Walks to remember
A writer reflects on his epic treks down entire Chicago streets.
Traveling slow has taken me far. A spiderweb of orange highlighter on a beat-up Chicago map illustrates my objective: to hike all of the city’s major streets. Since 1999, I’ve walked the lengths of Milwaukee, Halsted, Archer, Grand, 63rd, Kedzie, Belmont, 79th and Western Avenue—the granddaddy of them all at 24.5 miles.
Along the way, I’ve crossed paths with characters I would’ve never met speeding by in a car. A few were jerks, like the teen who spat at me as I slid past his crew loitering outside an Englewood hoagie shop. At the Aladdin Club (3831 W 63rd St), an alcohol-free café filled with older Middle Eastern men drinking coffee and playing video poker, the owner explained, “It’s a private club, mostly for Arabian people.” I took this as his polite way of saying, “Scram, buddy.”
Others welcomed an apparent outsider. At Woodlawn’s Kozy Korner (461 E 63rd St), ex–Chicago Defender gossip columnist Cliff Pierce bought me a High Life and shared his hopeful theory that Obama’s election could turn the depressed neighborhood into a hot spot. And I’ll never forget the sight of Frank White, an affable blue-collar guy riding a beach cruiser bicycle around Back of the Yards on a frigid winter day. He stopped, asked for basic computer tips and described his experience training his pet rottweiler.
Without fail, the treks lead me to some offbeat, un-googleable attractions. One of my favorite finds: the mural of Jesus as Snoop Dogg outside Gresham’s Liberty Temple Full Gospel Church (2233 W 79th St)—a quirky masterpiece unlike anything you’ll find in a museum. And then there’s the anthropomorphic wiener statue outside Don’s Hot Dogs (7748 S Kedzie Ave) in Ashburn; draped in Old Glory, the fiberglass sausage is applying (gasp!) ketchup to his own head. One evening, the neon sign at Rainbow Motel (7050 W Archer Ave) beckoned me to spend a night of romance in one of its Pink Palace Whirlpool Fantasy Suites. Uh, perhaps next Valentine’s Day.
The excellent mom-and-pop eateries I’ve stumbled upon definitely won’t be found in the Zagat guide. When I visited Roseland’s S & E Diner (11117 S Halsted St) with a friend, civil-rights memorabilia and a Willis Tower–shaped plaque honoring the late Mayor Harold Washington hung on the walls. The young black waitress seemed wary of two Caucasian strangers, as if she suspected we were undercover cops. Despite the heaping side of stink eye, the salmon croquettes were scrumptious.
I’ve made a habit of ducking into random taverns, resulting in similar fish-out-of-water experiences. Inside Foremost Liquors (3210 N Cicero Ave) in Cragin, I tipped back an MGD with a roomful of shabby men from a nearby SRO. On Polish Constitution Day, I stopped for an Okocim at the Polish Highlanders of America club (4808 S Archer Ave). I couldn’t stop staring at the older gentleman next to me who spoke no English, wearing a vest and white leggings. “It’s old-school, traditional Highlander gear,” explained a young guy with a Dr. Seuss–like top hat emblazoned with the Polish eagle. “It’s kind of like what mariachi is to a Mexican.”
After more than two decades in Chicago, whenever my feet get itchy, I just pull out that old map, look at the spaces among the orange lines, and wonder which street’s next. Hmm—maybe Pulaski?
Read about Greenfield’s epic walks on his blog, votewithyourfeetchicago.blogspot.com.
