Part XIII - "Big Al's Place"

Back in the late 1960's, I was teaching at Zion Lutheran School, located on the southwest side of Chicago - 99th. & Winston Avenue. The then principal, Karl Schmidt and I often stopped at Al Vignato's tavern on the corner of 99th. & Vincennes.  The picture is of the current remodeled place.  The two- step front entrance is exactly the same.  Local Chicago taverns often had the bar in the front of the building and living quarters in the rear.  The two story attached structure is where Al and his wife - Maria - lived.  The tavern was separated from the living space by a ringed-drape in the doorway between the two sections.  The tavern was frequented by an interesting clientele:  Chicago policemen and officers, Chicago firefighters, Catholic priests, and of course a couple of Lutheran School teachers.  By the way, all were white folks.

Al shared some of his background with me one evening as I sat at the bar.  He told me that he used to "cook" for the Capone gang.  That meant that he was making illegal booze during Prohibition days.  He said that he had several individuals do the "cooking" for him in their homes.   When I asked him if he had to pay off the cops, he just laughed and told me that the only ones that had to be paid off were the "gas meter readers" - since the stills used quite a bit of natural gas during the "cooking".  

On another occasion, I noticed that he did not have a liquor license on display in his tavern.  When I asked him about that, he replied, " Never had one before and don't need one now!"     I guess he was an exception.  I always wondered if the Chicago Police clientele had anything to do about that.....

Zion Lutheran School was about 3 blocks west of the tavern and Al always took a daily walk every early afternoon on a nice sunny day.  I would often see him pass by the school building in his usual regalia:  full length light brown wool coat, very dark sunglasses, and a fedora on his head.   If he didn't look like he was some sort of "Don", nobody did.  Hence my nickname of Big Al.....

Great memories!  But not all great....  

The neighborhood was beginning to undergo the "change".  Black folks, wanting to escape to a better neighborhood, were ever so slowly moving into the area.  White folks were very wary and nervous.  Certain areas were "off limits" to black people - often using physical barriers as the "unofficial lines" not to be crossed.   The most common were railroad tracks - but viaducts and major thoroughfares were also territorial lines.  And of course, expressways have always done their job as well.  Even the building of the University of Illinois - Chicago campus was a huge barrier to stop the migration of black families moving ever closer to downtown Chicago.  Back to Al Vignato.....

There was a CTA bus stop in front of his establishment.  One evening, a black person got off the bus and came into the bar.  Al, behind the bar, met him before he could get in too far.  He asked the person what he wanted.  The black man said he wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes.  Back in the day, cigarettes were often kept behind a counter in specially designed sleeves that held the several brands.  Al had a rack of them behind him.  So, when the man asked to buy a pack, Al said he didn't have any cigarettes.   The man said that they were right behind Al.   Al repeated that he didn't have any cigarettes.  The message was clear.  No black person could ever patronize his establishment - even for a pack of smokes.  The man left  without incident, probably because he was all too familiar with this type of treatment from white establishments.

I was amazed at what just transpired.  I thought there might have been an altercation with such an obvious display of discrimination, but Al said he wasn't worried.   His trusty "bullwhip" and German Luger behind the bar were always "ready".

I said nothing more.  I also continued to frequent his tavern.  I gladly ate the hard-boiled eggs that Maria would set out on the bar coming from her kitchen in back.  In that tavern, everyone knew no black person would ever be allowed in Al's place.  

That made us - and especially me - complicit.

Part XI - Thanksgiving Day - 50 Years Ago

I cannot recall the exact year, but it was in the late 60's or early 70's.   We were celebrating Thanksgiving Day dinner at Mom and Dad's house.  I don't recall exactly who all were there, but most certainly one of my uncles was there.  I recall the seating arrangement - Dad at the head of the dining room table, me to his right, and my uncle on his left.  Paula was sitting next to me.  Somehow the conversation moved into race.  Why or how I cannot recall.  But what happened after that was another example of how racism was "inbred" into my upbringing and culture.

Not recalling the specifics, but my uncle was spouting off all of the stereotypical nonsense about blacks.  I, being a freshly minted college graduate, had the opposite view.  Perhaps I was already teaching in an integrated school setting at the time.  In any event, I "took him on" and countered all of his prejudicial nonsense to the degree that all he had left was to refer to me as "sonny boy" and "you'll learn".  (As a side note,  I'm sure he would be one of those Trump supporters over the past four years - ignorant, afraid of change, racist, etc.)

For the first time, I got so angry that I got up and said "We're leaving!"   I softened it a bit to say we're going to go for a car ride - and so Paula and I left and were gone for about an hour or so - just to cool off.

When we returned, I believe my uncle and aunt were gone and my dad talked with me in the kitchen attempting to be a peacemaker among the family.

Looking back, I don't believe I was any sort of advocate for racial justice.  Perhaps I thought I knew better since I was more educated.  So, that incident on the surface looked to be an "awakening" for me by standing up for human rights and dignity.  In retrospect, it was neither.  It wasn't enough to counter my cultural and environmental upbringing.

Part X - What happened at Fenger High School ?

When I started high school in the fall of 1958, my sister was beginning her senior year there. Fenger's enrollment back then was somewhere around 3,000 to 4,000 students.

The 1959 Yearbook (Courier) showed my sister as graduating and me as a freshman.  All students were classified by semester, rather than by year.  For example, your first semester as a freshman one would be a 1B student and the following semester one would be 1A.  A senior would be 4B in the first semester and 4A in the second.  Why?  Students started school at two different time periods in Chicago.  Most started in September while others started in January.  So, when I began in the fall of 1958, I was a 1B.  Those who started high school in January of 1958 would be 1A when I started.  I believe the purpose of splitting up classes was due to overcrowding of the high schools, but I am unsure of that.

Now to the racial composition.  In the 1959 Courier, both senior graduating class combined had 50 black kids.   In 1962, when I graduated, both senior graduating classes had only 1 black kid! The old paradigm was once a school or neighborhood started to become integrated, the white families would start to move out until the entire neighborhood would now be segregated - only as black families.   So how could Fenger High school go from 50 graduating blacks to only 1 in a three year time span?  

Answer:  Build a new high school that would siphon off the black kids thus making Fenger a white high school and the new high school a black high school.  The new high school was Harlan High. It was built just east of the new Dan Ryan Expressway (which also divided white and black neighborhoods much farther north to almost downtown Chicago).   So my commute to high school was around 4 times greater distance than to another public high school.  The "unwritten law" is that you don't go into the projects !!!!

Once again, that was the way it was throughout my high school years.  And it was totally acceptable to all the whites I knew - including myself.

Part XIX - Schools for all ?

In Part VI, I mentioned Riverdale Branch grade school on the "north side" (meaning north of the Calumet River) on 133rd. Street.  Several kids from my "block" as well as the "north side" went to that school as it was the only one serving our far southside area of Chicago known as the Riverdale area.  

This school was called a "branch" of some other larger public school which I suspect may have been Pullman, but am unsure.  

It appeared to be normal to me that only white kids went to that school from our neighborhood and the black kids living in the projects (Altgeld Gardens) went to their "own" schools.  

When Chicago Public Schools were built in Altgeld Gardens after WWII, the school district was gerrymandered by creating Riverdale "Branch" for the white kids while the black kids in the project had to go to school in the project ..even though some lived closer to the "branch" school than the ones in the project!  

When it came to High School, kids in my neighborhood went to Fenger which was approximately 3 miles away.  Carver High School was less than a mile away.  And high school kids in Altgeld Gardens could only attend Carver High School. 

For us white kids, it was just accepted as "that's the way it is".   Inbred racism doesn't seem bad when it becomes a major part of your upbringing.

Part VIII - Ignorance is bliss?

Where does one begin when it comes to the concept of "white privilege"?   Let me start with the word "ignorance".  However, the word in and of itself has many synonyms all of which provide a new meaning of the word.  Here are but a few:  

• Unawareness

• Blindness

• Obliviousness

• Shallowness

• Unenlightened

• Unconscious

• Superficiality

• Half-knowledge

In addition to just plain ignorance, there is also culture which includes caste systems (reference Isabel Wilkerson's "Caste").  

Subsequent posts will be recollections of events that at the time went seemingly unnoticed or acceptable, but now serve as "enlightenments" of how they fit into this overall theme.

Part VII - My "Englightenment"

The title of this post totally squares with the overall blog title of "Never Too Late to Learn".  More specifically, my focus is in regards to racism and prejudice against African-American (people of color) people.  

As with so many learning experiences in life, they come much later on in life - IF one is capable to recognize them and open enough to change.  Some people refuse to accept any change at some "line in the sand" time frame.  In my view, they have ceased to exist as a "being" at that moment even though their hearts continue to beat and their lungs continue to breathe.  I am sure there are philosophical definitions for this, but I prefer to use plain English.

If I had to pick out one thing that became a catalyst for me to change is the whole concept of  "white privilege".  I first heard of the term from our son Paul who spent a significant part of his career in the academic world working at various colleges and universities.  Initially, I was offended by the term and denied it applied to me.  Who me?  Privileged?  I grew up 100% blue collar with all "the trimmings".  More on those experiences in future posts.  But for now, there is NO WAY that I could accept the fact that I was privileged. 

But I fully embrace it today.  Subsequent postings will focus on my transition into acceptance of it, albeit over decades.  

Part VI - Elementary Schools in the Neighborhood

St. Paul Lutheran, St. Mary's Catholic, & Riverdale Branch 

The above-named schools were basically the only three elementary schools anyone in our neighborhood attended.

Quite a few of the kids on our street attended St. Paul Lutheran - which was located on the south side of 138th. Street - making it technically in the suburb of Dolton.  My dad went to school there from middle grades through 8th. grade.  In fact, one of his teachers, who also was mine, was Mr. Bernahl.  He taught 3rd. and 4th. grades and died the year I was in the 4th. grade. My mom and dad were married in the church as was my sister Donna.  Both Donna and I were baptized, attended there through the 8th. grade, and were confirmed there as well.

I only recall one of my neighborhood pals going to St. Mary's and that was Jackie Mongeau, who lived across the street from me.  We often played wiffleball on the side street (Forest Ave.) next to our house.  We traded baseball cards and quizzed each other on player stats printed on the backside of the card.

A few of the other kids on the block went to a school called "Riverdale Branch".  It was a Chicago Public School and located on 133rd. Street - just east of Indiana Avenue.  It was on north of the Little Calumet River and therefore was labeled the "north side" by those of us who lived on the "south side" of the river.  It was a "branch" of some other Chicago Public School - my guess would be Pullman, but I am very unsure of that.  More on Riverdale Branch in another blog. 

Part V - Ethnic Groups and Boundaries

 Our little enclave - still known as Riverdale community in the city of Chicago - was bounded by Indiana Avenue on the West, the C&EI Railroad on the East, 138th. Street on the south, and the Calumet River on the north.  We used to call the section north of the Little Calumet River the "North Side".  We were fairly provincial back then.  I recall my dad referring to the real North Side of Chicago as a place you don't want to go to because it's too easy to get lost.  Their street intersections are all names (e.g. Central and Diversey) versus the South Side which had a number with a name (e.g. 111th. and Halsted).  

"MK Packaging" on the map was "the lumber yard where my uncle Don Anderson worked."  He lived right across the street from it. The "Heavenly Angels" funeral home used to be Bachman's and was right across the street from our church.  Most every church member who died was "laid out" there, as the saying went.

The ethnicity of our little enclave was most certainly all white - with basically central European ancestry.  Some of the surnames I recall from memory are:

Busch....Janeschefki....Kainrath.....Wysinski....Reitz....Panozzo.....Bilecki..... Frank.....Drechsel....McCready....Mohr.....Oemick....Dreger....Baron....Mongeau....Stark.... Miller....McCloskey.....Bishton.....Kramer....Kortum....Bauman..... Biggers.... Bilecki.....

On the 1940 census, the overwhelming majority of folks in our little enclave worked at Acme Steel.  And one could walk to work from this neighborhood -- and often did so.

In some sort of manner, we were our own "caste".   I say this based upon a recent reading of a powerful book by Isabel Wilkerson entitled "Caste... The Origins of Our Discontents" (Copyright 2020).  Our neighborhood mimicked so many others across this country as white, blue collar, European ancestry (particularly central European), and very basic or limited formal education.  And in a caste system, there are always groups of people who are "lower in rank" than yours.  

So it was quite natural to look at other groups as lower than ours.  Often, the Irish were considered below our group as my mother often referred to many of them as "shanty Irish".  One can well imagine where "black folks" were considered in this caste system!  And so it was....

Part IV - More Recollections from 136th. Street

Neighborhood Map

Our house was 254 East 136th. Street, as indicated on the map.  Down towards the end of the block (street), there was a one way  "alley street" - Calumet. You can see it on the map above.  That "road" ended at the Calumet River.   But right before that, the block of buildings on the right was a company called Black Products.  They made what was known as "Black Diamond Clay Pigeons" for skeet target shooters.  One of our next door neighbors worked there and when he came walking home from work, he was filthy dirty and looked like he was covered in soot. 

Since our neighborhood was an all white, blue-collar area, any black person working at Black Products usually would take a CTA bus which stopped at the corner of 136th. and Indiana Avenue.  They would then walk down our street to get to work.  

As the story was told to me, my sister (three years older than I) was sitting on a blanket in the front yard on a warm sunny day.  As a black man walked past on his way to work, she blurted out, "Hi nigger!".  The man stopped and corrected her while Mom quickly descended and swooped her up and into the house.  

So, here was a young toddler - perhaps four or five years old - who used the "n" word in addressing a black person.  How did she come to learn that term?  How did she associate that word with the color of a person?  The answer is obvious - she heard it at home in reference to people of color, particularly black people.  

Another recollection is when I was told that the history of black people comes from the Bible where Cain, who killed his brother Abel, was condemned and banished.  And to make sure, a mark was put on him as a sign of his being cursed.  And that mark was black skin.  This apparently wasn't an obscure belief among many church denominations.  Ah, the Bible can be used to justify anything - and it has over the several millennia.  

Later on when I was perhaps 9 or 10, I recall my father telling me that all blacks had to be out of the area when the sun went down.  

How did I respond to these racist remarks?   I didn't.  It's how we - and all the others on 136th. Street and so many other streets - were brought up.  It was a given.

Part III - Some Early Recollections of Living on 136th. Street

 

Picture taken around 1950

An early childhood picture in the backyard of our house on 136th. Street.  Directly behind me is the plot of yard dug up for the annual garden.  Behind the fence is the alley.

My dad made that hat for me out of felt.  It had points all the way around it - a sort of Jughead look from the days of Archie comic books.

The pants always lasted longer when Mom could sew knee patches in them.

The jacket was either a "hand-me-down" or who knows what.

Humble beginnings growing up in a blue collar neighborhood and family.  We may not have had much, but there was always food on the table (as my dad always put it).   Our first car was a used 1948 Oldsmobile which we drove to Scottsbluff NE in 1953 to see my Grandma Krikau, who unbeknownst to me was close to dying as most of her sons living near us made the same trip that summer. She died while we were out there, but was shipped back by rail to Chicago to be buried next to Grandpa Krikau (d. 1946) in Cedar Park Cemetery on 127th. and Halsted.

Our first TV was a 12" Admiral - with record player included in the console.  Of course it was black and white and we watched Howdy Doodie as one of the first programs.  That too occurred in the early 1950's.  

Our first and only dog became part of the family in the mid-50's as well.  We named her Snooper - long before the name Snoopy was even created.  She was part of Glimpy's litter from across the street.  Everyone figured the father was Duke - who kind of roamed the area unleashed.  Dad hated that dog.   A quick story.... 

One summer day we were sitting on lawn chairs in the backyard - under one of the shade trees.  My dad spotted Duke walking up and down the street - probably on the prowl.  He went inside the house and got out his pellet pistol.  As luck would have it, Duke decided to walk down the street next to our house.  As the dog nonchalantly strolled past our house, Dad pumped up the loaded pistol and let one fly direct into the rear end of the dog.  That was the last time we ever saw Duke walk by our house again.

PART II - 136th. Street Chicago

 CHILDHOOD HOME

This is the house where I grew up on the far southside of Chicago.  It was home to the four of  us: Dad, Mom, Donna (sister) and me.  It was probably built in the first quarter of the twentieth century and was not unlike most of the homes on "the block".  It was a 100% working class neighborhood from which many worked at the Acme Steel Company in Riverdale.

The main part of the house, from front to back contained a living room, dining room and kitchen - with one bedroom off of the living room and the other off of the dining room.  The smaller "house" was Dad and Mom's bedroom. The little attached "shanty" in the foreground was entrance to the basement.  The siding was asbestos - which Dad always commented was fireproof.  Little was known about the dangers of asbestos back then.  

This picture was taken sometime in the mid-1950's. 

I lived in this house full time from around 1946 or so until graduating from high school in 1962.  During college and the year before I got married, I lived there "part time" from 1962 to 1967.

The ethnic composition of the neighborhood was all working class white people.  

PART I - My White Privilege

White privilege !  Who me?  Nonsense.   I was born and raised on the far southside of Chicago - the son of a steelworker who never finished his sophomore year of high school;  brought up with a set of working-class, Christian values.  The phrases "Keep your nose clean!" or "Straighten out and fly right!" were common during my upbringing.  In so many respects I, along with others of my demographic, were naive and therefore accepted the norms of of what decades later have been identified as "white privilege".   But up until the past few years, I have come to know that I have always been a member of that group.  I now  accept that as fact.  

This blog - or more aptly a diary - will chronicle various life events that were examples of white privilege but were never understood as such until recently.

Whether someone reads this or not is less important to me than the positive effects it will have on me by expressing my awakenings.