ML - Michigan Avenue

2015 - Issue 4 - Summer - Art of the City - Hebru Brantley

Michigan Avenue - Niche Media - Michigan Avenue magazine is a luxury lifestyle magazine centered around Chicago’s finest people, events, fashion, health & beauty, fine dining & more!

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illustration by daniel o'leary Surely you're not old enough to remember this, but once upon a time in Chicago, summer meant seren- ity. In the 1850s, wealthy "saunterers" strolled Michigan Avenue to catch the lake breezes. In the '20s, journalist and screenwriter Ben Hecht wrote rapturously of colorful bathing suits and parasols on the beach. You could take in a leisurely game during the Cubs' charmed 1945 season at Wrigley Field before anyone was so crass as to build rooftop bleach- ers. Or better yet, you could avoid the riffraff and listen on your exquisitely polished Philco wood con- sole radio in the comfort of your own mansion. It wasn't completely idyllic, of course. Occasionally there was a riot or two or the odd cholera epidemic, but for the most part, summer in the Windy City has always been the definition of dignified, from relaxed cocktails at penthouse pools to the slightly more pro- vocative giggles drifting on the breeze from the pleasure boats of today's Playpen. But all that was B.L.—before Lollapalooza. It was 2005 when acts like Weezer and Widespread Panic first invaded Grant Park, opening the door for boom- ing Marshall stacks, enormous inf latables, an epic Porta-Potty contract, and so much sweaty youth that it harkened back to the distinctive odor of butchers on strike at the Union Stockyards. "Widespread panic" proved to be a self-fulfilling prophecy: It was the end of an era. Now when it's summer in Chicago, they'll let anyone in. Tourists have always been our civic burden, and we try not to complain. The unwelcome guests have multiplied, though, until they have completely com- mandeered the season. Those of you tracking signs of the apocalypse, look no further than July, when the Grateful Dead and their followers will infest Soldier Field. There'll be fan tailgating, all right, but with decriminalized reefer rather than potato salad. (God help us if they start grilling!) You can expect thou- sands of Deadheads who don't even have tickets. There is a website, Unsolved Grateful Dead Fans, which details the murders, the missing, and the unidentified. Was it really worth it—and I'm speaking to the murder victims here—for a band that named an entire album Aoxomoxoa simply because it was a palindrome? The Noise of Summer We can beat the seasonal heat—but can We beat the interlopers? by paige wiser Then there's the "Tour de Fat." Heard of it? You soon will, as it reels through the city just a few days after the Deadheads pass out. The costumed parade is a "rolling carnival of creativity" with the motto "More Beer, Bikes, and Bemusement." And the events at McCormick Place are becoming intolera- ble, and you know it. If you see any rowdy revelers wearing name tags from the transcatheter valve ther- apies convention, run. Worst of all? The North American Bridge Championships will overrun the Chicago Hilton in August. They call themselves civi- lized card players; we call them filthy gamblers. What can Chicago's smart set do to avoid the new summer chaos? Talks of trapping tourists on Navy Pier and barricading the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. have stalled, although there is still a spirited move- ment to free the Ferris wheel while it's in motion. And Plan B, to aim the weekly fireworks at the beer gar- den—simple, brilliant, effective—would result in too many native Chicagoan casualties. We will have to cede the Magnificent Mile to the hordes, but be realistic: We lost that fight years ago when Victoria's Secret erected its megastore, deco- rated like a Disney bordello, within spitting distance of Tiffany and Ralph Lauren. But who's to say that the resistance couldn't hand out misleading maps at O'Hare, modified so that Chicago's northern border abruptly ends at Oak Street? Beyond that, we could label the map "Uncharted," with some fanciful drawings of vicious sea creatures thrown in to scare off tourists. Hijacking the free downtown trolleys and the double-decker tour buses and rerouting them to Joliet? Nonviolent, certainly. I say we establish an underground of safe havens: the Casino Club, the terrace at Drumbar, and certain code-named yachts. If necessary, we could build an elegant, silver-plated, barbed-wire fence around the East Bank Club and retreat to the rooftop sundeck. No slovenly bands, no stumbling conventioneers, just scorching-hot serenity once again. We may not be able to entirely take back the summer, but at least we'd be above it all. MA 160  michiganavemag.com Gold coastinG summer 2015

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