Tyler Leeds

Bruce Taylor began the first day of class by asking his nine students why they were given their first names. “I was named Joy,” responded one student, “because my daddy said I brought joy into his life.” After two beats of respectful silence a single giggle escaped from someone’s mouth. The class erupted in laughter. Taylor moved on to the next student.

“My grandma and my mom named me Ashley because they didn’t want stereotypes thrown upon the family,” answered another student. “Instead of being called a black name, they chose a common name so that unless I told someone my race no one would know.” This time no one laughed. Instead, a few hands crept toward the book lying on everyone’s desk—Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man.” Taylor was unfazed, and moved on to the next student. Ashley’s response was exactly what he was looking for.

****

The students all came from King College Prep in Kenwood, one of Chicago Public Schools’ selective-enrollment high schools. They had come to a classroom on the University of Chicago campus to participate in an enrichment program called Living Bookshelf. The program, created by Taylor, attempts to push student engagement with the arts beyond plot quizzes and reviews. In Taylor’s classroom, the students were pushed to emotionally identify with Ellison’s work. In preparation for their first session, the class attended Court Theatre’s production of the “Invisible Man”—the novel’s first theatrical adaptation.

After four two-hour sessions of discussion and collaboration, the students will have produced their own creative response to Ellison’s novel—a two-scene musical theatre piece exploring the identities of two secondary characters. Mary Ann Ivan, a veteran of Broadway musical pits, will be flown in to compose music to accompany the lyrics the students write. Taylor will then hire professional actors and singers to perform the scenes on stage at Court Theatre as part of the Hyde Park Bank High School Performance Festival on February 24. But before lyrics can be paired with notes, the students have to do some work.

****

While Ashley’s response quieted the room, Taylor was just beginning to warm up. At age 65, Taylor is a spry man. He has a mess of grey hair and a full mustache. He speaks with the intonation and cadence of someone used to an audience. As his students sat along narrow tables that formed a hollow rectangle, Taylor ran about in the middle. He never waited for his students to raise their hands. Instead, he would rush up to whoever hadn’t spoken in awhile. He would lean across the table and look them in eye and ask, “What do you think?” If they took too long, he would reach across and poke the students gently in the head. Their stunned expressions and indignation didn’t change the fact that Taylor’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Taylor’s first question was intentionally pointed—the history of one’s family and culture are often expressed in one’s name. Taylor’s class contains nine African Americans from the South Side, and he was seeking an emotional avenue into Ellison’s text. “Invisible Man” is the story of an African-American man leaving the South for New York City during the turbulent inter-war years.

After Ashley’s remark, everyone could make out the connection between their own lives and the novel. But how clearly did they see it? While Taylor allowed the power of Ashley’s words to linger in the classroom, he is still, like many great educators, quite demanding. Taylor began to drill his students on the basics.

“Our understanding must begin with context,” Taylor declared. “What is the context of this work?”

“Racism. Those were racist times,” said one student, half as an answer and half as a question.

“Correct, but tell me more,” Taylor pressed. “Tell me specifically. Jim Crow laws have a lot to do with the context of this work. Now, which Jim Crow laws offend you the most, and which offend you the least?”

Taylor marched around the room, passing from student to student. They all had the chance to demonstrate their opinions, with Taylor supplementing their knowledge of history along the way. In this manner, the students not only strengthened their understanding of the text, but also the connection between Ellison’s reality and the South Side today.

****

Taylor has a long history with theatres. In the mid-1970s, Taylor was the production stage manager for the Seattle Opera. Under the Carter administration, federal money became available to arts organizations that were willing to bring their programming to public school students. This is where Taylor got his start as an arts educator. To prepare students to experience opera—never an easy task—Taylor was sent to prep classes on what to expect before arriving at the theatre. According to Taylor, “I had done almost everything anyone can do in a theatre, but I found I really enjoyed [teaching] and that I did it well.”

From this beginning, Taylor conceived of a post-viewing session to help students refine their understandings of the performances and to discuss their reactions. But Taylor knew arts education shouldn’t simply work to increase his student’s appreciation of work. He wanted his students to love art with the same intensity he possessed, but he also wanted them to get a job so that they could continue to appreciate the arts. As a result, Taylor claims it is his job to “get kids to really use in their own lives what we in the arts use in our profession. So I thought to myself, ‘What are the habits of mind that artists develop? How do we think? How do we create? How do we work together?’”

The seed of Living Bookshelf was planted, but Taylor still needed inspiration. During this time, Taylor came across the Foxfire Magazine. Created in 1966, “Foxfire” is one of the most prominent examples of 1960s experiential education.

Based out of Rabun Gap-Nacoochee School, a private high school in Georgia, “Foxfire” was a student-produced publication that documented the cultural history of the declining Appalachian culture. A collection of the articles was published as a book in 1972, later becoming a national bestseller.

“After reading the Foxfire book,” says Taylor, “I asked myself, Why couldn’t kids do that in the arts?” As a result, Taylor began a program entitled “Creating Original Opera.” As in Living Bookshelf, students were tasked with not only understanding a work—in this case, an opera—but also producing an artistic response to be performed. According to Taylor, “Creating Original Opera” was conducted in over 1000 schools across twelve countries.

But “Creating Original Opera” was always seen as a supplement to his students’ education. While Taylor may wish otherwise, operas never play a central role in primary education. In today’s world, the reaching of national standards in the language arts and mathematics controls school funding. Taylor had to adapt.

“Common Core State Standards dominate primary education. They have been adopted by 46 states. And so I looked at the Common Core requirements, and I thought that I could slightly modify what I do to meet these new requirements,” says Taylor. Living Bookshelf is Taylor’s attempt to meet state education requirements through the arts.

****

Taylor recently left the East Coast for Chicago because his wife found a new job. “She makes way more money than I do, so I had to move with her,” he says. “I moved here without a job. I still don’t have a job, but arts education is what I do, so I don’t care if I get paid to do it or not. I like to think that I am my wife’s contribution to the arts.”

Once in Chicago, Taylor got in touch with William Michel, executive director of the UofC’s Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts. Taylor’s current incarnation of Living Bookshelf is being offered through the UofC’s Arts and Public Life Initiative. Taylor had no plans to work with “Invisible Man,” but took advantage of Court Theatre’s production. According to Dara Epison, program coordinator of University and Community Arts Collaborations, “The fact that the students chosen to work with him would have the opportunity to perform their work on Court’s stage with professional actors was simply a result of the stars aligning properly and Court being incredibly supportive.”

****

By the end of the first session, the students had had no problem identifying the two characters from “Invisible Man” that they wanted to explore. Selecting the character of Ras, who is loosely based on the Black Nationalist Marcus Garvey, was especially easy. The students were intrigued by the man they interpreted as vengeful, strong-willed, and determined.

In between the end of class and the second session, held last Saturday, the students were tasked with creating a biography for Ras that explained his traits. Whether the result of Taylor’s careful prodding or not, imagination was in strong supply.

“Ras witnessed the murder of his family,” said one student, serious and soft.

“Yeah, his father was betrayed by a white guy involved in the Brotherhood,” whispered another.

As they traced out the source of his anger, Ras’s identity came into focus. He was a poet, and a few years had passed since the time of “Invisible Man.” Ras was now a participant in the Harlem Renaissance—another context for the students to explore.

****

Most classrooms don’t work this way. Often, mastering the plot is what matters. It demonstrates a student’s ability to grasp and recall information, as that line of thinking goes. But while Taylor has adapted his project to state requirements, he believes foremost in protecting his students’ futures.

“Plenty of people have iPhones or iPads—if you want to know something, you just look it up,” he notes. “The students of today, if they want to succeed, need to learn how to think and create. They will be paid to be creative. The thing we have to prove, and I want to demonstrate with these kids, is that artists can contribute to student achievement. But we’re not going to succeed by having kids just act, sing, and dance. We have to have them get creative in a way they can apply to an academic subject.”

By leading his students through lyric writing, Taylor hopes to grant his students a command of metaphors—something required for state tests and successful communication. Placing these lyrics atop a melody will be no easy task, but the students still have a few more weeks to prepare. In the end, Taylor’s class will have created something new. This ability—creativity—is at the heart of Taylor’s mission.

“Because of the tests, teachers don’t ask students what they think, they ask what do you know, which isn’t so important. When you ask younger kids what do you think, they freeze. But the jobs out there today are conceptual and creative. The arts can help them think and create.”

Maggie Sivit

“The neighborhood’s not what it used to be.” Expressed as a sigh, this refrain is all too familiar in Hyde Park and Kenwood. For some, the real neighborhood was long ago disfigured by the neoclassical and neo-gothic constructions that line the Midway—imprints of the University of Chicago’s founding and the 1893 Columbian Exposition. Halfway through the next century, another chorus claims history’s proper course was thwarted by the destructive force of urban renewal. During this period, the vital cultural artery of 55th Street was drained of its blood, leaving townhouses where clubs once stood. And while these moments don’t lack significance, they are merely convenient benchmarks extracted from a lengthy history. A neighborhood existed long before the 1890s, and exclusion didn’t simply begin or end. Neighborhoods are eternally being made and remade; they are inherently never what they used to be.

Today, no great changes appear on the horizon. Hyde Park and Kenwood are mostly residential and tree-lined, amber and beautiful in the autumn. The lake still reflects each sunrise, sending plumes of fog rolling west in the springtime. Most of the plans for major new additions to the neighborhood are concentrated along Hyde Park’s 53rd Street. Two new developments will be adding glass and steel to an area known for brick, while new businesses procured by the University will appear in older storefronts. Surely more changes will come, but for now this area is a place for schoolchildren and undergraduates, working parents and professors, and of course, the President and those peculiar parakeets.

Best of the Best Bookstores
O’Gara & Wilson
Hyde Park is a book-lover’s paradise. The labyrinthine basement location of the Seminary Co-op carries the world’s largest collection of academic titles. Powell’s on 57th Street is awash with a changing stock of cheap reads, new and used. 57th Street Books, meanwhile, offers new books without the sterile glare and burnt coffee of Barnes & Noble. However, it is the antiquarian and used bookseller O’Gara & Wilson that makes Hyde Park appear celestial in the eyes of a bibliophile. The city’s oldest used bookstore, and according to Saul Bellow the nation’s best, is known for collecting books with a history. Recently the store acquired the libraries of Kenwood Rabbi Arnold Jacob Wolf and Hyde Park Alderman Leon Depres. Arranged with great care, each shelf in the store provides an opportunity to rejoice in what owner Dough Wilson called the “tactile adventure” of handling a volume in a recent interview with the Chicago Weekly. Yet, it is small charms like a taxidermy goose and stuffed moose head that add a whimsical atmosphere to this classic Hyde Park establishment. 1448 E. 57th St. Monday-Friday, 11am-7pm; Saturday, 11am-8pm; Sunday, 12pm-6pm. (773)363-0993. ogaraandwilson.com (Tyler Leeds)

Best Breakfast Sandwiches
Z&H
Good ideas catch on. The first Zaleski & Horvath MarketCafe opened along Kenwood’s 47th Street in 2008, and the company’s second installment arrived in Hyde Park last year.  Their sandwiches are known for their fine ingredients and a dose of imagination, but Z&H also has a respectable breakfast lineup. It might be tempting to begin your day alone on their counter with some prosciutto and triple crème cheese on a croissant (the “Tenzing Norgay”), but don’t forget to grab a coffee confection. Their new machines look flashy, but they’re clearly not just for show. An odd assortment of gourmet cheeses, meats, and grocery items rounds out Z&H’s offerings. Take advantage of the fleeting warm weather and escape the rush inside by sitting on the tranquil back porch, accessible through the back alley. Two locations: 1126 E. 47th St. and 1323 E. 57th St. Monday-Friday, 7am-7pm; Saturday-Sunday, 8am-6pm. (773)538.7372. zhmarketcafe.com (Tyler Leeds)

Best Comic Shop
First Aid Comics
James Nurss, owner of First Aid Comics, knows how to run a practice. Waiting behind the desk, Nurss greets customers by name, pointing them toward to a new arrival or a rare acquisition. If you have any questions, Nurss emerges from behind the counter to help, revealing his full-length white doctor’s coat, the outfit of a specialist. With shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling, and stock running from flimsy paper comics to thick, large-folio graphic novels, it would take nothing short of a specialist to curate this collection. Mixed throughout the store are more indulgent items—a Thor replica hammer for sale, a collection of mint-condition action figures, and a series of superhero adorned glassware. But, Nurss also offers group sessions. In the back of the store is a game room, a place for card tournaments and community get-togethers. Waiting for tournaments to begin, regulars often thumb through the $1 comic boxes, hoping for a good find. 1617 E. 55th St. Monday-Tuesday, 11am-7pm; Wednesday, 11am-8pm; Thursday-Saturday, 11am-7pm; Sunday, noon-5pm. (773)752-6642. firstaidcomics.com (Tyler Leeds)

Best Thing in Cobb Hall
The Renaissance Society
Tucked above and away on the fourth floor of the UofC’s Cobb Hall, the Renaissance Society’s vaulted exhibition room attempts to push ahead of the curve. As the Society approaches its centennial, it can look back on exhibits that have featured works by Picasso and Matisse, long before those artists had their paintings reproduced in coloring books. Today, the Society’s mission is to offer the South Side a chance to see contemporary art before it is enbalmed in the textbooks of the next generation. Not every exhibit spawns a star—the venue is too intimate to have such sway—but the Society has a record of taste and the nerve to take risks. Art exhibits, if anything, ought to be tasteful and risky. Cobb Hall 418, 5811 S. Ellis Ave. Tuesday-Friday, 10am-5pm; Saturday-Sunday, noon-5pm. (773)702-8670. Free. renaissancesociety.org (Tyler Leeds)

Best Record Store
Hyde Park Records
Corporate media outlets  may criminalize such behavior, but loitering completes Hyde Park Records. Regulars wander in, chatting up employees or casually sifting through crates. If you linger among the CDs, the regulars will mostly ignore you. Atop the displays, recent critical darlings will appear, wrapped in plastic alongside dirtier jewels. Overall, the backstock leans toward established ’90s indie rock. You know a discerning eye is at work when you see music recorded two decades ago adorned with a bright yellow “NEW” sticker. This isn’t a trick, of course, but rather a signal for collectors. While purchasing such a CD may garner the modest approval of an employee, to get in with the regular crowd you have to get dusty. Hidden in the vinyl crates are old jazz and blues LPs, tempting enthusiasts from across the city to come dig. If your own excavation leads to an unfamiliar record sleeve, hand it off to one of the regulars in exchange for a history lesson. 1377 E. 53rd St. Daily, 11am-8pm. (773)288.6588 (Tyler Leeds)

Best Film Screenings
Doc Films
Doc Films, the nation’s oldest continually running film society, can trace its beginnings back to a couple of Soviet film nuts in 1932. Every quarter of the UofC’s academic year, Doc assigns a theme to each weeknight, ranging from the academic (“The Post-Classical Western”) to the whimsical (“Gore! Monsters! North Carolina?”). On the weekends, the society indulges in recent box-office hits. Admission is only five bucks, even if the night features a director appearance or rare print. The upcoming season promises to hit home. Kartemquin Films, founded by three UofC alums, will be celebrating its 45^th anniversary with showings. The group earned international recognition for its Homeric documentary “Hoop Dreams,” which traced the high school basketball careers of two South Side ninth graders lavished with promises of stardom. Adding a bit of levity to the season, Friday’s series will feature the works of Woody Allen. Meanwhile, a series showing films from dGenerate will offer a glimpse into the independent film culture of contemporary China. Max Palevsky Cinema. 1212 E. 59th St. Times vary. $5 for one film, $30 for quarterly membership. (773)702.8574. docfilms.uchicago.edu(Tyler Leeds)

courtesy of Tim Long - Frank Lloyd Wright Preservation Trust

“Still turning heads after 100 years,” reads a banner on the side of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Frederick C. Robie House. Tourists cluster outside, eager to see the interior of this elegant fortress of a building. A ten-year-old poses stiffly near a planter and flashes a toothy grin as her father snaps a photo on his digital camera. A gleaming silver tour bus comes to a crawl at the curb in front of the house, and rows of gray heads peer from behind tinted windows to get a good look at the edifice. “All right, one-thirty tour, are we ready to begin?” a tour guide says brightly. As the pack moves toward the house’s front entrance, the tour group encounters two middle-aged women with their heads pressed up against the windows. “We were just looking,” they mutter, and sheepishly scuttle aside.

Since its construction, the Robie House has indeed been turning heads, as much out of controversy as admiration. It was the building Wright himself once called “the most ideal place in the world,” yet was once in danger of destruction. Located in the heart of Hyde Park, at the corner of 58th and Woodlawn, the home has long been a fixture in the Hyde Park community as a tourist attraction and architectural fascination, and it celebrates its centennial anniversary this year. The hubbub around the home, which is only one of hundreds designed by Wright throughout his prolific career, is notable. But the Robie House is more than just an architectural masterpiece—the story surrounding its South Side location is also the story of the man who designed it. The neighborhoods of Kenwood and Hyde Park shaped Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision as much as it shaped them.

The Chicago chapter of Wright’s career arguably began in Kenwood. In 1887, Wright arrived in Chicago and convinced the architects of a church to take him on as an apprentice for $8 a week. All Soul’s Church—originally located at 39th and Cottage Grove, but since demolished—was completed in that same year. At a church production of “Les Misérables,” Wright met his future wife, Catherine Tobin, the daughter of a wealthy Kenwood resident.

Wright knocked on the door of the famous Adler and Sullivan firm shortly after his work on All Souls’ Church, and spent several years there under the wing of Louis Sullivan. But strapped for cash and itching to branch out, he accepted ten independent commissions between the years 1891 and 1893 without Sullivan’s knowledge. Called Wright’s “bootlegged” houses, these residences were done in styles typical of the period. Two of them still survive in Kenwood.

The two stately siblings sit on the corner of 49th and Kenwood, fairly ordinary-looking and easily missed amidst a crop of 19th-century homes. Wright tried to justify the unoriginality of these houses in his autobiography: “I couldn’t invent the terms on my own overnight. At that time, there was nothing in sight that might be helpful.”

Built in 1892, the George Blossom House blends in with its aristocratic neighbors. But looking through a book of Wright’s work, University of Chicago professor of art history Katherine Taylor comments on the house’s small architectural details that make it noticeably Wright’s. “You can see his influence—the odd positioning of the windows, its horizontality. Today it looks”—she pauses, searching for an adequate word—“different.” Paint curls on the yellow clapboard siding and the graying ionic colonnade supporting the front porch. Balusters line the edge of a sagging side porch, and a century’s worth of paint distorts their original slender form. Moss colors the trim green in places.

Just up the block, the McArthur House is decidedly the pretty one. Also built in 1892, this edifice marked a turning point in Wright’s grasp on artistic license—for the first time in his life, Wright took the liberty to design all of the home’s furniture, woodwork, and art glass. Today, bright Fisher-Price toys and tricycles peep through the black grillwork of a fence. A matching garage in back is concealed by trees.

Wright attempted to remain incognito during his “bootleg” years, but his distinctive style ultimately gave him away. His mentor Sullivan, who owned a house in Kenwood, saw a nearby home whose style was unmistakably Wright’s. Sullivan promptly booted him out of the office in 1893 for breach of contract.

Southwest of the bootleg homes, the Isidore H. Heller House sits at 5132 Woodlawn Avenue. While designing this residence in 1897, Wright was still working under the assumptions of Sullivan’s style; his influence is apparent in the intricate Beaux Arts frieze tracing the third story of the building. But this commission marked an obvious shift in Wright’s architectural ideas; his Prairie Style had begun to emerge. From the home’s limestone façade, it’s hard to get a sense of its linearity; stepping alongside it, however, reveals its horizontal orientation. Rather than a single grand entrance facing the street, Wright positioned the main entrance along the southern edge of the building, a tacit push for the guest to walk around the entire structure and appreciate it in full. Wright used the same tactic in his next and most famous Hyde Park/Kenwood home.

In 1908, Wright began work on the Frederick C. Robie House. Perhaps the greatest example of his Prairie Style work, the Robie House is the apex of Wrightian geometry, a culmination of all the linear elements of his previous works. The place seems to levitate above the ground; a floating battleship in a then-sea of actual prairie. The simplicity is striking. In the entrance of the Robie House, one is overwhelmed by a sense of compression: the low-lying roof and narrow space make the visitor feel cramped. “Most people assume that the ceiling height is due to Wright’s own shortness, but Wright wanted it to be uncomfortable,” tour guide Beth Fioritto explains. “This was used to make the entryway a transitional space and encourage the guests to see the rest of the house.” Once inside, it’s clear that the building was designed with the client in mind; Fioretto points out a low “kid-friendly” hearth and bench in the Robie children’s playroom. Wright stressed in his autobiography, “Human use and comfort should have intimate possession of every interior—should be felt in every exterior.” Strong horizontal lines permeate the entire building; the mortar itself was specially stained to make rows of brick appear to be unbroken horizontal rows. Strength is balanced with delicacy in intricate wooden screens that cover the ceiling of the main level. Light streams through chevron-embossed windowpanes, evoking golden stalks of prairie wheat.

courtesy of Tim Long - Frank Lloyd Wright Preservation Trust

Wright’s aesthetic came from more than his imagination. “It was a matter of commissions,” says Professor Taylor. “His clients typically were modern, mechanically-minded business men,” the kind of people who were also attracted to the community surrounding the intellectual hotbed that was the University of Chicago. Wright himself described his clients as people “with unspoiled instincts and untainted ideas.” In the case of the Robie House, it was a predestined meeting of the minds. Robie himself was fascinated with engineering; as a hobby, he designed and built prototype automobiles. “When Robie expressed ideas for his home to other architects, they told him to go to Frank Lloyd Wright,” Fioritto explains. “Wright and Robie thought alike.”

The Robie House marked the end—and perhaps the peak—of Wright’s Prairie Style period. “This absorbing, consuming phase of my experience as an architect ended about 1909,” Wright wrote. “I had almost reached my fortieth year: weary, I was losing grip on my work—and even interest in it.” However weary he was of Prairie Style, Frank Lloyd Wright had a special love for the Robie House; he personally gave German-American architect Mies van der Rohe a tour. The building was later acquired by the UofC, which used it as a dormitory to house students of the Theological Seminary from 1926 to 1959. With the advent of mid-century urban renewal, the house was set for demolition in 1957 to make room for a new dormitory. In spite of his initial abandonment of the project in 1909, Wright fought relentlessly to keep the Robie House. He won, and in 1963 the Robie House was designated as a historic landmark.

“I like to end the tour here where we began,” Fioretto says, gesturing widely to the area adjacent to the garage. “I think this is how Wright meant for us to view the house: in its entirety.” In celebration of the Robie House’s centennial anniversary, numerous events will be held, including extended tours, concerts, cocktail after-hours, and special family programming. On October 23, in conjunction with the UofC Humanities Day, Professor Taylor will be joined by architect Geoffrey Goldberg and Robie House scholar Donald Hoffman to talk about the home’s architectural significance, followed by “Projecting Modern,” a multimedia art exhibit on the third floor.

In addition to the centennial events, the Robie House has been undergoing extensive interior renovations; the floors have been restored to their original salmon color, and white stucco walls are being repainted to replicate Wright’s original pallet—rich earth tones of ochre, peach, and tan. “Often on tours, people will comment on how contemporary this house is even after one hundred years,” Fioritto says at the conclusion of the tour. “For me, [Wright’s work is a] departure from building typical houses,” she adds as a final thought. “Wright’s houses are livable; the house fits the people who lived there.”

To learn about upcoming Robie centennial events, click here

Given that the University of Chicago is situated smack dab in the middle of Hyde Park, the resulting feel of the neighborhood (and of Kenwood, immediately to the north) is one of a strange cultural mélange. Sure, there’s the obvious difference in economic class between many of the UofC students and the local community members, but to reduce the social milieu to merely an advent of economic diversity would be superficial. Furthermore, to classify the area as a “college town” would be similarly incorrect. Beyond the University, and those businesses that cater to it, Hyde Park and Kenwood are full of unique restaurants, gardens, community centers, and even monk parakeets. And, of course, our current President calls these parts home. For those UofC students who have yet to explore their surroundings, and for those who have not yet visited the two neighborhoods, the following guide should assist you in experiencing them in all their full glory.

best finger-lickin’ ribs
Ribs n’ Bibs

If you’re hankering for some serious barbeque, Ribs n’ Bibs will hear your cry. Located in a tiny storefront on the corner of 53rd and Dorchester, this Hyde Park staple serves up nothing but the tastiest hickory-smoked barbeque and scrumptious accoutrements. Given the place’s name, it would be an absolute travesty if the ribs weren’t up to par—but worry not, they are, and so are the burgers, dogs, fish sandwiches, and fresh fries slathered in barbecue sauce. Just as the food is slowly infused with flavor, so has the restaurant been in Chicago culture and history. Adorning the walls are autographed photos of athletes, politicians, and local characters, as well as pictures of the restaurant through the years. One has the impression that Ribs n’ Bibs has long been a mainstay of Hyde Park and Kenwood for a reason, and after having consumed some of their wonderful food, all speculation disappears. 5300 S. Dorchester Ave. Monday-Friday, 11am-11:30pm. Saturday-Sunday, 11am-12:30am. (773)493-0400 (Alec Mitrovich)

best awkward tourist attraction
The Obama House

The stately red brick home on the corner of 51st Street and Greenwood Avenue doesn’t look much different from the ones around it—except for the concrete riot barriers blocking half a block on either side and the Secret Service agents parked in the driveway. Yep, that’s the president´s house. No, you can’t go any closer. While tourists take a disappointed look through the trees at the otherwise ordinary residence, neighbors have seen their property values increase and their parking spots disappear, and the K.A.M. Isaiah Israel Synagaogue across the street has seen their religious services turn into traffic nightmares. Even the school bus for the adjacent after-school program has to open its back door for a bomb check. Does anyone mind? It doesn´t seem like it. The seemingly tense set-up has become part of the neighborhood—the Secret Service agents know residents by name, and have even been known to retrieve a lost soccer ball or two for kids. The strange ritual of security is the neighborhood´s most direct reminder of Obama since he left for the White House—and, well, we’re proud. 5046 S. Greenwood Ave. (Harry Backlund)

best collision of cultures
Rajun Cajun

This tiny restaurant represents a critical element of Hyde Park itself. Marrying two apparently unrelated cuisines—southern Cajun-influenced soul food with dishes from India—this fine establishment is sure to satisfy the needs of any kind of spice-lover. Unorthodox combinations like samosas with jerk chicken and masala with biscuits complement each other in an unexpectedly symbiotic manner. For the traditionalist who wants to enjoy strictly Cajun or Indian food, worry not: to combine or not to combine, the choice is entirely yours. Even the cultural variety of the restaurant space itself is a hybrid; it feels like a traditional Indian buffet, with Hindu icons, statues, and paintings around the room, and sitar twangs and tabla rolls ring out from the kitchen, but hints of New Orleans are also present in the old menus. The warmly lit plastic booths of Rajun Cajun bridge the highly fraught space between culture and cuisine in a unique and delicious way. Seriously. It sounds weird, but try it. 1459 E. 53^rd St. Monday-Saturday, 11am-9:30pm; Sunday, noon-8:30pm. (773)955-1145. (Alec Mitrovich)

best crunchy grocery store
Hyde Park Produce

For those used to shopping at Whole Foods, this Kimbark Plaza standout might be your new favorite place. Of course HPP stocks first-rate produce, that goes without saying, but the rest of their inventory is also impressive. HPP carries mainly organic, high-quality, and imported brands, and yet they manage it all without the hefty price tags of Whole Foods. Though it’s not as large as Treasure Island (55th and Lake Park), it manages to squeeze in the essentials. In addition to their decent selection of groceries, they also have a solid deli and prepared food section. And, given the fact that the store is located a kitten’s toss from Kimbark Liquors, adding alcohol to your gourmet grocery experience is horrifically convenient. 1226 E. 53^rd St. Monday-Saturday, 8am-8pm; Sunday, 8am-6pm. (773)324-7100. hydeparkproduce.com (Alec Mitrovich)

best slice of japan
Osaka Garden

Hidden in the middle of Jackson Park is a fertile Japanese oasis. Upon breaching its borders, you are instantly escorted to a state of infinite repose. While it doesn’t cover a particularly large area, the garden is a startlingly beautiful section of the vast park. A small pond in its center is gapped by an arched wooden bride, and flanked by jagged stones and trees cut to resemble bonsais. In the middle of its eastern boundary is a Japanese gazebo—an ideal picnic spot. Osaka garden is all too often overlooked as an option for walks or park outings, which means that you’re not likely to run into many other people during your visit. Finding your way into the park is also not straightforward, so be sure to enter from the bridge on the north side of Wooded Island, which can be found behind the Museum of Science and Industry. Wooded Island, Jackson Park. Monday-Sunday, 6am-11pm. (Alec Mitrovich)

best marketcafe
Z & H MarketCafé

Though the second half of Z & H’s title, “MarketCafé,” gives primacy to the market component of the operation, the café portion is the highlight of this establishment. Their decadent deli sandwiches, which some have dubbed the best sandwiches in the area, are reason enough to venture forth and give Z & H a try, especially if you’re growing weary of your usual South Side haunts. Prices are relatively high (the average sandwich price is $7.25) but you get what you pay for, and after painting your palate with their delicious nutrients, you won’t complain. In addition to sandwiches, salads, and soups, the café offers a wide variety of coffee-based concoctions, as well as manifold and multiform baked goods. As for the “market” portion, do not come in search of everyday grocery items. Z & H sells itself as a “specialty foods market;” if you’re in dire need of truffle oil, or expensive cheeses, this is your place. Save on groceries elsewhere, and splurge here on a sandwich. Two locations: 1126 E. 47^th St. and 1323 E. 57^th St. Monday-Friday, 7am-7pm. Saturday-Sunday, 8am-6pm. (773)538-7372. zhmarketcafe.com (Alec Mitrovich)

(Mehves Konuk)

Barack Obama doesn’t live here anymore, but his presence does.

A few times a week I walk past that sign. I work inside the security area, teaching elementary school students in an afterschool program that rents space in the huge, Byzantine-inspired KAM Isaiah Israel temple that faces the Obama home. Every time I enter the secure area, I feel myself enter a new kind of space.

Lift the metal barrier that blocks the sidewalk, walk to the corner towards the black sedan. You become suddenly conscious of your body, feeling watched from every direction at once, even when no one is looking at you. The car door opens; a Secret Service agent steps out.
“Afternoon. Where are you headed today?”
“I’m going to work in the temple.”
“Okay. Have a good day.”

The Secret Service agents who work on the site are real people: they smile, they are gracious, they are serious but never severe, and they will play with children. They have earned the trust of the neighborhood. But they do not discuss their personal experiences, and when asked even the simplest questions about their work, the agents regretfully refer to a saying they learned in the academy: “The United States Secret Service speaks with one voice, and I am not that voice.”

The house has long been Obama’s home, but what “Obama” means has changed a lot in two years. This neighborhood once knew Barack Obama the man, and it has seen the idea of Obama, that second presence, grow up around him. Now the man is gone, but the idea is still here. It is in the name printed across our winter hats, the face emblazoned in gold on our T-shirts next to the images of Malcolm and Martin, the Obama special on local restaurant menus, and in the enthralling illustration stenciled in layers of red, white, and blue above the word HOPE that hung from every lamppost on 53rd Street for months after the election.

The idea of Obama is in more than our clothes: it is in us. Like no other figure of this generation, he has become a reference for how we understand our world—not only our politics, but our individual lives, our history, the color of our skin, and the content of our character. The South Side’s native son has become the consolidated image of American hope, and this neighborhood is proud of him. But there is also a kind of trauma in a transition so intense.

The kids I work with remember when playing next to Obama’s house was a novelty. Now they climb over the riot-guards to retrieve lost soccer balls. One 11-year-old boy remembers watching Michelle Obama teach her youngest daughter how to ride a bike in the street in front of her home. The future First Lady held the seat of the bike for her wobbling daughter while Secret Service agents stood on the sidewalk and kept a perimeter around the intimate moment. The kids have also pointed out to me the flag that now hangs from the house’s front porch. Before the campaign there was none.

In the metal barriers and the black SUVs, there is also a reminder that Obama’s presence, because he represents such hope, must also show what we fear. I asked one of my students what she thought the house was being protected from. Five years old, no front teeth, beautiful brown eyes still focused on the book in front of her, she said, “Terrorists.”

It is hard to imagine that the security around Obama’s house is part of the same process that has produced the more recognizable and comforting images of his presidency. But it is. Most people who live near the President’s house have never met him, but they have met the people who protect him. And most of us will never meet Obama the man, but we live every day with a body of words, images, beliefs, and behaviors that carry our collective hope and fear, and that, no matter where we stand in relation to it, has a presence in our lives that is as real as metal and concrete.

There is nothing different about the air on the other side of the perimeter, but I feel that air differently, and I think anyone who crosses that barrier does too, even the Secret Service agents whose one voice will never say so. The air inside that barrier is hopeful and anxious, reassuring and deeply alienating. Walking around that barrier I have the hugely stupid urge to start sprinting across the lawn, or to do somersaults, to do anything at all to break the heavy normality enforced in that space. But I don’t. When I cross the barrier and step into that sacred, secured space, I can tell myself that the house through the trees on the left is just an empty brick building, that the security is a show, a formality. But it doesn’t matter what I tell myself. Inside that area there is a presence speaking that is louder than I am. One voice is speaking, and I am not that voice.

“Our systems provide high-quality, safe, healthy, and affordable food to people in all communities,” said Allen. Growing Power’s urban farm facility in Milwaukee boasts a lucrative and productive set-up that contains six greenhouses, several hoophouses for various greens and vegetables, an apiary with five beehives, and an outdoor hoophouse for goats, rabbits, and turkeys. The greenhouse beds, which can be up to ten stories high, are stacked vertically so that the nutrient-rich water can easily flow from the fish bed to the purifying gravel bed down to the growing beds. The greenhouses are also surprisingly cost-efficient. “Anyone could put up a greenhouse for $500 just by using tubing from Home Depot,” said Allen.

Growing Power is currently working on plans to open an urban farm in Chicago much like the facility in Milwaukee. The organization has already established a community garden in Jackson Park and an impressive 20,000 square-foot garden in Grant Park that has proved that urban food production can be, as Allen said, “beautiful, aesthetic, and productive.”
Growing Power has received attention locally, nationally, and globally for not just its social influence, but its economic and scientific impact as well. In 2008, founder and CEO Will Allen (Erika Allen’s father) received a $500,000 MacArthur Fellowship, also known as the “Genius Award.” “It’s a really long process, but it’s an important one,” Ms. Allen said, when asked by an audience member if growing food was truly more beneficial than just going to the grocery store. “Because, let me ask you,” said Allen, addressing the audience as a whole, “who here knows how to grow food?” Nobody raised their hand.

best art complex
Hyde Park Art Center
Billed as the “oldest alternative exhibition space in the City,” the Hyde Park Art Center provides the Hyde Park-Kenwood community with innovative exhibitions, exciting programming, and art classes for all levels. Founded in 1939, it recently celebrated its 70th anniversary with a 70-day series of events and exhibitions that ranged from a kimchi-making party to artists’ talks and poetry readings. In the 1960s, HPAC was the main venue for exhibitions by the Chicago Imagists, perhaps the most prominent art movement the city has produced. Today HPAC hosts about six exhibitions at a time, many of which are accompanied by lectures, readings, musical performances, and open house events. On the south side of the building is one of the two locations of Istria Cafe, a neighborhood coffeeshop known for its gelato and ample comfortable seating. HPAC has been led by Executive Director Chuck Thurow for the last ten years, during which time it found its first permanent home in a former army warehouse; at the end of this year he will be replaced by former HPAC Director of Development Kate Lorenz. 5020 S. Cornell Ave. Monday-Thursday, 9am-8pm; Friday-Saturday, 9am-5pm; Sunday, noon-5pm. (773)324-5520. hydeparkart.org (Leah Reisman)

best collision of cultures
Rajun Cajun
The fact that Rajun Cajun serves a highly unusual mix of Indian and soul food is not why you should go there. You should go there because its food, regardless of national origin, is delicious. For about $10, you can get an Indian combo dinner (the butter chicken is an old standby) that includes a vegetable dish, a paratha, and a samosa. Pair it with a corn muffin or two and you’ve got a meal that will keep you warm through the cold winter. (Like many local restaurants, Rajun Cajun will deliver within Hyde Park for a small charge, helping you avoid both freezing to death and starving.) Alternatively you could go the Southern route, with a fried chicken dinner and some sweet potatoes or macaroni and cheese. Throw in a samosa on the side and it’s still multicultural. But more importantly, delicious. 1459 E. 53rd St. Monday-Saturday, 11am-9:30pm; Sunday, noon-8:30pm. (773)955-1145 (Sam Feldman)

best breakfast
Valois
Though open all day, cafeteria-style Valois is busiest at breakfast-time. Don’t be intimidated by the line: the kitchen is run like an assembly line and the disparate elements of a meal are quickly assembled on each tray, ensuring their warmth as you settle down to eat them. As the awning entreats you, “SEE YOUR FOOD.” Dishes like hash browns, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon are large, cheap, and satisfying, and murals of Hyde Park landmarks provide a cheery backdrop against which to eat at whatever pace you’d like. For a real cross-section of Hyde Park, wander into Valois on a Saturday morning: you’ll see retirees, white-collar types, cops, professors, students, and perhaps the President of the United States, all enjoying their food in a communal hubbub. Valois opens at 5:30am, rendering their breakfast also the perfect end to a long weekend night, especially if you’re up to walking a few extra blocks east to watch sunrise over the lake. Cash only. 1518 E. 53rd St. 5:30am-10pm. valoisrestaurant.com (Katy Burnett)

best neighborhood market
Zaleski & Horvath MarketCafe
Named after the owners’ grandparents, Z&H has been impressing every one of its customers since opening last fall, focusing on locally produced and quality foods, sustainability, and knowledgeable, neighborly service. After only a couple of visits, owners Tim Schau and Sam Darrigrand will be greeting you by name. The market portion isn’t cheap, but the prices match the quality. The deli menu has all-original sandwiches and panini, as well as their take on the usuals, complete with creative (but not annoying) names. The “Jamon, Jamon” sandwich contains Serrano ham, manchego cheese, quince paste, Dijon mustard, mixed greens, and roasted tomato and tastes at least as incredible as it sounds. The garlic bread soup—sautéed garlic, pancetta, and onions in chicken broth with a big piece of day-old bread—reminded me of the power of homemade chicken broth base. Make sure to grab a cup of coffee made by the famous Clover machine. The Clover 1s is a single-cup coffee brewing machine whose manufacture brags—and which I can attest—releases the subtle characteristics of each type of bean better than any other brewing method. The citrus of the Nicaraguan Flor Azul and the herbal notes of the Ethiopian Yrgacheffe are instantly apparent. Z&H managed to obtain only the fourth machine in all of Chicago before Starbucks bought the manufacturer. As Tim explained, unlike the warm staff at Z&H, no one at Starbucks can take the time to chat as the Clover 1s gurgles and slurps. 1126 E. 47th St. Monday-Friday, 7am-7pm; Saturday-Sunday, 8am-6pm. (773)538-7372. zhmarketcafe.com (Ellis Calvin)

best ribs institution
Ribs n’ Bibs
A Hyde Park mainstay, this barbecue joint offers minimal indoor seating and no perks, but many locals swear by it. For a cheap late-night snack (well, late for Hyde Park—Ribs n’ Bibs closes by 1am), you’ll want a Bronco Burger ($1.75) or a Texas Burger with fries and cole slaw ($4.45), or maybe a Gun-Slinger Sausage Sandwich with fries ($3.30). If you’re ready for a meal, though, check out one of their chicken and links combos, the Ranch Owner’s Smorgasbord ($16.60), or, for tough guys, the Boss ($18.60), a giant slab of sauced-up ribs with fries, slaw, and bread. Just make sure to leave your vegetarian friends at home. Ribs n’ Bibs also delivers within Hyde Park, which is key during the long winter months. 5300 S. Dorchester Ave. Sunday-Thursday, 11am-midnight; Friday-Saturday, 11am-1am. (773)493-0400 (Sam Feldman)

The concerns of the forum—the minutiae of Hyde Park life—were not the sorts of issues that would be expected to provoke extreme controversy or excitement, yet the audience, consisting mostly of long-time residents of the community, was notable for its enthusiasm, cantankerous attitude, and strong demands. The topics discussed included issues affecting the nation as a whole but manifested on a local level: the worry about affordable housing, how to create a “green” community, the need for better public schools. Other matters were more peculiar to Hyde Park: the nostalgia for Hyde Park’s former artists’ colony, the need to attract more retail.

Of course, underneath this vibrant atmosphere lay the reality that, while some change may occur, Hyde Park will never be the ideal community that the audience envisioned. The forum ended on a somewhat frustrating note; many had not been able to voice their questions and complaints, and while there were many hopeful ideas, there were few realistic plans to implement. As one gentleman noted after the forum, we can see that even HPKCC’s vision of Hyde Park as an interracial community of high standards has not, in many ways, yet been met.

It was odd, then, that so many in the audience, seeing the same problems year after year, still attended the forum, firmly declared (sometimes yelled) their requests, and hung around for an extra half hour to continue their discussions in twos and threes. It seemed more like a group of people who, wise enough to know that they can never effect as much change as they wish, are also the types that find it more fun to care than not.

photo by Emilie Shumway

A few seats away sits a public school teacher in a sequined necktie. He seems out of place, but he’s actually a guest of honor, a recipient of a DRIVE (Delivering Results through Innovative and Visionary Education) Award. His name is Xian Barrett; he’s the man who invited me to the event.

In just his third year as a public high school teacher, Barrett seems to have a presence in every organization available that combines education and social justice; he is a member of Teachers for Social Justice, an Advancement Via Individual Determination (AVID) site team member, a student coordinator for Student Development and Service Learning, and the faculty advisor for two organizations—the Social Justice Club and the Japanese Club—at Percy L. Julian High School, where he teaches. After graduating from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign in 2000 with a degree in East Asian Languages and Cultures, he spent two years in Japan teaching English and Human Rights Education. The experience solidified his twin passions of teaching and social justice.

Following the meeting, I overhear Barrett talking to a friendly administrator who has approached him: “At first I was a little worried when they started talking about the CTA, but then I started to draw an interesting comparison…When something goes wrong with the Red Line, they get out and figure out how to fix it. They don’t get rid of the Red Line.”

Xian Barrett; photo by Emilie Shumway

The sting in Barrett’s comment is a reference to Renaissance 2010, an initiative drawn up by the Commercial Club of Chicago and presented by Mayor Daley back in 2004. The program calls for the creation of 100 new charter schools, funded privately by businesses, and the closing of 100 underachieving public schools in the Chicago area by 2010. The charter schools would still technically be public schools, but with a number of notable differences, including the use of an application process and no requirement for teacher’s unions.

Created by businessmen with a mind for efficiency, the plan is based on data that, according to Daley and former CPS CEO Arne Duncan, shows improvement in students’ test scores and higher retention rates in the charter schools. It also reflects a capitalistic way of viewing public education, one that Barrett calls a “corporate hijacking of our education system.” Why is it, he wonders, that the broken-down Red Line gets repaired but failing public schools get dismantled?

Percy L. Julian is overcrowded and significantly lacking in resources. Over 90 percent of the students are low-income and 99.1 percent are African-American. There are twenty-nine classes without teachers and several classes with over sixty students in them. “A surprising number of kids just stay in the room and talk,” Barrett explains of the teacherless classrooms, but emphasizes that the “down time” can also lead to boredom and discontent that gets channeled into gang fights, and peddling and using hard drugs. Barrett teaches Japanese, and students often drift into his room during lunch and free periods during the day to hang out in a safe space.

Protest at the Chicago Public Schools building; photo by Emilie Shumway

The Social Justice Club started during one of these free periods. “The students would sit there and complain about things—how school should be, police treatment of students,” says Barrett, “And I would say, ‘You know, you’re right, but just complaining about it isn’t going to do anything.’” Many students agreed, and began looking for ways to effect change, finding help from similar organizations at the Englewood and Kenwood high schools and the Rudy Lozano Leadership Academy. In the process, the Julian students first learned of Renaissance 2010. Englewood High School—which graduated its last class of students in June 2008—has since closed down, but at the time, a number of students were battling against the decision. As the inevitable became apparent, students from Englewood who had worked on the issue began training Julian’s Social Justice Club in the art of talking to media and speaking at the school board meetings, where they would be torn apart without a list of data and statistics to support their arguments. “The Englewood kids also made it clear that we needed to get on the issue right away. They started too late to stop their school from closing,” Barrett explains.

Although some data points toward the success of charter schools (and many, Barrett included, stress that these findings are weak or inconclusive), some worry that there are subtle forms of discrimination involved in the process of selecting and moving students to charter schools. While the charter schools are “not selective” in terms of test scores, there can be other ways to weed out candidates. For kids whose parents are not involved in their academic lives, getting their hands on applications and then filling them out without parental help or information is all but impossible. The students would be eighth graders or younger during the application process, without means to transport themselves and as unlikely as any other preteen to be seriously considering their education options. As a result, many miss out on charter school opportunities, and may end up in overcrowded public schools with even fewer resources. “Every school closing is estimated to set a student back six months,” Barrett points out.

photo by Emilie Shumway

It isn’t only Barrett and the Social Justice Club who see Renaissance 2010 as unfair. On January 28, the section of Clark Street bordered by West Marble Place and West Monroe—the location of the Chicago Public Schools headquarters—was overwhelmed by a mass demonstration against the program, complete with picketing signs, megaphones, and a march to City Hall. The crowd was notably mixed and represented every demographic of those affected by the initiative: teachers, for whom the charter schools do not allow unions; African-American community leaders, worried about the effects on their lower-income communities; even a surprising number of disabled kids, for whom the charter schools are not required to provide a special needs program. Those with megaphones took their chance to emphasize the need for better teacher training and smaller class sizes. From the warm interior of the CPS building, administrators grouped and peeked out. As the chanting, marching mass made its way toward City Hall, people could be seen gathered at their windows, looking down in curiosity.

“They called the school and told us we shouldn’t have bussed students to the protest,” Barrett laughs, when asked whether there was a response to the protest. Apart from that, no organized response or statement was put out by the administration.

Things might look dismal for the anti-Renaissance 2010 crowd, especially with the recent sting of President Obama’s decision to nominate Arne Duncan—one of the original proponents of Renaissance 2010—as his Secretary of Education. But Barrett remains hopeful for the movement against the policy, and holds off criticism on new CEO Ron Huberman until he has a chance to see him at work.

“He did mention wanting real results and not fake data,” Barrett says. But until he sees reason to believe otherwise, his skepticism remains.

Do residents and businesses appreciate all the fanfare? Simply put, they do. When asked how Obama had affected business, Paso, Valois’ manager, affirmed that many came from all over the world to see the restaurant: “People,” he said, “want to see where Obama eats.” It’s that simple. For many, Hyde Park provides a glimpse into the life of the President, and to be a part of the community that produced Obama is something that residents are proud of.