Playing' Around

posted by Jim Spicer

“Playin’ around with some sweet señorita
Into her dark hallway she will lead ya
In some lonesome shadows she will greet ya
Billy, you’re so far away from home”

         Bob Dylan, “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (Billy4”)”

Bob Dylan not only wrote and performed the soundtrack for “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid” but appeared in the 1973 Sam Peckinpah movie as someone who goes by Alias.  Kris Kristofferson plays Billy and James Coburn his onetime friend Pat Garrett, hired by corrupt cattle barons to track him down.  

Dave, Tom Wade, and I played board games, first time in a long while.  I went two for four, pulling out a rare victory in St. Petersburg thanks to receiving bonus points for amassing the most different orange Noble cards after getting a blue card that enabled me to draw from that pile on each subsequent turn. I won at Stockpile  by employing what we call the “Brady strategy,” named for Tom’s son, who liked to start the bidding process at zero, thus leaving his options open and not giving away his ultimate objective. The ploy often backfires, but in the final bid on piles of property (some cards hidden, others face up), it worked perfectly.  In North Carolina working for the Democratic Party, Brady has been doing stand-up comedy, Tom informed us.  He even videotapes his routines to study demeanor and hand motions.  Performing in several comedy clubs, he can ascertain what works best with audiences.  Tom and Darcy caught his act, and were impressed.

Tori with dead microphone; some of her entourage cheer her on

Tori’s graduation from Wyoming H.S. took place at the Grand Rapids First mega-church. Before an audience numbering more than a thousand, she was delivering the Student Welcome when the microphone went dead. Rather than panic, she handled it with a smile and a shrug as classmates cheered.  I was really proud.  In front of us was an African-American family.  A teenager and two older women remained seated during the National Anthem. When Tori’s name was announced, they cheered and must know her.   The school’s nickname, Wolves, produced many references to the obligations of the pack.  The choir sang “Shenandoah,” originally about an Iroquois chief leaving dear ones. Retiring school superintendent Thomas Reeder gave each student two one-dollar bills (one for celebrating, the other for a good cause) and his cell phone number in case they even needed his help. Nice.

 at New Beginnings

In the massive parking lot afterwards we witnessed a heated argument.  A graduate bumped the back of a pickup truck at about 2 mph, causing no damage but eliciting in a stream of cuss words from the driver.  The girl’s friends gave as good as they got; an older woman joined in.  Many threats and taunts ensued but no fisticuffs or weapons drawn.  Next morning at New Beginnings Diner, Miranda discussed vacationing in Dubrovnik, where I spent a week 30 years ago participating in an IU-sponsored conference on Pluralism.  I told her about checking out a nude beach on the nearby island of Lokrum and staying at the Imperial Hotel now part of the Hilton chain.

Ray Smock commented on Trump nixing (or maybe not) meeting with Kim Jong Un:

   The much-ballyhooed summit was unilaterally and arbitrarily scuttled today in a one-page letter from a petulant president who gave as his excuse the fact that North Korea said nasty things about Vice President Pence, calling him a “political dummy.” To earn this insult, Pence had made comparisons to our strategy to stop North Korean nukes using methods like those used years earlier with Muammar Gaddafi in Libya.

   Gaddafi was subsequently overthrown and murdered in 2011. This is not the kind of thing Pence should have been talking about weeks before the summit was to take place. But it does reveal with strong documentary evidence how amateurish and childish our president can be. Someone ought to remind Trump of the adage, sticks and stones make break my bones, but names will never hurt me. He was hurt, or feigned being hurt, by a verbal insult. If he is that thin-skinned, how could he possibly negotiate a complex agreement to denuclearize North Korea?  Trump’s withdrawal came as a complete surprise to our State Department and to our allies in South Korea and Japan. President Moon of South Korea was just here in the States two days ago. Why wasn’t he told of Trump’s sudden change of heart? I can only conclude that Trump decided this on his own, on the spur of the moment. It is a monumental foreign policy blunder.

Dave with Jimbo (1976) and Christian Montemayor

Jack Serynek sent me vintage photos from Porter Acres softball days.  He complimented my red pants; I replied:  “I recall those red pants – the fly buttoned rather than zipped, kind of a pain.”  On Facebook was a photo of East Chicago Central top 20 student Christian Montemayor with Dave, whom he credited with being the greatest influence on his intellectual development.

For my Cedar Lake workshop, I decided to give participants an exercise.  Here is a summary of my intended opening remarks:

    Cedar Lake has the most fascinating history of any community in northwest Indiana, starting when Native Americans encamped by its water’s edge.  The changes Cedar Lake has undergone in the past 200 years are truly profound, beginning during the Pioneer Era with the forced removal of the Potawatomi and construction of the area’s first school, church, library, saw mill, and brick kiln, followed by the coming of the Monon Railroad and tourist resort heyday between 1870 and 1930.  Then followed the Great Depression and the pollution of the lake, as otherwise homeless people and then World War II steel and defense workers from the South moved into what had been summer cabins, and phosphates from detergents blocked the natural flow of underground springs. The last 50 years have seen Cedar Lake’s incorporation, installation of modern sewers, and revival, auguring a promising future. 

  I hope to convince you in the short time given to me that collecting oral histories of Cedar Lake residents is vitally important.  Thus, your workshop assignment is to write down the name of someone you’d like to interview, if not an actual person then a description – ranging in age from student to senior citizen; newcomer to longtime resident; occupation from laborer or businessman; and either male or female. 

Back in the town of Cedar Lake for the first time in 20 years, I recognized Lassen Hotel (now a museum) and the Lighthouse Restaurant, where Bob Petyko and his wife once took Toni and me, but gone was Tobe’s Tavern, famous for gigantic steak sandwiches and scene of more than a few parking lot rumbles.  I said hello to Naomi Millender of the Gary Historical and Cultural Society and Miller community organizer Jessica Renslow, who would be directing one of the workshops. A contingent of Purdue Northwest students and faculty arrived, including old friend Kenny Kincaid and 51-year veteran Saul Lerner.  Department chair Kathleen Tobin said she used to be an adjunct at IUN.   While eating a filet minion lunch at a table with mostly historical society officers and museum directors, I noticed that instead of merely conducting a workshop, I was listed as keynote speaker.  I learned later that when historian Scott Bocock got wind of my coming, he lobbied for me to be afforded that honor.  Fortunately, I came well prepared, with anecdotes about how I came to put together Steel Shavings,volume 26 (1997), “A History of Cedar Lake,” combining writings by town historian Beatrice Horner with oral histories covering the postwar years. 

 Saul Lerner

Kenny Kincaid

My talk sparked much discussion.    Especially interesting were comments from longtime residents who knew Bob Petyko, whom I credited with piquing my interest in Cedar Lake.  One had been a childhood neighbor in blue-collar Cedar Point Park; another knew him as a school teacher.  When I mentioned that Scott Carnahan had interviewed his dad about working at the roller rink as a teenager, a woman noted that girls would fall on purpose so Bob Carnahan would come help them up.  Saul Lerner mentioned Richard Dorson’s folklore classic “Land of the Millrats” and suggested looking into Cedar Lake folklore.  I brought up several possibilities, including boating and fishing tales, sightings of Potawatomi, gypsies, and Al Capone as well as Jazz Age all-night parties at San Souci Hotel frequented by Tin Pan Alley celebrities such as Paul Ash (famous for “Wabash Blues”).  On the spur of the moment, I decided to conclude by reading the final paragraph of volume 26, this remark by Bob Petyko:

I wouldn’t change growing up in Cedar lake for anything.  We had woods.  You were always outside.  Your mother would have to scream for you to come home. We camped out a lot and had campfires.  None of it was supervised by adults.  Since then I’ve raised two children, and they never had that.  They were more structured.  I got them into Little League and wrestling.  It was difficult for them not to become bored easily..

I’ve moved to the west side now, I’m almost embarrassed to say, but I’m still a Lake Rat.  My house is just a small place rather than some snobby middle-class subdivision-type house.

When I sat down, Lerner patted my shoulder and said, “Good job.” 

I attended hour-long workshops conducted by Serena Sutliff-Ard from Westchester Township History Museum in Chesterton and Jane Lump of Strategic Innovation, who stressed that she was a facilitator, not a consultant. Serena concentrated on how to handle controversial issues in museum exhibits.  Since hers houses records of the Prairie Club, I imagined an exhibit that touched on its members interest with nudism and, in some cases, male-male sexual exploration.  Jane elicited discussion on strategies to involve volunteers of all ages in local boards. When I mentioned having students interview senior citizens, she interjected that perhaps seniors could interview young people.  As a social historian interested in examining the contemporary history of adolescence, I thought it an excellent idea.

 John G. Shedd

At a wine and cheese reception at Lassen Museum, Scott Bocock told me that he’s been unable to find tangible evidence that John Shedd, who donated three million dollars to the Chicago aquarium that bears his name, ever lived in Cedar Lake.  A New Hampshire transplant, he rose to prominence as President of Marshall Field. While he probably never lived in Cedar Lake, a company bearing his name stored blocks of ice harvested from the lake.

Saul Lerner and I caught up on mutual acquaintances. Until recently director of the graduate program, Lerner had students interested in public history work under Purdue archivist Joe Coates, my former student.  Former Purdue librarian, a former neighbor, was Saul’s regular lunch companion.  I told him that Lance Trusty, who recently passed away, had been my mentor when it came to speaking to community groups. Lerner first got me interested in writing reviews for Magill’s Literary Annual,which both of us continued to do for about 30 years until it ceased publication. Kenny Kincaid introduced me to one of his students and vowed to enlist me to speak to his Fall class about the history of Latinos in Northwest Indiana, as I’ve done before.  Since then, he’s moved from the Westville to the Hammond campus. 

VU professors Liz Wuerffel and Allison Schuette invited me to end-of-semester party.  I had mentioned their Flight Paths project linking Gary and Valparaiso, and several museum directors were familiar with it.  When Kenny Kincaid brought up the use of oral history in Reconciliation projects in South Africa and Peru, where his wife is from, I made the analogy with Flight Paths  bringing former Gary residents in touch again with their old neighborhoods.

 Jack Johnson

In the news: the NFL, in reaction to Trump’s pressure has mandated that players stand for the pregame National Anthem or remain in the locker room.  Pretty silly. Sylvester Stallone convinced Trump to issue a posthumous pardon for black heavyweight champ Jack Johnson, jailed on trumped up charges of transporting a prostitute across state lines for immoral purposes.  The woman in question was his white girlfriend whom he later married.  In my Cedar Lake talk I mentioned that Jack Johnson and his entourage stayed at the Mitch Hotel while training for a fight.  In the Archives the following day, Region historian John Hmurovic noted that during one trip through Hammond on the way to Chicago from Cedar Lake, Johnson’s roadster got stopped by a train and crowds gathered to meet the champ and admire his flashy auto.

Do Not Go Gentle

“Old age should burn and rave at close of day

Rage, rage against the dying of the light”

         Dylan Thomas, “Do not Go Gentle into that Good Night”

 Dylan Thomas

Watching the Cubs defeat the Nationals on TBS, I saw far too many commercials but took note when one by Goboldly (evidently a biopharmaceutical consortium) quoted the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas about battling symptoms of old age. “Big Pharma” can easily afford to bankroll the classiest of ads.  A Volkswagen commercial used nostalgia to attract baby boomers and their wannabies by showing hippies in VW buses at Woodstock with Joe Cocker singing “With a Little Help from My Friends.” I got a good laugh seeing Snoop Dog being touted as the upcoming host for a revival of “Joker’s Wild,” a quiz show Dave loved when a pre-schooler. 

The Cubs triumphed in the finale of the five-game series thanks in large part to a successful pick-off play at first when Nationals player José Lobaton took his foot of the bag for an instant and Anthony Rizzo kept the tag on him.  The camera showed manager Dusty Baker grimacing when the umpires announced their final decision.  Dusty managed the Cubs for four years, beginning in 2003 (the ill-fated year of Bartman), and, in my opinion, was unfairly blamed for things beyond his control.

 above, Lobaton picked off; below, Dusty Baker with trademark toothpick

After three straight losses in Fantasy Football, Jimbo Jammers got more points than any other team thanks to big days by Jordon Howard, Carlos Hyde, Antonio Brown, Kirk Cousins, and the Ravens special teams, scoring TDs on kickoff and punt returns.  Cousins not only passed for 330 yards and two TDs but ran one in and rushed for a total of 26 yards.  Tough luck for Anthony’s The Powerhouse, which had the second most points.

Toni fell and aggravated her already injured knee but gamely went with us to Northside Diner in Chesterton for breakfast prior to gaming.  Dave’s high school classmate and friend Wayne Thornton did Northside’s outside mural. For the first time in many months, we played Air Lords, an Evan Davis invention.   During a day of record-breaking rainfall Toni also gutted out a trip to Outback Steakhouse and then finished first in bridge.  Hosts Connie and Brian Barnes are both my age.  On a bureau, I spotted a birthday card highlighting the year 1942.  Most items had to do with wartime prices and news, but one mentioned the internment of over 100,000 Japanese-Americans.

Thanks to a DNA ancestry search, Helen Booth, a friend from duplicate bridge, discovered that she has two half-sisters.  Her father evidently took off shortly after Helen was born.  It was during the Great Depression and may have been an act of desperation.  Helen never saw or heard from him again.  Back then, family secrets and so-called skeletons in the closet were not uncommon.   My great-aunt Grace and grandpa Elwood Metzger both had lovers but kept up appearances by not living together.   Great-aunt Ida M. Gordon, who lived with us, had evidently gotten swept off her feet by a sharpie from Philadelphia who deserted her soon after they married.  At least that’s the official story.  Not only did I never ask Aunt Ida about him, my mother never gave me a clear sense of what happened.

Library staff member Anne Koehler asked me to proofread an upcoming Portage Historical Society Bulletin. I thought she meant the entire thing and gave her a couple good suggestions, but Anne was referring to an excerpt from my Portage Shavings issue that mentioned recently deceased Irline Holley being a founding member of the Portage Historical Society. Anne also loaned me Matthew A. Werner’s “Season of Upsets,” about the 1950 Cinderella Union Mills basketball team, which upset Michigan City Elston to win the Sectional before bowing to Hammond High. Hammond lost in the Regional finals to Lafayette Jefferson, which in turn was upset in the state championship by tiny Madison (student population: 270).

Ron Cohen’s son Joshua passed away, a gentle soul in his mid-40s.  We knew Josh well before he moved with his mom to Indianapolis (once, setting off a firecracker on July Fourth, we feared he’d blown off a finger) and then again as an adult.  Whenever he’d see me, he’d flash a winsome smile and be interested in how I was doing.  Josh overcame some hard knocks before finding a good woman and a decent job and fathering son DeQuane.  He had a fetching smile and a good heart, and Ron is taking the loss hard.

An article by former Indiana Poet Laureate Norbert Krapf in the Summer 2017 issue of Traces highlighted the life and poetry of Etheridge Knight, a Mississippi native and Korean War veteran reborn in prison, where he served an eight-year sentence for stealing ten dollars to support a drug addiction. His most famous poem in “Feeling Fucked Up”

Norbert Krapf wrote: “Even if we don’t like poems in which the ultimate swear word is allowed to rampage free, we must admit that few poems in our language express better how ‘lowdown’ lost love can bring us.”

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 Ben Edwards

Post-Tribune columnist Jerry Davich wrote movingly about 11-year-old Ben Edwards, whose parents died last month as a result of a murder-suicide.  Michael Watkins apparently shot his wife, jewelry maker and artist Leila Edwards, and then took his own life. Speaking with Davich at the home of his maternal grandparents Edward and Donna Edwards, Ben asked that his photo be taken with pictures of both parents.  Leila owned Wonderland Stained Glass and Ben’s Bodacious BBQ Bakery and Deli in Miller, named for her son.  He is a fifth grader at Discovery Charter School in Chesterton, where James and Becca graduated from.  Ben told Davich he likes math and science, participated in spell bowl and chess club and hopes to become an engineer. Davich wrote:

   When Watkins' restaurant opened in January, Ben helped his father, working the cash register, taking customers' orders and selling his own homemade baked goods. “Cookies, brownies, cinnamon rolls, banana bread, lots of other stuff,” Ben recalled proudly. “He's quite the little chef," Anthony Edwards said. “He enjoys baking because of the science behind it.” Ben smiled again.

    His mother was a talented stained-glass artist and jewelry maker who taught her many skills to school students, curious friends and, of course, to Ben. “My mom taught me everything she knew,” Ben said. “Or I just picked it up by watching her.”

 Viki Williams with summer "sons" Andy Shipman, Aaron Cook, and Kyle Heyne

On Jerry Davich’s website, Viki Williams share Gary memories:

  I grew up on Wabash on the dead end street. Railroad tracks behind my house and 4th Ave in front. As kids we used to go up under the overpass and write on the concrete with chalk. I often want to go there to see if anything is still there. It was protected from the weather, so who knows? Our parents always told us that bums slept there...except we never saw anyone and it didn’t scare us. We just felt they were passing through on the trains. The people who live there are still taking care of the street. I left in 1971, and our next-door neighbors are still there. The Pennsylvania Station is long gone (used to put coins on the tracks and were scared we would derail a train.) That is the part that is overgrown. We would take pieces of cardboard and slide down the hill, play baseball in the triangular section at the end of the street, and all kinds of games in the street. We would go to Popsicle Mary's, which was in the basement of the lady's house where she had a freezer and several gumball machines that she kept full of gumballs and prizes. We would go to Station 8 and have lunch with the firemen. The only one I remember was Sgt. Calloway because he would play basketball with the neighborhood kids. We would play kickball against the pieces of wood at the Gary Sign Company and not get yelled at because we did no damage. I so miss that.

Tori was in her Grand Valley school’s homecoming court, and sister Miranda, a graduate, volunteered for the dunk tank.