The Chicago Bulls were playing the LA Lakers in the NBA finals. The Bulls had surprisingly lost Game 1 at home. The Bulls absolutely steamed through the Lakers for the rest of the series, winning the next 4 games. Michael Jordan had finally reached the summit of the NBA. He had been the best player in the league since 1986. Now he had led the Bulls to the championship, and the city went completely bonkers.
Local coverage after the Bulls won Game 5 and claimed their first NBA championship.
Memories remain of playing basketball in the alley by Ranjit’s house. In Chicago, the alleys are full of basketball backboards and rims attached to the back of people’s garages. We would rerun sequences in the game that we had just watched, pretending to be Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, and of course Michael Jordan. It seems weird in retrospect as this is something that I would not imagine sixteen-year-old teens doing. Imitating our basketball heros was a holdover from our childhood. I played more basketball that summer than I ever had previously, and it was such a pleasure. At the beginning of summer, a job opportunity presented itself. For the past two years, Gospel Outreach High School had been renting space at Alvernia. The building had previously housed an all-girls Catholic high school. The building was now being repurposed and Gospel Outreach had to find a new location. A considerable project was undertaken to move the school’s belongings out and manpower was needed to get this done. This would be an opportunity to make some money and I was all in.
Ranjit, Danny, myself and a few others signed up for the gig. Our boss was this short, rotund, overweight man named Dominic Lobello. As the name suggests, he was Italian American. He was a little reminiscent of the late Jerry Krause, the former GM of the Chicago Bulls. What we learned early on was that Dominic was gruff and a penny pincher. He needed cheap labor that he could pay cash under the table to keep costs down. We fit the bill.
One of the kids who had also signed up was Henry Ha. He was Korean and his parents ran a fast -food restaurant on Elston Avenue and Irving Park Road called Uncle Pete’s. The first time I saw Henry was at a Gospel Outreach graduation ceremony in early June of ’91. He was slickly dressed. His flattop was far more manicured and sophisticated than mine. There might have been some highlights or tinting in his hair. It was a K-Pop look before there was K-Pop. He was quiet and unassuming. Henry was also a gifted athlete. He was 3-4 inches shorter than me, but he could comfortably grab a basketball rim. He was a two footed leaper, meaning he’d launch himself off both feet as opposed to myself where I would generally jump off of my right foot. Fluid and smooth, Henry was a graceful player with a fair amount of skill.
The way that I found out about Henry’s prowess on the basketball court was because the Alvernia building had a basketball gym. We would go and play basketball there for hours on end. The group would consist of Henry, Ranjit, and myself. Occasionally there were others. Since most of the time there was only three of us, we played a game called 21. In effect, it is a game where everyone plays for themselves and the first one to reach 21 wins. The game was great for developing one on one abilities and free throw shooting. Once a player scored a basket, they would have the opportunity to add to their score by nailing their free throws. A player could add three extra points if they were able to hit all three free throws. If the free throw was missed the ball was live and could be rebounded by anyone. The player that grabbed the rebound would take the ball back out to the top of the key around the three-point line. Then they would have the chance score in open play.
That summer I developed an off the dribble jumper from around the foul line that I was able to hit with relative consistency. This was a tough move to defend because I would charge hard off the dribble with the intention of attacking the basket. The defender would have to respect that I was quick enough to get to the basket and then athletic enough to finish the play. Defenders would play off of me to give themselves enough space to stop me from driving. In turn, I would attack off the dribble but then pull up and leap into a hanging jumper from 10-17 feet. It was a simple enough strategy, but it worked. I shot thousands of pull up jumpers that summer at Alvernia.
I did not have a sophisticated, well developed game. There was not a lot of polish. What I had was natural scoring instincts. My physique allowed me to play like a dump truck against most kids my age while I was quick enough to go around bigger, more physical players.
At age 16 in the summer of 91’ the progression in my game allowed me to legitimately compete with grown men. I played Rick Hoendervoogt that summer. He was on the periphery of the Gospel Outreach community. His younger sister Jenny was a year younger than me and attended Gospel Outreach high school. Rick was 23 or 24 years old and a big guy. He was 6’3 and probably 230 or 240 lbs. with long arms. Puerto-Rican on his mom’s side and so obviously Dutch with that last name from his father, Rick was a cynical, wise cracking, tough, but well-intentioned guy. He stopped by the Alvernia gym randomly one day and challenged me to a game of one-on-one. I beat Rick 11-8 and I was happy but not surprised. We would lock horns again the next summer.
The intersection of Irving Park Road and Elston Avenue. Uncle Pete’s restaurant was located in the building on the right side of the road.
The days working at Alvernia were a blast. I took the Irving Park bus and got off near Elston avenue. From there it was maybe a block to Alvernia. I would meet up with Henry and Ranjit in the gym to play basketball for 20 minutes before we were rounded up for work. Our supervisor was this older fella named Red. He was some character this guy. Red was at least 50 years old, had long white hair that he pulled back into a ponytail along with a bushy white mustache. He always wore a jean jacket that had the sleeves cut off and he rarely wore a t-shirt. Red looked like a burned-out rock and roll roadie that had just finished up a tour with Willie Nelson.
Red had loads of energy and was great fun to work for. He would bark out the orders of what needed to be done and we would get after it. Most of the work entailed moving out furniture and various school supplies to these giant dumpsters outside. It was hard, physical work but we enjoyed ourselves.
Danny was part of the crew early in the summer, but he had the misfortune of getting hit by a car while riding his bike home. Thankfully, it was not terribly serious, but it put him out of commission for a month. Ranjit, Henry, and myself were the regulars. I do remember my old grade school classmate Nathan Marroquin making some appearances early on in the summer. We came across all sorts of junk and miscellaneous items as we emptied out the building. One of the more memorable findings was a pile of older, “artistic” photos that we happened upon. The photos featured several nude models posing in very normal, inconspicuous positions. There was nothing really sensual about the photos, certainly not pornographic. Well, naturally as sixteen-year-old boys, we thought that they were hilarious.
There was one photo in particular that caught my attention. It was a black and white photo of two men in the nude. It was a white guy and a black dude standing side by side with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Just two buddies hanging out. They both had these big, happy smiles on their faces. Apparently, they were very pleased to be friends. They also seemed to be very happy that they had no clothes on. There was nothing suggestive about the photo. Wieners were thankfully flaccid. They were not THAT happy. Well, I howled with laughter when I saw this photo and almost immediately, I knew what needed to be done with this fine piece of art.
I found some tacks and pinned up the photo to one of the hallways at Alvernia that saw the most activity. Before I pinned up the photo, I located a black marker and wrote at the top of the photo, “Ranjit and Nathan”. The white guy in the photo had a mustache and Nathan also had a wispy mustache as well. Nathan bore a passing resemblance to Paul Rutherford of Frankie Goes to Hollywood. I was delighted with myself, certain it would provoke a reaction. My natural inclination to be a provocateur was growing and I thought that this was hysterical. Most of the boys did as well and we had a good laugh about the whole thing. But hang on, with people from Gospel Outreach still coming to and from the building, someone was bound to take issue with our celebration of art and the human form.
“C’mon Debbie, Frankie says Relax!”
Well, sure enough, a few days later Ann and Greg get a call from Debbie Renaud. Debbie was the mother of Kevin, my old dodgeball nemesis, and his fourteen-year-old sister Jenny. According to Debbie, her daughter was walking through the hallway when she came across the photo of the naked men. Apparently, the sight of male nudity had traumatized poor Jenny and sent her running off in tears to Mommy. She then recounted the shock and horror to Debbie, who sought out the photo to see with her own eyes the source of her dear daughter’s distress. Poor Jenny had been potentially scarred for life by my low brow, sophomoric stunt. Debbie was not the sort to let this pass without making an almighty fuss.
By this point, I was not too worried about what Gospel Outreach church members thought of the photo. Ann and Greg asked me to sit down in the front room and explain myself. I told them exactly what happened, what the photo displayed and what I wrote on the photo. Ann and Greg carefully listened, trying not to crack a smile. Thankfully, they were not taking the situation very seriously either and it all quickly blew over. I have to admit, I was pleased as punch that my hijinks had ruffled Debbie’s feathers.
Work at Alvernia lasted pretty much all summer. It was a massive building with multiple floors. We were not the only ones working and the former high school was now a multipurpose building. As I was roaming the hallways looking for Red, I pushed through these swinging doors on the third floor. I found myself in the midst of what looked like a mental ward. There were people wandering around in bath robes and there was a strong, medicinal odor that wasn’t particularly pleasant. The scene resembled something out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Well, I was not keen to wait around for Nurse Ratched and promptly went back from whence I came. That part of the building was indeed being used as a mental health facility of sorts.
We did not have a strict work schedule. Our shift would start around 9:00 am and our day usually ended around 4:00 pm. But a lot of that workday was spent in the gym playing basketball. At least an hour a day we were in the gym playing 21. One day we had finished up a job and Red had instructed us to find him afterwards for the next assignment. A cursory search for Red turned up empty. We decided to be responsible employees and report to the gym to play hoops until further notice. We played for what was probably around 90 minutes. Red finally tracked us down and gave us hell. When I tried to reason with Red and told him that we had looked for him, his response was short and succinct, “Fuck you Big Jim!!” I felt a little sheepish, but Ranjit, Henry and myself were ready to burst out laughing. Red was a comical character and he would not stay angry for long. To be fair, we did hustle after him and worked hard the rest of the day. But man, oh man was he pissed.
Red always wore his jean jacket that had the sleeves cut off. I almost never saw him without this item of essential clothing, except for one occasion. It was a typical hot and humid Chicago summer day and Alvernia had no air conditioning. Red had taken off his jean cut off jacket and set it down while we were moving some tables into a truck. I saw my chance. I drifted away for a few minutes and casually grabbed the jacket. I ducked around the corner and soon Ranjit and Henry came looking for me. I quickly took my shirt off and put on Red’s jean jacket. Red was not a big man and I was already around 6’2 at this point. The jacket was ill fitting but that was not stopping me from rocking this piece of fine roadie attire. I managed to find a bandana and a cigarette to complete the look. We could hear Red around the corner cursing up a storm wondering where his beloved jacket went.
I don’t have a picture of Red. He pretty much looked like a more burnt-out version of Willie Nelson.
When I appeared around the corner imitating Red, miming his walk and mannerisms, Ranjit and Henry were cracking up. This probably violated many Korean societal mores about respecting your elders, but Henry was laughing. Ranjit made no attempt to hide his delight and guffawed out loud. Red was not as amused although there was a slight smile before he caught himself and barked out, “Fuck you Big Jim!!”. Red never held grudges for long and soon all was forgiven. In fact, Red was great fun and always a lively presence.
For lunch, Ranjit, Henry and myself would head over to the restaurant on Elston and Irving that his parents owned and operated. Uncle Pete’s was your typical independent, fast food/diner type establishment. The food was your standard char broiled burgers, fries, onion rings and milkshakes. I would almost always order a cheeseburger with onion rings and a chocolate shake. I was not exactly calorie counting but lunch had to be in the range of 3,000 calories. The massive lunchtime intake was offset by the fact that I was 16, doing physical labor and playing basketball all day. Those decadent lunches were so damn good, and Henry’s parents were super, super nice.
Music from the summer of ‘91
The summer of 91’ in Chicago had its own soundtrack. Early on in June I had stopped into a music shop at the Brickyard Mall when I was hanging out with Danny. I picked up a cassette single by The Pet Shop Boys, “Where the Streets Have No Name (I Can’t Take My Eyes Off You)”. It had been a few years since I had heard anything by the Pet Shop Boys. I had always liked what I had heard from the band up to that point. I took a chance and bought the single without ever having heard the song. It was a sound investment. I played the track repeatedly that summer on my Sony headphones. It was not a huge hit in the US, and it received little to no airplay on Chicago radio. But it was my find and that would become one of my personal quirks, trying to find tunes that were great but not mainstream fare.
Seriously underrated tune from The Pet Shop Boys
If there was a song that summed up the summer of 91’ for me in Chicago, it was “Strike It Up” by Black Box. The song has been so thoroughly overplayed over the years that people forget just how masterful a house track it is. Italian producers had taken the Chicago House music sound and added levels of polish and sophistication. Marry those elements with a powerhouse female Black vocalist and you had musical magic. From the intro that uses a synthesized horn sound to the updated disco influences and the vocals, the song has it all as a completely thumping dance classic.
You know the song and you love it. Admit it. It’s ok.
The previous summer another Italian House production that dominated Chicago radio was The 49er’s and the track “Touch Me”. Once again, the Italians took a Chicago House jam, “French Kiss” by Lil’ Louie and used those influences to create the filthy, orgasmic rhythm that makes “Touch Me” such an iconic dance track. I remember Danny Nunez loved this song along with another track by The 49er’s, “Don’t You Love Me”.
This tune gets a bit naughty during the middle part. Gospel Outreach Church leadership would not have approved!
What is interesting to note is that these productions were actually released in late 1989 in Europe. Sometimes music would travel slowly, and it would be nearly a year later or even longer before a song would make a breakthrough on US radio. That is what happened with Black Box & The 49ers.
But where dance music is pretty much mainstream music in Europe, that was not the case in the US. The US music scene was ushering in a new era where Grunge and Alternative Rock was now starting to dominate with white listeners. Rap along with R&B dominated the black music scene. Music was becoming more strictly categorized. Dance or electronic music would get pigeon-holed or labelled as weird or outside the norm. The urban Chicago music scene existed outside of that scope as it continued to embrace all kinds of music. Medusa’s, the iconic club on the north side of the city had a playlist that epitomized the diversity of music that was part of the Chicago scene.
Short documentary on the teen nightclub Medusa’s that left a lasting imprint on Chicago club culture.
Another track that made its way to the States and became a big hit was “Unbelievable” by EMF. So British and so early 1990’s. What category would you put this track in? It has aspects of dance, hip-hop spoken verse, and wild guitar riffs. The band members were probably hopped up on ecstasy and EMF did not have any other hits to my knowledge. “Unbelievable” was huge in ’91.
EMF: Drugged up Brits dancing, rapping, and playing guitars.
The UK continued to be a huge influence in my musical tastes and The KLF introduced the arena house/dance sound. Ultra-slick production that fused dance and hip-hop. It was not easy to categorize the KLF. I had initially seen them on MTV in early ’91 with their first release “3:00 AM Eternal”. The video is arresting as it is all filmed at night in what is presumably London. The stadium house sound was ground-breaking and blew my mind when I heard it. The KLF were a production team where the singers and rappers were the necessary accessories to the total package the group was presenting. After 91-92, they disbanded and that was that. Following the idea that it is better to burn out than fade away, the founders of the KLF retired from the music industry in 1992.
First saw this video from my couch late at night in Pittsburgh
The artist Seal came out with “Crazy”, the track that made him an international star. I saw the video in conjunction with the song and the experience was similar to seeing Nenah Cherry and “Buffalo Stance”. The video and song are fused together in my memory. Trevor Horn was the producer, and the sound had that epic quality that he brought to Frankie Goes to Hollywood. I did not care much of what Seal produced later in his career, but he got it right with “Crazy”.
Seal with dreads and snow and birds.
Life was vibrant in Chicago during the summer of 1991. I was having fun and had some money in my pocket. That summer I bought a cassette that took music to another level for me: 1999 by Prince. I was late to the party with discovering this record. 1999 had been released in 1982 and here it was nearly 10 years later that my virgin ears were being introduced to an album that is at times so raunchy it would make your ears blush. Prince’s musical and creative genius was almost at its apex. This Rolling Stone review from ’82 is a very good summarization.
1999
My interest in Prince had really started back in 1988 when he released the album Alphabet St in the spring/summer of that year. Then I heard Little Red Corvette on the radio and that was it. I was hooked. In 8th grade, I had gotten my hands on a tape from Robert Garcia that was a combination of his Purple Rain album with some tracks from 1999. Robert was in 6th grade at the time! Aside from the quality of the music, which was unreal, there was the added thrill that this was scandalous material! The super charged, sexual nature of the lyrics combined with Prince’s completely over the top image made his music that much more compelling.
He was Jimi Hendrix meets David Bowie meets Little Richard, but it was all delivered in a package that was 100% genuine and original.
Part of the fascination was undoubtedly related to the fact that his music would have been absolutely off limits in the culture of Gospel Outreach. Bear in mind, I was part of a very conservative Christian community. “Worldly” music was frowned upon, even if most of the teenagers listened to mainstream music. I cannot imagine the reaction of church members to someone like Prince. The church elders probably would have attempted an intervention of some kind that would have ended up as an exorcism. Maybe I’m exaggerating slightly, but maybe not.
I died a little inside when my fifteen-year-old daughter saw this video and said, “Oh, he’s like Harry Styles!”
I mustered up the courage to buy “1999” during the summer of ’91. It felt like I had made an illicit purchase. Then the following ridiculous scenario unfolds: My sister Ann is driving me to Six Corners, a shopping center located at the intersection of Cicero, Irving, and Milwaukee Avenue. I have the cassette with me but of course I’m wearing a pair of shorts with no pockets. I stuff the cassette into the waistband of my underwear. Real slick. I’m absolutely petrified of being caught with the cassette. Of course, as we exit the car, the cassette falls out from my waistband and onto the ground. Immediately, Ann looks down, picks up the cassette and asks, “What’s this?’ I am positively mortified. I quickly tried to gloss over the situation, “Oh that’s 1999 by Prince. The guy is an amazing guitar player! He’s probably as good as Phil Keaggy”. Phil Keaggy was a Christian music artist that I knew Ann appreciated. I was grasping for straws. To her credit, Ann did not make a big deal out of the situation. But man, was my heart in my throat when that cassette hit the ground.
Phil Keaggy: Christian guitarist in his most suggestive pose.
I wonder if Prince ever listened to Phil Keaggy?
I was extremely fortunate that the album cover for 1999 is relatively tame. I would have been in a hell of a lot of trouble if it had been the “Lovesexy” album instead.
The Lovesexy album cover? Not quite sure………but the theme appears to be going for the birth of the original man of love.
Love Hurts: Part II
Music is a catalyst for emotion and my feelings for Meredith were hitting their zenith (I was going to use the word climax, but that seemed…well, perhaps better suited for a Prince song). I had been writing notes to her throughout the summer. Her brother Danny had functioned as the courier. Danny wasn’t wild about his role, but he dutifully delivered my notes to his sister. There was nothing sordid or tawdry within the contents of those letters, it was all very innocent.
Meredith would write back and her responses would be lengthy and detailed. While my letters would be written on plain loose-leaf paper, Meredith’s notes were presented on far prettier letterhead. The kind you would purchase at a Hallmark. The presentation added to the allure and my heart would be racing each time I would receive a letter. Her younger sister Missy would deliver the notes to me whenever I was over at their house. She took great relish in her task and enjoyed teasing me whenever she had the chance. I would have no witty responses and would turn red as a tomato. However, I always sensed that Missy was on my side. The note delivering was all very clandestine. You would have thought that we were passing along top-secret government information!
Part of the reason for the secrecy was that dating was not permitted within the rules of Gospel Outreach Church. Of course, there were kids who flouted the rules. Ravi Sari had briefly gone out with Jessica Rodriguez and then dated this girl Casey for a more extended period. Junior and Rochelle were a couple, but by this time they had graduated from high school. There was a fairytale element involved with Meredith as she was this seemingly inaccessible maiden locked up away from the world. Okay, that might be laying it on a bit thick but there is some truth in that analogy.
Since we have introduced the fairytale narrative, naturally I was the knight with the purest of intentions that was going to win her heart. Our letter writing would last the duration of that summer. Meredith’s 16th birthday was in mid-August. The occasion was perfect to present a gift that properly expressed my feelings. I went to the mall and purchased a gold necklace. I was not holding my cards close to the vest. I was going all in. My memory is hazy on how the gift was delivered. It is possible that I quickly handed it to her, but I am not certain. Some moments can be so nerve wracking that it blurs in your mind. What I do know is that the gift was successfully delivered.
I think that Meredith was taken aback by the gift. A gold necklace was a big deal and nakedly revealed the depth of my feelings for her. All my cards were placed on the table. I was not built to be coy or clever with my intentions. Now mind you, we did not have a single conversation that summer between us. This had the effect to amplify my feelings and heighten the internal anticipation.
The following day, Meredith secretly arranged a meetup where were finally alone with each other. No words were spoken. Our passionate embrace was warm and intense. We promised to keep writing letters throughout the school year until we could be reunited the next summer. Ok, NONE of that really happened the following day. There was no secret rendezvous. There was no passionate embrace. In fact, I cannot recall her precise response. Perhaps there wasn’t one. Suffice to say it was not the reaction I had been hoping for. My chivalrous quest for the young maiden’s heart had ended in noble failure. I do not recall a single moment of crushing heartache like the previous summer. Perhaps this was a slower, more finite realization that I was processing.
It was a terrific disappointment and it certainly did not help my already fragile self-image. But I had been honest in my feelings and accepted the deep disappointment as well as I could. I would still remain attracted to Meredith through senior year, but it was not the same. The flame never burned as hot as it did the summer of ’91.
The look of doomed melancholy on Lancelot’s face encapsulates my teenage angst in 1991.
I’m thoroughly embarrassed and oddly proud to recall how head over heels I was. It was pure and unadulterated puppy love, maybe something beyond that. I am honestly not sure. However, in retrospect it was completely life affirming.
The summer was winding down and that meant that I was headed back to Central Catholic for my junior year. In other words, my furlough was ending, and I was due back in the Pittsburgh prison that was largely of my own construction.
Gospel Outreach School and High School Memories 1988-1992 