Category Archives: Been There

Texas Winter ’19

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My recent trip to wintertime Texas took me to Dallas and Fort Worth, San Antonio, and a few other burgs. February is winter in Texas, but it’s a pale moon of a winter compared with where I live. During the trip, temps varied but didn’t drop below freezing, and we experienced rain but no ice or snow.

I spent the weekdays working, but I also visited my brothers, one nephew and his family, one nephew by himself and a friend I’ve known for 45 years now.

I made it to a few new places and a few familiar old places. No matter how often you go somewhere, there are always new places, and no matter how familiar an old place is, there are always new aspects.

One new place was the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, which I’ve had a mind to see since we went to Wrightwood 659 in December. Tadao Ando designed both Wrightwood and the Modern, which is easy to visit from Dallas, as Jay and I did: just pop on over on I-30.

While gadding around in greater DFW, we also saw the Cao Dai Tay Ninh Temple and the Cambodian Buddhist Temple of Dallas, whose neighbors in the southwest of the city are the likes of Mission Foods, Standard Meat, Cartamundi USA and Old Dominion Freight Line.

In San Antonio, we had the benefit of a free evening admission to the McNay Art Museum — an example of a familiar place offering some new things to see. Later, while on the road between San Antonio and Dallas, we stopped by the Hays County Courthouse in San Marcos and the San Marcos City Cemetery, whose burials go back to the 1870s.

Had some good meals along the way too. In San Antonio, a dinner at one of the Paesanos locations, a local Italian restaurant with roots in the 1968 world’s fair. Good pork shank and gnocchi. In Waco, a lunch at a joint that goes even further back: the curiously named Health Camp, in business, as the exterior says, since 1949. Good burger and shake.

In Dallas, on the day I flew in, I enjoyed sausage and homemade sauerkraut and Texas beer and other good things at my nephew Sam’s house, on the occasion of his 36th birthday. Naturally there was birthday cake too.

Reminded me of the morning, late in my college career, when Jay called me to tell me that Sam had been born. Been an uncle ever since.

Life Jackets on the Titanic

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Got an unexpected press release today from a place I visited a while ago, the Titanic Museum Attraction.

Branson, Mo. Feb 5. 2019 – For the first and only time, the largest assemblage of remaining RMS Titanic life jackets will be on exclusive display March through June 15 at the Titanic Museum Attraction in Branson, Missouri. A new dimension in “Living Titanic Exhibits” will showcase seven of only 12 known Titanic life jackets beginning March 1 in Branson.

One detail: Branson ought to stand alone in datelines. Just my opinion. AP, the arbiter of such style points, disagrees. The list of cities that take no state in datelines is fairly short, according to the AP.

Besides Branson, I’d definitely add Orlando to that list, along with Austin, Birmingham, Buffalo, El Paso, Fort Lauderdale, Nashville, and some others.

“This is a stunning, world exclusive exhibit that we’re extremely proud to bring to Branson and to millions of our Titanic followers,” said Mary Kellogg, president, COO and co-owner of Titanic Museum Attractions. “There are only 12 KNOWN Titanic life jackets left in the world. For the first time, seven of these priceless artifacts will be at Branson’s Titanic Museum Attraction.”

All-caps KNOWN in the original. True, it is a fact that I didn’t know until now, but the emphasis is too much.

Wonder where the other five are. Private collections, including at least one held by an eccentric Japanese billionaire? The Greenwich Maritime Museum? The Maritime History Archive in St. John’s, Newfoundland? Someplace even more obscure?

The release also offered some quotable facts about the sad state of emergency preparedness on that doomed steamer, specifically about its life jackets.

There were enough life jackets to protect the 2,208 passenger/crew on board Titanic… but not enough lifeboats to save them all.

Life jackets were made of hard cork and canvas, proving dangerous for many forced to jump into the water.

So not only did a lack of lifeboats fail the passengers and crew, so did relatively primitive materials science. Guess cork was the best available material in 1912. It floats, after all.

I wish the Titanic Museum Attraction well with its life jacket exhibit, though I probably won’t make it to Branson to see them. But I might go if the museum promised an exhibit of surviving deck chairs from the Titanic. You know, those that were famously re-arranged.

Adding Shape to Flat Illinois

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Spotted today under construction here in the northwest suburbs: some hills.

I like to think that anyway. The land could use a little more contour. But I suspect there will actually be an addition to a nearby major medical complex built on this site. Think of it as a physical manifestation of the aging population bulge of which I am a younger member.

St. Paul Square, Sunset Station & the SP 794

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Four years ago, I wrote: “One fine thing about South Texas in February is that it isn’t northern Illinois in February.” Then I called northern Illinois “septentrional,” to use a 10-dollar word that ought to be used at least occasionally.

Anyway, it can be cold in San Antonio in February, but just as often it’s pleasantly cool — good temps for a walk.

Four years ago I visited San Antonio’s Eastside Cemeteries Historic District. I also took a look at the nearby St. Paul Square, an area that flourished in pre-Interstate years because of its proximity to San Antonio’s main passenger train station.
The area has enjoyed some recent revival as a retail and entertainment center. The aforementioned train station is Sunset Station, vintage 1902 and redeveloped in the 1990s as an entertainment complex.

The last time I’d been at the station was when it was still a station, 25 years earlier. I caught an Amtrak train — the only train still using the station in 1990 — that took me to Los Angeles, where I changed trains for San Francisco.

Next to the renovated station: Southern Pacific 794.

“She was built in 1916 by the Brooks Locomotive Works in Dunkirk, NY, for the Texas and New Orleans (T&NO) Railroad, which was a subsidiary of the Southern Pacific Railroad,” says the San Antonio Railroad Heritage Museum. “She was transported to Texas as parts and was assembled in Texas, and then was operated for forty years while being based in San Antonio. 794 was used for freight service as well as passenger service.”

With steam obsolete by the 1950s, the SP donated a fair number of locomotives to various entities, including the San Antonio Chamber of Commerce in the case of the 794. From 1957 to 1999 the locomotive stood in Maverick Park just north of downtown on Broadway. Then it was moved to Sunset Station.

Since Broadway was the way we usually went downtown, by car or bus, I saw it often. Then I noticed, probably during an early 2000s visit, that the 794 was gone. Maverick Park still looks strangely empty without it, 20 years later.

Cow Ride at the Mall

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Australia Day has come and gone. Oz is reportedly suffering a viciously hot summer this year. Adelaide, a pleasant place in my recollection, seems to be getting hit especially hard.

Meanwhile, here in North America, or at least my part of it, after being a slacker for most of December and part of January, winter is hitting hard. Dead ahead, according to the NWS on Sunday evening:

WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 9 PM THIS EVENING TO 6 PM CST MONDAY… Heavy snow and blowing snow tonight with freezing drizzle and blowing snow likely at times Monday. Snow rates overnight into early morning are likely to reach up to an inch per hour at times. This will result in very low visibilities and rapid snow accumulations into the early morning commute. Total snow accumulations of 3 to 7 inches and ice accumulations of a light glaze expected.

This after subzero temps on Friday, and ahead of temps as low as minus 20 by Tuesday (Fahrenheit, the only scale that’s made for humans). Still, on Saturday things had warmed up to low double-digits, so we were out for a while. The three of us and a friend of Ann’s, on the occasion, not quite precisely, of Ann’s birthday. Nice to get out of the house.

We ate at Gabuttø Burger at Ann’s request. Since I discovered the place at the Mitsuwa food court, the Japanese burgerie has moved into a small strip center on a busy street in Rolling Meadows and seems to be doing well there. We visit a few times a year.

Then to a northwest suburban mall. Not the biggest one, the 2.1 million-square-foot Woodfield, but a smaller one. The one we visited isn’t a dying mall, but it has lost an anchor or two, along with some of its inline stores.

Still, the mall is doing what it can. It now sports a number of places to take children and entertain them, for instance. Not playplaces in the middle of the mall, but small entertainment venues that used to be more conventional retail.

Including a place where you can rent animal-ride scooters for a few minutes. She’s not in the main demographic, but according to Ann, it was a birthday thing to do, so she and her friend spent 10 minutes tooling around the mall.

She picked a cow. Looked like she had a jolly time of it.

Snowy MLK Weekend

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The weather’s been strangely accommodating so far this month. Ten days ago, snowfall held off till Saturday afternoon. This is what it looked like in Chicago, as Ann and I went to lunch after Titus Andronicus.
At Mr. J’s Dawg ‘n Burger. Glad it’s still there.

Last Friday, heavy snow started to fall well after rush hour, which was a few hours later than forecast. After finishing work in the late afternoon, I went to a grocery store. The place was jammed. We all could have gone a few hours later and still avoided driving in the snow.

By Saturday morning, about a foot of snow covered the ground. Spent a fair amount of that morning removing snow from the my driveway and sidewalks, but not so enthusiastically that I found myself in a hospital or worse. At least the snow was light, unlike the heavy stuff in November.

On Sunday, the high was 14 degrees F., the low 4, and the previous day’s clouds had cleared off. Here we are in the pit of winter. This encouraged us to stay home.

As I was taking out the trash in the evening, I looked up at the full moon and noticed that part of it was missing. A shadow had taken a bite. Then I remember the expected total lunar eclipse, which I’d forgotten.

A little later, at about 10:50 pm, we all went out in the single-digit temps to see totality: a pretty penny in the sky. Lunar eclipses are better in the summer, but they are when they are. Less than a minute outside looking at it was enough.

The Rantoul Historical Society Museum

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Back on Tuesday. Take holidays whenever you can get them.

Rantoul, Illinois, is a town of about 13,000 just off of I-57 and roughly 20 miles north-northeast of Champaign-Urbana. For the last two years that I’ve been driving regularly between metro Chicago and Champaign, it’s been a sign on the Interstate. I knew that there had been an Air Force base there, and then an air museum on the site, but that both were gone. That’s about all I knew.

So on Sunday, I took the Rantoul exit and made my way to the Rantoul Historical Society Museum. Support little local museums when you can. Besides, you never know what oddities you’ll see, such as White Star brand tomatoes.

The museum is in a former church building on a main road.
Not a particularly old church, either: the Rantoul Presbyterian Church, dedicated in 1953.
The church is something of a microcosm of the town. When the museum moved into the building in 2016, the Rantoul Press did an article about it.

“At one time, when Chanute Air Force Base was open, membership was strong and the building was the site of a number of church and social events,” the Press noted. “But membership tailed off dramatically when the base closed.”

Chanute Air Force Base was open from 1917 to 1993, beginning as an Army Air Corps training facility and ending in a round of base rationalizations. When the base went, most of the local economy went with it.

A good part of the museum is given over to Chanute AFB.

The church’s former sanctuary isn’t used for displays, but a number of other rooms are chock-full of items, some in display cases, some not: photos, paintings, posters, newspapers, other printed ephemera, clothes, household items, knickknacks, toys, furniture, machinery, and items about the Illinois Central RR, which was the town’s reason for being in the 19th century.

In short, the museum sports anything that the good people of Rantoul wanted to give to the historical society after parents and grandparents died, or debris they cleaned out their homes before moving, or things they simply couldn’t bear to throw away. It’s Rantoul’s attic and Rantoul’s basement.

I spent about an hour looking around. I was the only person there besides the fellow watching the place. When I came in, he greeted me and turned on the lights in the other rooms for me. Otherwise, he said, they stay off.

Wonder who Mr. Rantoul was? The museum tells you. And shows you what he looked like.
Robert Rantoul Jr. (1805-52) was a U.S. Representative from Massachusetts and a director of the Illinois Central Railroad. As far as I can tell, he never visited Illinois, but when the Illinois Central was naming towns along its route, he got the nod.

I enjoyed the case full of old telephones.
There were plenty of displays devoted to bygone local sports glory.
A leather football helmet.

I’ve heard you can make a pretty good case that chronic concussion injuries would be reduced if football went back to leather helmets. Besides, they look cooler.

A few of the artifacts hint at someone’s long-ago personal sadness, such as this.
Boy Scout Vest Worn By: Jerry Wright

The picture must be a high school yearbook shot with “1954” added. No doubt the vest was tucked away somewhere by that time. Gerald Wright, it says under the picture. Deceased. Band 1,2,3. Football 1,2.

Titus Andronicus

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The event we’d gotten up early for on Saturday was a reading of Titus Andronicus at the Newberry Library, done for a few hundred people seated in one of the library’s large rooms. A reading because the actors had scripts with them and there were no sets or much in the way of costumes. But they were good actors and they interacted with each other as if it were a full stage show. So we enjoyed it as much as a standard staging.

Titus Andronicus is an early Shakespeare work, early 1590s, and apparently popular in its time. Later it fell from fashion and has certainly been overshadowed by other Shakespeare plays. After the early 17th century, it wasn’t performed much at all again until the 20th century.

It counts as a revenge play. I can see why. One character is wronged and that sets off a cycle of revenge and more revenge. When Titus Andronicus’ characters seek revenge, things get pretty stabby. The play’s got it all: hate, betrayal, rape, a lot of murder, mutilation, decapitation, even a touch of cannibalism.

I can’t say that the play’s exactly back in fashion, but 21st-century audiences have no shortage of the old ultraviolence in our entertainment, so Titus Andronicus fits right in. Quentin Tarantino ought to do a movie version.

The Newberry Library Map Mural

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I’ve read that the first floor of the Newberry Library on the Near North Side of Chicago is newly renovated, and it did have a newly polished look when Ann and I were there on Saturday. But it’s been a while since I’ve been inside the library, so I don’t really remember what it used to look like.

I’m sure that I’d never seen this intriguing mural before, which is above the landing between the first and second floors near a back entrance to the building.
A map mural. Even better, an historic map mural, along with a train at a station under the map and what looks like a telephone and telegraph office in a balloon off to the side.

The mural looks new, so either it is, or maybe an older image was expertly refurbished. I didn’t see any signs or plaques nearby to tell me which, or who the artist is, and the library web site doesn’t seem to say, so for now I’ll let the matter rest. It’s always good to find a map mural.

My guess is that the map depicts the nation ca. 1900 — united by rail, telegraph and the still fairly new telephone, with a new century of progress to look forward to. Or possibly 1887, when the Newberry was founded, or 1893, when the current building opened.

Though not cartographically precise (West Virginia looks especially mashed), the map’s close enough to evoke the United States of the period. One detail I noticed was that South Dakota’s towns were Deadwood and Yankton, even though the territorial capital moved to Bismarck in 1883 (presumably Al Swearengen would then refer to those “c—suckers from Bismarck” rather than Yankton).

Also, note the pre-land boom, pre-drain the Everglades, pre-Disney, pre-Florida Man Florida.
A little fuzzy, but it’s clear that there’s no Miami and no Orlando.

Also, the states depicted were not quite all states at the beginning of the 20th century. Arizona, New Mexico and what became Oklahoma were still territories.

That would be my only quibble: before it became a state, Oklahoma was actually two territories, the Oklahoma Territory and the Indian Territory. The Indians of the Indian Territory wanted to be admitted as the state of Sequoyah, but Congress wasn’t having it, and so the two territories were joined to form the modern state in 1907.

How do I know that the map doesn’t depict borders sometime after 1907? Because of the depiction of Canada.
The wonderfully named Assiniboia was a district of the NW Territories, as were Saskatchewan and Athabasca, all before 1905 (Keewatin was a separate territory before 1905, then became a district of the NWT). A major reorg of prairie Canada was done in ’05, making it look mostly like it does now.

So the map depicts pre-1905 Canada, but post-1907 Oklahoma. Ah, well. It’s small quibble about such a fine example of a mural.

Bughouse Square & the Newberry Library in the Snow

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You have to like a place nicknamed Bughouse Square. The city of Chicago has just such a place on the Near North Side. I quote at length from the Encyclopedia of Chicago.

“Bughouse Square (from ‘bughouse,’ slang for mental health facility) is the popular name of Chicago’s Washington Square Park, where orators (‘soapboxers’) held forth on warm-weather evenings from the 1910s through the mid-1960s.

“Located across Walton Street from the Newberry Library, Bughouse Square was the most celebrated outdoor free-speech center in the nation and a popular Chicago tourist attraction.

“In its heyday during the 1920s and 1930s, poets, religionists, and cranks addressed the crowds, but the mainstays were soapboxers from the revolutionary left, especially from the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), Proletarian Party, Revolutionary Workers’ League, and more ephemeral groups.

“Many speakers became legendary, including anarchist Lucy Parsons, ‘clap doctor’ Ben Reitman, labor-wars veteran John Loughman, socialist Frank Midney, feminist-Marxist Martha Biegler, Frederick Wilkesbarr (‘The Sirfessor’), Herbert Shaw (the ‘Cosmic Kid’), the Sheridan twins (Jack and Jimmy), and one-armed ‘Cholly’ Wendorf.”

The Speakers’ Corner of Chicago, it was. But by the 1980s, when I first saw Bughouse Square, whose formal name is Washington Square Park, the place had quieted down. A number of homeless people were always in residence, however temporarily. Considering the way gentrification goes, those ragged souls might be regularly chased away now, a circumstance that would surely disturb the shade of Ben Reitman.

On Saturday morning, snow fell on Bughouse Square and most of the other people we saw there were walking dogs.
At the center of the square is a modest fountain, a recreation of an early 20th-century fountain on the site.

That morning fairly early, against our usual habit, Ann and I had gotten up and made our way to the city for an event across the street from the square at the Newberry Library.

As always, the library’s an impressive pile of stones.