(Vida Kuang)

When I first meet him I hope that Murdock, who goes by the moniker “The Man with No First Name,” will be wearing a cowboy hat. But instead he’s just wearing a dark jean jacket over his police uniform (he’s a policeman in a town outside of Chicago). He walks smoothly, even slowly, with assurance.

He’s a tall, older man with graying hair who still looks strong. He sits down confidently and begins to explain his life’s mission to me. He talks about growing up in Stateway Gardens, the projects on 35th and Dan Ryan demolished in 2007 after years of physical disrepair, gang activity, and high homicide rates. Back then, he explains, the TV shows were all either comedic fluff along the lines of “The Three Stooges” and “Circus Boy,” or rough-and-tumble Westerns. So when picking his childhood heroes, it was an easy choice—the cowboys.

The influence extended well beyond his childhood daydreaming. Murdock rode a horse for the first time as a 10-year-old on a family trip to Waterloo, Iowa. From that first time in the saddle, he was “bit by the bug.”

He describes what it’s like for him to see a beautiful horse ridden by someone who can control it well—those “moments of beauty and excitement” when he says to himself, “Damn! I wish I could do that!” His face has a look of awe as he explains, “It gives me that feeling. It did it for me then, and it still does today.” For the past 23 years he has made it his mission to try to bring that feeling of excitement to other Chicagoans through his non-profit, the Broken Arrow Horseback Riding Club.

The name, he explains, comes from a long tradition—“For the Indians, breaking an arrow meant making peace with your adversaries.” When the club was founded in 1989 there were four or five similar riding groups within the state. But only Broken Arrow has stood the test of time—sort of. Murdock has certainly stayed strong, but other members seem to come and go. He says that there is a main band of 15 or so riders from around Chicagoland, and that associate membership is quite a bit larger. But it is Murdock who leads the charge.

But, his vision is not so easily realized. There are no facilities to house horses in the city. And while there are historic horse trails in city parks and it is perfectly legal to ride within Chicago, it’s not regularly done by many people. When they started out, Murdock and his crew were often stopped or even given citations by confused police officers that assumed horseback riding is not permitted.

While his peers doubted that they would ever be able to ride without being hassled, “I was not afraid to verbalize,” he says. He eventually convinced the police superintendent to come down to Washington Park to watch them ride. They aren’t bothered anymore.

Most of the group’s energy goes into planning a couple big events, like their crowning jewel—the annual Highnoon Horseback Ride and Picnic in Washington Park, which this year will bring over 200 horses and 500 people from all over the state together for activities, demonstrations, and overall merrymaking on July 28.

The long-term goal of the club is to create an equestrian center in Washington Park. There is a building on 59th and Cottage Grove that was once used for stables, which they propose to restore. If they had the stables, Murdock says, he and the club could start youth groups, therapeutic programs for the handicapped and disabled, and a handful of other horse related activities.

Unfortunately, the city’s bureaucracy continually sidesteps Murdock’s plans. He’s gone all the way up to the Mayor’s office with his idea and the plan even looked like a strong possibility a few years ago. But municipal attention was diverted with Chicago’s (failed) bid to host the Olympics, and hasn’t turned its gaze back to Broken Arrow. As he says, “people always seem intrigued, but they eventually lose interest.” With limited time (he works two jobs) and resources, the dream has become a continual struggle.

Every so often, though, a new group of people will catch the bug too. But they tend to run away with the mission. He told me about a millionaire, for instance, who wanted to put a stable up in the suburbs. Murdock gave a stern no—“It’s not in keeping with my vision.”

Now he’s looking for “people to open up their hearts and take in the vision that I’ve had for years. To reach back and help us.” To put it bluntly—he wants a “major sponsor” to finally put his years of planning into action. Yet at this point the specific plan seems a bit hazy, and it seems like Broken Arrow is suffering from an overall lack of resources—in terms of money, time, and dedication.

Learning of these setbacks, I hoped at the very least to see him on horseback. But when I ask to see Murdock ride he tells me that his last horse, a black stallion named American Just-Us, died in 2010 (December 13th, to be exact). He’s planning to buy another this Christmas, but somehow this tragic fact puts everything into place.

“I said I wanted to see the [equestrian] center before my hair went all white,” he says as he runs his big hands over his head, “its almost there now.” He looks forlorn for just a moment, but laughs and regains his strength.

He may be a horseless cowboy, but he’s still shooting.

Jane Fentress

“With a melody, we’re always going somewhere,” said Julianne Skones, oboe clutched by her side. Next to her, Dominic Rotella stood with his French horn pressed to his pursed lips. Scattered in chairs throughout the room, a motley crowd of listeners waited attentively for their part of the performance.

“Let’s follow along with our hands,” she said. As Rotella’s horn sounded out a few lines of Beethoven, the audience traced the gentle arch of the music up and then down with their open palms stretched out in front of them. The next bit of song was a little more complex—hands darted rapidly trying to follow the ambitious runs and bounding staccatos of the horn.

The two musicians formed part of the Civic Woodwind Quintet, with the three other woodwind players seated behind them. Along with a string and brass quintet, and a percussion trio, the groups are part of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s Musicorps program. The sections regularly travel the city, giving concerts in parks, schools, and other public venues, spreading a love of classical music to anyone with an ear. Each crowd is a little different, which means that each performance is unique.

“We’d love your ideas and your imagination to help us tell a story of the music,” said Maria Schwartz, the flautist, after the quintet had played through Beethoven. Behind her, clarinetist Brian Gnojek produced a white sheet of paper, and a handful of colored pens. Drew Patterson played a soft yet stern melody on his bassoon. “What does the music remind you of?” The crowd was silent.

Filling the silence, Patterson jumped in: “One of my favorite suggestions came from an elementary schooler, who said it sounded like a person walking.” He played the melody again, the notes teetering along from side to side. “Another person said an elephant,” he continued, and drew out the same line, heavier and slower. After playing it once more, a man threw out a suggestion: “Tom and Jerry?”

Drew started playing the oboe in his school’s 6th grade band, later going on to study at Oberlin Conservatory. “I had a good music teacher,” he shrugged, attempting to explain his interest in the instrument. Yet it was the first time he watched Disney’s visually immersive interpretation of “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” and it’s prime bassoon solo, that hooked him on the instrument. For him, it’s all in the power of imagination. “Like what we were doing today,” he said.

The performance took place on the second floor of the Washington Park Refectory. Out the windows, the sun shined over little kids running through a glistening playground, and a light breeze rollicked through the fresh buds on the trees. Inside, the room was less than half-full. The success of the performance, however, will be revealed by the turnout at the next concert.

Julianne recalled a time she was helping out the CSO with a performance of “Peter and the Wolf.” Afterwards, a little boy came up with his mother, ecstatic to see her. She couldn’t quite tell where he was from, or how she knew him. “How could he remember me?” she asked. Alas, she had performed at his elementary school.

Cyrus Dowlatshahi

[Show as slideshow]

Cyrus Dowlatshahi is a 30-year-old Hyde Park native, Iranian-American, Vassar alum, and massage therapist. To explore a side of Chicago more often misunderstood than seen, Dowlatshahi is taking on his preferred designation—filmmaker.

The project sounds quite simple—with $25,000 raised from donations on Kickstarter.com, Dowlatshahi is going to film a feature-length documentary about the South Side. He’s not quite sure what he’s looking for, but he wants to document the beauty strangers and residents alike often miss. Working mostly in Englewood and Washington Park, the film will focus on familiar scenes—there will be hair salons, churches, and Fourth of July celebrations.

“There are wonderful things to share and some not-so-wonderful things,” he says, acknowledging the reality of the South Side’s negative image. “I want to help people share the good things. It feels good to tell stories, and when it comes to this project, people are proud of where they come from.”

Dowlatshahi got an unconventional start in filming when he was a student at the UofC Laboratory Schools. After copying the lettering on official UofC vehicles, Dowlatshahi and his friends made a stencil in the same typeface that read, “University of Chicago Secret Police.” They painted this new logo onto Dowlatshahi’s camouflage-print car and began following UCPD and fire activity in Hyde Park and beyond.

“That’s how I started filming,” says Dowlatshahi. “I had a little Handycam, and we’d edit the movies on iMovie. This was the very beginning of cheap digital video software. People were too weirded out for anything bad to happen. It was just too funny for anyone to get upset.” When Dowlatshahi returned from college—with a BA in philosophy and zero credits from the film department—he continued the Secret Police project.

“A friend of mine was in AA and so the only thing to do at night that had nothing to do with alcohol was drive around and make these videos.”

At some point Dowlatshahi’s filmmaking became more than a hobby. To keep making movies, Dowlatshahi went to massage school. He worked as a part-time massage therapist for five years, earning the money he needed to support his filming. But his growing passion needed direction. “After a certain point,” Dowlatshahi says, “I wasn’t submitting movies to festivals or contests, so I knew I needed something else.”

That something else took Dowlatshahi away from the South Side to D.C. and New York. “When I first got to the East Coast, I was an unpaid intern because it was the only way into the business. So, I was 27 and living in my grandma’s basement, interning for a TV production studio.” TV didn’t suit Dowlatshahi, but he eventually worked his way up to Al Jazeera English.

While Dowlatshahi enjoyed working for a major news outlet, he wanted the chance to create his own project. “Of course the dream is to make your own film, to be in control over not only the subject matter but how you tell the story,” he says. “I wanted to control how much of a standard documentary this dream project was or how artsy-fartsy it was. I had to try that and see if people liked it, if it was any good, if it made sense to people who weren’t just my friends and family.”

Dowlatshahi’s first plan was to make a film about Iran, which he visited for the first time in January of last year. However, Dowlatshahi was dissuaded after contacting Iranian filmmakers about the project: “They all wrote me back saying, ‘Dude, you don’t want to do this. It’s a pain. They’re expensive permits.’ Plus, because I’m a dual citizen, I’d have to deal with my military service.”

The South Side of Chicago was an easy second choice. Growing up, Dowlatshahi spent most of his time in Hyde Park. He admits that while he was a kid, he just “didn’t care” about getting to know the surrounding area.  He’s clearly changed his mind. “The area is ripe for documenting,” Dowlatshahi says. “There’s so much here that is awesome. It’s easier, too. I don’t have to buy international plane tickets or deal with the Islamic Republic Film Permit Department. I can just film.”

But it hasn’t exactly been that easy. Chicago also requires film permits, and it costs $400 a day to film in Chicago parks. Dowlatshahi hoped to have the fee waived by offering free photography classes in public parks, but “the City didn’t really go for that.”  While his Kickstarter account helped him raise the $25,000 required to get the project going, he estimates that he will need an additional $40,000 to finish the film. So far, the vast majority of the money has come from family and friends. “This isn’t unusual,” says Dowlatshahi. “All first-time filmmakers get their money from friends and family. It’s a card that I can play one time.”

Family has helped in more ways than one. His mother’s former caretaker, Ethel, is a resident of Englewood. By spending time in Ethel’s home, Dowlatshahi and his camera were able to gain access to that neighborhood.

Nonetheless, Dowlatshahi wasn’t surprised when people resisted his presence—no one likes being filmed by strangers. In fact, Dowlatshahi readily admits that there are good reasons to avoid being on camera: “Non-fiction films thrive on making people look stupid. They thrive on embarrassment. I have to assure people that I’m not trying to do that. I want the opposite. Having someone to make a connection helps.”

Despite being associated with Ethel, Dowlatshahi met resistance from drug dealers who operated in the area. “There are people who engage in drug activity in the neighborhood, and they obviously do not like cameras being around. But they just need to know and be assured by someone they trust that I’m not there to film anyone who doesn’t want to be filmed.” Contacts reached out to the dealers and made it clear that Dowlatshahi was not interested in getting anyone in trouble. “In any situation you’re liable to get messed with unless you are with someone from the neighborhood. Obviously I stick out because I’m not black and I have a camera.”

But Dowlatshahi couldn’t film just one block. While driving around one day, he noticed a restaurant called Pete’s Italian Beef. “I used to go to a different Pete’s in high school, and when I saw this one, I had to see if I could order the same chopsteak sandwich. But I got talking with Tammy who works behind the counter, and eventually I talked my way behind the bulletproof glass.”

Since then, Tammy has opened many doors for Dowlatshahi. One afternoon, she took him to a hair appointment at Studio 59—a new scene Dowlatshahi could film. In one shot uploaded to his website, the frame is still on a woman’s head as Veronica, a stylist, goes to work. The footage is sped up, and a head of hair is transformed into an arrangement of beautiful black and blonde spikes.

At Studio 59, Dowlatshahi also met Jerk Man. According to Dowlatshahi, “When he saw me in the salon with the camera, he said, ‘Oh man, you gotta come out with me, I’ll show you the South Side.’ And he did—he drives around all the neighborhoods everywhere, selling his jerk chicken and curry goat. Jerk Man is really proud of showing off all the areas he knows.”

Dowlatshahi is not entirely sure what all of this is going to add up to. He has other footage. During the summer, he took shots of Washington Park when it “looked like a scene from ‘The Fast and the Furious.’” Vintage cars with modern engines were lined up, while owners mingled in the park. A few weeks ago, Dowlatshahi filmed a man dressed in a Statue of Liberty outfit describing the gang boundaries around 79th and Halsted. All of this together won’t tell a story with a beginning and ending—but that’s not the point. The South Side doesn’t have an ending.

What does matter is that Dowlatshahi gets good footage: “Good footage is telling footage. Good footage is people being real. Good footage is somebody being genuine, or stuff that is intimate, or stuff that is undeniable.”

His footage is beautiful and he sees no conflict between finding true stories and portraying them in a way that looks good. Dowlatshahi also feels that it’s not hard for his footage to look good. In his opinion, “The South Side landscape is rustic, I love the empty lots, not when they’re littered with trash, but there’s lots of big trees and its pretty in the summer and fall.” A scene from the Fourth of July demonstrates the beauty Dowlatshahi is able to capture. The shot begins level with damp, green grass. The camera slowly glides to the right as fireworks are lit, their yellow and orange sparks illuminating shadows. The greens flash from light to dark.

But not everything he has filmed will make it past the final cut. In fact, Dowlatshahi feels that he has only one complete scene at this point. It was filmed at a party in an empty building Dowlatshahi attended with a friend of Tammy’s nephew. “People weren’t there to drink, they were there to dance, and it was great,” says Dowlatshahi. As he was filming, however, an argument broke out between security and some people trying to gain entrance. In an attempt to curb potential gang activity, the party prohibited guests from wearing white shirts or hats. However, some people made it in despite violating the dress code. When some other kids were refused entry, an argument broke out and a gun was flashed.

“Shit happens and it’s over silly disputes like this, but then the guy in charge came up and was like, ‘It’s cool, but none of this gang shit.’ The kids were like, ‘fuck that.’ It’s funny because no one is there to get into a fight, they’re there to dance and talk to girls. The rule that they were getting upset about was in place to prevent violence and fights.”

During the party, Dowlatshahi had a mic on the security guard and got footage of the whole dispute. However, completeness isn’t the only thing he is looking for: “There are all these different things about life on the South Side that are unique to life on the South Side. That party was an example of one of those things. Also, it was an example of a situation that could have escalated to the level of violence you read about in the paper. But that didn’t happen, and I got coverage of what the issues were and how they developed and ended. And, the lens cap wasn’t on my camera, so there it is.” In the end, the party was broken up by the police, but only because it was disturbing a retirement home nearby.

Other scenes are more powerful because they are incomplete. During a snowstorm in January, Dowlatshahi captured a homeless man pushing a train of three grocery carts into the wind. When he approached the man, he was asked for five dollars in exchange. After taking the money, the homeless man offered to pose, but Dowlatshahi said no. Instead, he set up his small dolly so the camera could glide forward with the man’s march through the snow. The only footage he has is of the man walking, with no answers to where or why.

Piecing these scenes into a film will be a challenge. “Editing is problem solving—you only have this footage and you need to make the best of it. You need to make a story out of it.”

In the end, Dowlatshahi hasn’t yet decided what he’s going to do with the film. “It will be in some theater or festival. But, like anybody else, you just want to make a movie and have as many people see it as possible.” In this case, the film’s value really does rely on how many people see it. Our city of neighborhoods is also a city of divisions—Dowlatshahi’s film could break down barriers.

“Most people don’t go to the South Side, and South Siders know that. People focus on the gang violence and poverty—and that’s definitely one part, but there’s so much more than that.”

One of the most impressive aspects of “Emergency!” was the way Beaty merged different styles of performance. Characters segued between thoughtful soliloquy, honeyed song, and slam poetry with a speed that could have been distracting, but in this case served only to further illustrate characters’ emotional states. Desperation was delivered in a low, moaning baritone. Anger streamed furiously in the rhythmic beat of spoken word poetry. Some segments were so apparently relatable that it wasn’t uncommon throughout the performance to hear an occasional whoop of affirmation issue from the back rows. Though “Emergency!’s” plot and characters are fantastic, its takeaways are real. Miraculously, all 40 characters’ viewpoints come together in the end to craft a message that spurs viewers to reconsider how they think about their history. “We can overcome,” he said, “if we change the way we see, see our past, see our possibility.”

Rachel Wiseman & Eric Fischer/flickr

[Show as slideshow]

On October 25, the assembly hall of the Hyde Park Union Church was nearly empty. Of the two-dozen chairs arranged in rows before a projector screen, only six were filled. The attendees, all beyond middle age, waited expectantly.

This gathering was a preliminary informational meeting concerning a process that Chicago undergoes every decade—aldermanic ward redistricting. The sparse turnout can be seen as emblematic of the public’s obliviousness toward the issue, or, perhaps, their indifference.

Which ever it is, community activists on the South Side are trying to change it.

Mary Schaafsma from the League of Women Voters and Jocelyn Woodards of the South Side NAACP presided over the information session—a “Redistricting 101” meeting—in front of the half-dozen longtime Hyde Parkers.

A preliminary slide exhibited a polychromatic rendering of Chicago’s jigsaw puzzle of political fault lines. Although law requires wards to remain “compact and contiguous,” boundaries have been drawn to circumscribe individual blocks and avoid others. Take the 20th ward, a region that encompasses parts of Englewood, Washington Park, and Woodlawn with one winding tendril that snakes up north and then west to grab a piece of Back of the Yards.

“It looks like Medusa’s hair going in all directions,” Schaafsma observed, gesticulating broadly.

Woodards points out that, thanks to the clandestine nature of Chicago politics, “a lot of people have no idea this is even happening.”

Ward redistricting is a process that takes place in Chicago following every U.S. Census. State law requires that aldermanic ward borders be redrawn in order to ensure that each alderman represents an equally populated district. The deadline for the new map is fast approaching: aldermen must agree upon the new borders this Thursday, December 1.

In the last decade, Chicago experienced significant population loss that was exacerbated by the recession. Approximately 200,000 people left the city from 2000 to 2009, setting the population back to the same number that inhabited Chicago in 1920.

While African-Americans still make up the largest ethnic minority in Chicago, their numbers took the biggest toll, decreasing from 1,065,009 to 887,608 according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Meanwhile, the city’s Hispanic population grew by 25,000 residents.

These shifting numbers have caused aldermen in City Hall to scramble. The conflicts over space are often complicated by race. Although African-Americans suffered the largest population loss, the Black Caucus—African-American members of city council—is determined to maintain their 19 aldermanic wards. Anticipating a game of political chess, the Black Caucus decided to make the first move by submitting their own map on September 19.

The Redistricting 101 Meeting condensed all of this information into a neat, 60 minute PowerPoint—something the city hadn’t been doing. Schaafsma described her organization’s demands in a nutshell: “All we are asking is that the city engage the public, for equal representation under the law, and for basic government processes.” A bit heated, she quickly chugged two Styrofoam cups of water. “Emanuel has taken a stand-back approach, taking his cues from Daley,” she continued icily. “For example, is Englewood inherently a bad neighborhood or is it because they have six alderman and no one is paying attention?”

But people outside City Council are paying attention.

*   *   *   *

The day after Halloween the West Chesterfield Community Association held a special meeting at their headquarters in a stubby brick bungalow on 93rd and Michigan. About forty people gathered inside on cramped rows of metal folding chairs. The crowd was mixed: residents, local politicians, and representatives from community organizations. A small boy ate a Happy Meal, while leaning sleepily against his mother.

West Chesterfield Community Association President Michael LaFargue began the meeting by saying, “We’re all working together because we’re in this together.”

The West Chesterfield residents in attendance are proud of their traditionally strong voter turn-out and enjoy being grouped in the sixth ward with the comparatively stable Chatham community. In other words, the residents don’t want the neighborhood to be tainted with the problems of the neighboring wards. LaFargue gestures to the Black Caucus map proposal, with West Chesterfield resting in an expanded ninth ward. “That’s a very large ward, how can anyone handle that? …We’re going to fight this thing.”

LaFargue introduced Jocelyn Woodards to the crowd, who a week before had assisted in the Hyde Park meeting. Woodards took to the lectern dressed in a lime green suit coat. Behind Woodards, a Holy Bible and a three volume tome entitled Black America rested on a mantelpiece before a wall plastered in large posters with anti-redistricting slogans. Woodards began, “They [the city council] are claiming we lost 200,000 people. Who were they and where did they go?”

“Black people,” the crowd murmured unanimously.

“And what does that mean for us?” Woodards inquired.

“Less representation,” was the resounding reply.

“It’s time for us to get it together and ensure we have the best representation possible.” Woodards’s statement was met with applause and amens.

In an open discussion that followed, audience members voiced suspicion, confusion, and even outright anger at the proposal to move West Chesterfield from the sixth to the ninth ward. The room, heated with bodies and emotion, caused someone to yank the cord of a ceiling fan.

“We need to make sure we maintain the integrity of the community,” an audience member affirmed. “That is what’s wrong with Englewood. It’s like many cooks have spoiled the broth. We don’t want four or five or six aldermanic districts in the community.”

One woman said frankly, “It’s like a slap in the face because we’re subjected to people we didn’t vote for.” The crowd stirred in agreement.

Their suspicion is not unwarranted. While wards have given ethnic groups access to political power and city resources, Chicago has seen politicians resort to gerrymandering—drawing political borders for private political gain—to expand their clout in the city. Redistricting becomes a game that is less about representation and more about maintaining office by lassoing pockets of community areas that will guarantee an alderman’s reelection—historically, districts containing fewer residents with college degrees and which usually have low voter turnout rates. The 14th ward, for example, a predominately Latino community where fewer than one in ten people have graduated from college, has had the same alderman since 1969.

Following the meeting, guests chatted and posed for pictures holding 8-by-10-inch printer paper reading, “We Oppose West Chesterfield Redistricting.” Resident Shirley Adams rose from her folding chair. Putting on her winter coat, she explained she attended the meeting “just to be briefed on what is going on and how much progress is being made.” For Adams, the intentions of the community are clear—“we want to stay in the 6th ward.”

But West Chesterfield isn’t the only neighborhood on alert. A blue leaflet has been circulated around Englewood promoting another redistricting meeting. On the pamphlet reads the following challenge: “You say we are never informed of what is going on in our communities before it happens, well, Resident Matters is trying to change that! Now the rest is up to you!”

*   *   *   *

“I was taught a sign of a good compromise is that everybody walks out of the room mad,” said Fredrenna Lyle at the meeting in the Englewood branch of the Chicago Police Department on November 2.

Lyle—a lawyer who lost her third reelection campaign for Alderman of the 6th ward this spring—defended the Black Caucus proposal. After dividing up their wards legally and with the aid of a professional cartographer from Lansing, Michigan, the Black Caucus let a computer program draw the remaining wards.

Although she explained the Black Caucus’s position logically—one based on sheer legality—a distinct “us versus them” tone permeated her argument, particularly against the Latino Caucus. “They can come up with anything they want. We even gave them an extra ward. This whole thing is a blank canvas in terms where they can go.”

Lyle addressed the lack of congruity in Englewood—a neighborhood fractured into six aldermanic wards: “Englewood is the biggest change [on our map]. It’s about consolidating. The map we’ve drawn reduced the current six aldermen by one. We couldn’t reduce it ten years ago. Your aldermen loved you so much they didn’t want to leave!” In response, the audience laughed wryly.

“Change is scary,” Lyle admitted. “It’s understandable, but we are trying to maximize African-American representation without stepping or trampling on any other groups’ wards.”

She emphasized that the Black Caucus map was not an incumbency plan and blamed the media for propagating such a message. “Not all the alderman [of the Black Caucus] even agreed on this map…We didn’t want individual interest to supersede the interest of the African-American community.” Everyone, she stressed, had to make sacrifices, even if it meant drawing up less-than-ideal ward boundaries to satisfy legal requirements. “You [the aldermen] can have x,y, and z in la-la-land, but in the real world this is what we were dealt.”

“So,” she concluded, “if you can draw a better map, bring it in.”

On November 10, The Latino Caucus attempted just that.

This version included four more majority-Hispanic wards. One new ward on the southwest side would sweep up isolated Latino areas in the 3rd, 15th, 16th, 18th and 20th wards, all of which currently have a black majority. Ricardo Muñoz, 22nd ward alderman, told the Chicago Sun-Times, “If we’re one-third of the city, why are we one-fifth of the City Council? It’s not that we deserve it. That’s the law.”

Chicago’s Asian community is voicing similar concerns. Although the Asian population has expanded 40 percent in the past decade and is the fastest growing minority in Chicago, Asian populations in Chinatown and Bridgeport have never seen an Asian alderman. According to the Asian American Institute, “this lack of government representation is unacceptable…The Asian American community will organize itself…in a call for the importance of promoting transparency and public participation in the redistricting process.”

After being badgered by the public, 33rd ward alderman Richard Mell issued a public notice announcing six public hearings on the City of Chicago redistricting process. This got the City Council’s stamp of approval on October 31. The first meeting was held on November 2, giving community members only one day to mobilize and only three weeks until the actual vote.

The process to approve a new map can be murky and prolonged. Each alderman goes individually into the city’s map room to demonstrate how they want their ward redrawn. The city mapmakers then produce a map. If ten or more members of city council disagree with the proposed map, they can propose another map and the process drags on until a referendum can be held in March, a potentially costly procedure. The most infamous example of prolonging the process was the 1992 referendum that cost taxpayers millions of dollars.

There is a reason that redistricting is so important this time around. Hyde Park resident and political activist Dorothy Scheff made this explicit after the Redistricting 101 meeting: “There is more hope now—for the first time all the aldermen have been elected and there is a new mayor. The aldermen have not been appointed like the Daley crop. [Redistricting] is a problem we have been aware of for generations.” She gestured toward her fellow Montgomery Place retirement home residents and said, “I think now we feel there is a chance for change.”

Jane Fentress

“How can we help expand a community for woman artists and artists of color throughout the city and South Side?”

Theaster Gates, Director of Arts and Public Life at the University of Chicago, has asked himself this question for years. A nationally recognized artist who is trained in urban planning, Gates is known for taking a leading role in community development programs on the South Side. One such development, the Dorchester Project in Grand Crossing, is a house that Gates transformed into a performance space and multimedia library. But one project is not enough to serve an entire city and satisfy what Gates calls his “grand ambition” of “seeing the arts flourish on the South Side.” As a result, Gates is spearheading a new UofC Arts and Public Life initiative aimed at strengthening the connection between the arts communities on and off campus.

The cornerstone of this $1.85 million University-funded initiative will be an “arts incubator” in Washington Park. The space, a nearly century-old two-story terra cotta building and former liquor store on Garfield Boulevard, is currently being transformed into a space for South Side artists to gather and work. The initiative will fund three one-year artist fellowships and residencies in order to create an environment of collaboration that Gates feels is key to the creative process. “The value of having multiple artists sharing one space is that they can be colleagues and engage each other in the why of their practices,” he says. In addition to studios, the incubator will also host performance and exhibition space. And Gates plans to reach out to neighborhood schools through a K-12 after school arts program that will collaborate with existing UofC student organizations engaged in teaching art across the South Side.

The incubator is set to open in late 2012. Gates has worked closely with Bill Michel, the executive director of the UofC’s Reva and David Logan Center for Creative and Performing Arts. The two have been collaborating with existing arts education programs in the area since the beginning of the last school year. They see the new incubator as a response to a pressing need: “There is no lack of culture on the South Side. There is no lack of creative people on the South Side. The thing we lack is spaces where people can convene, rehearse, we lack venues for arts engagement. When venues are identified, the cultural wealth of the neighbors makes itself present.”

But Gates doesn’t think the work he and his colleagues are doing stops at the promotion of culture. “When culture lives in a place and when space is made for cultural life, other things grow in this kind of ecological system. How do we make space for artists so that the creative community around them has a place where they can share culture?” he asks. With the new Logan Center opening in 2012 and the Washington Park incubator to open soon after, it seems as though the South Side art scene will have lots of new room to grow.

Claire Hungerford

[Show as slideshow]

On October 13, Cecilia Butler spoke before the Chicago Transit Board for the second time in four months. Standing before the seven-member board, the 63-year-old woman repeated what they had already heard her say four times before, with few new changes: that the historic station house across the street from the Garfield Green Line stop could and should be a building operated by and for the community; that the old station house was a historic building and deserved recognition as such; and that she was willing to work with CTA and do whatever it took to make that happen. “Please give us this opportunity,” she said. “That’s all we ask. We’re willing to pay whatever it takes to renovate this location.”

And with that, without comment, the board moved on to the next speaker. Cecilia Butler, having spoken her mind before the board about the station house for the fifth time since 1995, leaned away from the microphone. Wearing a hat and coat to protect from the first cold day in over a week, Butler let the next speaker of the meeting’s public comments period finish before returning to her seat, one of a hundred in CTA’s second-floor boardroom.

The station house Butler is fighting for doesn’t leave much of an impression these days. Dwarfed by the Green Line tracks above it and the active station across from it, the 1892 station house is, for the most part, ignored or unseen. Its bay window has remained intact, crowned with a half-cone roof, though the station’s polychrome brickwork has been painted white, one of its small arched windows has been bricked in, and a pair of steel doors—locked—now marks the entrance.

When it opened on October 12, 1892, the building’s doors served as the gateway to the great parks of the city’s South Side: “The new station at Fifty-fifth street occupies a fine situation,” wrote the Chicago Daily Tribune, a day after trains began servicing the station. “Everywhere there is a profusion of trees and foliage. One may stand on the platform and look over the rural scene, whose picturesqueness is heightened by the beautiful boulevard which to the east curves gracefully and is lost in a wood of sturdy young oak trees, over the tops of which rise the domes and roofs of the World’s Fair buildings.” The dedication of the Columbian Exposition was nine days away, the grand opening of the fair to the public was six months away, and Washington Park—the 372-acre vision of Central Park architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux—was just two decades old.

By the turn of the century,  Washington Park was becoming a predominately African-American neighborhood. By 1950 it was 99-percent African- American and had grown to over 56,000 people. Right around the time Cecilia Butler was attending elementary school in the neighborhood, however, the people began to disappear. By 2010 the population had dropped below 12,000, and current data from the U.S. Dept. of Housing and Urban Development show that businesses have disappeared along with the population: the neighborhood has a business vacancy rate of 26 percent—three times that of neighboring Hyde Park.

As the neighborhood deteriorated, so did the Green Line that served it. In 1994, the entire length of the line was shut down for a 28-month renovation. That included talk of building “superstations,” which would have included shops, a bank, and even a daycare center, at both the Garfield and Pulaski stops. A 1995 Sun-Times story, written when construction of the superstation seemed imminent, quotes a younger Cecilia Butler as saying, “A change is coming to Washington Park.”

But the change didn’t happen. In an e-mailed statement, CTA, looking back on the superstation discussions, said that it “was a bit ahead of its time and there were no retail outlets interested in having their business be a part of the station renovations.” Unexpected expenditures in the Green Line renovation as a whole may also have played a role: the renovation project ultimately ran $100 million over budget, and the plans for a renovated superstation never materialized

“The community never envisioned what they built across the street,” said Butler in a phone interview. “We were still working on [the old historic location] and building up around it.” As a representative of the Greater Washington Park Development Corp., Butler came before CTA in 1995 with a unique plan for a “superstation,” to turn the historic station into a site where visitors could get information on the community and nearby museums.

With the superstation idea rejected, a new station on the north side of Garfield was completed in 2001. In December of that year the Commission on Chicago Landmarks designated the historic station a Chicago landmark, granting it legal protection as one of the oldest mass transit stations in the country.

A decade later, and the station house was still on Butler’s mind. Her vision for the building expanded in the mid-2000s, and what had once been envisioned as an information center developed into a community center with a “micro-library” offering coffee and Wi-Fi. Community members who work or used to work at WVON, an African-American talk radio station, have donated over a thousand books to the project in hopes of creating a public library in the neighborhood.

In 2009 Butler and her new vision for the building were given a swift response by the Transit Board: write a one-page business plan, figure out how to make your idea financially viable, and then get back to us. Undeterred, Butler founded the Washington Park Historical Society to consolidate support for the renovation of the station house. A year later and she was back before the board, presenting her idea and going on to meet with the board’s chairman.

Once again, however, no progress was made. On July 15, 2011, Butler made her fourth appearance before the Transit Board. In the following weeks she began discussing her plan and its logistics with CTA officials, going over its details and plan of execution until, on August 25, she received a letter from CTA’s director of infrastructure support services. Unbeknownst to Butler, the historic station house had served as a maintenance facility for Green Line rail staff since the station’s closure. “I thought that was insulting,” said Butler. “I just couldn’t understand.” CTA went on to inform Butler that its maintenance operations could not be relocated, but that it would work with her to find a new location for the historical society and the planned community center.

“The purpose of us being there,” said Butler, repeating a refrain she’s used many times in speaking to various CTA officials, “is because that’s a landmark. Give it to the community. The city named it as a historical location, so why shouldn’t the historical society be located there?” The Hyde Park Historical Society, she notes, has been able to work out a deal with Metra to rent a historic cable car building on Lake Park and 55th—why shouldn’t the Washington Park Historical Society be able to work out a deal with CTA?

Butler has offered to pay CTA for use of the station house, to cover the cost of renovating the building, and—after hearing of the agency’s use of the building as a maintenance storage space—to build a steel storage unit across the street, on the vacant land surrounding the current station or beneath the tracks that run over it. Cost, she says, is not an issue. Even after she was asked how she planned to maintain the facility once it was renovated, Butler maintained that “we have money, as an organization.” She would not specify how much capital the project had behind it, or where the money was coming from. Neither would she estimate how much the project would cost—she was last inside the building 15 years ago, and CTA, she says, will not let her and her organization back inside to evaluate its condition. And even though the station is located within the 47th and State TIF district, Butler says, “We don’t need a TIF to do what we’re trying to do.”

CTA, for its part, has consistently turned down her offer to build them a new maintenance facility. The agency responded to an inquiry about its rejection of Butler’s proposal by saying that the properties it presently owns “are being reviewed for possible transit-oriented development opportunities. Consequently we cannot use those properties for the needs of our maintenance operations.” It could be that CTA opposes her idea to refurbish the old station house on the south side of Garfield because they are planning to more thoroughly develop the north side of the street. Or, Butler’s proposal doesn’t constitute what the agency considers “transit-oriented development,” though their definition of what that means is hazy at best.

CTA noted in a statement that “transit-oriented development opportunities have greatly increased” since the failed superstations of the ‘90s. In 2008, the agency partnered with Chicago-based real estate firm Jones Lang LaSalle to develop land around stops throughout its system to help boost ridership and neighborhood economies. Currently, the firm is marketing a number of CTA stations for development—but the Garfield Green Line stop is not one of them. CTA, then, is at once opposing Butler’s proposition because it seeks to develop the land around the Garfield station, and doing nothing to develop that land.

“Transit-oriented development,” the agency wrote in another statement, “will position CTA as an anchor within communities and help attract further capital improvements through commercial and residential development.” The agency neither confirmed nor denied that Butler’s plan conformed to their idea of transit-oriented development as something that would “help and attract further capital improvements.” But it seems as though the conversion of a private maintenance facility into a public space would, at the very least, bring additional foot traffic—additional people—into the area. Five presentations before the board have yet to convince CTA.

Yet in the aftermath of her most recent presentation to the board, Butler remains optimistic. As the meeting transitioned into its official proceedings, Butler rose from her seat and slipped out the back door, followed closely by a CTA official. The two talked quietly for about a minute, he craning his neck down, she looking up and nodding in agreement, until the official returned to the board meeting and Butler started down the stairs with a smile. “He said, ‘Keep on fighting.’ And that’s what I plan to do.”

Jane Fentress

[Show as slideshow]

Huddled together under an overcast sky, a dozen volunteers and 3rd Ward Alderman Pat Dowell wait patiently for the clean-up to begin. Despite the weather, the small group has gathered in a vacant parking lot in Washington Park, showing their commitment to the neighborhood, and in some cases, to one another. Best friends of 40 years and Washington Park residents of even longer, Lex and Rob are two volunteers intent on leading the clean-up. After a few minutes of energetic chatter, Lex, a broad-shouldered man in his forties, raises his left arm and gestures to East Garfield Boulevard, drawing attention to the green grass and trees that span the length of the street.

“Rob and I have been doing this clean-up for the last five years,” Lex says proudly, “We want to keep this neighborhood free of garbage and looking nice so that everyone can enjoy the area.”

Last Saturday was the last Clean and Green Day with Richard M. Daley in office. For over two decades, community action groups and teams of volunteers have organized around this annual event, removing litter from their neighborhood lawns and streets. Overall, Clean and Green has been celebrated as a success in civic service—in 2009 alone, the event had a total turnout of 10,500, including representatives from 450 different groups from across the city. More than just a day of sweaty raking and trash pick-up, Clean and Green Day has become an opportunity for community-building: in many neighborhoods, cookouts accompany the dirty work, and DJs entertain volunteers taking a break. But it’s not just isolated citizens and do-gooders who participate in the cleaning efforts; local businesses have begun setting up their own cleaning teams and sponsoring the event in their neighborhoods.

Clean and Green is part of a much wider city beautification initiative that began with Daley’s election to office in 1989. To attract investors and tourists, Daley ordered the development and maintenance of key locations in the city, most notably in Downtown Chicago. After years of “greening” initiatives, including the construction of over 2 million square feet of rooftop gardens and purchasing ten “Green Machine” street vacuum sweepers in 1998, Daley’s environmental efforts have paid off: Chicago was named the ninth greenest city in America by Popular Science in 2008, coming in ahead of Minneapolis, Denver, and New York City.

But that isn’t to say that the Mayor’s intentions haven’t been marred by controversy. Though Daley did establish lush public spaces in the downtown area—with Millennium Park as the centerpiece—and reinvented areas like Greektown as culturally significant attractions, South Side activists have repeatedly accused Daley of forgoing development in their neighborhoods, favoring local projects in the Loop and farther north. With few recreational parks, poor access to recycling facilities, and the Crawford and Fisk coal-fired power plants still polluting the air, many residents argue that Daley’s sparkling green vision is confronted with harsh, sooty reality.

“In terms of the government bettering this neighborhood, most of what I see comes from Alderman Dowell and not the Mayor,” Rob admitted, “He’s given her some money and supplies to plant the trees you see all along this Boulevard, but just look at all those potholes. Those haven’t been fixed for years.”

According to residents like Rob, the popular dissatisfaction with Daley is derived from the perception that because his main focus lies with the downtown area, not enough funds or other resources have been allocated for the development of other, less touristy, city neighborhoods. The mayor claims to provide for all city neighborhoods with initiatives like TIF budgeting, “used to encourage development and investment where it would not otherwise occur,” as the city’s web page describes. But TIF districting, perhaps more than any other city-wide effort, has demonstrated the remarkable gap in funds available for development projects in the Loop versus those on the South Side—$20,000,000 are available on average for the 16 designated zones in the “Central” area of the city, where only about $3,000,000 are available for the 56 zones on the South Side.  It has been the task of individual South Side aldermen and residents to work to bridge this gap, and to continue to rail against unkempt, and sometimes even hazardous, community facilities that impede development and economic opportunities. Shoddy maintenance of parks, roads, and buildings has kept investors and visitors away from the South Side while discouraging residents from fully enjoying their neighborhoods’ public spaces.

“You know, back when Lex and I were young, we used to play football and do acrobatics all along this boulevard, and people would stop, talk to us, and pay us to do a few tricks for them,” Rob mentions, remembering his childhood, “Now you don’t see any kids around. Kids don’t play in the streets because there’s crime, and they don’t visit the parks because the parks aren’t equipped well and drug dealers roam them. There just isn’t that feeling of home that I enjoyed as a boy anymore.”

Using the limited cash and supplies they do possess, South Side aldermen like Dowell are committed to improving their neighborhood’s appearance and raising property values. A long strip of healthy grass and lithe trees that runs along East Garfield Boulevard testifies to Dowell’s determination to make the most of Daley`s offerings and show her love for the area. But the greenery is completely surrounded by the rest of the neighborhood`s grey and dusty image, characterizing the work that still needs to be done.

City government money only goes so far, and it’s rarely far enough. To finish what Daley started, local organizations and agencies have been picking up the slack, raising funds independently and planning the desired initiatives. Ghian Foreman, a charismatic, broad-smiled man who works with the Washington Park development agency New South Partners, is part of such a movement. Foreman and his coworkers spend much of their time backing Dowell through grassroots initiatives that not only promote clean neighborhoods, but also deliberately seek to bring back a sense of community.

Each year, Foreman and his colleagues at New South Partners persuade nearby businesses and residents to participate in the Clean and Green event—whether through extra funding, food, or an additional hand they can count on for the day. By engaging local residents in cleanup efforts, they claim, communities will become more invested in their own health and well-being.

“What you’re doing is motivating people to take ownership and responsibility for their land. You’re getting them to show that they care,” Foreman says. “Because if you don’t care, why would the government?”

For Dowell and Foreman, getting residents to appreciate their living space is better than any of the benefits of greater mayoral attention, and can open the door for economic development without governmental intervention. Characterizing the area as a “diamond in the rough,” Foreman and Dowell pointed out the large number of people they see walking around the Midway, along the streets, in Hyde Park restaurants, and illustrated the potential for industry and employment.

“You never know who’s passing by,” Dowell explained. “Investment [in this area] has remained stagnant for the last 30 years, even though there are so many attractions here. A few pieces of garbage here and there can discourage an investor to start a business, so making sure all public spaces are clean is extremely important if you want to attract new businesses and create opportunities for jobs.”

But equally as important is youth involvement to create a better future for the community. Foreman strives to install a sense of community-building in youth by offering them responsibilities to encourage respect for their surroundings. The majority of Clean and Green flyers are distributed to schools, and New South Partners employs teens during the summer to pick up litter around the city. Volunteers have also made youth participation a large part of why they are involved with the clean-up, because, in their eyes, it isn’t just about fixing up the neighborhood, it’s also about providing positive role models for the community’s children.

And so on another April Saturday, for the 23rd year in a row, 3rd Ward volunteers continue to rake and pick up trash in the Washington Park area. The goal is to one day attract businesses, tourists, a sense of citizenship and responsibility, and perhaps even the next mayor’s attention. With promises to enforce the city’s solid waste recycling ordinance and claims to turn parks into safe recreational sites, Rahm Emmanuel`s policies entice residents to observe closely and see how much Chicago, as a whole city this time, improves.

But in the meantime, residents will continue as they have for the last few years. Glancing quickly at the garbage-filled parking lot, Lex perked up and reached for a broom and dust pan, joking all the while.

“I love how we`re standing here talking about cleaning, but none of us have even looked at the parking lot!” he says, laughing, “There aren`t a lot of us here, but we might as well keep on going.”

He pauses before muttering on, “It`s the only thing left to do.”

oceandesetoiles/flickr

A grandmotherly woman named Loretta handed me a slice of coffee cake, pulled up a stool, and told me to introduce myself as I entered the Washington Park Field House for the Seed Starting Workshop for Beginners. Seated on benches around large wooden worktables, fifteen other gardeners from the South Side smiled and nodded sympathetically when I admitted to being a college student with no gardening experience. The endearingly diverse group, made up of everyone from the confident elderly to the meek young, had come together for the second installment of the Washington Park Conservancy’s Birds, Bees & Beets 2011 lecture series.

The lecture, given by Kristen McPhee from the Chicago Botanic Garden, and the workshop that followed were filled with enthusiasm and nurturing support for beginner gardeners. McPhee’s language was clear and her scope comprehensive, as she walked participants through the process of turning a measly packet of seeds into a thriving vegetable garden—from setting up seedling-growing stations indoors to calculating germination time. To the delight of everyone present, some gardeners offered their own quirky suggestions for completing each step cheaply or for free, like using Christmas lights or radiators as heat sources and making newspaper cups to hold baby seedlings. Afterwards, Washington Park Conservancy President Madiem Kawa led a hands-on session for the new gardeners to test the various methods for housing seedlings, which—despite its educational content—might have been just a good excuse to play with dirt. Throughout the workshop, participants traded stories about obscure and coveted heirloom tomato varieties and predicted when the last frost will occur.

If you’ve finished your spring cleaning and are looking for a way to usher in the spring time, the Washington Park Gardening Lecture Series is hosting three more sessions in the coming weeks. Future lectures are set to address backyard beekeeping and food preservation. As this workshop proved, there’s a strong network of support in the Washington Park Conservancy for green-thumbed South Side residents; people of all skill levels are welcome. With the support the Washington Park Conservancy, at least a dozen private and community gardens are bound to pop up on the South Side this season. Washington Park Field House, 5531 S. King Drive. Call (773)203-3418 to register.

Courtesy of TL Barrett

The Life Center Church of God in Christ sits on the corner of Garfield and Indiana, just east of the honorary two-and-a-half block Rev. T.L. Barrett, Jr. Blvd. The boulevard’s namesake is sitting in a pew close to the pulpit. On the second Sunday morning of the year, he’s just been introduced by Minister Camara to a standing ovation by over a hundred beaming congregants. It is his birthday—or rather, as the bulletin reads, and as Minister Camara reminds everyone—his “earth day”. And this is Pastor Barrett, after all: the man who organized the Life Center Church just west of Washington Park, who twenty-odd years ago was implicated in a pyramid scheme, and who in 1971 recorded a rare gospel record with South Side youth that was rereleased to great acclaim this past year.

The album “Like A Ship…(Without A Sail)” has been described by just about every music review site as a holy grail of gospel. For the 39 years since its small-scale release, collectors and gospel fans have had to search through milk crates of used vinyl to find the recording, which was originally distributed mostly at church functions and neighborhood events. “I think it took about 45 seconds into track one and we were instantly hooked,” said Matt Sullivan, co-owner and founder of Light in the Attic Records. The album was licensed to Light in the Attic by Numero Group, an archival record label based in Little Village that spent four years trying to obtain the license from Barrett. “Like A Ship” was re-released last July with three bonus tracks on LP, CD, and MP3. Eight tracks of funky gospel-soul goodness, “Like A Ship” sounds as though it’s being streamed right out of the sanctuary. And with the 40-person Youth For Christ Choir backing Barrett, there’s an infectiousness to the sound that transcends any objections about the record being “unprofessional,” which it is—Barrett is a self-trained musician leading Washington Park youth, after all.

Born in New York City in 1944, Barrett spent much of his early life in Chicago where he attended public schools on the South Side until his dismissal from Wendell Phillips High School. The dismissal, coupled with the death of his father that same year, prompted him to return to New York in 1960. Home in the Jamaica neighborhood of Queens, Barrett earned a G.E.D. and went on to graduate from Bethel Bible Institute, where he honed his piano skills. Returning to Chicago in 1967, he became the pastor of the Mt. Zion Baptist Church the following year. It was here at Mt. Zion that he recorded “Like A Ship” and began to gain recognition throughout the city as a community leader and an activist who used music as a means of enriching the lives of youth. His successful ministry at Mt. Zion led him to organize the Life Center Church in 1976. Barrett would eventually grow close to Jesse Jackson and Eugene Sawyer, the second black mayor of Chicago, before being implicated in a pyramid scheme in 1988 and ordered to either pay restitution or face jail time.

Now, on a Sunday in 2011, Barrett’s congregants sing “Happy Birthday” in celebration of his 67th —this is his 68th year, the preacher clarifies; he’s only just fulfilled his 67th. Barrett, funny and charismatic, notes all this on the pulpit, in semi-conversation with one of the congregants standing next to him. Wearing a suit and a round white hat, Barrett looks much older than his “…Without A Sail” self: he has long white sideburns—neatly trimmed—and moves slowly and deliberately, appearing for the first time fifteen minutes into the two-and-a-half-hour service. He is loved by his congregation and by his choir, and after tithes are collected for the church, everyone moves to the center aisle to wish him well, shake his hand, and wish him a happy birthday. A birthday offering is taken up—envelopes are handed out with the church bulletin—and a gift is collected for the Pastor, for the “spiritual leader [who] has always said ‘my church first’” and has, according to another minister, even taken one-third of his regular salary when times were especially hard upon the church. Following the Benediction, a celebratory meal for Pastor Barrett is held in Barrett Hall. “Joyful Noise”—track number six on “Like A Ship”—would have served as an appropriate soundtrack.

So which story of Barrett’s life deserves the headline: the passionate preacher, the accused schemer, or the gospel musician now clapping at the head of his congregation? The youth choir that backs up Barrett on track five sings it best: “Nobody knows…”

“Like a Ship” is available for purchase at lightintheattic.net