The Golden West ’22

Posted on October 16, 2022 by admin

Early this month, I ventured near the West Coast again, though to places in that vast region I’d never seen before. That is, parts of northern California, where you can see the likes of marching bears looking to sell you band merch, though you have to provide your own hallucinogens.

Across the border in Nevada, signs say howdy, come on in and enjoy games of chance that favor the house.

This year’s travels have followed a specific design. The overarching goal was to travel with members of my family and by myself. Early in the year, the prospect of a bonus trip with old friends emerged, and toward the end of the year, the prospect of going somewhere for company business did as well.

That has all come to pass. In March, I went to Savannah with Ann. In May, the Colorado Plateau with Yuriko. In late July and early August, around Lake Michigan with old friends. In September, Jay came to visit me – but we also popped up to Milwaukee. Early this month, I went to California and Nevada, a trip I’ll call the Golden West because one’s trip ought to have fanciful names. Lilly joined me for part of the time.

Sacramento was the trip’s fulcrum. I flew in on October 1 fairly late and spent the first night there. The next morning, I headed east, following narrow roads across the Sierra Nevada, to the shores and vistas of Lake Tahoe, by way of the site where John Marshall found gold in 1848, an event he came to rue. At least he’s remembered: the place is called the Marshall Gold Discovery State Historic Park.

I spent two nights in Reno. My first morning in that town, October 3, I took a walk near the Truckee River, which I had no notion existed before coming to this part of the country – a feeling I had more than once during the trip, along with a few moments of ah – that happened there? Reno is also home to the National Automobile Museum, which takes a bit of a different approach that the one in Fairbanks, sporting a lot of interesting old vehicles, but also some not so old.

That afternoon I drove to Carson City. When I was young and started poring over maps, I found it curious that Carson City, by all appearances a small place, was capital of a large state like Nevada. Large in area, anyway, since it was later I’d learn about Nevada’s relatively small population. Later still – that is, now – Nevada actually isn’t that small in population, coming in at no. 32 among the several states with about 3.1 million people, ahead of the likes of Arkansas, Mississippi and Kansas, among others.

For its part, Carson City has a population of about 58,000 (that’s the MSA, third-smallest for a capital, larger only than the Pierre, SD, and Juneau, Alaska MSAs). Naturally I ambled over the state capitol for a look. The Nevada State Museum, which includes the former Carson City Mint, unfortunately wasn’t open. Cactus Jack pictured above, incidentally, greets Carson City visitors. I didn’t go in to that casino. Or any in Reno.

Virginia City was another thing I didn’t know about Nevada. It was a name on a map and I had the vague notion that it was little more than a ghost town, the residuum of long-finished silver mining. False. Silver mining did take place there in a big way, but now V. City lives on as a major tourist destination, the sort of place that has refurbished its vintage buildings into bars, restaurants, souvenir shops and small museums.

It occurred to me when visiting the site of the Comstock Lode in Nevada — V. City is built on top of it — that that was the silver part of the trip. The gold part had been on the the western slope of the Sierra Nevada in California. Silver and gold. Gold and silver. Either has a good ring to it.

The next day, I walked the colorful Virginia Avenue in Reno, and visited the Reno Art Museum before I quit town, heading back to Sacramento by way of the larger I-80, which allowed me to stop at Donner Memorial State Park. That place provided me a that-happened-here? moment. It isn’t called the Donner Pass for nothing, though I suspect the members of the party who didn’t survive would have taken a pass on posthumous fame, in exchange for making it across the mountains.

Fairly early on the morning on October 5, I picked up Lilly at the airport in Sacramento. Our goal for the day was a hotel in Groveland, California, near the entrance of Yosemite National Park, but we lingered for a look at the state capitol, and then headed south on California 99, a four-lane freeway through the San Joaquin Valley.

We stopped briefly along the way, feeling the heat and sensing the dryness of the place. California is in another drought, after all. Yet the crops grow there in abundance, at least as long as the ag industry has the political muscle to get the water it needs.

Back up in the Sierra Nevada, temps were also surprisingly warm – in the 80s most of October 6, the day we spent at Yosemite NP. I acquired and sent a number of postcards of Yosemite, because I’m a traditionalist that way. On some of them, I wrote that I was much impressed by the massive rock formations, but had no urge to climb any of them.

The next morning, we drove back to Sacramento, where I took Lilly to the airport. That left me with half a day more to kick around that city, which I did, leaving on the morning of October 8. The surprise for me in my last walk around Sacramento was the collection of impressive modernist and postmodernist buildings, especially along the Capitol Mall.

All in all, a good trip. I even got to meet a local, there in Reno, more about whom later. That’s the gold standard for an authentic travel experience, at least according to some lines of thought. That or “live like a local,” though that somehow always seems to mean visiting the right bars, but never (say) spending time stuck in traffic like a local would.

Milwaukee Hipster Doughnuts &c.

Posted on September 29, 2022 by admin

Time for an autumnal break. Back to posting around October 16, when the tree colors will be bold and the winds (probably) brisk, at least around here. Expect photos.

Out last stop in Milwaukee on Sunday afternoon, as a light rain fell, was Chubby’s Donuts, spotted by chance and visited on a whim.

The place has a mascot atop. Hard to tell just how chubby he is.

The doughnuts, which are really round dough-rings each about the size of an onion ring, come in bags, and are dusted liberally with cinnamon and sugar. Pretty good, but I’m not running up to Milwaukee just for them.

On Monday evening, we went to west suburban Westmont to visit my old friend Kevin, and participate in a trivia contest at a local restaurant. That was a first for me, unless you count the contest at one of my former companies, at a company event ca. 1999, that netted me some movie tickets.

I don’t remember all the various categories now, but as usual, some were easier than others, and our team (Kevin, Jay and I) came in second, partly on the strength of us knowing all eight of the comic strips in the visual part of the contest. Everyone got a piece of paper with eight single panels illustrating each comic, but without any captions, and you had to name the strip for each.

They were The Far Side, Calvin & Hobbes, Nancy, Garfield, The Family Circus, Bloom County, The Adventures of Tintin and Beetle Bailey.

I thought they were easy. Maybe it’s a generational question: who among the younger set is going to know that many of them, much less all?

Then again, I remember a high school English teacher of mine expressing wonder that any adult — including a highly educated friend of his — would spend time reading the funnies, so perhaps he wouldn’t have done very well at naming them either, despite being of the generation who grew up with Terry and the Pirates (for example).

Another category was songs with the word “love” in their titles, which of course includes a lot of possibilities. Name the artist, given the song title. We didn’t do that well — flummoxed mostly on the newer songs — but God help me, I knew that the Captain & Tennille had a big hit with “Muskrat Love” (1976).

What I didn’t know, until I happened to hear about it on the radio a few years ago, was that the Captain & Tennille’s version of “Muskrat Love” was a cover, and that the band America had done an earlier one. It was written and first recorded by Willis Alan Ramsey, of all people. In any case, it’s one of those songs not that you’ll always remember, but which you’ll never forget.

St. John’s Lutheran Church, Milwaukee

Posted on September 28, 2022 by admin

What do we think of when we think of Milwaukee, the result of years of history but also modern lore, only a part of which involves anything as consciously planned as advertising? Beer.

Found on a wall at a food court at the former Pabst Brewery complex.

What do I think of? Beer, yes, but also the astonishing number of large churches for such a mid-sized city. Every time I go there now, I see at least one I hadn’t seen before, inside and out.

Such as St. John’s Lutheran Church, which has been a congregation since 1848. A year of mass movement of Germans out of Germany, for sure, though I imagine most of the original congregants were Germans already in Milwaukee. It was the last place in town that we saw as part of this year’s Doors Open event, arriving in the mid-afternoon on Sunday.

The current church building dates from 1890, a design by Herman Schnetzky and Eugene Liebert, two German architects who came to Milwaukee in the late 19th century.

Inside, a curious feature: lights running along the ceiling arches, added in the early 20th century. Over 800 bulbs, I read. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that in a church. Adds more than a touch of luminosity to the place.

The altar, hand-carved in Germany long ago.

Four prophets from the Old Testament: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel.

Those were the west transept windows. The east windows featured Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

An organist was practicing on the church’s sizable organ, a 2,500-pipe instrument. He had a nice touch.

The pastor was also around — a young man, maybe no more than 30, and not long out of seminary. Had a nice chat with him about the church and a bit about the various Lutheran groups, which I can never quite keep track of. A synod here and a synod there. He seemed like a personable fellow, which you really ought to be if you go into that line of work.

The Brewery District, Milwaukee

Posted on September 27, 2022 by admin

Our visit to Milwaukee on Sunday took us, in the mid-afternoon, to what it now is known as the Brewery District. Once upon a time — for a long time — Pabst was brewed there.

The sign hangs between some handsome buildings. On one side, the cream city brick Malt House, originally developed in 1882 and former one of the world’s largest brewery-owned malt houses, according to the district’s web site (who else would own a malt house?). Now it’s apartments.

On the other side, the Brewhouse Inn & Suites, a hotel that was once the brew house for the Pabst operations.

“The Pabst Brewery closed in 1996 leaving a seven-block area of downtown Milwaukee vacant,” the site says. “For over a decade, historic structures deteriorated until real estate developer and philanthropist Joseph J. Zilber purchased the site in August 2006.

“The results include seven apartment developments, three office buildings, two hotel properties, two breweries, restaurants, banquet halls and two public parks. In addition, the Brewery District is home to the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Joseph J. Zilber School of Public Health and No Studios, an incubator for the growing film industry in Milwaukee.”

Not that much of the district was open on Sunday. The spot participating in the Doors Open event was Best Place at the Historic Pabst Brewery, a retail complex formed from some of the old brewery buildings.

“Great care has been taken to ensure that Blue Ribbon Hall, The Great Hall, Captain’s Corner, Captain’s Courtyard, Guest Center, King’s Courtyard, and the original Gift Shop have all been restored to their original glory,” the separate Best Place web site says.

Enter one courtyard and there’s good old King Gambrinus.

Not actually that old, since it’s a 1967 reproduction, in aluminum, of an older wooden statue that had fallen apart.

In a separate courtyard, Frederick Pabst.

Died 1901. I saw his grave last year and his mansion some years before that. He was a beer baron among beer barons.

Doors Open Milwaukee ’22

Posted on September 26, 2022 by admin

My brother Jay is in town for a visit, and part of the visit included heading up to Milwaukee on Sunday for the Doors Open event.

Except for rain late in the afternoon, it was a fine cool day for gallivanting around, looking at buildings. First we went to the Basilica of St. Josaphat and then the Tripoli Shrine Temple, owned by the Shriners.

I decided to take a few detail shots at the temple, such as the top of a door handle, wall décor and a hanging bit of masonic symbolism.

Plus something to remember the guide by.

From there we sought lunch, which we found — takeout, so we had it in the car — from a place on Wisconsin Ave., east of Marquette U. Breakfast food for lunch.

Also on Wisconsin Ave., the main Milwaukee Public Library branch was part of the event, but unfortunately not on Sunday, so we didn’t get in. The sign shouldn’t have been left up.

Later in the afternoon, we spent time looking around the site of the former Pabst Brewery complex, now handsomely redeveloped, and capped things off with a visit to St. John’s Lutheran Church. The last two of those were new even to me. Though not that big, Milwaukee is dense with sights.

On the way home, we couldn’t very well pass up a short visit to Mars Cheese Castle.

The rain was done by then, leaving a rainbow over the Interstate.

Birds

Posted on September 25, 2022 by admin

Late summer 2019, northwest suburbs.

Might as well be late summer, 2022. Except for everything that’s happened since then.

Lincoln Park Zoo ’22

Posted on September 23, 2022 by admin

Back in 1984, I took a trip to Chicago from Nashville for the Labor Day weekend. That was the first place I ever went after getting a full-time job. I stayed with my friend Rich, whose apartment was in the Lincoln Park neighborhood, where one could live comfortably just out of college.

That’s how long ago it was. Lincoln Park was then emerging from decades as — not full-blown slum, but maybe the St. Charles Place-States Avenue-Virginia Avenue of Chicago, so rents were still relatively affordable. Those days are long over.

During that visit, Rich suggested we go to the Lincoln Park Zoo, which we did. I’ve visited periodically over the decades since then, and always like it. Zoos can be much more than places to take your kids, though they are that too.

The animals, of course, are the prime attraction. Such as the great apes. This one’s a little hard to spot.

Another of his troop was indoors. He was easier to see. Well, if you were up front.

Some Père David’s deer. Native to China, they just barely escaped extinction by being bred in European zoos.

Flamingos. Lots of flamingos. Some sources say the collective is a flamboyance of flamingos, others say a stand.

I also like some of the zoo buildings, such the Kovler Lion House, outside and in.

No lions were to be seen that morning, however. Guess they were taking cat naps out of sight.

A concession stand.

But it’s got style.

Nature Boardwalk

Posted on September 21, 2022 by admin

Toward the south end of Lincoln Park is the fittingly named South Pond, flush with floral glory last Saturday.

That, and U.S. Grant off in the distance.

The pond is mostly ringed by a feature called Nature Boardwalk, which is an extension, without large animal habitats, of the Lincoln Park Zoo. It’s called that pending a really generous gift, most likely.

I didn’t need any more prompting than that to take a walk along most of the raised walkway.

From one vantage, the handsome Café Brauer building is visible.

The building has a history as home to a successful Chicago restaurant in the first decades of the 20th century. Developed in 1908 with a design by Prairie School notable Dwight Perkins.

The life of the building continues as a wedding venue. A nicely written description — though at heart ad copy for the place — is at The Knot, which specializes in articles and other tools for wedding planning:

Café Brauer overlooks the zoo’s Nature Boardwalk, a lively pond ecosystem. Thanks to the event space’s terrace, couples and their guests can easily admire the setting’s beautiful biodiversity as they celebrate. From this vantage point, a clear view of the surrounding park and city skyline is also visible.

Inside, the… historic Chicago landmark features eye-catching ceilings supported by exposed green-colored beams, with Tiffany-style chandeliers and warm uplighting. Thanks to its stained-glass windows, natural light can flood the interior as guests dine, dance, and mingle.

And what was this?

That must have been there the last time I came this way, but I didn’t remember it.
I walked the path, and over a stone bridge, to the other bank of the pond.

Closer.

Inside.

The Peoples Gas Education Pavilion, it is. I’ll assume the natural gas company of that name had something to do with paying at least part of the construction tab for the structure.

“It was completed in 2010 by Studio Gang, the world-renowned Chicago architecture firm led by Jeanne Gang. It is built from prefabricated glue-laminated timber ‘ribs’ and fiberglass domes,” writes Chicago area photographer Lauri Novak.

Novak lauds the spot as a good one for taking photos. Is it ever.

Farmers’ Market Near an Abandoned Shoreline

Posted on September 20, 2022 by admin

Still warm and sunny here, though punctuated by thunderstorms. I don’t think I saw them forecast — one Sunday evening, another this evening. They rolled through quickly, and didn’t even interfere with evening dog-walking.

On Saturday, I noticed this plaque in Lincoln Park. I didn’t remember seeing it before.

It’s in a good location. The ridge is very much visible from that spot.

Clark Street is to the right, beyond the edge of my image. At that point it’s the western edge of the park, but mostly it’s a non-grid North Side street, one I knew pretty well in my city-dwelling days. It was near my first apartment, and sometimes I took the No. 22 Clark Street bus places (occasionally all the way from downtown, but the El was faster).

In Chicago, non-grid usually means the street follows an Indian trace, and so it is with Clark, at least north of Chicago Ave. Other one-time Indian traces coursing through the North Side include Lincoln, Elston and Milwaukee Aves. The South Side has them, too, such as Ogden and Archer Aves.

In the Loop, Clark is park of the grid, and has been there a long time. Wonder how many people realize that it’s named for George Rogers Clark, whose sizable monument is pretty far away from Chicago?

Not far from Clark on the western edge of Lincoln Park, I happened across Green City Market, a large farmer’s market, in progress. It’s held on Wednesdays and Saturdays during the warmer parts of the year. It was busy.

Lots of tents.

Some wonderful-looking produce.

I don’t begrudge the farmers their direct-to-consumer sales, but the emphasis on “organic” and “pasture raised” and — I saw this — “regenerative agriculture” — got to be a little much. At least I didn’t see anything advertised as “curated.” It can’t be as simple as “fresh produce,” can it?

But that didn’t bother me too much. I enjoyed the band.

The tip in their bucket was the only money I spent in the park that day.

A Summery September Saturday in Lincoln Park

Posted on September 19, 2022 by admin

I can’t let International Talk Like A Pirate Day pass without a mention, as I have for so many years. Somehow, that would be wrong. There’s a place in the world for silly days. So here’s a public domain image for the occasion.

“The Capture of the Pirate Blackbeard, 1718” by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris (1920). He’s an American artist I wasn’t familiar with until recently. He’s been mostly forgotten, his style considered outdated.

Summer in its mildest form lingers here in northern Illinois: bright days, little wind, puffy clouds, temps that let you forget whether the air is hot or cold. Good for going out for a long walk (Saturday) or staying at home and sleeping late and then lounging on the deck (Sunday) and reading and watching various bits of visual entertainment.

The Saturday walk was through Lincoln Park in Chicago, from the southern edge northward, along the boardwalk and into the zoo, and back again along the ridge that used to be the lakeshore. I also passed through a crowd at a farmers’ market.

Been a while since my last visit. That too was a late summer stroll.

This time, Yuriko was at her cake class making this —

— which is every bit as good as it looks.

Meanwhile, I took a bus east to Lincoln Park, crown jewel of the Chicago Park District and home to fields and paths and trees and shrubs.

But there’s no forgetting the surrounding city.

I didn’t seek out monuments this visit. The park is dotted with them, as much in the background as the tree canopy or bushy undergrowth for most people, who are missing messages in bottles from the past.

I did pause at Hans Christian Andersen, whose bronze dates from 1896. It gave the impression that he was enjoying the shade.

“The Hans Christian Andersen Monument Association [local Danes] commissioned John Gelert to produce the sculpture,” park district says. “A Danish immigrant, John Gelert (1852–1923) arrived in Chicago in 1887, receiving his first commission for the Haymarket Riot Monument two years later.

“Gelert portrayed the children’s author sitting with a book in hand and a swan at his feet, alluding to his world-famous story, ‘The Ugly Duckling.’ The artist explained that ‘he had the advantage of studying several good photographs of Andersen taken at various times in his life.’

“Gelert displayed the Hans Christian Andersen Monument along with his now-missing Beethoven Portrait Bust at the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893. (Installed in Lincoln Park in 1897, the Beethoven bust was stolen in 1970.)”

Elsewhere, in the shade of the Schiller statue, in fact, a small brass band did some tunes al fresco.

On the whole, the walk was good.

As I saw printed on the side of a truck parked on a street running through the park.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling