What should we desire from our fiction? Deep and thoughtful prose that expands our vocabulary and contemporary vernacular? Elaborate plots with twists and turns through the myriad of human actions, reactions and interactions? A keen sense of place and time? Life affirming one-liners? Drama? Comedy? Absurdity? Obviously, there is no one answer to what gives life to great fiction. The definition is as varied as the minds that create it.
In our city, that includes Algren, Wright, Cisernos, Bellows…the list goes on. Great fiction is generally believed to be heavy, as any reader of Native Son can tell you. But what Michael Czyzniejewski does with Chicago Stories: 40 Dramatic Fictions is simplify interesting narratives and bridge gaps between separate worlds and time-periods that exist within the same Chicagoland boundary.
The forty stories range from a paragraph to three pages maximum, often accompanied by a sketch of the protagonist (illustrations by Rob Funderbunk). The first story is already loaded with historical references: “Mrs. O’Leary’s Ghost Comforts Steve Bartman at the Ruins of Meigs Field,” in which the infamous farmer reminds the infamous fan that there is always a chance to start over, that “that cow never gave much milk anyway,” while providing mythological examples along the way. Not only does Czyzniejewski create delightfully absurd titles, but he follows through in his brief chapters.
There is never any dialogue, even when multiple people are cited in the titles, but it helps to imagine the multiple personalities transcending space and time to relate to each other. Take for instance Sister Carrie Facebooking Frankie Machine or Soldier Field responding to its critics after all of the spaceship comparisons. Two chapters rarely relate to another, but one about the history of the Ferris Wheel is followed by Pat Sajak explaining the existential significance of his Wheel of Fortune. But outside of that, what’s impressive of the book is how varied each chapter is from one another. Sometimes you can hear the narrator’s voice in your head, like Blagojevich’s colorful language or Dennis Rodman envisioning his final tattoo. Sometimes you have to anthropomorphize objects, like the 16-inch softball giving advice to an Italian Beef sandwich. Sometimes you laugh (“Ann Landers Advises Against the Use of Twitter”). Sometimes you think (“The Water Tower Suffers Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder”). Sometimes you find a Chicago connection you didn’t know existed (“David Hasselhoff Enlists as an Organ Donor”).
Overall the book remains playful, but never becomes dull. The format makes it easy to pick up and put down during your commute, but it’s so smooth to read that you can take it in all in one afternoon. The references cover all areas of our city’s history — politics, sports, crime, music, science, and more — juxtaposing national celebrities (Roger Ebert on a date with Oprah, Gil Scott-Heron leaving a voicemail for R. Kelly) with more obscure local references (Ray Kroc, David Yow, Skip Dillard). Naturally, there is much omitted. But the lack of Frank Lloyd Wright, Charlie Trotter, Jerry Springer, John Dillinger, and Chess Records references promise (hopefully) another forty stories in the future.
John Hughes may have been born in Lansing, Michigan, but he is a Chicagoan at heart. Where’s the proof? In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Breakfast Club, Home Alone, Sixteen Candles, Planes Trains and Automobiles, Pretty in Pink, and Uncle Buck. Hughes moved to Northbrook, Illinois when he was 12 years old, and if he hadn’t, some of the classic movies of the 80s and 90s would not be what they are today.
Hughes certainly had a talent for scripting some of the most memorable characters. Whether it was a kid ditching school for the day, a group of students in Saturday detention or a young boy left at home by accident and forced to defend himself when burglars try to rob his house, Hughes’ characters are relatable. Okay, maybe the last one isn’t as relatable as the others, but the majority of Hughes characters depict a person we Chicagoans have encountered at some point in our lives. Hughes used his experience of growing up in a suburb of Chicago to capture the essence of the people and the city itself.
There is no denying the Chicago influence in the majority of Hughes films. He filmed The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles at several different high schools in the northern suburbs including Maine North in Des Plaines, New Trier in Winnetka, and Niles East in Skokie, and his alma mater, Glenbrook High School.
The Breakfast Club is set in a fictional town called Shermer, Illinois named after the street address of Glenbrook High School. The 90s classic, Home Alone, was filmed primarily in Winnetka, as well as in Evanston, Oak Park, Wilmette — not to mention that famous scene in O’Hare Airport. The “Home Alone House” is currently (Summer 2011) for sale for an asking price of 2.4 million dollars. Uncle Buck, starring John Candy and Macaulay Culkin, was filmed all over the Chicagoland area and surrounding suburbs. His comedy Planes, Trains and Automobiles was set to be filmed in Kankakee, but a lack of snow forced production to New York.
No movie captures Hughes’ love for Chicago like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. In fact, Hughes once said this movie was his “love letter to the city.” He wanted to capture what Chicago really was and what better way to do that than to ditch a day of high school and explore. Not all of the scenes were filmed in the city itself, though. The scenes filmed in the suburbs alternated between Winnetka, Northbrook, Oak Park, River Forest, and Lake Forest. Hughes also used footage of Glenbrook North for the interior shots of the high school, and the majority of the extras in the film were actual high school students.
Other famous locations seen throughout the film are The Sears (ok, Willis) Tower, Wrigley Field, The Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago Board of Trade, Ben Rose Auto Museum, various streets in the Loop including Dearborn and Adams, and the Chicago Mercantile Exchange on 30 S. Wacker Drive.
Hughes was often criticized for favoring the Windy City, but he didn’t let it deter him. He wanted to portray Chicago in a way that showed audiences what the city had to offer. After leaving Hollywood, Hughes moved back to Chicago with his family. While on vacation in New York in 2009, Hughes died suddenly from a heart attack. He was laid to rest in the city he knew and loved.
In 1975, the comedy scene exploded with the premiere of Saturday Night Live, where comedians performed live with musical acts, parodies, and sketch comedy. The original cast of Saturday Night Live was arguably one of the funniest casts in history, and who was on the main stage every Saturday night but Chicago’s own John Belushi.
Belushi was born in Wheaton, Illinois in 1949. His childhood was almost a movie script. He attended Wheaton Central High school, started on the football team, acted in a variety show, and was nominated homecoming King his senior year. He even met his future wife, Judy Jacklin, while in high school. After graduation, John enrolled at University of Wisconsin at Whitewater but later dropped out and moved back home. Once back in Wheaton, he enrolled in the College of DuPage and decided to pursue his acting career. In 1971 he officially joined the famous Second City in Chicago, performing six nights a week. With the knowledge and experience gained at the famous comedy club, John moved to New York to perform in The National Lampoon Radio Hour. Here, he performed with future SNL cast members like Gilda Radner and Chevy Chase.
Belushi’s big break finally arrived in 1975 when he joined the original cast of Saturday Night Live, catapulting him into national fame. However, it was in 1978 that Belushi became the poster child for the college “frat” life with his performance in Animal House. After leaving SNL, Belushi decided to focus solely on his film career. In 1980, Belushi returned home to Chicago, alongside former SNL castmate Dan Aykryod, to create The Blues Brothers. His performance in the film only strengthened both Belushi’s acting and music career.
However, it was only two short years after the release of The Blues Brothers that Belushi was found dead in his hotel room. On March 5, 1982, Belushi died due to a lethal combination of cocaine and heroin. Months after his death, Cathy Smith, a well known groupie and drug dealer at the time, admitted that she was the one who administered the lethal dose to Belushi. She served 15 months in prison for involuntary manslaughter. Belushi’s friends, fellow actors, and fans grieved for the loss of one of the most talented comedians of their generation. He was laid to rest in Massachusetts, but his family in Wheaton paid tribute to his memory by marking a gravestone in River Grove, Illinois that reads “He gave us laughter.”
Last summer, on a 90 something degree day, I was at the Jamba Juice on State Street waiting for my smoothie with about 15 other people. It was crowded, hot, and people were growing impatient. The young man at the register had to have been in high school and was a bit flustered with the orders. He finally finished making one of the smoothies and shouted “Peter.” No one moved. He looked back at the receipt and shouted even louder “Peter? Peter Venkman?” A couple people laughed when the man next to me stepped forward to claim his smoothie. I was a bit disappointed the teen behind the counter didn’t get the reference; the customer was even wearing a Caddyshack t-shirt. The man turned and I gave him an all knowing nod. He nodded back and I like to think we were both in on the secret, the secret of honoring one of the most hilarious, most bad ass Chicagoan of our time: Bill Murray.
Bill’s early years sound a lot like some of the kids I know from Wilmette, Illinois. Born into a large Irish-Catholic family, he attended Loyola Academy, and took a high school job as a Caddy. Bill needed the job to pay part of his tuition at Loyola Academy due to his father’s death when he was just 17 years old. He graduated from Loyola with plans to attend Regis University in Colorado. Instead of leaving with a degree, he left with a record of marijuana possession and returned to the Windy City after dropping out during his sophomore year.
He began studying at Second City and eventually decided to pursue comedy as a career, moving to New York and snagging a job on the National Lampoon Radio Hour. His coworkers were future comedy all-stars like Gilda Radner, John Belushi, and Dan Aykroyd. After National Lampoon Radio Hour, Radner, Belushi, and Aykroyd went on to star in the first season of Saturday Night Live, while Murray joined “Saturday Night with Howard Cosell.” It wasn’t until the show failed that Murray was reunited with his buddies at SNL. He later went on to star in classics like Ghostbusters, Caddyshack,What About Bob, and Groundhog Day. Later on in his career, his roles evolved from more lighthearted to darker comedies like Lost in Translation and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.
It’s safe to say Bill Murray is unlike anyone else in showbiz. He doesn’t have an agent or a manager, and has people call an 800 number if they want him to read a script. That is, an 800 number he “may or may not check.” Outside of acting, Bill was married twice and has six sons. Murray loves golfing and actually wrote a book entitled “Cinderalla Story: My life in Golf.” He also owns several Caddyshack restaurants in Florida with his brother.
Even though he no longer lives in the Windy City, Murray never lost his love for the Chicago, especially local sports. He’s a die-hard Chicago Cubs fan and has made numerous appearances at both home and away games. Bill graciously volunteered to fill in for Harry Caray after the announcer’s stroke in 1987, and continues to stand by the lovable losers even after years and years of heartbreak. In a special appearance at SNL after the Cubs lost the Division in 2008, Murray appeared as a concerned citizen in a mock debate between Obama, played by Fred Armisen, and McCain, played by Darryl Hammond. His question (of course, a very important one to us Chicagoans), was: “Last week, in the National League divisional playoffs, the Chicago Cubs faced the Los Angeles Dodgers. In Game 1; the Cubs lost 7-3. In Game 2, they lost 10-3 and in Game 3, 3-1. What, as president, would you do to guarantee that this never happens again? Senators, in your answers, please be specific.” The opposing Senators finally agreed on one thing: the Cubs will never win the Series, to which Murray hung his head in defeat.
While he originally denied involvement, rumor has it that Murray will make one more appearance as Dr. Peter Venkman in Ghostbuster III. Hopefully now, the kid at Jamba Juice will watch it and understand the greatness that is Bill Murray.
The year was 1996. I remember it was pouring out — thick molasses drops of rain. My mother was driving me home from a floor hockey game at Dunham Park. Oldies 104.3 was playing commercials, so I spun the dial around looking for some music. I landed on 101.1 and my life was changed forever. That sounds overly dramatic, but it couldn’t be more true. A swirling acoustic-guitar riff came melting out of the speakers, church bells clanging and violins swelling to a kind of sad crescendo. I was hooked. This nasally whisper-screech was crooning desperate lyrics that sounded as if they’d been written during the last moments of a life. When the song ended I eagerly waited for the DJ to name the artist. As soon as I heard the words, “Smashing Pumpkins,” I began pleading with my mom to take me to the record store.
She’s a good woman, my mom, and seeing the weird and immediate attachment that took place was enough to convince her to turn the car around. At that point in my life I was listening pretty exclusively to The Beatles, The Kinks and Buddy Holly. The newest music I’d ever voluntarily put on were her Michael Jackson and Gloria Estefan records; a little behind the times for sure. We pulled into a spot at Rolling Stones Records on Harlem and I raced inside toward the “S” section. I was greeted by two albums, Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. It was a hard sell, but I convinced my mom to splurge on Mellon Collie. The double-album was twice the price of Siamese, but in my head that just meant twice the number of songs. Math is easy when you don’t have a job.
The song I heard on the radio that day was, of course, “Disarm”, which isn’t on the record I chose. I wasn’t the least bit disappointed. A fifteen-year (and still going strong) love affair was born that night.
***
The Smashing Pumpkins were formed in 1988 by lead singer and guitarist Billy Corgan, guitarist James Iha and bassist D’arcy Wretzky. The group started off as a shoegazey three piece with a drum machine, mixing influences like Cheap Trick, The Cure, New Order and Black Sabbath into a goth-rock stew with tight, pop sensibilities. If that sounds like a mess, it’s because early on it was. At a time when most other Chicago bands were taking their cues from ’80s punk records, the Pumpkins never quite fit into the local music scene. Their first break came after a gig at The Avalon. The band was approached by Cabaret Metro owner Joe Shanahan, to whom the band had previously sent demo tapes. Shanahan agreed to book the band providing they replace their drum machine with an actual human being.
A friend of Corgan’s recommended local jazz drummer Jimmy Chamberlin. About four weeks before their initial Metro gig, Chamberlin met the band for rehearsals and immediately had Corgan wondering what he’d gotten himself into. In the documentary Graceful Swans of Never, Corgan recalls the meeting: “He showed up, he was wearing a pink t-shirt, stone-washed jeans, he had a mullet and was driving a 280z and had yellow drums. We were sorta looking each other in the eye thinking, ‘This ain’t gonna happen. This is not the guy.’ He learned all our songs off the top off his head. Within one practice we were ready to play.” Chamberlin not only learned all of the Pumpkins songs, but he completely changed their sound. Corgan would later tell Chicago rock critic Greg Kot that while he and Iha “were completely into the sad-rock, Cure kind of thing,” it only took “about two or three practices before I realized that the power in his playing was something that enabled us to rock harder than we could ever have imagined.”
After putting out a few well received singles on Chicago label Limited Potential and Seattle’s renowned Sub Pop, the band signed to Caroline Records and enlisted the legendary Butch Vig to produce their first full-length album, 1991’s Gish. Led by the drowsy single “Rhinocerous”, Gish was fairly well received by critics, earning the band comparisons to another psychedelic-metal mashup, Jane’s Addiction.
The ensuing tour took it’s toll on the band. While they were opening for acts like The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Guns ‘n Roses and Jane’s Addiction, D’arcy was going through a messy breakup, Chamberlin became dependent on drugs and alcohol and Corgan battled depression and writer’s block. The alt-rock explosion of the early ’90s led to the band being signed by Virgin Records, with high exceptions. In an interview on MTV’s 120 Minutes, Corgan remarked, “We’ve graduated now from [being called] ‘the next Jane’s Addiction’ to ‘the next Nirvana.'” Admittedly depressed to the point of contemplating suicide, Billy began to write constantly to channel his frustration. The band reunited with Vig in December of 1992 to begin work on a new album, Siamese Dream.
The album was recorded at Triclops Sound Studios in Atlanta, Georgia, partly in an attempt to cut Chamberlin off from his drug connections. The fact that Corgan insisted on recording everything but the drums for the record let to constant arguing with D’arcy and Iha, which forced Vig to play producer and mediator. Siamese Dream was a considerably heavier record that its predecessor, making use of the grunge-era’s fuzzy guitar riffs and tossing a little prog-rock into the stew. The album eventually debuted at #10 on the Billboard charts due to the massive success of it’s singles, “Cherub Rock”, “Today” and the aforementioned “Disarm.” The Smashing Pumpkins toured aggressively to promote the album, scoring headlining slots on the 1994 Lollapalooza Tour and the Reading Festival, as well as releasing a b-sides compilation, Pisces Iscariot, and a video featuring live performances and behind-the-scenes footage, titled Vieuphoria.
Rather than take a break, the band immediately began writing new material for a follow-up album, penning almost sixty new songs. The result, this time produced by Alan Moulder and Flood, was the double-album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. Corgan described the record as “The Wall for Generation X.” The band’s label wasn’t pleased with the idea of a double-album, fearing that it was too early in their career for such an endeavor. When word began to leak that the band was releasing a 28-track record, the common thought among critics was that it was a sign of overindulgence and a lack of editing. Corgan says that “Mellon Collie became this kind of cause by which we were going to truly separate ourselves from everybody. Not just say, ‘hey, we’re our own band,’ but completely obliterate any thought or idea that anyone else was even in our league.”
Opening with a soft piano and strings instrumental, Mellon Collie was an immediate departure from previous work. Corgan’s songwriting was more nuanced and mature than it ever had been, allowing him to bounce back and forth between songs like the orchestra-backed ballad “Tonight, Tonight” and metal bulldozers like “Tales of a Scorched Earth.” Time called the album, whose songs were arranged to represent a life cycle, “the group’s most ambitious and accomplished work.” Going 9-times platinum and earning the band 7 Grammy nominations, Mellon Collie became the best-selling double album of the decade. The record spawned 5 singles — “Bullet With Butterfly Wings”, “1979”, “Zero”, “Tonight, Tonight” and “Thirty-Three” — as well as a box-set featuring more songs from those recording sessions, titled The Aeroplane Flies High. Originally released as a limited-edition offering with a run of 200,000 copies, Aeroplane sold out quickly, forcing Virgin to produce even more.
The Smashing Pumpkins seemed to be riding high by 1996, making an appearance on The Simpsons and embarking on a massive world tour. Things took a turn for the worse during a gig at The Point Theater in Dublin, Ireland when, despite pleas from the band for the crowd to stop moshing, a 17-year old fan was crushed to death. The show ended early and a performance the next night in Belfast was canceled as a result. Two months later, on July 11th, touring keyboardist Johnathan Melvoin and Jimmy Chamberlin overdosed on heroin in a New York City hotel room. Melvoin died and Chamerlin was arrested for possession. The band announced that Jimmy had been fired as a result of the incident. The Pumpkins have since been on record saying that the decision to continue the tour was the biggest mistake of their career.
With the band’s lineup and attitude changing, the Pumpkins began work on their 4th full-length record, Adore. The album would feature few guitar-based songs and relied heavily on electronic instruments. James Iha told Guitar World magazine after the Mellon Collie tour that “the future is in electronic music. It really seems boring just to play rock.” The loss of Chamberlin, the death of Corgan’s mother and his pending divorce all played heavily into the texture of the album. Despite the fact that Adore was well received by critics, even winning a Grammy for Best Alternative Performance, it only sold 830,000 copies in the States (though it sold roughly three times that overseas). Billy, James and D’arcy put together a seventeen-date, fifteen-city North American tour in support of Adore, donating 100 percent of ticket sales to local charities. By the end of the tour The Smashing Pumpkins had raised roughly $2.8 million for various groups across the country.
Tension continued to build among the remaining band members, mostly over the fact that they hadn’t taken a break to process and deal with the loss of Chamberlin. In a documentary about the making of the record, D’arcy remembers going over the initial recording schedule. “We were gonna go in, we were gonna record this album in six weeks. We were gonna work four days a week. We were gonna work six hour days. Yeah, yeah I was laughing too when I heard that. Oh, and we weren’t gonna tour on the album either.” Corgan played the role of strict task master, often resulting in blowups between he and his bass player. By the end of 1998 things were coming to a head.
The Pumpkins attempted to bounce back in 1999, announcing a reunion with a now-clean Jimmy Chamberlin, a new tour, a new album and the promise of a return to rock. The “Arising!” tour featured the band playing a combination of classic material and songs from the forthcoming Machina/The Machines of God. The tour wound down in September of that year, and at it’s end it was announced that D’arcy was leaving the band. The Smashing Pumpkins, as constituted, had run their course. Machina’s two singles, “The Everlasting Gaze” and “Stand Inside Your Love” had been garnering the band it’s most praise since the mid-’90s, though album sales were still relatively low. Since Virgin had rejected Corgan’s plan to release another double album after Adore, and then subsequently refused to issue a second Machina record, Corgan formed his own label, Constantinople Records, and pressed 25 vinyl copies of Machina II/ The Friends and Enemies of Modern Music. Those copies were distributed mostly to friends of the band, along with instructions to release the material for free via the internet. One of that album’s singles, “Let Me Give the World to You,” managed to get a decent amount of local airplay despite the less than studio quality of the initial rips. The A.V. Club called the album “an artistic high” for the band and Pitchfork noted that the band seemed at “energized and at a creative peak.”
The Pumpkins ended their farewell tour in Chicago with two shows, one stadium gala at the United Center and a 4+ hour marathon at the Cabaret Metro with appearances by Matt Walker, Bill Corgan Sr., Linda Strawberry, Rick Nielson of Cheap Trick and long-time friends The Frogs. Hours before the show local rock radio station Q101 debuted one last single from the band, Untitled.
The years following the band’s initial break-up were filled with a multitude of short-lived projects. Billy and Jimmy reunited in 2001 as a part of Zwan, only releasing one album, Mary Star of the Sea, before disbanding. Corgan toured as a part of New Order, providing vocals on their album Get Ready, and played on Chamberlin’s solo record, The Jimmy Chamberlin Complex. Billy also recorded a modestly received solo record, TheFutureEmbrace, and penned a book of poetry, Blinking With Fists. James Iha joined and toured with A Perfect Circle, while D’arcy all but disappeared from public life, only making the news when she was arrested in early 2000 for allegedly purchasing three bags of crack cocaine.
In 2005, after Zwan’s break-up, Billy Corgan took out full-page ads in the Chicago Tribune and the Chicago Sun-Times, announcing “I have walked around with a secret, a secret I chose to keep. But now I want you to be among the first to know that I have made plans to renew and revive the Smashing Pumpkins. I want my band back, and my songs, and my dreams.” Chamberlin signed on, though Iha and Wretzky declined the invitation. Guitarist Jeff Schroeder and bassist Ginger Pooley joined the band, which recorded an album of new material, Zeitgeist. Released by Reprise Records in 2006, it entered the Billboard charts at #1. The album, made up of tight, radio-friendly rock songs, received mixed reviews. The slightly over-produced effort was followed up by the release of American Gothic, an EP of thin acoustic ballads. Having fulfilled their contract with Reprise, The Pumpkins met the changing landscape of the music business head on, releasing several tracks for free online. In an attempt to work out new material, the group booked extended residences at The Filmore in San Francisco and The Orange Peel in Asheville, NC, footage of which would make up the 2008 documentary/performance film If All Goes Wrong.
If you’ve read this far you’ve probably guessed that something else was about to go wrong. In March of 2009 Corgan announced on the band’s website that Chamberlin had left the group. In a weird twist, Jimmy was replaced by the 19-year old Mike Byrne, a long-time Pumpkins fan who auditioned against hundreds of other drummers. Shortly thereafter it was announced that Ginger would be leaving the group, replaced by bassist Nicole Fiorentino. The newly constructed band has taken on the ominous task of recording The Pumpkins’ eighth album: a 44-song collection entitledTeargarden by Kaleidyscope, to be released for free, one track at a time, on www.smashingpumpkins.com. (As of March 2011, nine songs have been released.) Shows from the subsequent world tour have featured material dating from as far back as Gish, as well as songs slated for future release. Schroeder and Byrne have expressed interest in staying with the Pumpkins for the foreseeable future, and both are involved in the recording of new Teargarden material.
***
The Smashing Pumpkins, now approaching 25 years of rock, stupidity, bombast, fun, mayhem and excellence, are firing on all cylinders. It would be easy to knock Billy Corgan as alternative rock’s Axl Rose, to dismiss this incarnation of the Pumpkins as a fraud, but if you close your eyes and forget the endless drama and just focus on the music, he’s still got it. The songs are tighter now than they have been since Adore, more diverse than they have been since Mellon Collie, and though the new concept album, all 44 songs of it, seems entirely bloated, it’s pretty fucking good. Do I believe that all of it will see the light of day? Hell no. I could write another article about all of Corgan’s abandoned projects. But I won’t. I’m more interested in the ones he finished. And the ones he’s still working on.
Some call them power-pop. Others emo. They were even dubbed the “eyelinered iteration of angry-boys-with-guitars” by Entertainment Weekly early in their career. Whatever you call them and wherever your sentiments lie, there’s no denying Fall Out Boy’s status as the Windy City’s token rock n’ roll punk boys.
The band of four was conceived in 2001 in suburban Wilmette, less then 15 miles north of Chicago. All four members had previously been involved in the area’s underground rock scene, and their early success was in large part due to their ability to maintain that tongue-in-cheek style while developing a mainstream sound record companies would be willing to market. And, of course, their popularity grew quickly in part due to colorful bassist/front man Pete Wentz. I, for one, remember the TRL episode (April 9, 2008) when Ashlee confirmed she was indeed engaged to Pete. I flipped.
One interesting bit about the band is the origin of their name. They played without a name for a few shows before soliciting the audience one night for suggestions. Their favorite? Simpsons fans recognize it as an ode to Radioactive Man’s sidekick Fallout Boy.
Once they chose a name, their rapid climb to success had begun. They self-released a demo in 2001 and a year later they pushed an EP with the Uprising label entitled Fall Out Boy/Project Rocket Split EP. The band remained with Uprising Records until the release of their first studio album in 2003.
Evening with your Girlfriend featured the band in its yet-to-be-polished sound, but it did well enough to have Island Records execs knocking at their door. The major label assisted in the recording expense of their next album in 2003, Take This to Your Grave. This second record showcased their transformation from a raw punk sound to grounded, more mature pop rock, launching Fall Out Boy from underground popularity to national fame. The 2003 album, featuring the singles “Dead on Arrival” and “Saturday,” shot into the top 20 on Billboard’s Independent Albums chart in early 2004.
They had become a rock gem — just as popular on stage as in the studio. To capitalize on this on-stage adoration, they released an acoustic EP My Heart Will Always Be the B-Side to My Tongue in 2004. The move paid off. The release was the band’s first of many appearances on the Billboard Pop Albums chart.
Fall Out Boy rode this success through a heavy tour schedule the next year, and, right on point, they released their third album (and first one to go double platinum) From Under the Cork Tree in the spring of 2005. The top-ten release introduced their newly-polished power tempo in songs like “Dance, Dance,” and “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down.” And two years later came their most successful album Infinity on High that included the #1 single “This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race” and the overly lip-synched “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs.” Chicago’s inebriated karaoke scene would like to thank the band for that beautiful go-to.
Fast forward to December 2008. Out came album number five, Folie a Deux, which featured an alternative sound inspired by the boys’ emo roots. The new twist to their sound left some fans disgruntled, but the majority of Fall Out Boy lovers were welcome to the arguably more sophisticated, lyric-driven songs. The album reached number 8 on the Billboard 2000, thwarting any rumors that the band was on the verge of a break-up. Temporarily.
At only age eight, they — prematurely? — released a greatest hits album Believers Never Die in late 2009. Three days later they announced an indefinite break. In a November 2009 MTV interview front man Pete Wentz said if Fall Out Boy didn’t take a break they would “imminently implode.” But he was quick to contradict the media’s use of “hiatus,” saying that “hiatus… has gotten a dirty name.”
But Fall Out Boy fans can rest assured the band will probably re-unite. Wentz tweeted to calm down fans on November 8, 2009, “Dear wikipedia… fall out boy is not on ‘indefinite hiatus.” Front men never lie.
Hopefully they’ll again show that loaded gun complex; cock it and pull it. If not, thanks for the memories.
I often wonder if the man who recorded all of the CTA announcements was compensated properly for rattling off, “This is Library — State and Van Buren. Doors open on the right at Library — State and Van Buren.” It’s a mouthful. And, due to a recent vote by the CTA board, I’m hoping Mr. CTA Voice is paid by the word. But now, as you don your messenger bag and gather your RedEye you’ll hear, “This is Harold Washington Library — State and Van Buren.”
Most Chicagoans have heard of Harold Washington, but some newbies or youngin’s might wonder what he did to warrant making the name of this stop longer than the last name of that Russian ballet dancer I dated in my late teens.
Harold Washington’s most well-known achievement was becoming the first black mayor to the city of Chicago in 1983. Not only was his victory a first, but the campaign itself was an activist effort, registering more than 100,000 new African American voters. The rhetoric is similar to that surrounding the Obama election: Washington inspired voters who had previously felt excluded from the electoral process, and built his campaign on their renewed enthusiasm. Once taking the primary for the Democrats, new challenges arose. In a city so heavily Democratic, usually the Democratic primary winner easily takes the run for mayor. Yet many white Democratic voters vowed to vote Republican, not willing to vote for a black candidate.
Still, on April 12th of 1983, Harold Washington succeeded Mayor Jane Byrne. And a city was changed.
Washington created the city’s first environmental affairs department. He tried appointing progressive nominees in various departments, but a 29-21 City Council majority wouldn’t approve his reform legislation. The stand-offs between Mayor Washington and the City Council were called the “Council Wars” — a nod to the then-popular Star Wars films. Many political scientists and historians point to racial polarization as the cause for the disagreements. Major issues the mayor attempted to address during his term were lower numbers in city population, a decreased use of the CTA, and a spike in crime levels.
Before he was mayor, Washington was a student and an activist. Washington was one of the first students enrolled at Roosevelt College (now Roosevelt University), a school founded on granting access to higher education to minority groups. At the university, he chaired many fund-raising efforts and served on a committee that worked to outlaw covenants that legally barred certain minorities from purchasing real estate in white neighborhoods. He was student council president, where he petitioned to have student representation, via the student council, on the faculty committee, so students were actively engaged in decision-making that would ultimately affect their education. His approach to activism was subtle, avoiding more extreme tactics like sit-ins, working from inside the system. After his undergraduate education at Roosevelt, Washington went on to Northwestern University School of Law, the only black student in his class. After law school, Washington served in the Illinois House (1965-1976), the Illinois Senate (1976-1980), and the U.S. House (1980-1983). During his time in the Illinois Senate, he worked to pass the Human Rights Act of 1970.
On November 25th, 1987, while at work at his mayoral office in City Hall, Washington fell unconscious at his desk, and his staff called paramedics. He was pronounced dead later that afternoon. While foul play was alleged, it was eventually determined that Washington had died of a heart attack, with a medical history of hypertension, high cholesterol, and obesity.
Since his death, several Chicago institutions have come to bear his name: Harold Washington College, Harold Washington Cultural Center at 4701 S. King Drive, and The Harold Washington Library Center at 400 South State Street. Now, the brown line stop serving the library will tack his name onto its title. Twenty-three years after his death, and our city is still trying to find ways to honor this man. I think that says something about his character, and his impact. So, the next time you find yourself bumbling about downtown on a day off, duck into the Harold Washington Library and do some digging of your own. The man’s life story is fascinating. Below are some books to check out. Heck, you might even get through an entire chapter in the amount of time it takes Mr. CTA Voice to announce the new name of Harold’s L stop.
Books on Harold Washington:
–Pierre Claval and Wim Wievel’s Harold Washington and the Neighborhoods: Progressive City Government in Chicago
–Antonio Dickey and Marc PoKempner’s Harold!
–Hamlish Levinsohn’s Harold Washington: A Political Biography
–Alton Miller’s Harold Washington: The Mayor, The Man
–Gary Rivlin’s Fire on the Prairie: Chicago’s Harold Washington and the Politics of Race
–Naurice Roberts’ Harold Washington: Mayor with a Vision
–Henry J. Young’s The Black Church and the Harold Washington Story: The Man, The Message, The Movement
Photo Credit:Hibino
When was the last time you had enough clout to name a house? Most people have barely enough confidence to name their price when they haggle. You may have heard of Falling Water, but what about Graycliff, Wingspread, and Eaglefeather? Percy Bysshe Shelley couldn’t have gotten away with names like those, and he was writing odes to birds and the wind. Frank Lloyd Wright was an architectural magician, designing over four hundred houses, apartments, pavilions, churches, and business structures in a career spanning over fifty years. Wright didn’t sketch the same forms over and over again. His houses don’t look like the hand-in-hand paper doll chains of repetition you find on suburban streets across America today. He let his convictions on design and his previous works inspire his current piece, so his craft was always evolving. Frank Lloyd Wright is one of the great American architects, and he established his first independent firm right around the corner in Oak Park, the first suburb to the West of Chicago.
The largest collection of Wright’s works can be found scattered around Illinois, most dense in the greater Chicago area. Take a stroll through Oak Park and you can still see Wright’s works, many of which are now private residences. Particularly full roads include Chicago, Forest, Fair Oaks, and Euclid. Wright’s own residence, named the Frank Lloyd Wright House — he wasn’t quite a big enough rock star yet to name it something insane like he would with his future works — still stands at 428 Forest Avenue in Oak Park. It looks almost normal, like it could have been conceived by a regular mortal. Wright would soon break away from the pack. His philosophy was one of organic design. He thought a structure should fit into the environment in which it’s placed, that buildings should not stick out like a blemish but instead be integrated into the greater design of nature. This is what pushed Wright’s work into what came to be known as the Prairie school of architecture.
Wright’s Prairie homes are perhaps his most well-known and are defined by their use of multiple levels of horizontal structures, overhanging roofs, asymmetry and secluded entrances and living spaces. Falling Water employs this structure, and the Robie House in Hyde Park is one of the strongest examples of this style. The Robie House still offers tours, and many more Prairie style houses can be seen around the city and our suburbs. There were other architects in the Prairie school but none as well known as Wright. Want proof? Here are some names of other Prairie school architects: John S. Van Bergen, Marion Mahoney Griffin, William Gray Purcell, Henry John Klutho. Recognize any of them? Of course you don’t. None of them were mad scientists or maniacs like Wright. Another by-product of Wright’s obsession with organic design was his penchant for designing the interior as well as the exterior of his houses. That sounds innocent enough, but it wasn’t just the design of interior space and walls; Wright would actually design and build the furniture, light fixtures, and windows so that they fit with the rest of the house. Basically, Frank Lloyd Wright could not allow his beautifully shaped homes to be ruined when you filled them with your tacky garbage. Everything involved in the structure had to work together, and no ignoramus homeowner was going to spoil that.
Anyone familiar with Pink Floyd knows that it’s nearly pointless to listen to only one of their songs. Their music is best consumed in whole albums at a time; melodies and themes come back, weaving in and out of the tracks, evolving the record as a whole. Frank Lloyd Wright’s body of work is similar. Sure, each house of his shows inspiration, but look across his career timeline and you find something more satisfying. Every house he built grew organically from what he had already learned. When something worked he would incorporate it into future homes. This is why you can identify a work as belonging to Wright but not become bored by his pieces. Each is unique but clearly belongs to the same record. They want each other. The elements are cohesive from the beginning of his career to the end, and luckily for us, much of his album can be listened to in the comfort of our Chicago neighborhoods.
Visit http://gowright.org/ for more information on visiting Frank Lloyd Wright buildings. Frank Lloyd Wright furniture is also on display in the Chicago History Museum.
The lights are off in the apartment. He sits at the edge of his bed brooding, a soft glow from the streetlights on Southport peeking in through the shades. He had just recorded a rough version of his song “Crush”, and was listening to the tape “thinking, I actually can do this, there is something here, you know?”
You can call him a musician, a poet, a celebrity, an asshole — he has been all of those things through the course of his career — but more than anything you have to call him driven. Thirty years after sitting in that apartment next door to the Music Box, Chicagoan William Patrick Corgan, Jr. is still recording and releasing music with his band, The Smashing Pumpkins.
Billy’s rise to fame was typical of a lot of the alternative rock stars with whom he shared the stage in the early 90s: a troubled childhood, awkward teens, an outlet in music, indie-label success, an impressive major label debut, band in-fighting, drugs, drama and money. For as much critical and sales success as the band had with albums like Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, the Smashing Pumpkins eventually collapsed under their own weight. After ten years of recording and touring, egos got out of control and goals began to differ. With two Grammys and millions in record sales behind them, the band ended their story with a four-and-a-half hour, 36 song aural assault/farewell show at the Metro and called it quits.
So then what? Billy did what front-men do — he started a new band, Zwan, he recorded a solo album (TheFutureEmbrace), did soundtrack work for films, and released a book of poetry (Blinking With Fists). But it was never quite the same. Zwan imploded in a way that seemed to mirror the demise of the Pumpkins: drugs, disagreements on how much time needed to be spent in the studio, and a clash of too many different personalities. Corgan is nothing if not a perfectionist and a workaholic, and that attitude didn’t sit well with his new crew of laid-back indie-rock stars. “It’s hard when one of your guitar players thinks he can get out of bed at one, smoke a joint and then fuck the tour manager’s girlfriend before laying down his part.”
In 2005 Corgan took out a full page ad in the Chicago Tribune titled “A Message to Chicago from Billy Corgan” in which he declared “I want my band back.” Former Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlin signed back on and the band was reborn, releasing Zeitgeist and headlining the Live Earth festival in 2007. Chamberlin has since left the group, and after a shuffle of bass players the current line-up has been touring the US, Japan and Europe, writing new songs and recording new albums.
At a show in Grand Rapids in July of 2010, Corgan admitted onstage to being “happier than he’s been in years, but a little pissed off too. And you all know we’re a better band when we’re a little pissed off.” For someone who lacks an imposing frame (he bears a striking resemblance to Jack Skellington from Tim Burton’s A Nightmare Before Christmas) and doesn’t come off like a beer-swilling, UFC-watching macho man, Corgan walks through life with a Chicago-swagger, that Second-City chip on his shoulder. Perhaps that’s where his drive comes from. His latest seemingly impossible task? The Smashing Pumpkins are in the middle of recording a massive 44-song concept album, distributed for free on the bands’ website one song at a time. The five songs currently available demonstrate his wide range of influences, from soothing acoustic ballads to crunchy pop-rock and the occasional sitar twang.
Corgan has always dreamed larger than reality, as evidenced by his numerous triumphs and the many projects he’s abandoned over the years. One of the most interesting of those resurfaced early in the summer of 2010, when Corgan announced he would resume work on his ChicagoSongs cd and dvd, a series of songs inspired the city’s history: from the notorious murder of 14-year old Bobby Franks in 1924 to Riverview amusement park and the 1893 World’s Fair. When and if it ever sees the light of day is debatable, but there’s no doubt that Corgan is in a room somewhere working his ass off to make something happen.
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