Bookended by Marina City to the south and the glittering American Medical Association tower to the north, the sidewalks along State Street between the river and Illinois see their share of well-heeled traffic. But the stretch is also close to several construction sites, this newspaper’s office, a few corner-bar-type establishments that still water a regular clientele, and the urine-stained dungeons under the elevated sections of Wabash and Michigan. In the evening, hustlers still mill around the AMA park on the northeast corner of State and Illinois, and panhandlers, some seated in wheelchairs, untiringly guard the doors of the White Hen on the southeast corner.
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One recent Wednesday a steady stream of tourists passed an after-work crowd in front of the White Hen. The commuters were munching on snacks and waiting for the bus alongside the panhandlers and a few hustlers. Suddenly, on the southwest corner, the front door of Snickers bar and grill coughed out two short Latinos pursued by two white guys–one small, the other oxlike. They were all yelling. The shorter Latino turned around to say something; the big guy sucker-punched him in the face.
The bus still hadn’t shown up, and the crowd of onlookers grew–some wincing on the rare occasion when a gladiator’s aim was true, some snickering; others resumed snacking and smoking without taking their eyes off the action. A woman in workout sneakers and a bright orange tank top huffed by, glancing at the fight and then yelling at the crowd, “Free entertainment, huh? Nice!” She got no response.
“You bet she does,” the panhandler replied. “I’m getting out of here. She’s crazy.” And he wheeled away.
