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| Ernie Banks, 1969 Chicago Cubs |
It was almost a customary practice when I was a child for my younger brother and I to spend a lot of time during the summers in Chicago staying with either my mother’s family in Logan Square or my father’s family up in Roger’s Park. We did this because every year between 1963 and 1971, we moved from town to town as my father climbed the corporate ladder in the food services industry. It was sort of like being an army brat I might imagine, but very different too because we weren’t limited to living to on any particular base. However, each year during the summer we’d go to stay with one or both of the grandparents while mom and dad were off in some city somewhere picking out a house and setting up our next residence.
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| Grandpa Duke's neighborhood, 1969 |
In the summer of 1969 we stayed with my mother’s dad a lot,
Grandpa Duke because he was alone as well as all four of our cousins often came
around. It was a typical Chicago summer, a hot and long steamy affair and
Grandpa Duke’s old house on Western Avenue had no air conditioning. In the
front room was a brand new big counsel style color television...state of the art! Behind that new TV was a bay
window with big fans which constantly blew in the fresh Chicago air of bus fumes, sticky humidity and traffic screeching or siren
sounds. I liked staying by Grandpa Duke because when we would go out and about
in the neighborhood, there were a lot of cool places a short distance away. One of my favorite neighborhood places was this old fashioned hardware store around the corner on Fullerton because it
had wood slat floors, very tall walls, high ceilings where supplies were stocked and served by tall ladders that rolled and the store had a very unique aroma of fresh lumber, machine oil and of being very old. It was very
old. A few blocks down Fullerton was a bowling alley where Grandpa Duke was a
neighborhood champ and I loved that place too, it was an old style bowling alley with
these guys who stood the pins up and rolled your ball back to you. There was a
sprinkler in a park, a jungle gym and cork screw slide too but the best thing about that neighborhood was right behind Grandpa Duke’s house there were a bunch of kids always playing! In California, for much of my life, we always moved so I didn't have the chance to play with a lot of kids, except at school, I never socialized with other kids but in the summer of 1969, I was about 8 years old and being in Chicago was a pretty good place to be a kid that year.
Baseball, the watching of baseball, on both sides of my
family has long been a tradition. It's the social sport steeped in our collective American experience
and tattooed upon our turpitude, it’s a family experience that I hold dear and
sweet in my heart and I've share with all my soul to my children. I learned this
during the summer of 1969, while staying at Grandpa Duke’s house and making
friends with some of the neighborhood kids. These kids, there were maybe about
ten of them but I can only remember a few of their names, they were “city
kids”, some of them had darker skin than me, some of them had lighter skin than
me and all of them seemed to think I was pretty cool because I said I was from
California and I had long hair, “Like one of them hippies!” snapped Ritchie,
this kid who was very dark but had a bright and cheerful smile and kind eyes, “You
be looking like a surfer, you a surfer?”
“Nope…”
I smiled, I noticed their baseball bats, mitts and caps, I smiled, “I like
baseball.”
“What
team?” asked a bigger kid, he was very blond and light skinned. He had some
kind of accent I had never heard before, “Who’s you’re team?”
“I’m
from San Francisco, but…”
“The
Giants?” the big blond kid interrupted me, “Really?”
“The
Cubs are my favorite team…” I finished, “It’s what both my grandpa’s watch…The
Cubs.”
“Ever
been to a game?” asked a girl with long red hair and a cute smile. She was
maybe 10 years old, most certainly a girl but not a prissy girl, she was cool, “I
mean, like a real game?”
“Not
yet.” I added, “I want to go, maybe this summer.”
“You
should…” nodded the girl and she introduced herself, “I’m Angie…this is my kid brother
Artie.”
“Hello…”
I was about to introduce myself when a couple of others interrupted, “My name
is…”
“I’m
Max.” said the big blond kid, “I move from Germany.”
“I’m
Fern and you know Ritchie…” the oldest kid stepped forward, the alpha male, the
guy in charge with slick black hair, tight jeans and a leather Cubs jacket.
Fern was silent, he didn’t say anything until now, “We’re planning a trip to
Wrigley, all us kids, want to go?”
“Wrigley?”
I knew that was the ballpark, I was born around the corner from the iconic
stadium, I asked, “When are you going?”
“The 24th,
a Thursday…” Angie answered and smiled, “not this week, but the next week.”
“How old
are you kid?” Fern stood next to me, my head barely reached his shoulders. I
lied, “I’m 10…well, almost 10…” I was only 7 going on 8 years old, “How much is
it to go?”
“You 10
years old?” Ritchie laughed, “Really? Damn, you so little!”
“My
little brother is even littler!” I smiled, then bravely added, “Yeah, I’m in, I’ll
go for sure!”
The week went by quickly and every day I played baseball
with those kids in the nearby park. I was often the catcher, I liked that
position because I could see the entire game and felt like I was a part of
every play. The kids all gathered sometime just before lunch and we’d stay
there playing multiple games until dinner. I was happy, it was the first time in
a very long while I had other kids to play with and I felt so much a part of
being a team member when we played. In California we lived in the heart of San
Francisco, during the late 1960’s, in the neighborhood we lived, it was over
flowing with hippies and a lot of people my mother never trusted. At the school
in California I was placed in a class for gifted children along with two other
children. One of them, an Asian boy named Li, barely spoke English and the girl
in the class didn’t like me because I wore strange clothes and had long hair. I felt alone, with only my little brother but he is three years
younger than me, so it was limiting. Yet in the summer of ’69, I felt like I made some friends for
the first time. During the days leading up to that Thursday, I asked my Grandpa
Duke if I could go along with these other kids, these new friends of mine. I
didn’t tell him it was just a bunch of kids, but he didn’t ask if there were
parents either, he just laughed and said yes before handing me a $20 bill (a
lot of money to a kid in 1969)!
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| CTA Buses in 1969 Chicago |
Thursday came, we all gathered earlier than we typically
did, we agreed to meet at the diner on the corner of Fullerton and Western
about 10:00 that morning. This was so exciting for me, it was my first big
adventure, going with a bunch of new friends from Logan Square to Wrigley Field
without any parents, just us kids! Once everyone arrived, there were nine of
us, the same as the number of players on the field, we got on the Western
Avenue bus and rode it north about 8 blocks where we transferred buses onto the
Addison Street bus which we rode east all the way to the ballpark. The game wasn’t
until 3 in the afternoon and we had arrived before noon so we walked around the
neighborhood. I didn’t have a clue of where we were but it didn’t matter
because all the other kids seemed so confident. Fern, Ritchie and Max found an
old cemetery up the street so we went exploring inside the creepy gates. It was
a perfect summer day, bright sunshine, a balmy breeze from the lake and that
old diesel bus smell, ah, Chicago’s freshest air! It was sometime around 1pm when
Angie suggested we get back to the ballpark because we didn’t have tickets and the box
office should be open by now. We scattered from the creepy old cemetery and
practically ran down Sheffield Avenue towards the bleachers of Wrigley Field.
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| Wrigley Field, miles away for a kid! |
As we strolled the tree lined residential street and I could
catch a glimpse of that back of the bleachers giant Cubs sign, my heart was
racing. We got to the gate but when I pulled out my $20 bill, Angie and her
brother Artie screamed, “This kid is loaded!” and “Holy Cow!”, it was like they
never imagined a kid would have such a huge bill. They all had coins and a few
crumpled dollar bills and I had this crisp twenty dollar bill and because bleacher seats were only .75 cents each, I offered to
buy everyone’s ticket! I was an instant hero, they loved me and I was part of
the group. We sat in
the left field, as close to the wall as we could get, next to a group of older, slightly drunk middle aged businessmen, next to some old guy named Larry. All the other
kids all knew Larry, they've seen him at every game, “Larry is a baseball genius!” Angie explained to me as we
scooted down the long bench seats almost next to the wall, “He’s a good guy, he
looks out for us.”
“Cool…”
I smiled and looked across the beautiful field. It was still an hour until ball
time, but everything was so perfect, nobody seemed to mind. Angie’s thigh
pressed against mine and it made me feel safe, remember I was not even 8 years
old yet, so this was a really big adventure for me. The time passed quickly and
before long the Cub ball players took the field to stretch and toss the ball
around. It was awesome, Angie described every player to me, she knew them all.
She asked me about the other team, it was the L.A. Dodgers but I shrugged, “I
only know Don Drysdale, number 53, he’s a pitcher.”
“Duh! Drysdale is awesome!” Then
she pointed to one skinny ball player, a black guy with a big smile and the
number 14, he was standing near the seats along third base and signing autographs,
shaking hands and laughing, “That’s Ernie Banks!”
“Duh, I
know Ernie Banks!” I laughed and then pointed to the player wearing number 10, “That’s
Santo…on the mound, it’s Holtzman…a leftie by the way!”
“The
little boy knows his team!” the old guy named Larry chuckled, “Fern tells me
you’re from California? You from L.A.?”
“Not
really…” I smiled and suddenly felt shy, “We lived there for a few months in
1968, but mostly from San Francisco…but I was born in Chicago, I like The Cubs.”
“The
Cubs are good this year…” Larry nodded, “So are them Dodgers, this’ll be a good
game!”
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| We sat in the Bleachers, right along the very back walls |
It was too, it was a great game. The Cubs won, 5 to 3 and
after the game, as we all rode the buses home, I thought about what a grand
adventure this was and how very much I wanted to do it again. I was still
sitting next to Angie but Fern was sitting in front of me so I asked him, “How
often do you guys go to the game? I mean, are you going to go again soon?”
“We go
when we can.” Fern smiled and chuckled, “You want to buy us another game?”
“Well,
in a couple weeks, I was thinking…” I was going to mention the game between San
Francisco and Chicago, that would be a fun game but Angie interrupted, “I’d
like to go…”
“Leave
him alone Fern!” Angie slapped Fern’s arm, “He’s spent half his money, right
kid?”
“I guess…”
“I was
only jiving him!” Fern laughed and turned back around. Angie patted my arm and
I was going to speak up when the bus came to our stop. Fern stood first, “Let’s
go play ball!”
“I have
to go home.” I said, but added, “Maybe I can come back out?”
“I’ll
walk you home.” Angie took my hand as we stepped off the bus, “Which one is
your grandpa’s house?”
“His address
is 2422 North Western Avenue…” I said as we walked north from the corner of
Fullerton, Angie held my hand like a babysitter, “Third one after the alley.”
“You’re
a smart little kid, aren’t you?” she laughed as we walked up the steps and I
opened the front door and walked in. Angie followed me, “Can I use the
bathroom?”
“Yes, in
here…” I walked into the kitchen and along the way opened the bathroom door for
Angie, “Grandpa Duke? Uncle Bob?” there was nobody in the kitchen so I kept
walking out the back door and into the stairwell. I heard laughter in the
backyard and called out the window, “I’m home!”
“There
you are!” it was my gypsy aunt Rose and her kid friendly husband Uncle Casey.
They evidently stopped over unexpectedly for dinner and they were playing with
my little brother while Grandpa was grilling food. Aunt Rose called me out, “Come
down here, where have you been all day?”
“I went
to see the Cubs win!” I smiled as I walked out back, “It was fun!”
“Did you
go by yourself?!?” my aunt sounded shocked, “Duke, how could you?”
“Hello
everyone!” Angie came out the back door with perfect timing, “I’m Angie Warshakowsky,
I live around the corner, on Campbell…I just wanted to say thanks for letting d’Philip
tag along with us today, it was a lot of fun and he was really well behaved.”
“Can I
go play ball with them at the park now?” I asked Grandpa Duke because I knew my
aunt wanted me to stay home, “Please? I’m only going to be here a few more
weeks…please?”
“No, I
think it’s late…too late.” Aunt Rose shook her head and lifted my brother off
his feet as she started walking towards the back door, “Besides, we’re here,
the answer is no!”
“Please,
Grandpa?” I looked up at my Grandpa Duke, he was a big man. He used to be a
boxer, when he first came to America, he made cash by boxing then he became a
security cop for Sears & Roebuck. Now he was retired, chomping on a
smoldering stubby cigar while flipping fat burgers in the setting sunlight, he
looked down at me with a grin, “Angie will look out for me, please?”
“Screw
the gypsy…” Grandpa Duke grunted, his Armenian accent thick, “Go out the back
gate.”
“Thanks
Grandpa!” I turned to Angie with excitement, “Let’s go!”
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The rest of the remaining weeks that summer went by quickly but my team of friends and I did make it back to Wrigley Field several more times…we didn’t
always go into the ballpark, sometimes we just hung out on Sheffield or
Waveland and waited for balls to fly over the ivy clad brick walls. We roared and cheered when we heard the game, we jumped and screamed when we would see the games. It was life, it was fun, it was love, it wasn’t about if The Cubs won
or not, it was only about the game and the adventures we made. The last time we
went to a game, we got there really early and it was slightly drizzling outside
so we were huddled together against a wall near the back doors of the stadium.
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| In his prime, 1969... |
Angie, Fern, Max and me were there, just shivering and trying to stay dry when
a man walked past us…he was moving quickly and we hardly noticed him until he
stopped, turned to us and said, “Hey you kids, don’t catch a cold out there!” and it was Ernie Banks! Indeed, he was going in for the game and we just happened
to be there, us four kids sopping wet while waiting for our favorite ball team
to play. It was Ernie Banks himself, he smiled and glanced at the sky, “I think
I see sunshine coming!” then he winked, opened the door and as he stepped
inside, “Enjoy the game kids, it’s important to have fun!”
“OMIGAWD!”
Angie shrieked and I think I heard Fern scream too, “ERNIE BANKS!”
“Wow,
that was…wow!” and it was at that exact moment, before the game even started, I
knew I would be a diehard Cubs fan for the rest of my life. It was sealed, no matter what,
Ernie Banks had spoke to me and my friends and told us it was important to have fun! If you’re a Cubs fan, you’ll agree, that’s typically you can ever hope for
in given Cubs season. That game, that last game I ever went to with my friends,
The Cubs beat The Giants and after that day, within a week, I was saying
goodbye to my baseball team of new friends. We spoke of seeing one another the
next summer, our family was moving to Cincinnati, Ohio but we always came back
during the summer. Except we didn’t, we never went back because the next year
our parents divorced and mom relocated us to a Chicago suburb. I did see Angie
again, a number of years later when I was 14 and visiting my Grandpa Duke. She
was pushing a stroller past the park where we used to play ball. She told me
that Fern went to Veitnam but he didn’t come back. Ritchie moved to Florida but
big Max was still around, he lived with his parents and was in college. Angie’s
little brother Artie was doing okay, their parents also divorced and Artie
moved to California with the mom. Angie was married, she had a baby, she still
lived in the neighborhood with her husband’s family. We laughed about that
summer of ’69, that summer when even The Cubs came close to getting there and
how we did somehow seem to get there too. I’ll never forget that summer, even
when The Cubs continue to come close (most recently, in ’08)…I became a diehard
fan because of that rainy misty morning we ran into Mr. Cubs himself, Rest In
Peace, Ernie Banks.
Although this week’s blog article has absolutely NOTHING to
do with my book, “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…”, I wanted to write
about Ernie Banks and express something that is very much a part of me; being a
diehard Chicago Cubs fan. I love this team, the losers of baseball with the
most optimistic fans in the world. I am part of that den, that clan, those people and perhaps that
might tell you a little about the kind of person I am; devotion is something I
understand. Disappointment and heartbreak too, but I love the art and science
of baseball and despite their dismal history, The Chicago Cubs will always be
my team!
This week I have the rare opportunity to be working from the
abode most of the week, no public appearances or silly business meetings to
attend. I am going to spend a lot of time on-line, I sort of feel the need this
week and I have the feeling that somebody might be looking for me too, I’m not
sure…so I’m here, just in case, dig? I am going to post an excerpt from the
book next week, one that is a true story about the very last concerts The
Grateful Dead ever played in 1995…then I might day dream out loud a little and
think about hosting a similar event next July in Chicago. But that’s next week…again,
I am so very Grateful for the support and sales of the book; I never would have
imagined selling this many copies before the end of January! Thank you, thank
you, thank you!
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dphilipchalmers.net |
Presently it’s nearing dinner time and I think we’re going to
make it an early evening tonight, I want to make the most of all my home time
this week, I have a shit-ton of stuff to write! I did post a new video, incidentally,
if you’re curious, please visit my youtube channel…otherwise, as always, please
do take good care and be well!
Peace,
d’Philip
26 January 2015
26 January 2015
