My son, Nico, loves the zoo. He’s eight years old, and going there inspires, engages, and delights him in a way that few other activities or places can.
Bernice's Tavern in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago would be a corner bar if it was on a corner.
Hardboiled Coffee Co. opened on a cold February day in 2013. I stopped by a few days before and found the doors locked and no one inside. I was so eager for a real coffee shop in Beverly, I didn't check to make sure of the grand-opening date.
In 1983, shortly after Harold Washington was elected mayor of Chicago, Richard Mell, a white alderman, approached the African-American mayor with this plea: “Don’t make this city suffer for 300 years of injustice against your people.
In the 1930s, the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) set out to evaluate mortgage lending risk in American cities. The resulting maps codified and legitimized the racism of the day ...
By Mark Athitakis Old newspaper habits die hard. Across the [...]
Manufacturing Consent: Chicago’s Oldest Steel Mill Will Soon Be Demolished. What Will Replace It When It’s Gone?
Until last year the A. Finkl & Sons Co. furnaces glowed orange at night. A lonely car might have breezed past on the darkened street, or the No. 73 bus, ferrying bleary-eyed workers to homes on the west side of Chicago.
Documentaries about artists can go wrong in a million different ways. Take John Maloof's recent Finding Vivian Maier, which is more a film about Maloof's transformation from a ragpicker into the self-appointed keeper ...
Burn or Fizzle? Public Art, Economic Renewal, and the Curious Case of the Great Chicago Fire Festival
The critics were brutal. Headlines called it a “fizzle,” a “fiasco,” and “a total bust.” Some 30,000 people had gathered on the banks of the Chicago River in the city’s downtown on the night of October 4, waiting to see three floating houses set ablaze.
NATO held its international meeting in Chicago a couple months before I decided to quit driving a cab in 2012. Mayor Emanuel turned the city into a militarized showplace for the visitors' benefit.
Every city is a text. You can read the city. My favorite way to read Chicago is like a book of poetry. Not necessarily straight through but jumping around, page to page, focusing hard on one thing, then flipping past others ...
Chicago’s Greyhound terminal in late Aug. 1966 certainly lacked cheer and charm, and perhaps safety. But to me, holding a one-way ticket back to Calumet County, WI, it was a suitable escape platform from my job as a “Summer Girl”