y dad was a great
storyteller. Even though
he was a little shy with
strangers, he loved to spin a good yarn from time to time with his family. His best tales were stories about Chicago.
He moved there in the 1960s, which must have been a fascinating decade to be in any big American city, but particularly Chicago. The Blackhawks were in the Stanley Cup finals twice (and lost both times to different Canadian teams). Richard J. Daley won two new terms as Mayor, and The Machine was in its prime. The 1968 Democratic National Convention put Chicago on infamous center stage during a year of protest and civil unrest throughout the nation.
During this tumultuous era, my father worked in downtown Chicago and pursued a business degree at DePaul University at night. He was in his 20s, with the boundless energy and gusto for life that we have in that decade of our lives.
He loved all the hustle and opportunity of the city and spent some of his free time on Rush Street. Dad claimed to know Joey Meyer (son of Blue Demons basketball coach Ray Meyer who would also coach the team) and ‘Ritchie’ M. Daley, who followed in his own father’s footsteps as a multi-term mayor through the 1990s.
But my favorite story from that time was how he came into his chili recipe.
M