It was drizzling on November 1 as I wandered through the Loop in a northwesterly direction. I couldn’t decide how to get home. Should I take the train, catch a bus, grab a cab?
A Sun-Times reporter wanted to know whether I thought we still had a chance to save the house. In the story that ran the next day I was quoted saying, “This house means a lot to this neighborhood, and if we’re going to discount the fact that the house is important to a neighborhood, then we discount the fact that Chicago is a city of neighborhoods.”
I knew that would be the end of the house. The estate of the woman, Jean Ziegler, would sell the big corner lot to a developer, and the developer would tear the house down to build condos. New condo buildings were sprouting up at an impressive rate and, in the summer construction season, a deafening volume.
A couple of weeks later, on September 7, I was in Granato’s office, facing the developer, Bob Ranquist, and his father. Barely civil, the Ranquists stared holes in my forehead as I asked for an extended hold on the demolition permit so I could make sure they weren’t tearing down a building of historical importance.
Two months later–after two trips to City Hall, three to the Newberry Library, two to the Chicago Historical Society, one to Chicago Title and Trust, one to the UIC library, one to the Harold Washington Library, one to the Eckhart Park branch library, and two to the Polish Museum, not to mention countless hours on the Internet–I’d become convinced that the house was a crucial link in the history of West Town.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
As far as the landmarks commission was concerned, that was the end of the house’s historical significance. The rules for making a building a landmark are written to exclude all but the most obvious choices. An old wooden house on a corner in West Town? No chance. Which didn’t stop me from shrieking at the November hearing, “This house is the history of this neighborhood, and if you destroy this house you erase that history.”
I’m not from West Town. I’m not even from Chicago. I grew up in Ohio and moved to Oak Park after college, in 1992. Six years later my wife became a teacher in the Chicago Public Schools, and we moved into the city. We found a great condo in a turn-of-the-century graystone on Paulina a block north of Chicago with a view of downtown.
