Longevity

“The most important key to longevity is avoiding worry, stress, and tension.” George Burns, “How to Live to be 100”

Bob Hope and George Burns

The first centenarians that come to mind are Rose Kennedy (1890-1995), who outlived three of her four sons, including one killed during World War II and two (JFK and RFK) slain by assassins’ bullets, and comedian George Burns (1896-1996), who was appearing on Late Night shows in his nineties with a cigar, albeit unlit. Fellow comedian Bob Hope (1903-2003) once quipped that the secret to staying young was to hang around with older people.  Painter Grandma Moses (1860-1961) believed the secret to a long life is keeping busy.  Queen Mother Elizabeth (1900-2002) recommended living “as if tomorrow you’ll be run over by a big red bus.” Harry S Truman (1884-1972) claimed the key to longevity is taking a two-mile walk before breakfast. Jimmy Carter, our oldest former president, believed he still had more of God’s word to do on earth.  I have my blog, duties as Calumet Regional Archives co-director, occasional speaking engagements, plus bridge, bowling, and, most of all, family. Upcoming campus talks include “Prohibition in Gary” in Nicole Anslover’s American History class, and “1960: A Critical Year for Rock and Roll Music” for Senior College.

Newest finds at Chesterton library: The Flaming Lips performing “The Soft Bulletin” with Colorado Symphony Orchestra and a new Jimmy Eat World CD, “Survivor,” whose title song contains these lines:

In a lot of ways

You’re still that lost kid

You can still survive

But not exactly live

“Judy Ayers wrote about a “dear old friend” in the Winter 2020 Ayers realtors Newsletter:

    Laura Jones, born 102 years ago on June 30th, 1917, has known me longer than any other person on earth, having been a neighbor of my family since I was born and raised on Hancock Street just two doors away from where Laura lives today.  She was among the first group of students who went to Miller School and grew up with kids from the 8 or 10 houses at that time on Hancock Street. She remembers most of the houses being built. Miller was a full-fledged community at that time with businesses and professional offices. A good way to get to downtown Gary was to take the streetcar that traveled from Lake Street down what we know as Miller Avenue to Broadway. 

    Laura graduated from high school in 1936 but decided to take an extra year of classes in order to be able to work in an office. She remembers at that time women didn’t work outside their homes unless they were teachers or nurses. Because of her extra training, she was hired by a neighbor, Mr. Jackson, who was the head of the Gary office of Railway Express – a national package delivery service that used existing railroad infrastructure to safely and rapidly deliver parcels, money and goods during World War I. The office was located where the New York Central and B & O railways converged in Gary at 3rd and Broadway, and she worked there for 30 years. When the war started and most of the men working at Railway Express had been drafted or had enlisted, Mr. Jackson asked Laura to help people get on and off the train, point them in the right direction, and be the one to accept packages and deliveries. When the US Army took over the operation of Railway Express, she more than once had to convince the Army she was more than capable of doing her job and could actually be quite helpful. She has fabulous stories about animals on their way to Lincoln Park Zoo, traveling nuns, a dead guy in the men’s bathroom, two United States Presidents passing through – all just trying to get from one place to another.

    Laura met her husband, Sam, when he and his father, who owned a movie theater in Gary, set up a program during the war to show second run movies on week nights in local schools – Miller School being one. Sam had graduated from college with a degree in architectural engineering and was working at US Steel when drafted by the army. Because of his education and with further training in the military, he was assigned to a project and that didn’t allow him to give Laura much detail, nor could he tell Laura exactly what his role was and why he was transferred from Alabama to the University of Iowa to New York. Sam called her often, and during one particular call Laura told him she had been listening to the radio the night before and heard about the bombing of Japan. It was then Sam could tell her he had been working on the development of the “A Bomb.” Later he received written recognition for his military contribution.

    The message I get after spending time with Laura is not that her life has been one big, funny, wisdom-packed adventure. She certainly has the effects of physical decline, which she best describes with words not always befitting when spoken by a lady. She has trouble with her hearing aids and her vision is beyond poor. She moves from room to room, yet in her own home with the aid of a walker that should probably be fitted with a governor. Yet she always has a list of things she wants to accomplish – be it clean out a drawer, pay her bills or look forward to the next outing with her more than reliable and dedicated health care giver, Wayne. She delights in telling stories of days gone by, but she always talks about what she hopes to do tomorrow. Maybe the message before my very eyes is that happiness is a choice we make.  We probably shouldn’t worry about what might happen and then just adapt when it does.

“Curb Your Enthusiasm” is back on HBO for a tenth season.  The first several episodes deal humorously (some might say tastelessly) with Larry David being accused of sexually harassing women.  Sadly, Shelley Berman, who played his father Nat, passed away at age 92, and Bob Einstein, whose deadpan expressions were a hoot as Marty Funkhouser, died at age 77.  In a memorable season 4 episode titled “The Survivor,” Larry invites Holocaust survivor Solly (actor Allan Rich, born in 1926) to dinner and he has a heated argument with a guest named Colby who’d been on the reality TV show “Survivor” over how rough each had had it.  Here’s a sample of the dialogue: 

    Colby: So, here we are in a region of Australia where, out of the world's ten most deadly snakes, nine of 'em inhabit this region. It was harrowing. You come across a taipan on the trail, you get bit, you're dead in thirty minutes flat. 

    Solly: Oy, I'll tell you, that's a very interesting story, let me tell you. I was in a concentration camp! You never even suffered one minute in your life compared to what I went through! 

    Colby: Look, I'm saying- I'm saying we spent 42 days trying to survive and we had very little rations, no snacks... 

    Solly: Snacks? What you talking, "snacks"? We didn't eat sometimes for a week! For a month! We ate nothing!...

Toni and I enjoyed the Agatha Christie-inspired whodunnit “Knives Out” with an all-star cast that included Christopher Plummer as an 85-year-old mystery writer, Jamie Lee Curtis as his headstrong daughter, Daniel Craig (most famous for James Bond flicks) as a detective, and Don Johnson of “Miami Vice” fame. Looking for films we both might like, I discovered it was playing at the Cinemark in Valparaiso.  

Super Bowl LIV in Miami did not disappoint, especially the Latin-flavored halftime extravaganza starring Jennifer Lopez (50) and Shakira (43) defying the laws of aging in a high energy performance.  With JLo’s daughter Emme leading a children choir in a scene with children in cages, strands of “Born in the USA” could be heard when JLo unveiled a Puerto Rican flag.  I was pleased that Kansas City prevailed, just their second NFL championship, the first coming 50 years ago coached by Gary native Hank Stram, famous for shouting on the sidelines during Super Bowl IV, “Just keep matriculating the ball down the field boys!”   Kansas City had lost in the first Super Bowl when Gary native Fred “The Hammer” Williamson suffered a broken arm early in the contest.  Andy Reid, who had coached the Philadelphia Eagles for many years before joining the Chiefs, previously had the most victories by someone who had never won a Super Bowl.  Quarterback Patrick Mahomes again rallied his team from a ten-point fourth-quarter deficit on three touchdown drives to seal the 31-20 victory. 

 Super Bowl MVP Patrick Mahomes in Disneyland

Gamblers bet millions on a myriad of Super Bowl scenarios, some as inane as the coin flip  or how long the national anthem would last.  One could wager on whether or not Mahomes would rush for more than 30 yards.  With just a minute remaining, he had gained 44 yards on the ground; running out the clock on the three final plays, he purposely kneeled down 5, 3, and 7 yards behind the line of scrimmage, reducing his total for the game to just 29, costing high rollers big bucks. Several friends posted a Trump tweet congratulating the Chiefs, who, he claimed, “represented the Great State of Kansas so very well.” Of course, the Chiefs play in Kansas City, Missouri.

In one of Barb Walczak’s final Newsletters she profiled bridge newcomer and Miller resident Gosia Caldwell, who owned a business in Poland but came to America 19 years ago to be a nanny.  Walczak wrote that in addition to bridge, Gosia “is a voracious reader, loves the theater, and likes to dance.”

 Chubby Checker in 2019

In “When We Get to Surf City” Bob Greene described watching a blond woman “in the shortest of skirts” rushing the stage during a Chubby Checker performance at an Oldies concert in St. Louis, leaping on him and wrapping her arms and legs around his neck and waist.  Chubby kept twisting as he sang, and Greene wondered how he kept from tumbling onto the stage floor.  Jan and dean played a Clearwater, Florida, hospital fundraiser with Jerry Lee Lewis, backed by Elvis Presley’s former lead guitar player James Burton.  Jerry Lee’s eyes looked both dead and angry, Greene wrote, like “someone who had been insulted in ways no one could understand.”  During the show Greene spotted a young woman whose t-shirt read, "JUST EAT ME.”  Back at the century-old Belleview Biltmore, recently purchased by a Japanese company, Greene met a woman in her 80s who’d been vacationing there for a half-century and once danced to a tuxedoed orchestra in its once ornate ballroom.

Debunked

“A great many of those who debunk traditional values have in their background values of their own which they believe to be immune from the debunking process.” C.S. Lewis

The word debunked is a fitting description of exposing something as false that was previously believed to be true, whether it be a mythical legend or a statement assumed to be a fact in existing historical literature.  The word debunk apparently first appeared in print in William Woodward novel “Bunk” (1923) with the protagonist debunking others’ illusions.  A popular debunking book is Herb Reich’s “Lies They teach You in School” (2012). Astrology and phrenology are examples of so-called scientific theories disproved as pure bunkum (nonsense), as is the myth that ostriches, when scared, stick their heads in the sand.

In “For the People” newsletter historian Joshua Claybourne debunked the contention by Abraham Lincoln biographers Stephen B. Oates (“Our Fiery Trial,” 1979) and David Donald (“Lincoln,” 1995) and others trusting these eminent historians that the sixteenth President loathed the nickname Abe.  The single primary source: recollections by Lincoln’s cousin Dennis Hanks.  Claybourne could find no corroborating evidence and numerous contradictory sources, including an 1864 Dennis Hanks letter to his uncle that began, “Dear Abe.” Lincoln apparently had no issue with the 1860 campaign slogan “Honest Abe” other than concern over living up to his reputation for straightforwardness.  Similarly, most historians once cited a specific estimate for the number of slaves brought to the Americas until it was discovered that they all originated in one unreliable source.

At the IUN Arts and Sciences Student Research Conference David Parnell’s session featured three of his Roman History students and Fine Arts major Neil Gainer, who under Chris Young studied Paul Revere’s Boston Massacre engraving (plagiarized from engraver Henry Pelham) as an example of Patriot propaganda.  Brandon Martens related that estimates of the percentage of plague victims during the second century range widely due to the paucity of hard evidence.  Sylvia Corey, discussing Roman Prostitution, showed images of sex worker stalls at Pompeii, preserved due to the sudden eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. Prostitution, involving both males and female clients and sex workers, went underground after Emperor Caligula attempted to tax the brothels and perhaps declined after Constantine’s conversion to Christianity (Parnell was skeptical, having conducted research on Roman army sex workers).  To illustrate her talk, “The Suppression of Women Through Art and Literature in the Early Roman Empire,” Inga Karch used paintings depicting the abduction of Sabine women by the founders of Rome and the rape of noblewoman Lucretia.  According to Roman historian Livy, the first Romans needed women to start families; later the Sabine women intervened to halt a battle between their former tribe and their conquerors.  According to legend, the rape and subsequent suicide of Lucretia led to Rome becoming a republic instead of a kingdom.

 East Chicago league champs, Coach David Lane front, middle

On the final week of bowling I rolled a 470 and the Engineers took 2 games and series to finish fourth (out of 15 teams), a single point behind Duke Cominsky’s Pin Heads.  Congratulating George Leach, who anchored the first place Pin Chasers, I complimented his colorful t-shirt, purchased at a Minnesota Fifties car show.  I have trouble telling identifying present-day models but still recognize vintage Fords, Chevys, Buicks, Cadillacs, Oldsmobiles, Studebakers, and the like.  “Me, too,”George noted.  Marie Roscoe ran into son Dave at a Hobart-East Chicago Central tennis match, as two granddaughters compete for the Hobart Brickies. They both bowled in the Sunday night “Rowdies” league, where I occasionally subbed and attended end-of-season parties to hear Dave entertain on guitar.  Someone asked teammate Terry Kegebein how he was doing.  He gave his standard answer: “I’m on the right side of the grass.”

 wedding of Bud Hoffman and Agnes Olejnik, later annulled

A few days ago, this email arrived from longtime Region resident Ed LaFleur:

   I’m contacting you about my mother, Agnes Olejnik LaFleur.  She was a contestant in a charity event put on by the Gary Lodge No. 1152 B.P.O. Elks Club, called a SPORTING CLASSIC WALKATHON.  It began in Oct of 1933.  My mother had just turned 22 at that time.  She entered on Oct 27, 1933 and lasted till Dec. 31, at 8 pm that night, for a total of 1492 hours of dancing. She was disqualified because of an infected foot.  Someone had stolen her shoes a few weeks before, and Agnes had to borrow someone else’s, which had a nail sticking thru the sole.   I have her scrapbook, which contains lots of newspaper articles, pictures of contestants, and other memorabilia from that event.  It is literally falling apart.  I have no idea how to preserve this piece of Gary’s history.  I was wondering if you could shed some light on this?

Could I ever!  I told him about the Calumet Regional Archives (CRA) and invited him to visit. When he arrived, I took him to CRA archivist Steve McShane; LaFleur donated many items and promised to return with more.  A scrapbook contained photos and clippings of the dance marathon, with a $750 first prize, big money during the Great Depression.  Several couples, including Agnes, were talked into getting married. Soon afterwards, she had it annulled. I quipped,“I guess they didn’t get a chance to consummate the nuptials on the dance floor or during one of the ten-minute breaks.”  I plan to peruse the clippings, as it seems impossible for couples to have lasted for 1492 hours without considerable respites from the action. After a contestant suffered a heart attack, LaFleur asserted, a medical team disqualified contestants deemed at risk.

 scene from "They Shoot Horse," Jane Fonda in foreground

Alissa arrived from Michigan to attend James’s senior musical, a week after attending with Josh the Dave Davies concert.  Josh heard a Kinks song on a “Med Men” episode.  After I described Agnes Olejnik’s dance marathon experience at breakfast, Toni brought up the 1969 Jane Fonda film “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?”  It portrays marathon dancing for what it was, a brutal and exploitative event.  In a rave review critic Roger Ebert wrote:

 Contestants tried to dance their way through illnesses and pregnancies, through lice and hallucinations, and the sight of them doing it was part of the show. Beyond the hit tunes and the crepe paper and the free pig as a door prize, there was an elementary sadism in the appeal of the marathons.  Among American spectator sports, they rank with stock-car racing. There was always that delicious possibility, you see, that somebody would die. Or freak out. Or stand helplessly while his partner collapsed and he lost the investment of hundreds of hours of his life.

 cast of "Cinderella," James Lane third from right

James starred as Lord Pinkleton in the Portage H.S. senior play, Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1957 production of “Cinderella,” which differed substantially from the Disney version.  For one thing, a step-sister ended up with a defender of the poor who bore a resemblance to Leon Trotsky.  James shined and appeared in a majority of the scenes. The line he liked best was, “I will be back at 11 with the local weather and sports.”  The play had been postponed several weeks after the stage curtain caught fire.  It snowed Saturday when I attended the performance with Alissa and Phil.  Toni went Friday and Sunday.  After the show we ran into Phil’s high school soccer teammate Randy Marshall, whose daughter was in the chorus. Classmate Tom Cannon is Portage’s interim mayor now that James Snyder was convicted of a felony.  His favorite expression I high school evidently was “How dumb!”  When Phil asked an old friend about Cannon being mayor, the response was. “How dumb!”

In the Ayers Realtors NewsletterJudy Ayers reported on a reunion with “The Girls of ’65,” Wirt grads whose memories include “going to the first day of kindergarten together, Brownies, Girl Scouts, choir practice, church youth groups, high school dances, proms, dates, boyfriends, first jobs . . . and life thereafter.”  Judy wrote:

 Old friends don’t look at you and think you’ve grown old because they’ve grown older, too.  And there sure is a lot of humor in childhood/youthful memories. Just the words Judy Neal, dance, and wristlet flowers when everyone else got corsages can split our sides.  A festooned homecoming float with purloined flashing construction lights should not be paraded down Lake Street.  Cigarettes with filter tips don’t flush fast enough when parents come home earlier than expected.  A college student should never put a fake cast on her foot in order to convince parents she needs her car at college.

In 1918 30 year-old artist Georgia O’Keefe moved to New York City and began posing nude for mentor (and later lover and husband) Alfred Stieglitz. Carolyn Burke wrote: 

 Given the ardor of those early photographs, many assume that they became lovers soon after her arrival.  While it is difficult to imagine them not yielding to their passion, newly released correspondence shows that this was not the case; the excitement palpable in these photographs of O’Keefe owes as much to the frustration of their desires.  Taken into account Alfred’s status as a married man, his fears for her health and possible pregnancy, and his sense that he should wait until she “gave” herself, one can understand that even such ardent souls might agree to the deferral of their desires.

Throughout “Foursome” the author downplays the sexual activities of the Alfred and Elizabeth and Paul and Rebecca when common sense suggests otherwise.

With local elections impending, NWI Times editor Marc Chase is supporting challenger Jerome Prince and doing everything he can to trash Gary mayor Karen Freeman-Wilson.  The Post-Tribune, more balanced, ran a letter from city planning director Joseph van Dyk entitled “Gary has come a long way.”  He mentioned removing the eyesore that the old Hotel Sheraton had become as well as many other vacant buildings. He listed stores opening in Miller and near RailCat Stadium and new investments by steel companies.  Improvements at Gary International Airport and plans for development of Buffington Harbor once the casino relocates to a site near the Borman Expressway also hold promise.  I agree with his conclusion that “it would be absolutely devastating for the city to change leadership at this critical time.”

During a marathon 15-inning game in Phoenix that lasted well over five hours, Cubs broadcaster Len Casper told an anecdote about pitcher Tug McGraw, who in 1980 helped the Phillies win their first World Series.  Asked if he preferred grass or Astroturf, hTug replied, “I don’t know, I’ve never smoked Astroturf.” The Cubs triumphed thanks to an unlikely double by pitcher Tyler Chatwood off an old Little League teammate followed by clutch hit by Ben Zobrist.  Canadian women are smoking joints to combat pain and depression.

 President Obama presents Dick Lugar with Presidential Medal of Freedom

Six-term U.S. Senator Richard Lugar passed away at age 87.  He was elected mayor of Indianapolis in 1967, the same day as Richard Hatcher in Gary.  Longtime chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, he worked diligently to eliminate nuclear arsenals and was a Republican moderate, now an endangered species.  In the 2012 Republican primary I voted for him in his losing effort against Tea Party mouthpiece Richard Mourdock.  Barack Obama issued this statement:

   We held different political beliefs, but traveling overseas together, Lugar took me under his wing as we toured munitions storage facilities and talked over meals of borscht. Dick always stuck to the facts. He understood the intricacies of America's power and the way words uttered in Washington echo around the globe. But perhaps most importantly, he exhibited the truth that common courtesy can speak across cultures.

Deep Freeze

“Don’t knock the weather; nine-tenths of the people couldn’t start a conversation if it didn’t change once in a while.” Kin Hubbard

Hoosier Frank McKinney “Kin” Hubbard (1868-1930) was a cartoonist and journalist whom Will Rogers called “America’s greatest humorist.”  Kurt Vonnegut often quoted him.  In “Slaughterhouse Five” he referenced the witticism, “It’s no disgrace to be poor, but it might as well be.”  The same Hubbard quote appeared again in “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.”

Chicagoland suffered through several days of record low temperature, as a polar vortex put the entire Midwest into a deep freeze for nearly a week, preceded and followed by snow.  For a week IUN either opened late, closed early, or shut down completely.  Even bowling and bridge got cancelled.  “Deep freeze” can mean a state of suspended animation, which seemed appropriate given so many things coming to a crashing halt.  My get together with Valparaiso University Sociology professor Mary Kate Blake was put off a week.  Conditions brought to mind the brutal winters of the 1970s when I considered looking for a job in warmer climes and 1985 when to my amazement our Maple Place thermometer dipped well into the minus 20s.  In 1994 our driveway had a thick coat of ice that proved virtually impossible to  remove. Every snowstorm left me wondering if I could get up our hill once I left for school.  Fortunately the Portage Street Department didn’t forget about us, thanks to cakes Toni baked for the drivers every Christmas. While teaching an 8:30 a.m. class, as was my routine, I sometimes called ahead and was told classes hadn’t been postponed or cancelled, only to learn otherwise upon arriving to IUN. More than once, I slept overnight on an uncomfortable couch in Tamarack Lounge due to conditions outside.

 above, Paul Kaczocha's house in Miller; below, Grand Rapids, MI

It’s been colder in these parts than in Antarctica, Greenland or Siberia.  The weather was even worse in western Michigan, where lake effect has been relentless.  House pets are rebelling against venturing outside to relieve themselves.  After Miranda posted a photo of her “snow kitten,” her mom asked if she had thrown him outside.  “Nooo, placed him very gently,”cat-lover Miranda responded.  When she was a kid, Miranda loved visiting Ken Applehans and his menagerie of cats and kittens that he’d taken in on various occasions.  Darcey Wade complained that her kitchen smelled like urine.  Predictions are for as much as a, 80-degree temperature change, as Monday’s forecast is high in the mid-50s.

Home bound, I did a final proofread of the forthcoming Steel Shavings,volume 48 with Gary jazz legend Billy Foster on the cover. In the Index were several inconsistencies regarding spelling. For instance, I had three “fs” in Pfeifer and left out the “a” in MacDonald. Moore, Powell was out of order, and Cele Morris appeared in two different spots.  Coincidentally, Maria McGrath emailed that she was currently preparing an Index for “Food for Dissent,” due out in June. Mine is a Region name index.   I replied: “Subject indexes are ten times harder.  They’re also hard to proofread without falling asleep.”

I found a couple decent movies on HBO and watched reruns of “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” Both Super Dave Osborne (Bob Einstein) and Shelley Berman made their debut during season 4, which centers around a scheme by Mel Brooks to have Larry David star in “The Producers” in order to bring the long-running production to a merciful end.  During rehearsals he drives both Ben Stiller and Dave Schwimmer crazy.  The best episode has Larry taking a hooker to a Dodgers game so he can drive in the fast lane and arrive on time.  Afterwards, she and Larry smoke a joint with his dad (Berman) for his glaucoma, and the Old Man starts talking like a 1950s NYC cool cat.

I finished Kurt Vonnegut’s “God Blass You, Mr. Rosewater” (1965), which I had checked out from Chesterton library (also in the stacks was Vonnegut’s later “God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian”) along with Kurt Vile’s new CD “Bottle It In” and others by Oasis and Paul McCartney.  Neither I nor a library staff person could find McCartney’s “All the Best,” but as I was leaving, she caught up with me to say she’d found it and checked it out for me. Nice.   “God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater” takes place in Rosewater, Indiana, which Vonnegut claims is 42 miles from Turkey Run State Park. Science fiction writer Kilgore Trout makes an appearance, and in some ways the book is a prequel to my favorite Vonnegut novel, “Breakfast of Champions: Goodbye Blue Monday.” “God Blass You, Mr. Rosewater” has many quirky characters, whom everyone but Eliot Rosewater despises, including town drunk Delbert Peach, who goes around singing, “I’ve got the clap and the blueballs, too/ The clap don’t hurt but the blueballs do.”

In my Fifties Steel Shavings, subtitled “Relationships between the Sexes during the Teen Years of the 1950s,” which I call my R-rated issue, a section called Blue Balls includes this account by Jim Wojehowski of taking a date atop an abandoned grain elevator in Burnham, where one could see for miles and miles and get a scenic view of the Chicago skyline: 

  Joey and I took Peggy and Lisa through a hole in a fence up to the warehouse.  We had been hyping the eerie nature of the building and tossed in a few murder stories. The girls said they weren’t scared, but when a ton  of pigeons flew out as we reached the top of the staircase, the girls clung to us like we had hoped. Before long we settled in to some serious necking and petting.  You could say we had as much fun as two people can have with their clothes still on. The next day I had a classic case of teen “blue balls.”

In her Ayers Realtors Newsletter column cat lover Judy Ayers wrote about her childhood neighbors in Miller, the Moseguards, and a recently deceased pet in an essay titled “Ode to Old Dude”:

  There was an elderly retired couple, the Moseguards, who had an old black Ford sedan that Evelyn drove, and the car had taken quite a beating as Evelyn got older and had trouble negotiating the car and the garage door. Elmer was the passenger and wore suspenders and a funny little hat that he tipped as they drove down the alley.  Evelyn wore housedresses, full frontal aprons, and a hat that matched Elmer’s. She took her driving seriously with both hands gripped on the wheel, eyes focused on the path ahead and enough force on the accelerator to make gravel fly and mothers quickly take inventory of the children when they heard the Moseguard car approaching.

  Elmer and Evelyn loved cats and had a lot of them. There was always a cat or two in various windows of the house, some sat in the sun in their back yard and there was always a cat or two in Elmer’s lap when they went on driving excursions. Gene remembers the time when Elmer pounded on the Ayers’ back door, yelling and screaming about a cat in their tree and wanted Gene to come out right away and retrieve it.  Elmer had a ladder in place, having already attempted to rescue the little rascal, when 11-year-old Gene was recruited.  He could reach the cat, but the cat bit and/or scratched him time and time again as Elmer and Evelyn yelled from the ground and became quite surly themselves.

  Twelve years ago, Gene and I were given a kitten named Dude. Over the years we had cats one at a time and were always mindful of mimicking the Moseguards.  That includes making sure a draft of cat presence was never the first to greet Trick or Treaters  on Halloween, and we make sure neither of us leaves the house adorned in cat hair. Even though it’s been weeks since Dude died, I still expect him to meet me at the door or come running at the sound of the can opener opening a can which in Dude’s mind could only contain tuna. As sad as it is to lose a pet, I still say there is nothing like a nonjudgmental, trusting dependable four-legged companion, and one of these days I hope we find another furry friend.

 Izzy Young in 2014

Ron Cohen is speaking about Bob Dylan at Gary Rotary next week.  He invited me to be his guest, but it clashes with bowling. I recently proofread a chapter about Dylan for Ron that includes several references to our mutual friend Izzy Young, who in 1957 opened the Folklore Center in Greenwich Village and produced Dylan’s 1961 Carnegie Hall concert.  Izzy is mentioned in Dylan’s song “Talkin’ Folklore Center.”  Ron is also upset at attempts, by Gary school officials to auction off the original model for the Picasso sculpture in Chicago used by American Bridge and subsequently given to the school corporation.

Old Mill

John Constable, "Parham Mill, Gillingham," circa 1823

“The sound of water escaping from mill dams, etc., willows, old rotten planks, slimy posts, and brickwork, I love such things.” English landscape artist John Constable
Old Mill in 1936 and  2007 (by Samuel Love)

From Samuel A. Love:“Farewell Old Mill, 1851-2018. More Merrillville landmarks disappearing. Originally a distillery, then a grist mill, a tavern, a restaurant, a dance hall, a school, a candy store, and finally a pizzeria. We rarely dined here, we were Palace Pizza devotees, but I remember being fascinated with the little rapids of Turkey Creek ‘roaring’ under the deck.”

I am disappointed in Merrillville’s leaders for not bothering to save historic Old Mill, located at 73rd and Madison and boarded up since 2010.  73rd Avenue has roots dating back to the Sauk Trail, used first by Native Americans and then by settlers traveling west.  Once, Potawatomi tribes gathered in a nearby clearing for religious ceremonies. A century ago, the road was paved and became part of Lincoln Highway.  Merrillville went through several name changes once the Potawatomi were forcibly removed: McGwinn Village, Wiggins Point, Centerville, Merrillville, and Ross Township, prior to Merrillville becoming a town in 1971 out of fear of annexation by Gary.

At lunch with Mike Olszanski and Chris Young at Little Redhawk Café.  I mentioned Young’s article about the infamous 1979 “Disco Demolition Night” at White Sox Park organized by WLUP’s “shock jock” Steve Dahl, when a crate of disco records was blown up between games of a twi-night doubleheader as the crowd chanted “Disco Sucks,” then stormed the field, causing game 2 to be forfeited.  Chris noted that, his area of specialty being early American history, it was the only time he made use of oral interviews for a scholarly publication. Library assistant Clyde Robinson walked by; I finally addressed him by his correct name after calling him Wayne for months and, before that, Rob a couple times. Once, I called Bettie Wilson, whom I see every day, Barbara.

. Laura Jones wedding picture with husband and parents, 1938

Steve McShane collected materials for the Archives at boarded up Wirt/Emerson School and from Miller centenarian Laura Jones, whom Judy Ayers frequently takes to lunch.  Steve suggested I interview her.  She’s evidently hard of hearing but still sharp mentally.  In an Ayers Realtors Newslettercolumn Judy Ayers wrote about trick-or-treating in Miller:

   I can still remember the best houses to go to on Halloween. Clarice and George Wilson on Henry Street always handed out Hershey Bars. Snack size or miniature candy bars hadn’t been invented yet so you got a full-sized Hershey Bar. Then there was Mrs. Teiche on the corner of Hancock and 3rd Avenue, who spoke with a heavy accent and always wore grandma dresses and thick stockings. A kid would stand on her porch and wait for what seemed like forever for her to reach down in a big burlap bag and bring out one apple at a time and drop it in their trick or treat bag. She was a nice old lady; but once we figured out time spent wasn’t relative to end result, we often bypassed Mrs. Teiche’s house. 

  Sometimes I’d skip math teacher Mrs. Hokanson’s house, too. She’d put kids through their paces. She’d conduct a little question and answer session with each kid before she’d relinquish one of her popcorn balls. She could make up a story problem about 7 little ghosts and 43 Tootsie Rolls and darn near ruin a kid’s Halloween by making them do math. 

    Then there was the Erlandson house. If Mrs. Erlandson knew you were a neighborhood kid, you got invited onto her porch for donut holes and hot apple cider. Moms and Dads on escort duty always liked this stop but a kid could waste a lot of valuable trick or treating time there. Mrs. Erlandson always had to get a good look at everyone’s costume even if it was cold and rainy and you were all bundled up in your winter coat. Mrs. Erlandson didn’t hear very well either and the year I borrowed one of Mrs. Ellman’s white poodles and dressed as Little Bo Peep, Mrs. Erlandson thought I said I was wearing something old and cheap. She told me “Oh, honey, it’s only Halloween – you look just fine. Isn’t that Mrs. Ellman’s poodle?” 

    These days Mrs. Teiche would have to pull something other than apples out of her bag on Halloween lest she be suspected of wrongdoing. Gene and I both have to be careful to not carry on too much about how cute the Spiderman and Little Mermaids look when we answer the door. We’ve learned from experience. Growing up in the same neighborhood, we have vowed to never come to the door dressed in costumes ourselves because we can still remember the Halloween Evelyn Mosegard came to the door dressed like the tooth fairy and we never did figure out what husband Elmer was wearing in the background. Maybe it’s best for our little kid psyches we didn’t know. 

    We also know to move quickly. Forget trying to give little goblins lessons in manners by trying to coax them into saying “thank you.” One year I forgot to tell Mrs. Lindstrom thank you and she kept saying “Now, what do you say when a nice lady gives you trick or treat candy”and I’d say back to her “Trick or Treat?”Then she kind of got a tone in her voice when she asked me the same question again. This time I said, “Happy Halloween?”while other trick or treaters were stacking up behind me. The crowd was getting rowdy and I was about to take my tiara and dig down in my trick or treat bag to retrieve the piece of petrified bubble gum I was jumping through hoops for when she gave up on me. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I nearly lost my princess composure. Being dressed for a northeaster to blow through the area at any given moment, I had perspiration on my upper lip and still had to turn around and make my way through the raging crowd of my peers. 

    Gene and I pretty much adhere to the Clarice and George Wilson theory of candy giving. We keep the porch light on, come to the door in respectable garb, distribute treats in an orderly and time efficient manner, remembering good trick or treat candy makes good leftovers. Hopefully, that’s how kids in our neighborhood will remember us – the place where you can get hassle free, express treats – not the home of Zena, Princess Warrior and Dr. Spock. 

At bowling Mel Nelson asked if we had many Halloweeners. Living in Gary’s Glen Ryan subdivision, he saw almost none. So many folks showed up at the condo that Toni feared we might run out of candy, though not James and Becca, unfortunately (James had play practice, and Becca couldn’t talk her friends into going out). I bowled miserably for 26 frames, then converted three straight spares and turkeyed in the tenth, as the Engineers won two out of three games and series to remain in first place. Afterwards, Dick Maloney reminded me of the time at Cressmoor Lanes when an opponent ended with three strikes, then collapsed and died.  Too bad it didn’t happen a frame earlier, I quipped, tastelessly.  At the time it wasn’t funny.  I saw him keel over.  Terry Kegebein returned from a three-week road trip to California.  On an icy road in the Colorado Rockies, he witnessed some idiot driver losing control of his vehicle and almost going over a cliff. As it was, he careened off both the retaining wall and the mountain, messing up both sides of his car.

Working on a NY TimesSunday puzzle, Toni inquired if I knew the rhyming nickname of a Cardinal great.  Easy: Stan “The Man” Musial, best natural hitter I ever saw, save for Red Sox Ted Williams, also a lefty.

At Gary Genesis Center people were lined up around the block for tickets to see Barack Obama Sunday campaigning for Senator Joe Donnelly, Congressman Pete Visclosky, and other Democrats.  Earlier, the former President stumped for Georgia gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams, as did Oprah Winfrey. Her opponent is a disgusting bigot who, as Secretary of State, is actively seeking to disenfranchise thousands of black voters.  Tom Wade snagged two tickets in Valpo, and Darcey is hoping to get in with a bottle of water and in a wheelchair.  She wrote: “It will be great, but I dread the standing in line and sitting on hard chairs, ouchie. Will try to take in a bottle of water, specifically not allowed, heavy security, metal detectors. When they try to confiscate my bottle of water I will play the cancer survivor card hard, doubt it will work. Rules are rules.”

Our out of control president now claims he can nullify the Fourteenth Amendment guarantee of citizenship to those born in the United States by executive order.  Ray Smock wrote:

  He is anti-immigration unless the immigrant is white. That’s clear all right, clearly racist and xenophobic. We have been having a discussion about what it means to be an American for more than three centuries. Our literature and histories are filled with this discussion. The best elements of the American “creed” tend toward openness, diversity, tolerance, acceptance, and the “melting pot theory.” But we have never really melted even as peoples from many lands assimilated. Over the next century the issues of migration worldwide will have a vast impact on all nations. We will see vast movements of human populations fleeing from the ravages of climate change. There will be internal migrations in the US and other nations not unlike the Dust Bowl migrations of the 1930s. Wars will be fought over water and arable land. Trump style dictators and fascism are already on the rise. And in 100 years there will be another 4 to 5 billion people fighting over a rapidly changing planet that will be far less salubrious than it is now. Where shall this discussion begin? I won’t be around to see this. But I see all the moving parts lining up as I write this.

  

Prior to our book signing at Lake Street Gallery, Ron Cohen and I met at Miller Bakery with Toni, Nancy, Councilwoman Rebecca Wyatt, and Ken Schoon, who also has a new book out on Swedes settlers in Northwest Indiana.  Harry and Maryanita Porterfield were eating nearby and the Lowes and Gallmeiers were in the bar area waiting to be seated. Despite Lake Street being torn up and a competing Temple Israel service to honor Pittsburgh shooting victims, we sold more than a dozen copies of “Gary: a Pictorial History” and Schoon did almost as well.  Cindy C. “Cupcake” Bean showed up for a free copy since we used her photo, taken from Marquette Park, of Lake Michigan with steel mills in the background.   

John Attinasi, formerly an IUN  Education Professor, came by on his way to Temple Israel and told me that legendary jazz musician Art Hoyle from Gary recently celebrated his  89th birthday.  I’m hoping to interview him about nightclubs where the horn player performed. Hoyle was attending Roosevelt High School when Frank Sinatra performed at Memorial Auditorium during then Froebel School Strike. A session player at Chess records he became a fixture at Chicago’s Regal Theater beginning during the early 1960s. Seven years ago, he told an interviewer about going on a 1960-61 tour with Bo Diddley, Lloyd Price, and Vee-Jay Records artist Jimmy Reed:

  We did 67 one-nighters from New York to Los Angeles and back. Two busloads of people. We wound up in the 369th Armory in Harlem. It was supposed to accommodate 1,800 people and they had over 3,000 in there. Big Joe Turner was on that bill and he was singing let it roll like a big wheel. A girl was trying to marry one of the guys in the band got up on a table and started shaking. A guy in the balcony threw a bottle. It landed in front of the piano that was being played by (organ player) Big John Patton. The lead alto player turned around as the bottle broke. It hit him and blood streamed down. Fights broke out. And Joe is still singing. The fire department turned on hoses. Bo Diddley's drummer and I rescued this pregnant woman who was about to be trampled. We pulled her up on the bandstand with us.

Art Hoyle, Gary jazzman