Pathogen

“Trumpism has infected the American polity like a foul pathogen. But it has also stimulated a powerful immune response that just may leave us stronger in the end,” Steve Chapman

Every so often, I come across an unfamiliar word, such as pathogen (a virus or other disease-causing micro-organism), in a column by Chicago Tribune editorial writer Steve Chapman titled, “Trump is Toxic: Americans Are Not.”  I’m so averse to thinking about our president that I find no pleasure in ruminating over our present political crisis.  Quite the opposite. Of course, it’s impossible to ignore Trump’s daily hate-spewing tweets and actions, such as calling refugees an infestation and smiling when a supporter at one of his rallies shouted, “Shoot ‘em.”  In my blog I generally let old friend from University of Maryland days Ray Smock speak for me.  Here’s Smock’s latest: 

    An Apology for the Enslavement and Racial Segregation of African Americans, H. Res. 194, passed the U. S. House of Representatives on July 29, 2008, on a voice vote. It was a long time coming but that resolution, which did not make a splash in the news media, is worth reading again.More importantly, and more timely, somebody should sit the President down and take his phone away long enough to read this resolution to him. He has no idea of American history, no idea of the history of African Americans, and not one iota of knowledge about the history of this nation of immigrants. Racism begins in ignorance and fear and then gets fueled by hate.

    An entire political party, the GOP, is currently enabling President Trump and not calling him out on such fundamental matters. I do not believe for a minute that all Republicans are racists. But the silence of this major party is deadly. Good men and women cannot remain silent on such a thing. No person in Trump's administration seems able to tell the president to stop tweeting racist and bigoted statements about black and brown people.

Russell Crowe as Roger Ailes

The mini-series “The Loudest Voice” concluded with Roger Ailes, (Russell Crowe) forced from Fox network in disgrace but with Trump’s being nominated for President, a phenomenon made possible by the dethroned evil genius.

Lane-Okomski gang

At the large family gathering over the weekend, there were a couple Trump supporters.  At one point I asked niece Andrea, who lives in Seattle and shares my lefty political views, whom she favored in the Democratic field.  Hostess Lisa almost immediately silenced me, emphatically stating that any discussion of politics was forbidden.  She got no argument from me.  Sunday afternoon Jackie Okomski’s well-read boyfriend Nick, a carpenter from New Jersey, asked what I thought of Trump and how anyone could support him.  On the latter point I mentioned one-issue voters, such as gun fanatics and those wanting to outlaw abortions.  Then without getting into specific political issues, I lamented Trump’s total disrespect for the political process or anyone who dared take issue with him. I briefly lost my composure contrasting his demagoguery with John McCain, who claimed Obama was a Muslim born, telling her that she was wrong, that he was a loyal American.  Draft-dodging Trump branded McCain, a POW for five and a half years (!!!) a loser rather than a war hero and had to be pressured into lowering flags to half-staff at his death. 

Schoolboy Q and Hanif Abdurraqib

In “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us” Black essayist Hanif Abdurraqib wrote about rapper ScHoolboy Q (Quincy Matthew Hanby), who grew up in South Central L.A., encouraging white people concertgoers to sing along to “Yay Yay,” which contains these lyrics:

I'm a drug dealin' nigga, cause them grades ain't get me paid
My agenda for today is to make bread or get laid
See my daughter need some shoes and my mom work overtime
So I'm standin' by that stop sign with nickels and them dimes

As one totally uncomfortable with the “n” word, I’m still analyzing why ScHoolboy Q would make that request. Abdurraqib wrote: “The reclaiming of the slightly modified ‘nigga’ is a political act.” Yet, on the other hand, Abdurraqib sees it as bowing to the comfort of affluent white ticket holders. He introduced the essay with this quote from one of my favorite Philadelphia 76ers, Allen Iverson, criticized by the media for his postgame appearance: “You can put a murderer in a suit, and he’s still a murderer.” “ScHoolboy Q defended his position by saying, “It’s not like these white people are racists, they’re at a rap show.”  True, but “Howlin’ Wolf was in demand at Deep South, all-white fraternity parties.  In 1970 I discovered that blue collar longhaired hippies from white working-class neighborhoods were a different breed of cat from those from the East and West coasts.

In a eulogy to author Toni Morrison Time contributor Tayari Jones quoted her favorite Baptist hymn “May the Work I’ve Done Speak for Me.”  Nice sentiment.  When Ton Dietz said he was spiritual but belonged subscribed to no rigid set of beliefs, I explained that Reformation leaders such as Martin Luther and John Wesley broke off from the catholic church over the doctrinal issue of good works verses faith, that due to original sin, no amount of good works could get one to heaven, only belief in Jesus as redeemer. Like me, he thought that the silliest thing he’d ever heard.

Obama signing Affordable Care Act

On International Lefthanders Day WXRT morning jock Lin Brehmer noted that Cubs star Javier Baez, nicknamed “El Mago” (the magician), grew up lefthanded but wanted to play shortstop, considered a righthander’s position; so he simply started batting and throwing righthanded and now he has the strongest arm at that position in the majors, yet still eats and writes lefthanded.   I began eating and writing lefthanded after getting my right arm caught in an old-fashioned clothes wringer that one used before hanging wash out to dry.  I was about two at the time.  Our past three presidents, Clinton, Bush, and Obama, were lefties.

William A. Wirt in 1917

I introduced Ron Cohen prior to his Senior College talk on William A. Wirt and the Gary schools, noting that Ron came up with the ideas for the Calumet Regional Archives, Steel Shavingsmagazine, and our pictorial history of Gary. Although Wirt was a brilliant educator, he was a cold fish with virtually no friends and three troubled children.  Ron mentioned that the Wirt family summered in upstate New York; the car ride took three days, and Wirt forbade any talking during the trip.  Billy fled at first opportunity and became a merchant seaman.  Younger son Sherwood and daughter Eleanor spent years in mental institutions. Born on a farm near Markle, Indiana, Wirt disliked city life and was a staunch Republican whose capitalist ventures into banking and a car dealership went bust during the Depression.  

Lanes and Cohen in in IUN library courtyard

With Ron were daughter Alysha, whom I knew as a little girl, and granddaughter Eva, a history buff who asked a question about whether students learned cursive, at present controversial, as some schools are phasing it out.  Both were quite charming. Alysha asked how Phil and Dave were doing. 

Charlie Halberstadt had an excellent bridge week, finishing over 60% two days in a row.  Our 67.19% at Banta is almost always enough to win but Mary Ann and Norm Filipiak earned 68.23%.  In the hands we played them, we each had a high board, and on the third hand they tied for best board by making 3 No Trump while all other East-West pairs played in Diamonds, with only one of them making 5.  Terry Brendel asked if I wanted to teach Social Studies in a Michigan City middle school. The only catch, he added, was that I’d have to start tomorrow.  I demurred. When I mentioned Temple Israel in Miller, Helen Boothe wondered if Rabbi Stanley Halpern was still there.  He retired, I replied, but returned to preside at the wedding of Herb and Evelyn Passo’s son Alex to Bianca.

Rabbi Stanley Halpern

I was a guest on the WLTH afternoon “Drive” with Karen and Steve Williams, who’d heard that I would be speaking about Vivian Carter and Vee-Jay Records.  WLTH first went on the air in 1950, and during the 1970s broadcast from Glen Park. One of its talk show hosts back then was arch-conservative Warren Frieberg, who took exception to Ron Cohen’s anti-Vietnam War arguments. When Ron noted that the French finally realized that holding onto South Vietnam was hopeless, Frieberg called the French a bunch of pansies, or something to that effect. WLTH moved to Merrillville before returning to Gary in 2013 and presently located downtown.

 With WLTH afternoon co-hosts on the "Drive" Steve Williams and Karen Williams

Co-hosts Steve and Karen Williams, who are not related, greeted me warmly.  Steve was very knowledgeable about Vee-Jay Records, and Karen, a lifelong resident, about Gary history.  A Roosevelt grad and member of St. Paul Baptist Church, she recalled when her place of worship burned down, and Rev. L.K. Jackson going for help in his big Lincoln.  She described Sunday services as at least two hours long and for some women like a fashion show when they’d go to the front to take communion.  The wife of policy boss Fred Mackey wore a beautiful silver fox stole, she recalled.  Jazz saxophonist Art Hoyle goes to her church, as does Chancellor Lowe’s administrative assistant Kathy Malone.  Steve tested me by asking if I knew the former names of various doo wop groups. I knew that the Spaniels called themselves the Three Bees and that the Impressions were the Roosters, but he got me on the Dells (El-Rays) and Dee Clark’s original group, the Cool Gents.  As I was leaving, Steve said he'd expected me to be a nerdy professor with boring facts and statistics but could see how much the music meant to me.

Dirty Laundry

“I make my living off the evening news
Just give me something-something I can use
People love it when you lose,
They love dirty laundry.”

         “Dirty Laundry,” Don Henley

Dave’s “Best of 2017” CD compilation contains “Dirty Laundry” by All Time Low, rockers from Towson, Maryland.  The lyrics aren’t nearly as interesting as the song of the same name by Don Henley, who once said, “We all know that crap is king, give us dirty laundry.”  Dirty Laundry is also a brand of shoes, boots, and sneakers advertised as “not so dirty that mom wouldn’t want a pair for herself.”  The phrase “airing your dirty laundry”means being candid, spilling your guts in confidence to a trusted friend. It also refers to deep, dark secrets people hope won’t come to light. Gary’s dirty laundry includes U.S. Steel Corporation’s desecration of the lakefront environment – air, land, water - as well as other industrial eyesores, such as the Ninth Avenue Dump waste disposal area, now a Superfund site, one of several in the Region awaiting more than cursory federal attention.  It’s shameful that the polluters weren’t required to clean up the messes they made.

Years ago, while Dave lived with us, he’d accumulate more dirty laundry than Toni and I combined. Because he didn’t hardly sweat, many items weren’t soiled. It wasn’t uncommon for him to discard a pair of pants daily, plus sweats if he’d exercised or played sports that day.  If I only had a half-load, I’d grab some of his clothes, sometimes folding pants as if I’d cleaned them.  Toni and I moved to the condo on the condition that I’d do the laundry, so she wouldn’t have to make extra basement trips.

photos by Maria Strimbu

The night before our “Gary: A Pictorial History” book signing at Gary Public Library Ron Cohen told me there’d be a formal program, so I came prepared to thank the City of Gary (in particular Mayor Karen Freeman-Wilson and Councilwoman Rebecca Wyatt) and Legacy Foundation for their financial support as well as Donning Company for their expertise in preparing the new chapter.  “Looking Ahead, 2004-2018” contains an introduction and 15 pages of color photos.  After crediting Ron for suggesting a third edition, I emphasized that, while the book does not ignore problems facing Gary, we wished to rebut the stereotype of a virtual ghost town and emphasize, not abandoned buildings – schools, churches, hospitals, movie theaters, and the like – once central to civic life, but rather the vibrancy and diversity of its people.  Subjects range from school and church activities to steelworker rallies and protests over efforts to construct an immigration detention center near Gary airport.  The chapter opens with a photo of Omri Amrany’s centennial sculpture “The Fusion” and closes with Corey Hagelberg’s woodcut “We All Share the Same Roots.”

"The Fusion" (2016)

Attending were colleague James Wallace and friends Mike Olszanski, John Attinasi, and Gloria Biondi, whose Region humor is reminiscent of late husband Clark. I spotted her as she was descending the steps.  “I’m leaving, it looks like it’ll be boring,”she joked.  Library board member Robert Buggs, once a fixture at IUN’s labor Studies office, was pleased to see Oz.  Dawn Darceneaux, a 1960 Froebel grad and former executive secretary to U.S. Steel public relations officer Tom Farrell, whom I hadn’t seen in 45 years, was delighted to discover that I had written about her in my latest Shavings, which I was giving away to those purchasing the pictorial history.  She was quoted extensively in an article about Richard Hatcher’s first year in office 50 years ago.

Others purchasing books included former Congresswoman Katie Hall’s daughter Junifer, and Indiana Room librarian David Hess (eight copies).  A Cedar Lake descendent of pioneer resident Obadiah Taylor and Potawatomi Indians, as well as town historian Beatrice Horner but with a Polish last name, knew about my controversial Cedar Lake Shavings, which some bluebloods thought contained too much dirty laundry about motorcycle gangs and “Lake Rat” lifestyles.  A city employee named Niavia had us sign hers; I asked her to write down her name and pronounce it – the emphasis was on the second syllable, not Níavía. Mayor Freeman-Wilson, who had praised Ron and me for our many years of service to the city, gave me a big hug and had us autograph a copy for her niece Jordan in Cambridge, Massachusetts.   

 Magnum Jamal at 4 Brothers Market

On the way back to IUN I stopped at Four Brothers Grocery at 1139 East 21st Avenue and gave the pictorial history to co-owner Magnum Jamal, pictured in the book. With the recent phasing out of the Frank Delaney housing project, I feared it might be closed after serving the community for over 30 years, but no need to worry yet.  Then I took one to Sharon Gardner in IUN’s Bursar’s office. Sharon’s husband, Pastor Dwight Gardner, is pictured (below) celebrating the sesquicentennial anniversary of Lincoln’s Emancipation on January 2, 2013 at Trinity Baptist Church.

Anne Balay’s “Semi Queer: Inside the World of Gay, Trans, and Black Truck Drivers” has alternating chapters titled “Rolling” and “Stopping” containing colorful subtitles such as “Drag and Fly” and “The Pickle Park.”  In the acknowledgements Anne wrote: “Jimbo Lane inspired my first book, and when I didn’t get tenure he fought for me fiercely, paying a high price for his advocacy and earning my undying love.”  She interviewed many of the 66 “narrators” at Gary truck stops and described them colorfully in an appendix.  Here’s what she wrote about Marilu Fanning, whom I’ve met for lunch and when Anne made a triumphant return to IUN as a guest speaker:

  Marilu is the most beautiful, hottest tranny around. She has been trucking all her life and transitioned while in the business.  She is big and bold and fun as hell.  She displays lots of cleavage, drinks double Stoli with a Coors Light chaser, and loves to sing karaoke, which she does in her deep voice.  Nothing is sexier.  We met initially in Gary, Indiana.  

Marilu Fanning

At Hobart Lanes the Electrical Engineers won two games and series against Pin Hungry Fire Ball, a team that included Delia’s Uncle Phil Vera, Angel Menendez, and Jaime Delgado, who always wears Gary firefighter t-shirts.  My 440 series included a half-dozen splits and no doubles. Horace Mann grad Dennis Cavanaugh on the next lane has an expressive wink that can denote hello, nice shot, or tough luck.

Purdue Northwest History professor Kenny Kincaid brought his class to the Archives and is hoping to return at semester’s end. I was at VU on a guided tour by Ascher Yates of his photo exhibit depicting war-ravaged South Koreans living in dire poverty in 1953-54.  Yates depicts battlefields so damaged even the ground burned.  One showed a boy his military outfit adopted, reminding me of M*A*S*H*.  I complimented Ascher on their quality and that almost all contained people.  The exhibit being near VU’s Art department, I ran into Liz Wuerrful, who introduced me to sophomore Carmen, who with two other interns accompanied Liz to Palestine last summer. Afterwards, I said hi to Brauer Gallery curator Gregg Hertzlieb, conducting a tour, and David Austen, whose photos of rural Australians were on display.  Austen grew up in Crown Point and was a Miller Beach lifeguard. He shot Ascher and me viewing his work.  In one a farmer fed a tiny kangaroo with a baby bottle.  Afterwards, Ascher drove us to Panera Bread – my first time.  My chicken salad half sandwich was delicious.

David Austen

Neither “Green Book” or “The Old Man and the Gun” with Robert Redford and Sissy Spacek has come to the Cinemark in Valpo.  I was the only patron for “Front Runner,” about the destruction of Gary Hart’s campaign to win the 1988 Democratic Presidential nomination after unethical Miami Heraldreporters staked out his townhouse and discovered that he entertained a woman not his wife. The resulting press frenzy to dig up more dirty laundry about Hart’s past that made further campaigning impossible.  This invasion of Hart’s privacy marked a turning point in the coverage of politicians by a press that had ignored marital infidelities of FDR, Ike (during wartime), JFK, LBJ, Ronald Reagan, and the 1988 Republican nominee George H.W. Bush, rumored to have a mistress.  The talented, charismatic Colorado Senator would have had a much better chance against  Bush than dour Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis, the eventual Democratic nominee. Bush 41, who passed away over the weekend, was an honorable man, war hero, and patriot who deserves praise for his civility and bipartisanship.  He was extremely competitive, not above employing campaign dirty tricks, and not without character flaws.  In his nineties, he allegedly liked to grab nurses’ asses affectionately (?!!!) but got a pass from the media due to his age and status.

George W. Bush declared his father to have been America’s best one-term president.  I disagree.  Both John Adams and John Quincy Adams (our other father and son combination) were superior, as was, I believe, Jimmy Carter.  He probably was our best Republican one-term president, comparing favorably to the likes of Rutherford B. Hayes, Benjamin Harrison, William Howard Taft, and Herbert Hoover.  Here’s a tribute to the elder Bush by Ray Smock:

  My tenure as Historian of the House of Representatives included the years George H.W. Bush was president. I had no personal dealings with him, but I was able to observe him on ceremonial occasions at the Capitol, during his State of the Union addresses and other times when he spoke to Congress. I met George Bush once and spoke to him briefly at an outdoor oyster bar in Annapolis, Maryland, in 1980, when he was campaigning for president for the first time. He lost in the primaries to Ronald Reagan, and then Reagan selected him as his running mate.

  The extensive journal I kept during the years I served in the House is filled with numerous references to him, especially in relation to the first Gulf War.

What follows is a brief excerpt from my journal entry for June 27, 1991, when the President and Mrs. Bush had a grand time in the Rotunda of the U.S. Capitol.  Today, President Bush will lie in state in that Rotunda, and I will be remembering him as I saw him there more than 27 years ago. 

  At 2:30 I went over to the Rotunda for the unveiling of the vice-presidential bust of George Bush. The Senate commissions busts of the vice presidents since they serve as Presidents of the Senate. The marble busts are situated in the halls around the Senate chamber. I attended the ceremony for Jerry Ford's bust a few years ago and chatted with President Ford on that occasion.

  But this was the first time a sitting president was able to unveil his own bust. The Rotunda was full of spectators and the press. A military band played a medley of tunes before the ceremony started. The leaders of the House and Senate were all there on the platform, along with the 90-year-old sculptor, Walker Hancock. Senators Ted Stevens and Wendell Ford spoke, and the Architect of the Capitol, George White, was master of ceremonies.

The President and Mrs. Bush seemed to thoroughly enjoy the ceremony. They were all smiles and relaxed and cheerful. Mrs. Bush seemed to enjoy the surroundings and I noticed several times that she leaned her head back from her seat to gaze upwards, taking in the magnificent dome and the Apotheosis of Washington painting in the center of the ceiling, 180-feet above her. The President was in a jocular mood and he set the tone for the whole event. It was lighthearted and friendly. The President said the press would probably say “President Gets Busted in Capitol,” or words to that effect. Then he said this was a rare treat to be at such and unveiling “when I'm not even dead yet.”Everyone had a good time and the whole ceremony was over in a half hour.

 Hermann Hesse

Driving James to bowling, we discussed German-born Hermann Hesse’s “Siddartha,” set in India, which he read in advanced English.  According to a recent article in the New Yorker, Hesse (1877-1962) had a difficult upbringing and rebelled against his parents’ strict pietist teachings.  He took solace in Eastern religion and sought to withdraw from his country’s tumultuous politics.  Most of his books, including “Steppenwolf,” “Narcissus and Goldmund,” “Siddartha,” deal with young people searching for self-knowledge and spirituality.

Before bridge eight of us dined at Gino’s in Merrillville.  Jimmy, the owner, stopped at our table, and I praised the free Happy Hour bar food available before book club meetings.  The same waitress who serves us at those gatherings asked Brian and Connie Barnes if they wanted the same meal they always split.  I ordered delicious beef tenderloin medallions smothered in mushrooms and gravy.  Toni was the big winner at cards.

I finished the “Ten Strikes” labor history by Erik Loomis, which ended with a chapter on the SEIU (Service Employees International Union) Justice for Janitors fight and its leader, John Sweeney, in 1995 becoming president of the AFL-CIO. I watched the first episodes of the HBO series “My Brilliant Friend” about two girls coming to maturity in postwar Italy (with subtitles, a TV rarity). The men were almost without exception insufferable, but several had the ability to keep cigarettes in their mouth while working, an impressive feat.  On the other hand, I was disappointed in the Lena-Dunham-created series “Camping.” For one thing, the men are puerile and pathetic.  More interesting are two teens who end up in a lesbian relationship and the 200-pound  bulldagger camp manager Harry (Bridget Everett) who ends up with New Age hippie Jandice (Juliette Lewis). Earlier, Harry was watching “Body Heat” with Kathryn and Walt’s son and this exchange occurred:

  Harry: Nudity is natural, it’s beautiful.

  Kid: Can I see your boobs?

  Harry: Not a fucking chance dot com, little man.

This surprisingly hilarious husband-and-wife exchange occurred when the main characters were high on drugs:

Kathryn (Jennifer Garner): Did you know chickens die after sex?

          Walt (David Tennant): The one I fucked did.

Forced to play backup QB Chase Daniel in place of Mitch Trubisky, the Bears lost to the lowly Giants. On the second play from scrimmage Daniel tossed a pass into the arms of a defensive lineman for an easy pick six.  Another interception would follow.  Fortunately, all other Bears’ rivals lost, including Green Bay to lowly Arizona, costing Coach Mike McCarthy his job.  Thanks to Eagles QB Carson Wentz and tight end Zach Ertz, I finished the regular Fantasy season 8-5, tied for first with nephew Bobby and thus earning a bye in the playoffs.

I drove through snow to Lakeshore radio in Merrillville to appear on the noontime Chris Nolte show about “Gary: A Pictorial History.”  Producer Dee Dotson, a recent IUN grad who majored in Public Relations and worked for the campus radio station under Eve Bottando, recognized me. I was only on the air for about 15 minutes but, a veteran of multiple appearances with hosts Tom Higgins and Jerry Davich, thanked our sponsors and emphasized our goal of focusing on people’s activities.  One of my favorite photos, I pointed out, was of Pastor Dwight Gardner preaching at Trinity Baptist Church.  Appearing on a page showing the Wirt/Emerson choir performing at Holy Angels and St. Timothy members who participated a jazz vespers service, it exemplifies the contributions of religious institutions striving to keep neighborhoods viable.

 St. Timothy vesper service by Billy Foster, top, right

After my bi-monthly haircut, I picked up an Imagine Dragons CD at Chesterton library ( Dave included “Thunder” by the Las Vegas rockers in his “Best of 2017” CD) along with Anne Tyler’s “Vinegar Girl,” subtitled “The Taming of the Shrew Retold” and set in Baltimore.  I have already read it but every so often get a yen to reread one of Tyler’s novels for their deft character studies.  “Vinegar Girl” begins, “Kate Battista was gardening out back when she heard the telephone ring in the kitchen.”  It was her controlling father, a Johns Hopkins research professor. Here are the book’s final words:

  Pyotr rose to his feet and placed an arm around Kate’s shoulders.  He smiled into her eyes and said, “Kiss me, Katya.

  And she did.

Chesterton library had the new issue of Traces with Hoosier Hot Shots on the cover.  One guy was playing a washboard.  Active for almost 50 years beginning in the 1930s, the Hoosier Hot Shots performed novelty songs (i.e., “From the Indies to the Andes in His Undies,” “I Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones”) and country favorites on radio shows such as “National Barn Dance” and appeared in several forgettable B-movies. Guest editor James Madison noted that Traces did not just focus on “great white men” during its 30 years in print and, citing my articles on Reverend L.K. Jackson and Women of Steel, its coverage of African-American and women’s history.   

Throwing It Down

“I've had 36 orthopedic operations, have two fused ankles, my knees, hands and wrists don't work, I now have a fused spine, other than that, everything is great.” Bill Walton

Bill Walton’s autobiography “Back from the Dead: Searching for the Sound, Shining the Light and Throwing It Down,” discusses the unbelievable series of injuries that not only curtailed his NBA career but, for three years beginning in 2008, left the “Big Redhead” barely able to move.  After leading UCLA to two NCAA championships, Walton’s pro career highlight was spearheading the previously lowly Portland Trail Blazers to the 1977 NBA championship, 109-107, over a Philadelphia 76ers team that included Julius Erving, George McGinnis, Darryl Dawkins, Doug Collins, Caldwell Jones, and World B. Free (who was mugged at the end of the sixth and final game though no foul was called).  Dr. J had 40 points in a losing effort.  A sometime hippie who loves the music and mellow philosophy of the Grateful Dead, Walton calls himself the luckiest Deadhead in the world. One of Walton’s memorable expressions while announcing NBA games was “Throw it down big man, throw it down.”

At Gardner Center for a poetry reading, I recited three Gib Laue compositions that appear in my latest Steel Shavings.  One poked fun at his endless home improvement projects; another described pre-schoolers learning Baptist hymns at the Frietag’s next door; the third lamented the destruction of sand dunes during the 1960s to make way for steel mills.  Laue grew up in Gary, and his father (Gilbert, Sr.) was one of the city’s first dentists.  In 1951 he and wife Dot bought a log cabin just east of County Line Road in Edgewater on the proceeds of Gib’s book, “So Much To Learn,” about being house-husband to son John.  Following me was N. Davina Stewart, who recited a Sonia Sanchez poem about a black girl who once believed she was ugly and worthless.

Across the street at Miller Bakery Café 80 people opposed to GEO building a detention center near the Gary Airport heard passionate pleas by speakers Diana Twyman (owner of the restaurant, who provided excellent food), Samuel A, Love of 219MIGHT (Mass Incarceration and GEO Halt Team), Fred Tsao (attorney for the Illinois Coalition of Immigrant and Refugee Rights), and Reverend Cheryl Rivera (director of the NWI Federation of Interfaith Organizations). All stressed GEO’s shabby reputation and that the proposed facility would break up families and further tarnish the city’s reputation.  Sam mentioned that his dad was once a lifeguard at Miller Beach and that he and Brenda recently bought a house in Miller. 

I had told former Lake County sheriff Roy Dominguez (above) about the meeting, and he came with wife Betty.  A month ago, on St. Patrick’s Day at Crown Point Fire Department he had his hair shaved off to help the St. Baldrick’s Foundation to raise funds for the purpose of curing childhood cancers.  He showed me a video of the head-shaving, at the end of which he posted photos of his sister Maria, brother Eloy, and Uncle Vicente, whose lives were shortened by cancer.

 In the audience at Miller Bakery Cafe; Ron Cohen, below.  NWI Times photos by Jonathan Miano

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GEO failed to get approval for a facility in Hobart last year and in Gary just months ago.  Now the company is throwing down the gauntlet again and perhaps spreading money around to grease the system.  Four city council members attended, including Ragen Hatcher, who is against the project, and Ron Brewer, who claims to be undecided.  Carolyn McCrady passed out a flyer, titled “NO Gary GEO,” publicizing a prayer vigil at City Hall Tuesday in advance of a Board of Zoning meeting.  The flyer stated:

  It is immoral and unconscionable that a city 90% Black, descendants of slaves and marginalized by Jim Crow structural racism, would consider supporting suffering, terror, fear and dismantling of poor immigrant families in a detention/slave center.

City Hall Protest; P-T photo by Jim Karczewski

James had a weekend bowling tournament in South Bend, so we watched their dog Maggie.  Dave drove through a blizzard to get there, and Toni welcomed them back Sunday with a steak dinner. I channel-switched between the Cubs (a winner thanks to a home run by pitcher Jake Arietta) and the Masters in Augusta (defending champ Jordan Spieth shockingly had a quadruple bogey when he put two balls in the water on the par-3 twelfth hole, allowing Brit Danny Willettt to lay claim to the green jacket.

Thanking me for Steel Shavings were Lowell librarian Robert Bussie, who appreciated my references to civil rights hero Richard Morrisroe, and ace Chesterton Tribune reporter Kevin Nevers, who admitted, “What I do for a living is a bit like yelling into the wind in the desert, if you catch me drift.”  I felt the same way during my advocacy for IUN English professor Anne Balay.   Nevers wrote:

  I admire your range off passions and preoccupations, your feel for people and places, the way the past really isn’t the past for you but more a murmur of whispering voices, a clamor of ghosts looking for a medium.  Not everybody hears them, almost no one does really, but it’s your great gift to make the hauntings human and meaningful.

Heavy.

Mary Schmidt wrote about her father, Frank L. Schmidt, born on October 24, 1954, at Gary Methodist Hospital. His father, Robert Bernard Schmidt, was injured during the Korean War and on a hospital boat met a Japanese man who introduced Robert to his sister, Shigeko Sudo.  They soon fell in love.  He wanted to take her to America, and the only practical way was to marry her in Japan.  She took a flight to America and stayed with Robert’s mother and father on Garfield Street in Glen Park for a month until Robert arrived home on via army troop ship. Shortly thereafter, Shigeko got pregnant with Frank.  Mary wrote:

Robert’s father owned Emil Schmidt and Sons Plumbing Company.  Growing up, Frank went to an elementary school named after poet James Whitcomb Riley.  He participated in science fairs and was a safety patrol boy.  On an East Glen Park Little League baseball team, in his first game, he hit two triples. He remembered, “Every time we won our coach would take us to eat at Ricochet’s Pizza in Gary. They had the best pizza you’d ever taste. My best friends on that team were Scott Moore and Michael Martinez.” Robert loved the carnival rides, pony rides, and games at Kiddieland on 61^st and Broadway.

Robert and his three brothers learned the plumbing trade and took over the business after the war. Robert and Shigeko moved to Tennessee Street and visited his parents every Saturday. Frank recalled: “We’d get to my grandparents’ house at about six or seven a.m.  Grandma Emma would already be cooking pancakes for us.  She made the best homemade pie and bread and let me use the rolling pin to thin out the dough. She’d make a special loaf of bread for me to take home.”  Joined by uncles Dean, Earl, Rich, and Jim, they’d go fishing over by Deep River on Route 51.

Shigeko’s father once owned a movie house where Charlie Chaplin performed. However, the family lost most everything during World War II.  Once Shigeko was on a train going to school when suddenly bombs were falling. She got under her seat and stayed there until it was quiet.  Many of her friends died that day.  In 1961 Robert, Frank, and Shigeko traveled back to Japan to visit her family. They stayed for three months. My father recalls:  “Their house had bamboo floors, not carpet.  Wearing shoes in the house was considered rude. Their kitchen table was close to the ground, and to eat we had to sit on the floor. My grandmother tried to make us fried chicken but couldn’t figure it out because it wasn’t commonly made there.  At age seven I met my Japanese cousins. We had no idea what the other was saying but communicated just by playing.  We watched typical television shows you’d see in America but all in Japanese. We also watched baseball and Sumo wrestling. And we rode trains and busses everywhere.  One day my 12 year-old cousins and I snuck out of the house, took a train to Tokyo, and played Pachinko, a popular Japanese game, all day at an arcade.”

 Frank and Paerents

Frank often took empty coke bottles to the grocery for two cents a bottle.  He recalled: “I used that money for baseball cards. A nickel could buy you five baseball cards and a pack of gum.  I’d use one to stick in my bike tire to make it rattle. Back then a candy bar was five cents, a bottle of pop was twelve cents, and a popsicle was five cents.”  Frank’s father forbade him to ride his bike away from Tennessee Street.  He recalled: “When I was ten, a couple friends wanted to go to Joe Plezac’s Grocery, a small store in Glen Park that sold baseball cards.  My dad wasn’t home so I went with them. We were walking our bikes across Georgia Street when I spotted my dad’s car.  He rolled the window down and said ‘You get that bike home right now!’” 

At Bailey Junior High Frank’s best friend was Marty Johnson. During lunch hour they’d go to Dog N’ Suds for pork tenderloin sandwiches and run back to Marty’s house to eat. Marty’s mother would drive them back to school. On Halloween, Frank told me: “We’d start at Tennessee Street and keep moving until we reached Mississippi five blocks away.  That was enough to fill up a big paper bag of candy. Then we’d take that home and head west on Delaware Street and do five more blocks. Next day we’d walk to school and pick up any candy we found in the grass!”

              Typically Frank would spend Christmas Eve opening presents and then spend Christmas day with grandparents Emma and Emil and all his aunts, uncles, and cousins.  An uncle would dress up as Santa Claus, complete with the hat, suit and beard. One year it was his father’s turn.  Frank recalled: “My dad got a pair of nice new shoes.  Santa walked in and I realized that he was wearing the same shoes as my dad! That’s when I realized that it was really my dad in a Santa suit.”  Each of Frank’s aunts would have a party every day after that until Grandmother Emma passed away and the get-togethers came to an end.  By that time everyone was older.

              Frank  ice skated and played hockey at Lake George in Hobart. He remembered: “One day the puck got away from me and I was chasing. All of a sudden I heard a man yelling ‘Stop! Stop.’ Some of the ice ahead of me was cracked and melted away.”

              During Freshman Week at Lew Wallace it was customary for upperclassmen to haze freshmen. Frank recalled: “A bully came up to me and tried to make me carry his books. My friends who were juniors went up to us and told him to scram and to stop messing with me. Nobody bothered me after that!” “Frank was on the National Honor Society and took German classes but his favorite subject was Physics. He played football for two years as a Tight End and baseball for three years as the Catcher. Unfortunately, he broke his shoulder and had to quit football. He told me:

“We were playing football and I had caught a pass and was going backwards, but this guy ran into me and I fell on my shoulder and I hurt it. But I didn’t want to tell my dad because I thought it might just go away. But when I looked at it in the mirror it was swooped down. The next morning I couldn’t move it up at all, so I finally told my dad and he took me to the emergency room. I got my x-rays and they said it was officially broken. I had to wear a harness for weeks. My dad told me I couldn’t play both baseball and football and told me to pick one sport. Well, football season was almost over so I chose baseball!”

My dad got his first job at a Shell Gas Station on I-65 and Ridge Road. That’s where Frank learned to tune-ups and oil changes. He said: “On a typical Saturday during my high school friends and I would go to Harvey’s Department Store on 38^th and Broadway, Dickerson’s Drug Store on Broadway and Rudge Road, and then we would walk to the Village Shopping Center on Grant Street and spend the whole day there. During the summertime we would go to East Glen Park Senior League Field and play baseball from 9 until 5 when the seniors came to practice.”

              In 1972 Frank was driving his father’s brand new Cadillac. He picked up two girls, and went “Cruisin’” up and down Broadway between 45^th and 55^th Avenue. He recalled: “I had to have my father’s car back by 10 P.M. But one of the girls wanted to try driving it. So I switched seats with her and let her drive for a while, but then she hit a telephone pole. Broke it in half and totaled the car! So what I did was I switched seats with her before the police and my dad showed up and told both of them that I was the one driving, not her. Man, was my dad mad! But he got a new car from the insurance so he wasn’t mad for too long. To this day, to his dying day, I never ever told him that it was the girl who was driving that day and not me. But I think he always knew anyway.”    When Frank graduated high school in 1973 fiftieth out of 550, he got a 1973 Oldsmobile Cutlass as a graduation present.

             Frank told me: “My dad was very strict on my haircuts. Well, in 1973 the hot hairstyle back then was longer hair on men, about right below the ears. I wanted to grow my hair out but my dad wouldn’t let me. So I was the only one of my friends who still had short hair. Then one day my dad visited Bloomington for a parent conference and observed young guys' hair styles. He came home and apologized for making me get short haircuts, and said that if I wanted to grow my hair out, I could.”

              At IU Frank pursued a degree in Chemistry. And roomed with his next-door neighbor Dave Charbonneau. He told me: “During our first few months of college, other guys were afraid of us because we were from the Region, cussed a lot, and talked differently than guys from southern Indiana.” Frank played baseball for his dorm team called The Commanches (above), and won the championship in 1975. One Spring Break he went to Florida with Nick Psimos and Dave Smelko. Nick’s dad was a lawyer and owned a condo in Florida. He told me: “One day we went deep-sea fishing. My friend caught a 3-foot shark. My line started wiggling and when I started reeling it in, it was a 10-foot Hammerhead Shark! I got it up to the boat, but it jumped back into the water and tried to swim away but still had the line. Our boat started going in reverse. Well the owner of a bar/restaurant called Jansem Landing, John Jansem, was on the boat with us and really wanted it for advertising his restaurant. So we got it back up to the boat again and the captain shot it to keep it from struggling. Finally I got it and we put it into the boat. That shark was ten feet long and 350 pounds.”

During Frank’s senior year he tried getting a job in construction, but the market was down.  U.S. Steel was hiring summer help, and he landed a job there as a Lab Manager at the North Sheet Mill at Gary Works.  After he graduated with a degree in Chemistry, U.S. Steel hired him full-time to work in Quality Assurance. Working for U.S. Steel gave him opportunities to travel to Mexico and Serbia.

One day Frank's American Legion softball teammate Ron Ramos wanted him to trick his sister, Christine, into thinking he was Gary Fencik of Chicago Bears, whom he resembled. Frank and Christine started dating in 1988 and five years later had their first of five children, Jessica, my older sister. They were married on August 6, 1999. They reside in Hebron on Lake Eliza. Frank  (61) still works at U.S. Steel and Christine (52) is a stay-at-home mom. The people and places in Gary that Frank once loved may not exist physically anymore, but they are alive in his memories.  (below, author Mary and Frank, her dad)

Nicole Anslover’s students are reading “All the President’s Men.”  I was surprised to see Carl Bernstein as first author since the Washington Post reporters are always referred to as Woodward and Bernstein – or in the movie, “Woodstein.”  When Nicole asked about the legacy of Watergate, I mentioned that except for the first Bush, all successful Presidential candidates starting with Jimmy Carter have had little or no “Inside the Beltway” experience.  Some students slammed Gerald Ford for pardoning “Tricky Dick,” but, as much as I loathed Nixon, jailing him would have been counter-productive and just increased sympathy for him.  On the other hand, he should have been denied all the perquisites given to former Presidents.

When a student mentioned seeing Bob Woodward on the FOX Sunday news show, I thought of Woodward’s “Shadow: Five Presidents and the Legacy of Watergate” (1999).  Woodward concludes that the new inquisitorial environment led to abuses by Independent Council Lawrence Walsh (investigating Iran-Contra) and Special Prosecutor Kenneth Starr (appointed to probe the Whitewater land deal, he went on fishing expeditions into the suicide of White House Counsel Vince Foster and Bill Clinton’s sex life that uncovered the Monica Lewinsky affair and led to Clinton’s impeachment).  Nixon had appointed and then fired Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox in what became known as the Saturday Night Massacre. In 1979 Jimmy Carter signed into law the Ethics in Government Act, which called for the appointment of a special prosecutor when the Attorney General received allegations of misconduct by a senior government official.  The first time it was invoked was to investigate a charge that Carter’s chief of staff Hamilton Jordon had used cocaine at New York City nightclub Studio 54.  Jordon was cleared of any wrongdoing but his reputation was tarnished and it cost him all his savings, $67,000, in legal fees to his attorney. Starr’s overreach made most people realize the dangers of special prosecutors abusing the office.