IL Day 6 - Prehistory, Piers, and Pensmiths
Today, I started out by heading to Evanston, branching outside of Chicago proper for one of the first times this week, albeit just one town over. My first stop was a neat coffee shop called Dollop Coffee that shared its space with the wonderfully named Hoosier Mama Pie Company. The pies, both savory and sweet, looked very appetizing but it was simply too early and I didn’t think it would be an auspicious start to the day to eat an entire pie alone in my car, so I just got the coffee, but luckily it was very good.
My main stop in Evanston was a place called Dave’s Down to Earth Rock Shop. This funky spot is the labor of love of rockhound and fossil enthusiast Dave Douglass and it’s been a quirky family-run institution in the town since 1970. Dave started the store to spread his love of rocks, gems, minerals, and fossils, but as his own personal collection began to include rarer and more unique specimens (including fossils that date back over 3 billion years) the basement level of the story was transitioned into a museum so visitors who didn’t necessarily already have the inclination to purchase these sorts of wares could still marvel at the highlights.
Pointing visitors toward the shop’s museum portion was a particularly well-dressed gentleman, a dapper-saurus if one wants to get technical.
Unfortunatley, I lost the majority of my photos from the shop’s musem but even the few that remain showcase just how spectacular geology can be. Highlights included some plates and paperweights made out of rock with fossils in them (something that I think is now on questionable legal ground, but these examples date back several years), some ancient ferns, and some truly bizarre-looking naturally occurring mineral formations that almost looks budding flowers.
Also in Evanston, there was another interestingly niche spot called the American Toby Jug Museum that was actually just around the corner from Dave’s. The museum, founded by Stephen T. Mullins, is dedicated to a collection of over 8,000 funky-looking pieces of drinkware defined by their shapes taking on the form of various characters, either their full bodies or just their heads. The Toby Jug originated in 18th-century England and it’s suspected that the titular Toby is most likely taken from either a character from Twelfth Night or Tristam Shandy but nobody knows for sure. Unfortunately, the museum was closed when I was visiting but even looking through a window and seeing a display like this was quite a treat. Imagine inviting guests over and serving them punch in a big fat guy, what a beautiful world we live in!
After bopping around Evanston, I made my way back to Chicago proper for a delicious lunch at Smoque Barbecue. While Chicago is rightly celebrated for a lot of their local cuisine, barbecue is not what they’re most known for, but Smoque has been aiming to fix that. Since they opened in 2006, they’ve become a neighborhood destination for some of Chicago’s finest meat. It’s hard to compete with next-door Missouri’s more famous Kansas City and St. Louis BBQ, but Smoque really showed up as a contender. They do a dry rub and hardwood smoke for their meat, but they offer a selection of sauces on the side. I know some people like their barbecue slathered, but in my travels through America’s different bbq hot-spots I think my appreciation of a quality dry rub has only grown and they really delivered. Opting for the path of making trying the most things, I got the half pulled pork half brisket sandwich and I was glad I didn’t have to choose between the two because they were both exceptional. I think the brisket in particular really packed a punch. I tried two sauces and their tangy mesquite was a great addition, though for my tastes the Carolina style was a bit too vinegar-y which to Smoque’s credit is accurate of Carolina bbq but just not my personal cup of tea. Throw in some good country sides (I got Mac and cheese and cornbread), and you really can’t get much better.
After my hearty American cuisine, I made my way to the American Writers Museum to celebrate one of our country’s less meat-based contributions to world culture. Right away I liked the vibes of the museum because as you walked in they had a rainbow made of different colored book covers that spanned the lobby ceiling. I got a real kick out of the fact that when you just line them up by color you get really disparate titles side by side like Norman Mailer next to Corduroy or Horton Hears a Who next Dashiell Hammett.
The first gallery I visited was a temporary exhibit that showcased the stunning photography of Art Shay, a celebrated New York-born Chicago-based photographer who worked for Life, Time, Sports Illustrated, and other national magazines in addition to having his work featured in in the National Gallery and the Art Institute of Chicago. Being a writers museum, naturally the pieces selected for this gallery tended towards portraits and candids of various American Literary figures with a further emphasis on writers affiliated with Chicago. Highlights for me included: a baby-faced Roger Ebert, Alan Ginsberg communing with a group of young activists at the 1968 Democratic Convention, Ernest Hemmingway looking weary, the poet Gwendolyn Brooks looking charmingly uncomfortable to be photographed, Dolly Parton in all her glory, experimental playwrite Edward Albee being cheeky, Nelson Algren exploring the Chicago underground he loved, James Baldwin and Saul Bellow leaning to the left, and underground cartoonist R. Crumb looking a bit like a folksy gargoyle. The last three photos I’m not sure who they’re of (I think one might be Robert Frost), but I liked the compositions.
I particularly liked these photos and accompanying quotes of From Here to Eternity author James Jones because he just seems like an absolute wild man with a Hemingway-esque focus on hypermasculinity (though in his case the homoeroticism was full text not just subtext).
Moving out of the temporary exhibit into the permanaent museum installation, the first thing that greeted me was a map of the US highlighting different writers from around the country which was a sweet showcase of how art springs up everywhere.
The bulk of the museum was dedicated to a timeline of American writers from the 1600s to today accompanied by an interactice “bookshelf” with various quotes and sensory experiences related to the stories or authors to give visitors an immersive experience.
While the timeline starts in colonial times, the American literary tradition really starts to take off post-Revolution and 19th century chunk of the timeline is where I started to get sucked in. I really liked that while the aestehtics and styles have changed over the years there was a universality to a lot of the writing and (for better and for worse) the concerns of writers even 200 years ago are still often the concerns we have today. I’d love for racism and gender inequality to not be so omnipresent in our nation’s history, but it’s heartening to see that throughout history there were voices grappling with and fighting against these forces, and even when they were not accepted in their times they’ve managed to survive.
Moving forward to the turn of the century modernists and the later 20th century writers, I was in more familiar territory as these were the authors I really grew up (though Nabokov is maybe a stretch to include as an American Writer, great though he may be).
A highlight of all the author spotlights was actually getting to read excerpts of the writings that secured their place on the wall, and the museum was well curated in that it highlight the contributions each writer brought to the literary game. I’m certainly biased toward Faulkner, but this quote in particular stuck out to me as being especially lyrical:
Making the museum a more immersive experience, the quotes and author photos were accompanied by different elements including art, historical documents, and even scents to help make the historical context and sensory experience of the writing really come to life.
The next little exhibit focused on genre writing highlighting American contributions to the worlds of horror, sci-fi, gothic, and detective fiction. It’s cool to see the museum highlight genre work since these pulpier works since they’re often considered “less than” more straightforward literature, but that’s where some of the most creative and beloved writing actually occurs. Detective fiction in particular feels like particularly American contribution to world literature since Poe is often credited with inventing it, and the noir writers of the early and mid 20th century shaped books, movies, and TV for years to come with their heightened dialogue and grimy, moral relativism even if it was considered trashy at first. All art can be great art when great artists make it, so the silly genre distinctions and lines in the sand we make often hold culture back.
The exhibit ended with a cool little light show in the form of a virtual waterfall of words compiling different writers’ descriptions of what they believe America to be. It’s a little corny, but having the words actually wash all over you is a pretty neat.
The next gallery featured postcards written to the museum by different American authors after their visits. I liked how some people tried to make a profound statement or a pithy witticism, but George Saunders wisely went the route of just doodling a gigantic duck. Also I do not know Judy Blume well enough to have any idea what exactly she was going for but I love how cryptic and weird it is to leave that with the museum.
Next up was an opportuntiy for visitors to submit their favorite American writers and their favorie books and displays showing the current top 25 works and authors. You really get the impression that maybe the humanities actually are important since most people’s favorites are things they absolutely were made to read in school at some point. Sometimes classics are classics for reason which is, I believe, a more charitable read than interpreting this list as a testament to the fact that people just stop reading after highschool. I think both things are probably a little true though, but I don’t really see any books or authors to object to and frankly I’m just delighted to see Ayn Rand nowhere to be found, because in big national surveys of people’s favorite books she usually rears her stupid libertarian head so I guess this museum just attracts a more not-baby-brained clientele. Dr. Seuss coming in at #2 does not refute that previous statement and is actually a very wise and mature selection.
Next up was a little timeline with big moments in publishing history. At this point I was getting a little museum fatigue so I don’t think I read every display, but I did like the display that really efficiently and succinctly mapped the history of comics publishing from something considered low-brow trash for children into a beloved and respectable medium for visual and literary art (and also maybe the medium that is most keeping physical publishing alive).
The main special exhibit while I was there was dedicated to the life of Frederick Douglass. I really loved this because I think he’s so well known as a “historical figure” it’s easy to forget he was also a real guy, albeit one with an incredible life, so having tangible reminders of his humanity like his actual glasses and the pens he used was pretty powerful. I particularly liked that the exhibit focused on his later life after abolition because he never stopped being an activist and staunch supporter of human rights even if his most famous writing often gets tied to the time around the Civil War. They had photos of him giving a talk in 1892, when he was in his mid-70s, so he had a long and active career, and it’s insane that he essentially has the most claim to being entirely “self-made” because he had to teach himself everything and overcome every possible obstacle to achieve the success that he did. Whenever I think about him, I’m reminded of a Chris Rock quote that when people talk about “Black progress” they’re really talking about White progress because there’s always been smart talented Black people but they just didn’t always have white people who made it possible for them to flourish. Frederick Douglass really proves that, and I always think about how we only know him because he succeeded, but how many other geniuses from his time were we robbed of because they didn’t have the luck and/or the grit to overcome everything he did and stand the test of time.
Next up was gallery that tried to get into “the mind of a writer”. This included a lot of analysis about the actual mechanics of writing and the creative process. I think this was probably geared a little bit more towards younger vistitors, but there were still a lot of interesting factoids and great quotes from writers about writing to keep people of all ages engaged (plus the gallery just had a very calming aesthetic).
This gallery also had a display at its center where you could hear excerpts from different great writers and get different deep dives into their style, biography, and critical appraisal. Naturally, I clicked on the Faulkner display and unintentionally got a picture of perfectly absurd line from As I Lay Dying to see with no context.
The last big gallery was the Chicago Gallery giving a special shout out to the city’s hometown literary heroes as well as artists of all stripes. Highlights for me included seeing improv pioneer Del Close getting to rep the city’s comedy credentials (Chicago probably being the best city in the country for improv at least historically, if not also currently) as well as a beautiful poster celebrating Gwendolyn Brooks’ novel Maud Martha. I hadn’t read the book, which is a cool hybrid of narrative and poetry, but I was just struck by the mix of Brooks’ writing, the art, and the historical context of the changing Black neighborhoods in the early 20th century.
Last but no least, as I exited the museum, I passed through the Children’s Literature gallery. I felt like it would have been kinda creepy to hang out there as a single guy in my 20s while actual parents were reading to their kids (cute though it was), so I didn’t stay long but I did have to admire this pretty exceptional mural by illustrator Paul O. Zelinsky featuring dozens of squirrels reading their favorite books.
Next up was a bit of a change of pace from my normal stream of museums and oddities to just take some time to enjoy a beautiful summer day at Chicago’s Navy Pier. Originally called by the much less appealing name Municipal Pier, this bit of shorline on Lake Michigan was originally created as a dock for commercial ships but it got its name from its use as spot for housing and training members of the US Navy. It also used to be where they imprisoned draft dodgers.
After WWII, military use of the pier declined, and the area was opened up to the public, briefly becoming a space for public events. Due to poor management however, the pier largely went underutilized and fell into disrepair (you can see some of these less glamorous days in pier history captured in the car chase scene from the excellent film Cooley High). Starting in the 90s (and really picking up steam in the 2010s) renewed interest in the pier led to urban development projects and it gradually got transformed into what it is today, which is a really fun mix of shops, attractions, and public greenery.
The pier made an impression right from the entryway, where the main shopping center (which also contains the Chicago Children’s Museum) is surrounded by Polk Bros Park and the Polk Bros Fountain. You can also see a bit of the pier’s Ferris wheel that almost any other photographer would have gotten a better picture of since it really adds some whimsy to the shoreline. Seeing families and children playing in the fountain on a hot day really just captured a perfectly summery feeling.
Inside the main structure, it was mostly perfectly nice shops and restaurants that were probably very cool but weren’t necessarily any thing that had to be specially photographed. On the other hand, there was a very unexpected and dazzling greenhouse garden called the Crystal Gardens. Sadly the gardens were closed for a private event while I was there, and sadder still the gardens are no longer there because it’s been replaced by some kind of immersive art thing.
The biggest selling point of Navy Pier though on a beautiful day like this was simply walking along the lakefront, and if you wanted a break from walking there was always the option to kick back and relax with a cold brew in the beer garden.
Both the views out over Lake Michigan and looking back on the Chicago skyline were really something to behold!
Of course my favorite part of the pier was this loving tribute to one of the great American sitcoms and one of the funniest and most innovative comedians of all time: Chicago’s own Bob Newhart . The bronze statue captured The Bob Newhart Show-era Bob with a psychiatrist couch for visitors to sit on and share their neuroses. Bob was one of my favorites from a young age (I was probably the only 6th grader to choose his auto-biography for my book report), because he blew my mind with how casually he experimented with what the form of stand-up could be while also just delivering perfectly calibrated big laughs from simple pauses and understatments. He was a one-man sketch show, cleverly working in a sharp, silly irreverance for every facet of American life behind a misleadingly straigh-laced and inoffensive deadpan.
After the pier, I got a much-needed pick-me-up from the excellent Gaslight Coffee, which serves up good, strong cups of Joe in a charmingly, film-noirish brick-heavy storefront.
Despite the caffeine-boost, I promptly took a nap upon getting back to my friend Diantha’s place. The amount I built up a tolerance to caffeine over this road trip was truly alarming.
After I woke up, it was time for the night’s mic, a rare Saturday night indicative of the size of the city’s comedy scene that there was room for there to be mics on a big comedy night without fear of taking away attention from booked shows. I was excited for this night’s mic too, because it was at the Second City Theater, one of the greatest launching pads for some of the greatest minds in improv and sketch comedy in America. The mic, unsurprisingly, was not on any of the stages (they had real shows to put on) and in one of the classrooms above the main venue, but just getting to visit the theater felt like an important comedy pilgrimage.
Inside the building, they had cartoon portraits of notable Second City alumni, which was mostly very cute and endearing, but if I was Tina Fey I don’t know if I’d be pleased with the fact that they made her look inexplicably 100-years old.
The mic itself was pretty standard despite the cool location, and in fact might have been slightly worse than average for Chicago, if only because it was late on a Satudary which isn’t exactly when people have the most energy and enthusiasm for listening to 30 other people talk. That being said, per usual in such a good comedy city, there were still plenty of strong jokes and comics. I think because my friend Diantha came to watch, and I had already done some of the jokes I’d been mainly focusing on for her, I did newer stuff to mix it up which got justifiably mixed results. Always frustrating to not nail it, especially since I’d done so well the week before, but trying and failing at new material is after all what open mics are all about.
My favorite comic of the night was another Boston transplant to the city, Joe Medoff, (who has since become a comedy friend along with his also very funny brother Jeff). Joe’s a great writer (and I didn’t know him at the time so my notes singling him out in 2018 are pure and honest) who’s really good at working sharp observations into very silly material. My favorite line of his from the night was: “I’m from Boston, and, in Boston, Tom Brady is the first symmetrical person we've ever seen”
Other highlights:
Laura Huggs- Ah Lollapalooza I remember being young and wearing denim panties
Jeremy Deasner - When guys say, “Say it to my face”, don't
Nick Graves- I used to live with three attractive guys and I'd have to hear them having sex, and they'd have to hear me watching new girl
All in all, it was a very solid last full day in Illinois.
Favorite Random Sightings: A billboard that said: “7-Eleven? Oh thank heaven!” (kind of a mundane thing to be praising hte heavens for); a bar called Smilin Jim's Saloon; a Jews for Jesus bumper sticker; a pet store called Bow Wowz and Meowz; a poster for Miss Ricky’s diner with the tagline “Quicky with Ricky”
Regional Observations: Chicago is a really interesting blend of Mid-Western culture and Major Eastern City energy, where people can be grouchy and in a rush, but then also very gregarious and polite, and you can get really snooty high art and fine cuisine but also giant portions of bread and cheese for practically nothing. It’s a great weird place.
Random Joke of the Day:
A man walks into a bar and orders a glass of 21-year-old whiskey. He takes a sip, then immediately spits it out.
“I asked for a 21-year-old whiskey! This is only 18 years. I’m not paying for this! Bring me a 12-year-old cognac instead.”
The bartender complies, but again, the man spits it out.
“This is only 10 years old! I’m not paying for that either!”
Frustrated after several rounds of the same routine, the bartender pours another drink and says,
"This one’s on the house."
The man takes a sip, spits it out once more.
"This tastes like piss!"
The bartender sighs and replies, "Alright, genius, now guess how old I am?"
Song of the Day:
As long as we’re talking about Great American Writers from Chicago, it’s hard to beat John Prine
Bonus Bob Newhart: