Squeeze Inn

“The hourglass has no more grains of sand 

Little red grains of sand

My watch has stopped no more turning hands

Little green neon hands”

    “Hourglass,” Squeeze

Steve Spicer posted a photo of a century-old cottage at Miller Beach known as Squeeze Inn that Chicagoans used in the summer. “When the original Squeeze Inn was cobbled together is unknown,” Spicer wrote, “but it was located somewhere between the mouth of the Grand Calumet, quite possibly where the Aquatorium is today.” When the City of Gary began developing Marquette Park, the building was ordered razed, but a sorority purchased a lot further east for 500 dollars and a New Squeeze Inn opened on July 4, 1921. Spicer found a hundred-year-old article by Edith Heilman in the Forest Park Review, written upon returning from chaperoning sorority sisters for two weeks during the final summer of the original shack’s existence.  Here is an excerpt, thanks to Miller historian Spicer:

 “Squeeze Inn,” in cold, geographical terms, is a shack-and-porch a mile from Millers Beach, Millers, Ind.

Practically speaking, it’s a little bit of heaven dropped from out the skies. Sunny days and star dotted nights and the lake breeze make it so. Sand flies and a giant species of mosquito are the rift in the lute. But let us dismiss them!

As before stated, they call this place “Squeeze Inn.” But whoever presided over the christening rites missed his guess. It should have been called “Squeeze Out!” We are heaps more out than in, and some of us bubble over even from off the porch and sleep on the sand with the stars for our canopy.

Picture if you can a shack 18 by 10 feet with a complement of a porch 18 by 18 feet; porch bigger than the house, you will note. The house proper holds cooking utensils and clothing and at present is so crammed with both that a human being hasn’t room to more than wiggle into and out of her bathing suit.

The cooking is done out of doors on an improvised stove, and I want to say right here that if you are finicky or “set” in your ways, stay away from the “Squeeze Inn!” Sand and charcoal is the basis of most of the menus, but what cares youth for such trifles?

And the girls themselves! Tall, short, black heads and blond – with a charming red head thrown in for spice! And when they all line up in their gayly colored bathing suits they’re a sight for sore eyes.

Fifty weeks out of the year they are stenographers, bookkeepers and general office girls. Out here for two carefree weeks that are Dryads of the Woods and Belles of the Beach!

Spicer discovered that the origin of the unofficial sorority Tau Omega Tau Sigma (TOTS) was an organization the young women joined during World War I, the Girls Patriotic Service League and that Edith Heilman had been their sponsor. The TOTS girls, as they called themselves, and their families used the second Squeeze Inn until the 1950s.

 

Growing up in a Philadelphia suburb, the main places to vacation were the Jersey shore and the Poconos. My parents preferred the Poconos; and after two bad experiences using a tent began renting a cabin at Lake Minneola along with the Jenkins family. It wasn’t a shack, but it was not very luxurious either. What I recall most vividly was the open porch where we’d play cards and flypaper hanging up to which were attached its victims. Most of our excursions to the shore were day trips, but after my freshman year at Bucknell, my fraternity rented a place for a week that became as crowded as Squeeze Inn. I recall sleeping on a couch with a coed I had met earlier in the day. We were both pretty drunk and didn’t do any heavy petting. I saw her once after that but otherwise we went our separate ways.

 

In “Rabbit at Rest” Harry drove by his childhood neighborhood (something Terry Jenkins and I did the last time we were together) and recalled his bedroom, with tinker toys, rubber soldiers, lead airplanes, and stuffed teddy bears lined up on a shelf. I shared a bedroom with my younger brother and recall that on one shelf were adventure books on cowboys and the wild west by someone with the strange name of Holling C. Holling. We also had numerous board games, including Parcheesi and Chutes and Ladders, and sometimes we’d combine them so you’d have to have your tokens go onto the second one after completing the route on the first.  Updike wrote:

 On the radio Harry hears that Mike Schmidt, who exactly two years ago, on April 18, 1987, slugged his five hundredth home rum against the Pittsburgh Pirates, is closing in on Richie Ashburn’s total of 2,217 hits to become the hittingest Phillie ever. Rabbit remembers Ashburn.  One of the 1950 Whiz Kids who beat the Dodgers the fall Rabbit became a high school senior.  Curt Simmons, Del Ennis, Dick Sisler, Andy Seminick behind the plate.  Beat the Dodgers the last game of the season, then lost to the Yankees four straight.

I was in third grade when the Phillies played the Yankees in the 1950 World Series. The games took place in the afternoon, and Miss Worthington let us listen to them on the radio.  My dad had tickets for game 5, which never took place because the Yankees swept all four games.  I watched the final one on a Saturday at the Jenkins house; we didn’t have a TV until a year later.

 

Final Jeopardy in one of the college tournament semi-final rounds was impossibly hard.  The category was Presidential geography and the clue was, birth place of a nineteenth-century president named for another president.  All three contestants wrote Lincoln, Nebraska, but the answer was Cleveland, where James Garfield is buried.  The two leading players bet almost everything, enabling someone far behind them to win.  An IU student also made the finals.

 

Chancellor Bill Lowe announced that there would be no annual “Years of Service” luncheon due to the university being closed due to Covid-19.  Even though my name was not on the list of honorees, I emailed that I had planned to attend since I’d been associated with IUN for 50 years (having been hired, along with Ron Cohen in 1970) and that I had hoped to congratulate my friends Kathy Malone, Suzanne Green, and Tim Johnson, on their 40 years of service. Bill emailed back, congratulating me on 50 years of service and lamenting all the campus events that faculty and students are missing.

Bridge Lesson

“If I’m playing bridge and a naked woman walks by, I don’t even see her, but don’t test me on that.” Warren Buffet

Before diamond life master Joe Chin gave a bridge lesson in Steve McShane’s class, student Michal Schoon interviewed him.  As it has been all summer, the Archives was frigid, so I asked Joe if he needed a sweater.  “Coming from Manilla, I’m warm-blooded,” he replied, flashing an infectious smile. IUN Media Communication specialist Erika Rosa took photos of them in the Ronald D. Cohen Room, McShane’s former office. After Joe told me that he left the Philippines for America in 1970, I asked if he’d heard of former Lake County Sheriff Ray Dominguez’s father-in-law Panciano Olayta, a survivor of the Bataan Death March, who had served in the Philippine military during World War II as part of U.S. Allied forces.  He hadn’t.  The Olayta family moved from Manila to Gary in 1967. Wife Rosalina was a Methodist Hospital pharmacist. Panciano Alayta worked in the Richard Hatcher administration as a Gary MANPOWER planner.  This is how Dominguez described him:

    He had five martial arts black belts and was the most universal man I had ever met.  He had written books on yoga and played a half-dozen musical instruments, from the violin to the drums, in a professional manner.  With his shaved head, he looked like actor Yul Brynner, in “The King and I.”

photos by Erika Rose

A veteran teacher, both at Gary West Side and IUN, Joe Chin was relaxed, witty, and informative.  He started by writing “Remember, bridge is not a matter of life or death” on the board and gave a rudimentary description of bidding and the relative value of suits, from 1 Club up to 7 No-Trump.  He said that Bill Gates claimed bridge to be one of the last games where people can beat a computer and that he wouldn’t mind being in a jail cell if with three bridge players. Concerning the almost infinite possibilities of hands, Joe wrote 635,013,559 on the board and then added three more numbers (600) to bring the total to over 635 billion.  Several students prefaced questions with, “this may sound stupid,” eliciting Joe’s retort that there are no stupid questions.

At Chesterton Y Dee Van Bebber and I finished fourth out of 11 couples to earn .39 of a master point.  Knowing my interest in high school basketball, Jim Carson loaned me “The White Painted Circle: Northwest Indiana Inner City High School Basketball, 1957-1975” by Rick Martich and Craig Gertes.  Thanks to colleague Paul Kern, I first became a big Gary Emerson fan in 1974-75, the year the Emerson Golden Tornado reached the Lafayette Semi-State.  Much to me chagrin, the book only contained an oblique reference about Emerson’s “one final moment” of glory in 1975 – a misleading statement in view of the great Emerson teams of 1976-78, coached by Earl Smith, Jr., and featuring the twin towers of Wallace Bryant and Frank Smith.

 above, Emerson Golden Tornado; below, Emmett Lewis and fans; photos by Toni Lane

In the opener of the 1975 Gary Regional, Emerson defeated Merrillville (despite Cary Carrabine’s 31 points), while number 1 ranked Hammond High, led by Rich Valavicius, squeaked by East Chicago Washington in double overtime.  In the nightcap, guard Emmett Lewis had to leave the game with leg cramps but returned and scored the winning basket with six seconds to go to make the final score 72-71.  When teammate Earner Calhoun Mays missed a shot, Lewis out-hustled Valavicius for the rebound; he finished with 28 points. The following Monday, I ran into him near Emerson, and he looked like he’d been beaten up. Against Lafayette Jefferson the following week, Emmitt Lewis got into early foul trouble on very questionable calls and eventually fouled out in a 71-69 loss.  Lewis went on to have a stellar career at the University of Colorado and was drafted by the Denver Nuggets. Barely six feet tall, he was the fiercest competitor I ever witnessed.

Reading my post, Paul Kern responded: “Emmett Lewis was one of my all-time favorite players. I remember his winning shot against Hammond High like it was yesterday. Rich Valavicius was a bust at IU and soon transferred, I think to Auburn.”  Indeed, Valavicius transferred to Auburn after enduring abuse from fiery IU coach Bobby Knight.  Years later, he told a reporter: “I didn't know what he wanted. He was yelling, screaming and cussing all the time. I wanted to do all the things he wanted, but I was thinking instead of reacting.”

 Mike "Big Bear" Garcia

Bridge player Sylvia Luekens was wearing an “Indians” blouse and, a Valpo resident, made a face when I asked if it stood for Portage H.S.  She and husband Tom are Cleveland natives and planned to attend the Indians-White Sox game the following evening at Comisky.  When I said that the Indians were having a pretty good year, she replied, “Pretty good? They’ve won 13 straight.”  In the mid-Fifties Paul Turk’s dad took my best friend and me to Cleveland’s gigantic Municipal Stadium (seating capacity 78,000). I saw Hall of Famer Bob Feller pitch at the tail end of his career and got an autograph from Mexican hurler Mike Garcia.  When I told the story to the Tom and Sylvia, they simultaneously blurted out Garcia’s nickname: “Big Bear.”  After the game, we couldn’t find Mr. Turk’s car in the Municipal Stadium’s mammoth parking lot for what seemed like hour.

 Charles Halberstadt and daughter

At Jef Halberstadt’s, Shelley Maupin taught me a board game reminiscent of Password while Shelley’s son Logan was on an iPad.  I won a version of Ticket to Ride against Jef, Tom Wade, and Charles Halberstadt that involved stock buying and featured a map of Pennsylvania.  I looked in vain for Easton (my birthplace) and Lewisburg (where I attended Bucknell) but noticed two towns I’d never heard of, Tawanda and Coudersport.  When I waved goodbye to Charles Halberstadt’s daughter Anna, she blew me a kiss.  Nice.

 faro game in Arizona saloon,1895

In “Cattle Kingdom: The Hidden History of the Cowboy West” Christopher Knowlton mentioned that until poker caught on, the main game of chance in saloons was faro.  It was easy to learn and several players played against the dealer. An early version of poker used a 20-card deck with no cards below ten. “Cowboy Kingdom” opens with the devastating slaughter of the buffalo and concludes with the Johnson County War between Wyoming Stock Growers Association (WSGA) thugs and settlers accused, falsely for the most part, of cattle rustling.  In 1892, President Benjamin Harrison sent troops to Wyoming to rescue the WSGA’s hired killers.  Owen Wister’s “The Virginian” (1902) took the ranchers’ point of view while Jack Schaefer’s “Shane” (1949) sided with settlers engaged in farming or sheep herding.

 St. Paul Baptist Church centennial planning committee.; Kathy Malone on right; Below, L.K. Jackson

Traces magazine will publish my article on Reverend L.K. Jackson in its Fall issue.  Chancellor Lowe’s assistant Kathy Malone, longtime member of St. Paul Baptist Church, provided me with photos and information about Jackson’s family.  I recall interviewing the Gary civil rights pioneer at his home, being too timid to have him turn off the TV, and noticing a large closet containing hundreds of hats.  I knew beforehand about his participation in efforts to desegregate Marquette Park but that was just the tip of the iceberg so far as his activism went.  At a 1973 retirement banquet, Mayor Richard Hatcher declared that Jackson would “always be remembered in Gary for your never-ending battles against discrimination and racial injustice in this city. Your face silhouetted against the night as your church burned years ago will never be forgotten as never will your determination to let the then black-balled Paul Robeson speak in St. Paul Baptist Church. You have come a long way, L. K. Jackson for your belief in what’s right and you have come with your head unbowed.”

At Hobart Lanes I rolled a 497, more than 100 pins better than week one, thanks in part to four straight strikes and also a three-bagger. The ball was breaking more than normal, helping me (I tend to get more strikes from the Brooklyn side) and teammate Dick Maloney (who finished with a 502), while seeming to hurt opponents Denny Cavanaugh and Mikey Wardell.  The latter brought delicious brownies for all to share.  Cavanaugh saw me quoted in a Times Labor Day article about unions fighting for worker wages, health, and safety as well as fair trade and protecting the environment.  I was pleased that reporter Joseph Pete at my suggestion interviewed retired steelworker Mike Olszanski, who told him:

  The State of Indiana has gone from nearly 41 percent union membership in 1964, to less than 11 percent today – in large part due to the elimination of jobs in basic manufacturing especially in basic steel. In Northwest Indiana, it has been the enormous increases in productivity, resulting in enormous job loss in steel, that is largely responsible for the decline in union membership. In the Region, workers are not choosing to work non-union – they have been laid off from union shops in large numbers.

Mike Olszanski