship. He joked that IU probably gave him an honorary degree for attending so many losing gridiron contests. His company built Mansards Apartments in Griffith where Toni and I played tennis and Dye competed with former Gary mayor George Chacharis and his driver John Diamond.  I kept silent when Dye, a fiscal conservative expressed admiration for Purdue president Mitch Daniels, who seems to care more about profits than academic freedom.  He praised IUN past IUN chancellors Dan Orescanin and Peggy Elliott and asked me about Chancellor Lowe. I lauded Lowe’s participation in community affairs, History Department functions, and IUN student functions.

 Lowe at Chancellor's forum Oct. 17, 2018; below, controlled burn in Miller; photos by Kyle Telechan 

An editor of IU’s Bicentennial magazine, “IU200,” is preparing an article about Red Scare victims, including Saul Maloff, an IUN English professor once active in an organization later deemed a communist front group.  I sent her Paul Kern and my history of IUN that includes an interview with then-director Jack Buehner, who received orders from Bloomington not to renew Maloff’s contract at a time when IU administrators basically controlled regional campuses.  Buehner told me:

  Under pressure from IU president Herman Wells and Trustee Ray Thomas, I asked Saul Maloff, a marvelous conversationalist, to tell me straight out the full story so that I’d know how to defend him. He refused to level with me.  I’m sure he had his reasons, but I was not prepared to go to bat for him on blind faith alone.  I deserved to know what I was defending.  It was a very upsetting experience.  Maloff’s wife had a nervous breakdown.  It was an infringement of academic freedom, but the only one that occurred under me.

During this time Herman Wells was taking heat for defending sex therapist Alfred Kinsey and bent on desegregating the campus, so he already had his hands full dealing with disgruntled trustees and legislators on those fronts and thus made defending accused communist sympathizers a lower priority.  

The Bicentennial magazine editor hoped I’d consider contributing an article. I’m thinking of updating one written 20 years ago entitled, “The Professor Wore a Cowboy Hat (and nothing else): Ethical Issues in handling Matters of Sex in Institutional Oral Histories: IU Northwest as a Case Study.”  It centered on four male professors accused of sexual indiscretions, two with coeds, who got off lightly, the others involving alleged gay activity were treated more severely and, in one case, with tragic consequences.  I wrote about the first two, which became cause celebresbut not the two others, which were hushed up and not public knowledge.  During the 1970s virtually all History colleagues of my generation got divorced and later married former students – albeit the women well into their 20s who almost always initiated the relationship.  Since then, with a much older faculty, I presume that less student-teacher sex takes place, but discrimination against LGBTQs remains troublesome. Gay faculty who didn’t remain in the until securing tenure were likely not retained, with Anne Balay’s case being the most glaring example.

Anne Balay in truckers parade over Mackinac Bridge

This from Jim Spicer:

  The year is 2020 and the United States has elected the first woman as well as the first Jewish president, Susan Goldstein. She calls up her mother a few weeks after Election Day and says: "So, Mom, I assume you'll be coming to my inauguration?"
"I don't think so. It's a ten hour drive, your father isn't as young as he used to be, and my arthritis is acting up again."
"Don't worry about it Mom, I'll send Air Force One to pick you up and take you home, and a limousine will pick you up at your door."
"I don't know, everybody will be so fancy-schmaltzy, what on earth would I wear?"
Susan replies, "I'll make sure you have a wonderful gown custom-made by the best designer in New York."
"Honey,"Mom complains,"you know I can't eat those rich foods you and your friends like to eat."
The President Elect says, "Don't worry Mom. The entire affair is going to be handled by the best caterer in New York; kosher all the way. Mom, I really want you to come."
So Mom reluctantly agrees and on January 20, 202 Susan Goldstein is being sworn in as President of the United States. In the front row sits the new President's mother, who leans over to a senator sitting next to her and says, "You see that woman over there with her hand on the Torah, becoming President of the United States?"The Senator whispers back, "Yes, I do."
Mom says proudly, "Her brother is a doctor."

In a position round to determine first place in my senior bowling league, the Electrical Engineers took two games and series from Just Friends, whose team includes two mid-Fifties Gary Horace Mann graduates. I had trouble picking up spares but rolled my average thanks to a two-bagger and a turkey (three strikes in a row).  In the only close game, opponent Dennis Cavanaugh struck out, Frank Shufran needed a mark for us to win.  He picked up a ten-pin (often difficult for him) for a spare and the game.  Miket Wardell had all sorts of trouble for 20 frames but rebounded with a 209.  During the first 2 games he exhibited facial and body expressions ranging from anger to bewilderment but unlike me in that situation, no profanities.  The week before, Dick Maloney, so blind teammates had to tell him which pins remained standing after his first shot, bowled well over average against the same team.

Nicked myself shaving this morning, right under my lip, something that rarely happens with anymore with modern blades. It bled like a sonuvabitch – serves me right for shaving first thing in the morning.