For Chicago Musician Colin Morris, Rock 'n Roll Success 'Could Be Anything' -- An Interview Ahead of His Martyrs' Gig, April 23

As I've frequently conveyed on this blog, rock 'n roll has immeasurably enriched my life--and continues to.

My upcoming concert calendar includes cherished artists that stand among the most legendary of all-time (The Who, The Rolling Stones, U2, Robert Plant), air guitar-inducing rockers forever rooted in my youth (Rush, Van Halen, AC/DC) and more personal favorites like Manic Street Preachers, The Replacements, The Waterboys and Paul Weller.

But with all of these acts--and most others that still excite me--dating back to the '60s, '70s or '80s, I often find myself ruing the scarcity of new, young(ish) rock artists who might provide similar satisfaction now and especially 10 years hence.

Still, reports of rock being dead are--seemingly and rather gratifyingly--greatly exaggerated.

And not just because of how much I like Arcade Fire.

While it's possible that the hard rock genre will never again generate a preponderance of zeitgeist-inhabiting artists such as the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd or Nirvana, there should always be a sizable subset of the population plugging guitars into amps and making glorious noise.

The trick may be to find them, but the satisfaction can be all that much greater for finding the proverbial needle in the ever-fragmented digital age haystack.

And to come across enjoyable musicians you not only know about, but actually know, can make it all that more rewarding.

In recent years, I've had the pleasure of discovering that a co-worker in the next cubicle was the bassist for a band whose album I had recently bought and really liked (The Chamber Strings), and in another case was impressed enough by Todd Leiter-Weintraub of Hop on Pop--who I met on the first day of a short-lived temp gig--that I hired him to play a show in my mom's backyard.

In autumn of 2013, at another temporary stint that I repeated the following fall, I came across Colin Morris, who I now know had relocated to Chicago from Ohio--he's originally from Akron--just the previous year.

In spite of fairly frequent informal conversation, and despite his long hair and brightly colored pants, it took me several months to catch on that Colin was a rock star shrouded in the 9-to-5 guise of an account executive.

But especially as I'm always fascinated by people's special talents to which most co-workers likely remain oblivious, I was delighted when--after a conversation about his musical pursuits--Colin shared with me some demos of songs he was working on.

Impressed well beyond polite admiration for a friend's extracurricular efforts, and openly encouraging that his music merited public hearing, I was thrilled on St. Patrick's Day of this year when Colin celebrated his 28th birthday by releasing his first EP, Could Be Anything.

It can now be heard on Spotify (embedded below) and is available for purchase in digital and CD form on Bandcamp, as well as digital downloads via iTunes, Amazon and Google Play.  



Given that he not only wrote the four songs and produced & recorded them himself, but sang and played all the instruments, Colin had to find some musicians to help him debut the EP at a record release show March 17 at the Elbo Room--I attended and found an added potency to the material when played live--and for his gig this Thursday night at Martyrs' in Chicago.

Although he has been playing in bands for years, including recently one called Blindspt, Colin rounded out his current power trio--he plays guitar and sings--with bassist Stephen Mortenson and drummer Gabe Zunino, both of whom he found fairly recently in rather fortuitous fashion. 

Mortenson heads his own band, Shadow of the Titan, for whom Colin plays bass on tandem shows to promote both their new releases.

Wanting to interview Colin for a Seth Saith piece--about his new EP as well as insights on today's musical landscape for a young rock artist--timed to his Martyrs' gig, I sent him a list of questions which he quite graciously answered with considerable thought and candor.

I share the Q&A below verbatim, with only cosmetic editing.

1. You’ve clearly been learning, playing and teaching music for quite some time, but as I understand it, Could Be Anything represents the first release of music you created. What does this mean to you?
It means life got in the way while I let fear slow me down. I’ve been writing songs since high school, and I’ve been hungry to record and perform the whole time. I’ve had great experiences playing in bands, but these songs were in me the whole time. I finally realized over the past two years it was time to quit practicing and get them out there, because you have to start somewhere.

2. How and why did it come together now? How did you record and release it?
I didn’t have the budget to go into a studio, or rather, didn’t know how to use that time effectively. With this being my first release, I wanted to record it myself so I would have time to experiment and make mistakes without some engineer’s meter running. The result is a lot of imperfections, but a much more refined process of writing, arranging, and recording.

3. Why did releasing the EP in physical, CD form matter to you, vs. simply a digital release?
This is an endlessly fascinating time for the record industry. The reality at the time of this interview could be upended six months from now. I want my music to be available on the forms and places my new fans want to listen to it. For a lot of people, that’s Spotify, and that’s fine. For many others, they want to hold it in their hands, and I want to give that to people. Plus, it feels good to be able to touch what I’ve made. I would have made vinyl too if I thought my homegrown, bargain basement production quality merited it. Maybe next time.

4. For me, having grown up while LPs were still the dominant popular musical form, having something tactile accompany the music has always been important. So along with the songs, I very much admire not only that you had CDs pressed, but that you have a pretty cool, original cover design. Talk about the cover art of Could Be Anything, who created it, why you chose it, etc.
One of the lessons I learned in this process is to do as much by yourself as you can manage, and delegate the rest. I don’t even like to think about how this album would have looked if I’d designed it myself. Instead, I went to one of my favorite graphic designers in the world, who happens to be my cousin, Alex Eben Meyer (www.eben.com). He and I half joked about him making album artwork for a band I was in five years ago, but it took until now for me to call in the favor. I gave him almost no input, and couldn’t be more thrilled with his work.

5. Discuss your songs; they’re all unique but I’ve noted something of a “man vs. universe” theme, espousing some frustration, but also championing self-empowerment. This is probably most apparent on “Cubicle,” but also seems to factor into the others, especially “You Can’t Change.”
When you’re learning to write songs, it’s natural to be drawn to your strongest emotions, which is why so much pop music is romantic. That’s fine, and there are plenty of those in my repertoire, but part of the growth I’m proud to show on this EP is that my focus has shifted elsewhere: I’m in my late 20s, my life is good, but like most people, I’m unfulfilled, insecure, and unsatisfied with the world around me.

Those are strong, common feelings too, and it felt important to work through those for myself as much as for the listener. I didn’t set out to write a collection of songs with a single, cohesive message—this four-song EP started out as an eight-song LP that I edited down. But I do think the songs share the basic theme of accepting who you are, recognizing your shortcomings and those in your environment, and doing something extraordinary with the life you have.

6. I think all 4 songs are strong, but also liked “Tears and Laughter,” which you shared with me in demo form, and the new “When You Run,” with which you closed the set of your record release show. Is there a thought to develop enough songs to evolve Could Be Anything into a full album?
Those songs are both now part of my live set, actually. I owe a lot to my amazing band for being able to flesh them out and get them show-ready. And there’s certainly more where that came from—as I mentioned earlier, I left almost half of the material on the editing room floor while making this EP. So fans can expect to see these songs and more like them on the next release, hopefully early next year.

7. You wrote, arranged, produced, sang and recorded all the songs yourself, playing guitars, piano, bass and drums. How did you become proficient on so many instruments?
I started classical piano lessons when I was seven, and hated it. I was a lousy student. But once I caught the rock bug as a pre-teen, I wanted to play everything. My parents both play guitar, and my mom played professionally. It was a hard life for her, but they both encouraged me in music, especially after seeing me try sports.

But I also love drumming and taught myself on my dad’s old kit in the basement, and I love playing bass. Alt-metal hit its heyday right around the time I started high school, and all that over-engineering and compression made for some really delicious low end. But being a multi-instrumentalist has had its consequences. One is focus: I’m not a virtuoso on any instrument because I’m constantly switching as the need or whim arises. Another problem is overcoming the urge to micromanage every note in a song because I know just how I like each instrument to sound and contribute to the total experience of the recording or performance. But I’ve mellowed out in the past couple years, and I’ve found I actually really enjoy playing in other people’s bands, following their lead, and escaping the pressure of being up front.

8. I know you’ve played in several bands, but currently seem to be promoting Could Be Anything in tandem with Stephen Mortensen and his band, Shadow of a Titan. How did that come about, how’s it working out, and also talk about your drummer, Gabe Zunino, who you also met somewhat uniquely.
Stephen and Gabe are two gifts who fell into my life to varying degrees of serendipity. Stephen and I met in the musicians classified section of Craiglist. Stephen posted an ad seeking members for a touring band to support the release of his debut record, Translating the Veil, that he mostly made on his own, the way I did. His music is very compatible with mine, as is his personality, so we made this deal to play in each other’s bands, and sometimes at the same shows. The cross promotion has been good, but mostly it’s just been so fun and rewarding to spend that much time with such a dedicated and disciplined musician. He works really hard, he’s humble, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders. I really look up to him.

How I met Gabe is another matter entirely, and the more we work together, the more I like the guy and the story. I’d been on Craigslist for years, writing and replying to ads to find bandmates with little to show for it (my friendship with Stephen notwithstanding). It’s a lot like dating, and it can be just as much an emotional roller coaster.

Then one night, I went out dancing with some friends, got kind of drunk, and spotted Gabe across the crowded room when he came in. I still don’t know what drew my attention to him, because he wasn’t doing anything like air drumming to the music, the way I usually do because I can’t dance, or giving off any other signals. But I took one look at him and somehow just knew he was a rock drummer. I think I kind of freaked him out because I walked over and called him on it pretty aggressively. Just pointed in his face and shouted over the music: “DRUMS?”

He gave me that side-to-side look, like, “Who is this guy, and is he dangerous?” And then he asked how I knew. I should mention this meeting was extra fortuitous because I was already booked to open for Shadow of the Titan on a couple shows, and my drummer had just backed out to go play SXSW with another band. So I was getting a little nervous. But that turned out to be a huge blessing, and working with Gabe is a total dream.

9. In seeing you live, I was impressed by how good—and at times, ferocious—you were. But since I had heard most of the songs already, besides the stellar, closing “When You Run,” what surprised me was that you opened with a solo, seemingly non-ironic cover of Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off.” I like the original and I really liked what you did with it. Talk about why you choose to play it; I imagine perhaps as an up-and-coming artist there’s something about resisting the slings & arrows that you may identify with?
People can say what they want, but Taylor Swift is awesome. That was partly my point in playing the song. I’m a big, unapologetic—and yes, unironic—fan of hers. She writes her own music, which is extremely catchy and well constructed, and often performs with a guitar in her hands. What more do you want? The double standard for female singer songwriters is still pretty gnarly, and unfortunately her success hasn’t made her an exception. But I digress.

But you also nailed it—slings and arrows are everywhere for an artist, and the worst part is that the ones most likely to hold you back come from within. I had to overcome a lot of fear to stop making excuses and finally release this little record, and it doesn’t stop there. Every show, every interview, every new experience is a little scary. But fear is usually part of doing anything worthwhile.

Have you tried sending your version to Taylor? Or recording and releasing it?
Maybe I’ll get it on YouTube one day, along with the 500 other covers.
{Note: Exclusively for SethSaith readers, here's that clip.}

10. Let’s do Rock Journalism 101 and talk about your influences. I know you’re a big Foo Fighters fan, and can see that in some of the music. Who else has been important to you?
I listen to a lot of electronic music and piano jazz trios. Tycho and Marian McPartland are two of my favorites. There’s plenty of rock I enjoy, and it obviously influences my writing and playing—the best artists steal, right?—but I like to branch out so that when I write, I know it’s me coming out and not just a facsimile of the riffs and fills and hooks I’ve been hearing all day.

I do really look up to Ben Kenny, who is a multi-instrumentalist and records all the parts on his records and performs as a trio, the way I do. He had a punk band in the 90s called Supergrub, but is better known as the former guitarist in The Roots and the bassist in Incubus for the last decade or so. My favorite bands are locals: Bailiff, Empires, and lately, Mason’s Case.

11. You’ve been playing several gigs lately, but have a big one coming up at Martyrs' in Chicago on April 23. What can people expect?
Two entirely new songs I’ve never performed live before, excellent sound, and sweaty hugs from me. Oh, and it’s a two-fer: I open the show at 9:00, then I play with Shadow of the Titan after The Runaway Five.

12. I recognize how passionate you are about making and playing music, and certainly admire not only the dedication, but the quality of your efforts. So I would never suggest that you limit your ambitions and aspirations, but also know the way music is made, released, heard and sold has changed dramatically over the past 20 years, seemingly not to the benefit of unknown artists in a rock ‘n roll vein. What do you like to think is possible? What does the rock ‘n roll dream presently look like; at least for you?
It’s an exciting time in the music business, to put it mildly. Plenty of people out there have written about this in more informed and enlightening ways than I can, so I’ll just say this: Yes, it’s scary that fewer and fewer people are paying for music. But it’s liberating to know that success is more the artist’s responsibility more than ever. There are more tools available online than ever before to help artists connect with audiences, and they’re getting simpler to use. Labels have less to offer, the playing field is more level—albeit more crowded—and enterprising artists have a better shot at building their own scenes, markets, and careers.

Are the odds any better at fame and fortune? No, I don’t think so. But I believe it’s possible to carve out a living as a musician and artist, especially if you can give people something to connect with, and I’m ready to try.

Thank you for your time and insights. For what it’s worth, to date you’ve provided living proof that rock isn’t dead, you just have to look for it in smaller places, on more personal levels. I certainly hope your career will continue to develop, and perhaps even boom, but I also hope just doing what you love is the most important measurement of success.  
Thank you!
---

Below is a clip I shot of Colin Morris and his bandmates playing "Could Be Anything," March 17, 2015 at Elbo Room in Chicago:

An Illuminating 'Reed' to Never Forget: Survivor Shares Harrowing, Heroic Tale at Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center

Throughout my life, I have learned about the Holocaust in a variety of ways.

Growing up in Skokie, IL, home to a large number of Holocaust survivors and momentous protests over planned Neo-Nazi marches in the late 1970s, the horrific history was always close at hand.

I specifically remember one Hebrew school teacher--himself a survivor--railing against the marches...35+ years ago.

Parents, relatives, neighbors, teachers, rabbis and others have aided my understanding, as have various books, articles and movies, including not only Schindler's List, but--offering a variety of perspectives--The Pianist, The Pawnbroker, Life Is Beautiful, The Counterfeiters, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, Defiance, Marathon Man, Ida, Remembrance, The Reader and others.

In addition to the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center in Skokie--whose opening ceremony (for the current building) I attended in 2009 to hear Bill Clinton and Elie Wiesel speak--I've been to the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC, Yad Vashem in Jerusalem, the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, the former Oskar Schindler Factory (which is now a museum in Krakow), various other museums & memorials and decimated Jewish Quarters in cities such as Budapest, Prague, Venice and Krakow.

In 2013, I visited Auschwitz-Birkenau, which I mentioned in my previous blog post, a rave review of The Passenger, an opera concerning the Holocaust that I saw last week at the Lyric Opera of Chicago.

I have met a few survivors at the Illinois Holocaust Museum and elsewhere, but other than Wiesel at the Grand Opening--who I heard through a video feed outdoors on a bitterly cold day--I don't recall ever hearing a Holocaust survivor directly relay his or her experience in person. (A few years back, I very much valued hearing the now-deceased Abner Ganet speak at the Glen Ellyn Library from the perspective of a U.S. soldier who helped to liberate Buchenwald--including Elie Wiesel, who had been slated for the gas chamber on the day Ganet’s unit arrived and the camp’s guards fled.)

So despite awaking on Sunday with an inexplicably stiff & sore right leg, I was determined--especially in light of the infinitesimally-minor relative nuisance--not to miss the first of a series of Survivor Talks at the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center that will take place on the second Sunday of each month.

And while I imagine every such speaker--most presumably part of the IHMEC's Speakers' Bureau--will be solemnly illuminating about the atrocities they experienced and witnessed, it's hard to envision many being substantively more eloquent and enlightening than Walter Reed.

At 91, Reed--born Werner Rindsberg in Würzburg, Germany--remains remarkably spry and articulate (with virtually no trace of an accent). And, having spent his professional life in PR doing much public speaking, his lecture was nearly as impressive for the acumen with which it was delivered as for the content it conveyed.

Now a resident of Wilmette, Reed spent World War II not in a concentration camp--he noted at the outset of his speech that Holocaust "survivors" have more varied experiences than people presume--but in a Nazi jail (briefly), in a children's refugee colony in Brussels, in a barn in the south of Vichy France, covertly thanks to the Swiss Children's Aid Society at a dilapidated chateau in La Hille near the French/Spanish border, in Brooklyn, within a Tool & Die shop, in the U.S. Army and in Normandy, initially just a week after the D-Day invasion.

This was all before he had turned 21.

Tragically, Reed's parents and two younger brothers died during the Holocaust, and several youths he had befriended in his various hiding places wound up losing their lives in concentration camps, on battlefields or on treacherous routes to seek safety.

Resonantly, he made a point of conveying that the Holocaust shouldn't be thought of as an event that saw 6-1/2 million Jews--and {my note, not his} roughly as many individuals of many other persuasions--killed by the Nazis, but rather that one person was murdered 6-1/2 million times.

Walter Reed as a child in Germany, circled at top left

With apologies for anything I don't get exactly correct, and hopes that Mr. Reed doesn't mind me incorporating photos he used in his presentation--he graciously OK'd me writing about his speech--here is a synopsis of what I learned:

● Though born in Würzburg, Reed--then known as Werner Rindsberg--was raised in a much smaller nearby village.

● His father was a wine merchant, as was his grandfather and many other Jews in the region.

● He had a "happy childhood" and played in local soccer leagues. (Reed is the boy circled at top left in the nearby photo.)

● In 1933, when he was 9, the Nazis came to power; his soccer teammates soon began taunting him as a "dirty Jew" and many would wind up joining the Hitler Youth.

● On November 9-10, 1938, in what would later be known as Kristallnacht, the Nazis destroyed Jewish-owned stores, buildings and synagogues, and arrested approximately 30,000 Jews, who were deported to concentration camps.

● During, or immediately after, Kristallnacht, Walter and his father were grabbed from their family home and put in jail in the nearby town of Kitzingen; Reed was 14 years old at the time.

● Walter was released after 3 days because kids weren't routinely being incarcerated at the time, but his
father was sent to the Dachau concentration camp.

● His father was allowed to return home after 5 months at Dachau, but "looked 20 years older," which Reed credits for his own survival since it conveyed how grim the situation was and that things would only get worse.

The barn near Toulouse, France, where Walter Reed
stayed as part of a children's rescue colony

● As a result of Kristallnacht, England began to let in children refugees, and--though to a lesser and lesser-known extent--so did Belgium, who allowed 800 Jewish kids to enter.

● In June 1939, at 15, Walter was sent by his parents to Brussels as part of a children's rescue program. For reasons he still doesn't truly understand, his 11- and 13-year-old brothers weren't. He never saw them or his parents again.

● After Germany conquered Poland in September 1939, they marched into Brussels 48 hours later. In the time between, approximately 100 children--including Walter--were led out and transported across France, winding up in a barn near Toulouse. The barn still stands today, in almost exactly the same shape, including drawings some girls had made on the walls.

● Although Switzerland was neutral during the war, several young Swiss came to Vichy to run refugee camps. The Swiss Children's Aid Society took over the colony at the barn, and each child was assigned a Swiss godparent with which they would correspond.

● Along with numerous other difficulties--including food rationing, body sores, illness, etc.--the Winter of 1940 in south France was especially brutal; Reed made the analogy to Chicago of 2015.

Walter Reed, third from right in the front row, at the chateau in La Hille, France,
where a smaller group of children were transferred from the barn near Toulouse

● The Swiss caretakers decided to move the kids from the barn to an empty, dilapidated chateau in La Hille, further south near the Spanish border. Walter was one of those sent in advance to help get the chateau in shape.

● In his own words, through a process he didn't really describe, in 1941 Walter Reed "won the lottery big time" by getting a U.S. Immigration Visa.

● He arrived in Brooklyn, still just 17 years old, 90 days prior to Pearl Harbor being attacked.

● He lived in a cramped apartment with relatives of other refugees, became an apprentice Tool & Die maker and attended high school at night, where his English teacher was Bernard Malamud, who whould become famous for writing The Fixer and The Natural.

● He later learned that his parents and brothers had been deported to concentration camps, where they were murdered, shortly after the Nazis' Wannsee Conference in January 1942, which fully implemented "The Final Solution"--i.e. mass deportation and extermination of Jews throughout Europe.

Walter Reed with a close friend who would
perish not long thereafter

● Reed was drafted into the U.S. Army and landed in Normandy a week after the Allied Invasion in June 1944; since he spoke German, he was enlisted to interrogate Nazi POWs.

● Thanks to the heroism--and brave guile--of the Swiss, most of his friends at the chateau were spared the grim fate faced by several other rescue colonies in France, but many of the youths had to precariously cross into Switzerland or Spain, many on foot over the Pyrenees mountains.

● Of the approximately 100 kids who were part of the rescue colony at the barn near Toulouse, only 11 were eventually caught and deported. Still, as Walter showed in photographs, he lost a number of dear friends to the Holocaust and war.

● After the war, Werner Rindsberg changed his name to Walter Reed due to common anti-Semitism in the U.S. at the time, as well as hazing and hate-speech among soldiers in the military against various immigrants and minorities.

● Thanks to the GI Bill, Reed earned a degree in Journalism from the University of Missouri. His career in Public Relations initially entailed extensive travel throughout the United States, but a job with the American Vending Machine industry brought him to the Chicago area in 1958.

● Though long motivated to tell his story due in part to lingering regret over being unable to save his parents or brothers--Reed has been an active part of the Speakers' Bureau since the Holocaust Museum's days in an office block on Main St. in Skokie--he shared that at age 17 he made the mental decision to put the Holocaust behind him as best he could, and not let it destroy his future.

● Even in having lost those closest to him and many others to the death camps, Reed intimated that the 6-10 years he and other Jews were vilified, dehumanized, terrorized and grievously-relocated by the Nazis prior to "The Final Solution" were essentially "worse" than one's last moments before execution.

● At 91, Reed isn't just lucid and articulate, he is animated, amiable and incredibly active. This summer he plans to go hiking and boating on a trip to Belgium with his wife.

● Walter Reed has written a book about the rescue colony at the chateau--which is now a museum--paying tribute to the children, Swiss aid workers and other valiant souls. It is titled The Heroes of La Hille and will be published by Syracuse University Press at a date to be determined.

● There is no connection between this Walter Reed and the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC. More often in earlier years, his adopted name elicited comments about the Walter Reade theater chain and actor Wallace Reid.

● While given the topic, it sounds odd to say I greatly "enjoyed" his speech, even given the dark remembrances there is much that was life-affirming about Walter Reed and what he shared with a nice-sized crowd on Sunday afternoon. 

● During a Q&A session after his prepared remarks, an audience member praised his heroism, to which Walter Reed remarked:

"I'm not a hero; I'm just an everyday person."

● I begged to differ.

---
Please do not republish any photographs without seeking permission. All historic photographs are the property of Walter Reed and included without implying custody nor intending infringement upon Mr. Reed or any other parties.

Subterranean Passages: Down in the Pedway, Time Remains Fixed 'Around the Clock'

Having been called worse, I have no qualms being dubbed a sentimentalist.

I love old buildings, old movies, old movies in old buildings and almost anything that is quaint, unusual and/or historic.

Or just well-worn.

Working in the heart of downtown Chicago, as I have for parts of recent years, I've made a point of noticing, exploring and discovering things such as ghost signs that remain on old brick buildings long past pertinence, the beautiful terra cotta and other carvings atop many Loop buildings that would nearly impossible to replicate today and remaining places of yore such as the Walnut Room within Macy's on State Street (formerly Marshall Fields).

Perhaps more oddly, I also have an acute sentimentality for almost anything that feels anachronistic, from phone booths to news stands to record stores to various other enterprises much more representative of the past than the present or future.

Two of my favorite posts I've ever penned for Seth Saith have chronicled such businesses and proprietors.

The forever genial Ralph Frese, who ran the Chicagoland Canoe Base in the same Portage Park shop for over 55 years, was a decorated outdoorsman and environmentalist who spoke beautifully about the joys of canoeing, and at 85 still relished renting boats and equipment to first-time customers. Unfortunately, Frese passed a little over a year after I profiled him in October 2011 and his store no longer exists.

Though much more wearily wry, longtime Chicago news stand owner Robert Katzman clearly exudes a personal nostalgia for the print publications that overflow his Old Magazine Store in Skokie, which I also wrote about in 2011 (then dubbed the Magazine Museum). While commercial survival is of more imminent concern to Katzman than overt sentimentality, he loves to give each customer a detailed tour of his holdings and has self-published several recollections of times gone by.

So having noticed a watch & clock repair shop down in the Pedway that connects downtown Chicago buildings via subterranean passages, with my mind summoning Georges Méliès' toy shop in the movie Hugo, I imagined a quaint story of a skilled tradesman who relishes his unique place in the catacombs of the city.

Particularly with the paradoxical twist of thousands of people passing by every day, but time remaining literally and figuratively fixed in one longstanding shop.

Thus, after a couple years of thinking about doing so, one day last week I stepped into Around the Clock Repairs, underneath 69 W. Washington (across from Daley Plaza), which features a hand-drawn sign heralding its "30 Years Anniversary."

Waiting as the man working in the shop finished with a watch repair customer by asking for a cash deposit of "whatever," I ascertained that he was the owner and asked if I might interview him for a story.

I was envisioning coming back on a subsequent day with questions drafted, but the weathered--and certainly not improperly wary--gentleman asked in clear but accented English, "What do you want to know?"

So I pulled out my journal pad and sputtered out something like, "What do enjoy about fixing watches and clocks?"

To which he replied:

"There is nothing enjoyable about it. I work like a horse."

So much for sentimentality.

But whereas I might have been hoping for some kind of Disneyfied or Dickensesque saga complete with poetic characters in a chummy underground community, what I found was much more heartening.

For while Bruce Persky is unlikely to remind anyone of Geppetto, his is a genuine, no saccharin added story of a skilled, hard-working immigrant just trying to make a living.

And while some--OK, me--may wonder just how much demand there is for watch & clock repairs, particularly without any street-level presence, according to Persky not only is his business rather busy, but "when I go on vacation, people wait for me."

Nonetheless, the Russian émigré who learned his craft in Europe told me that he wanted to retire, and has tried to put his business up for sale, especially in the wake of his wife's passing.

"I have to retire someday," he asserted. 

Just down the Pedway from an Illinois Secretary of State facility, Persky works--seemingly alone--from 8:30am to 5pm every day. And based on the time I was there, and others when I've walked by, it would seem the bulk of each day is spent hunched over a work bench working fixing watches with tiny screwdrivers and other tools requiring keen vision, steady hands and occasional magnification.

As suggested by the 30th anniversary sign, Around the Clock Repairs has existed since 1984, but not always in the same location.

Accommodating and patient with my line of questioning, but not exactly gregarious, Persky shared that he was first at 22 W. Madison, and then spots on Randolph and Washington--presumably above ground--before settling into his current storefront down under 14 years ago.

On an arctic day, he spoke of being happily submerged away from the cold air--"I like it. There's no snow, no rain; it's like Florida"--but despite having some friends in other shops he didn't seem to summon any rhapsodic sense of communal camaraderie for his Pedway brethren.

It's just where he does business.

Which involves fixing and engraving watches, jewelry and clocks, with many beautiful examples of the latter decorating his shop. (Some watches and clocks are for sale, but it is much more a repair operation than a retail one.)

I asked Persky if he had any favorite clocks in the store, and he pointed out a couple, including one pictured here that features two weights.

And despite his protestation above, Persky not only takes apparent pride in his work--rarely has he found himself up against a watch or clock he couldn't fix--but admitted that he enjoys "working with old stuff."

Without quite giving me a slam-dunk, sum-it-all-up quote, he also clearly reflected his fondness for the time pieces of old and their self-wound mechanics, rather than digital watches and other modern devices:

"This is better, of course."

So too, obviously, was what I found, compared to what I thought I was seeking.

For who really has the luxury and wherewithal to sit and think wistfully about what they do or where they do it, as bills must be paid, work must get done and the hands of time keep turning.

In this case, quite literally, thanks to the seemingly sentimental but--underneath it all--still quite vital talents and tasks of people like Bruce Persky.

---
Around the Clock Repairs, 69 W. Washington, Suite LL-15, Chicago; 312-263-7070. (Not too surprisingly, there is no website, email address nor Facebook page that I could find.)

At 85, Life is Still But a Dream for Mr. Canoe, Ralph Frese

"In canoeing, we have the only trail in nature that leaves no trace of our passing."

With this thought-provoking statement, one of many insights imparted during an engaging and educational conversation, Ralph Frese, longstanding proprietor of the Chicagoland Canoe Base, cast a light on two of his enduring passions--canoeing and environmental preservation--while obliquely referencing a third: history.

But although the aches left by 85 years of arduous and inspiring activity have curtailed the personal paddling days of the man widely known as "Mr. Canoe," with his passion for our waterways and our world Frese undeniably continues to blaze indelible trails.

Perhaps that's why when Chicago's Steinmetz High School celebrated its 75th anniversary in 2009 and devoted space in its program to two of its notable alumni--both from the class of 1944--Hugh Hefner got a half-page and Ralph Frese got a full one.

Yet while the numerous awards and honors he has received--many of which are listed here--certainly serve as a testament to Mr. Canoe's impressive legacy, even more powerful proclamations are those of a personal nature, as I observed first-hand during the three hours I spent with Frese a day before his 85th birthday on September 22nd.

But first a little history...

Although Ralph Frese, now a Niles resident, could be found day-in, day-out at 4019 N. Narragansett in Chicago's Portage Park neighborhood for roughly the last 56 years, first as a blacksmith in his father's shop, which dates back to the late '30s--"We were professional chiselers," Ralph shared, simultaneously being literal and glib--and running the Canoe Base since sometime in the '60s, I was oblivious to his and his shop's existence until about 2 months ago.

A friend of mine had recently bought a used SUV and needed bars put on top to accommodate a folding boat. He knew of Frese's shop from years of seeing its unique facade just north of Irving Park Rd., but had never patronized it until we stopped in on a Saturday.

Along with selling and renting canoes and kayaks, including some hand-crafted by its owner, and carrying a boatload (pun intended) of accessories--oars, life jackets, clothing, maps, etc.--Chicagoland Canoe Base is the Midwest's only custom installer of Yakima bars. And though my pal's Santa Fe didn't require any custom holes drilled, Ralph personally handled the install as part of the sales price. Which was fortunate as it saved my friend & I three hours of blood & turmoil in attempting to do so ourselves.

It was instantly apparent that the CCB's website claim to be "The most unusual canoe shop in the U.S." would largely ring true even without the word "canoe." And much of the uniqueness is embodied by Ralph Frese himself.

Which he knows causes a bit of a conumdrum as he seeks to sell the business and retire. In fact, a story I found about Frese from 2007 revealed his desire to find a buyer for the Chicagoland Canoe Base.

"That's the problem with having something this special," he opined. "I see it as an opportunity for some young entrepreneur who wants to carve a niche in this world. Like I did.

"Someone could buy the property and business, or just the business, or just the inventory. And I'm not leaving the area, so I could give the new owner some help."

Which brings me back to Ralph Frese's proudest accomplishment, inspiring others

Just as soon as I sat down to talk to Ralph in the office of his store--housed in a building that got its start as a 300-seat silent movie theater and subsequently served a craftsman who "built airplanes in here" before Carl Frese took it over--a young woman walked in and said she wanted to rent a canoe.

As this is a core of the CCB's business, Ralph was certainly happy to oblige her, with generous accommodation. A canoe rental is $50 per day, and though it was only about 2:30pm on Wednesday, Ralph told her she didn't have to bring it back until Friday. The rental included oars, life jackets and seat cushions, and, well, installation. I helped Ralph carry a canoe to the lady's car and lift it over the roof, where Ralph strapped it down.

It turned out that the woman was from Ohio, in town due to her husband attending a trade show at McCormick Place, and with a son waiting in the backseat. The kid couldn't stop smiling when I pointed out that he had a boat over his head.

Back in the shop as Ralph rang up the transaction and gave her tips about where to launch--he initially suggested the Linne Woods Forest Preserve at Dempster St. in Morton Grove (a sign marking the "Ralph Frese River Trail" is nearby) but after learning she'd be picking her husband up from McCormick Place before they could start canoeing, he cited the Clark Park boat launch where Addison St. crosses over the Chicago River--Ralph made a point of telling the woman about The Grove in Glenview, because he thought her young son would get a kick out of seeing the historic nature preserve.

And that in a nutshell--even more than canoeing itself and more specifically than environmental preservation or history--is seemingly Ralph Frese's principal passion: helping others, especially young people, gain an appreciation of nature.

In 1940, at age 14, Ralph got his first boat, a canvas kayak built by a neighbor kid in shop class and sold by the boy's father after the son joined the Marines. Using a bike trailer and hitch he built in his dad's blacksmith shop, Ralph would ride 15 miles to go fishing in the Skokie Lagoons.

In the late '50s, in the first of two 30+ year marriages, Ralph followed his father-in-law's passion for working with the Boy Scouts. Wanting to take the kids out canoeing, he began building canoes in an empty portion of  the shop. After initially building 6, and then a dozen, canoes for his troop, word got around, and Ralph wound up building somewhere between 400-600 canoes for local Boy Scouts.

Wanting to further get scouts passionate about canoeing, in 1958 Ralph Frese founded the Des Plaines River Canoe & Kayak Marathon, which had its 54th annual race this past May.

This passion for inspiring others to become involved with canoeing explains why, when I asked him what made him proudest of all his accomplishments and awards, Ralph spoke of a local school teacher who had come into his shop one day.

"After I told him about all the trails he could be exploring, he got so interested he wound up working for the American River Conservation Council, ultimately becoming its President. Now he's working for the National Forest Service, which oversees 30 million acres of wildlands and 119 wild & scenic rivers," relayed Ralph.

"I'm proud of what he accomplished."

Ralph also cited another disciple who became "river-oriented" because of his influence and went on to head the Illinois Department of Natural Resources.

Living proof of Ralph's lasting influence wasn't hard to find

While I was at the Chicagoland Canoe Base talking to Ralph in September, not only did a woman come in to rent a canoe and a friend of Ralph's come by to discuss photos of a historic Nordic boat taken on a recent trip, but when I ventured through the adjacent workshop to find the restroom, I encountered a guy shaving wood in the proximity of a birch bark canoe-in-progress.

The man, a high school science teacher named Richard Gross, was a teenager when he first met Ralph. Along with a number of other teens imbued with a passion for history and the outdoors, Rich accompanied Ralph in researching and re-enacting René-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle's pioneering expedition from Montreal to the Gulf of Mexico. According to Gross, their 6-month trek in 1976--which came 3 years after Ralph and others, including one of Gross' teachers, re-enacted the Joliet/Marquette expedition on its 300th anniversary--took a year of preparation and the building of six birch bark canoes.

All these years later, Gross is still building canoes, regularly stopping in to see Frese and trying to inspire the kids he teaches.

"I credit the whole thing to Ralph. If he hadn't wanted to involve people, I wouldn't have wanted to get involved," Gross shared. "I have to pass it on. I have to 'involve' the next generation of people."

Tickled at the admiration being shared right in front of him, and directly with him--Gross and a pal had just given Frese a new power drill they insisted was "not a birthday present" as such had been deemed taboo--Ralph offered, "I've enjoyed all the years. People who come in [to the store and workshop] are doers; they're interesting people to know.

"They've expanded my whole world and provided an education for me."

In fact, Ralph Frese and those he's inspired through his myriad journeys are not only avid students of history, occasionally they actually re-write it.

For over 300 years, the site of Fort Crevecoeur, established by LaSalle and Henri de Tonti, was presumed to be near present day Peoria, Illinois (which has a suburb called Creve Coeur). But through a thorough examination of LaSalle's letters and documents, Rich Gross was able to establish that Fort Crevecoeur was sited about 80 miles down the Illinois River at what is now Beardstown, IL.

So not only has Ralph Frese helped influence the future, his influence has helped change the past

Speaking to what Ralph has meant, Rich Gross noted the impossibility of summing it up succinctly, but said, "He's been the focal point in bringing so many issues out of the back and into the front of people's minds. The Chicago River used to be uninhabitable; now there are over 90 species of fish. That's due to people like Ralph."

Although his 85th birthday is now a few weeks past, when I talked to him the day before it, Ralph Frese was planning to celebrate it with his wife Rita and several friends at his favorite restaurant--and one of mine--Kappy's in Morton Grove.

Beyond wanting to sell down some of his inventory--"I really should learn to sell stuff on eBay"--and hoping to find a like-minded buyer for the Canoe Base, Ralph is hoping to do a lot more writing.

Long an avid writer--you can see his fine tribute to fellow canoeist on the Illinois Paddling Council home page--Ralph extended our visit well past his shop's closing time with tales of commemorative canoe trips involving notable politicians and Pocohontas (of the Disney on Ice variety).

On a more serious note, he mentioned how he had been enlisted to build canoes for a youth center, and how by fostering canoe trips for troubled kids, he had seen their angry resistance turn into enriching collaboration. "I can sum up the success of those programs in one word," he said. "Love."

It sounds a bit silly for me, having spent all of about 5 hours in the company of Ralph Frese, to try to neatly summarize his life and achievements. But it's abundantly clear that Ralph loves what he does, and has done, would love for you to discover, and share, the joy of canoeing--"The canoe has always been a symbol of romance, adventure and exploration, especially in this region," he conveyed. "It's affordable, and parents can use the canoe as a learning tool, to expose kids to geography, history, nature, the environment"--and has enjoyed the love, admiration and appreciation of untold masses that he has inspired and influenced, directly or not.

Though he's not planning on going anywhere for awhile, he would clearly like nothing more than for someone to follow in his footsteps, or per the opening quote here, his wake. He also has, as apparent even to an avid indoorsman like myself, a wealth of wisdom that would benefit anyone who cares about environmental preservation and sensible flood control.

Yet despite being such a rabid fan of history, Ralph spent little time reflecting on his place in it, or how he has personally changed the world for the better. But near the end of our fascinating conversation, he neatly encapsulated the abiding attitude with which he had lived his impressive life.

"The world is filled with givers and takers. I want to go down in history as one of the givers."

--
Chicagoland Canoe Base, 4019 N. Narragansett, Chicago, (773) 777-1489
www.chicagolandcanoebase.com
There is substantial information about Ralph Frese online that I found valuable, including this YouTube clip of a 2007 Chicago Tonight piece.
(This story was not sponsored nor requested. I have no affiliation with Ralph Frese or his commercial enterprises.)

Of Katz and Katzman: Unique Longtime Local Merchants Get Some Well-Deserved Press

I'm currently in the midst of writing a profile piece on a unique Chicago retail establishment and its erstwhile, rather singular owner. Hopefully I'll have it finished and posted in the next few days.

In the meantime, I'm happy to draw your attention to a couple fine articles that were published this week about area proprietors of a similar nature.

Bob Katzman is the owner of Magazine Museum, a back issue emporium in Skokie. I wrote this Seth Saith feature on him back in January and just yesterday happened upon Michael Miner's story about him in the current Chicago Reader, which you can read online.

While I was tickled to see Bob get such prominent press, I was chagrined to read that his store is struggling to survive. Should you have interest in buying old magazines for nostalgia, unique gifts, stage props, etc., or any of the 50,000 posters Bob is liquidating for just $10 each, or mini-flags from any of world's countries, be sure to stop by the Magazine Museum at 4906 W. Oakton in Skokie. If nothing else, you'll undoubtedly agree that--like its owner--it's entirely one-of-a-kind.

Similarly distinctive is Burt Katz and his Burt's Place pizzeria in Morton Grove. Located on a residential street, around the corner from Pequod's (at least until it opens in a new, larger location next year), which is the pizza restaurant he used to own and run, Burt's Place is a small, kitschy joint in a building dating to the late 1880s. Burt makes the pizza--itself rather unique and quite good--and his wife Sharon (incidentally a high school friend of my mom's) waits on tables and takes orders over the phone, a requirement for anyone who wants to eat there.

The long-bearded Burt, who hasn't shaved since 1971, was the subject of a long story in Thursday's Chicago Tribune by Christopher Borrelli, promoted on the paper's front page and also readily available to read online.

Although I've eaten at Burt's Place a couple times and interacted with Sharon, I've never talked to Burt. So the article was rather illuminating, revealing that before starting Pequod's, he had also founded Gulliver's on Howard in Chicago, as well as a long-closed place called The Inferno. That's quite a pizza legacy, which in his own iconoclastic way, Burt extends every day, not only by making the pies at his eponymous pizzeria, but by buying all the necessary ingredients at local markets rather than relying on corporate food suppliers.

So even if you have to order ahead, a trip to Burt's Place -- 8541 Ferris Ave., Morton Grove, IL. Phone: 847-965-7997 -- will be well worth it. As will be reading the story about him.

Talking About the Weather--plus Helping Kids, Chasing Storms, Saving the Earth and Watching Jersey Shore--with NBC 5 Chicago Meteorologist Ginger Zee

Between last week's third-worst blizzard in Chicago history and this week's sub-arctic temperatures, the winter weather has been one of the hottest topics in town (and throughout the Midwest).

So it made for a nice excuse for me to reach out to Ginger Zee, the amicably engaging weekend meteorologist at Chicago's NBC 5 with amazingly aquamarine eyes.

Every bit as friendly over the phone as she appears on TV, Ginger certainly wasn't happy about the consequences of the 20.2" of snow that besieged Chicago between February 1 & 2. But she is proud to have been largely dead-on in her forecasts.

Yes, she foresaw the coming of the snowpocalypse
(and tried to warn us)

"Although meteorologists can see a major storm system up to seven days before it hits, it's not until four days prior that we that we really get a great idea of how it will take shape," she explained. "Once the storm hit land on Sunday [Jan. 30], I realized how big and impactful it would be."

Indeed, on her TV forecasts--she does triple-duty on both weekend days--as well as through her Facebook and Twitter feeds to a combined 10,000+ followers, Ginger was well out front about the vehemence of the blizzard. On Sunday, she tweeted, "At least a foot...potentially a foot and a half" and by midday Tuesday, she chided any remaining skeptics with this Facebook post:

While she won't second guess the decision not to shut down Lake Shore Drive--resulting in the situation I wrote about here--and notes that the accidents exacerbating the massive standstill could also have happened on the Eisenhower, Dan Ryan or other expressways, Ginger did note that at a 3:00pm appointment on Tuesday, Feb. 1, she advised an acquaintance against taking the Drive home.

Ginger doesn't claim to be prescient, but with a Bachelor's degree in Meteorology from Valparaiso University--where she now serves as an Adjunct Professor--she is a scientist who prepares her own forecasts. Although she didn't specifically say it, she clearly enjoys disproving whatever archaic perceptions some may have of a "weather girl," and remains rabid about expanding her expertise.

Of the near-record accumulation, Ginger professes to have been enthralled by the intensity of the lake effect snow. "One lake effect band on Wednesday morning brought a 1-2" snowfall rate per hour, which is what really got us up over 20 inches." (20.2" was the official recording at O'Hare, but even more fell elsewhere, including 21.2" in Downers Grove.)

No, Zee isn't her real last name,
but Mary Ann could have been her first

Growing up near Grand Rapids, Michigan, Ginger--so named due to her Dutch father (she's also half Italian) learning English through a love of television, particularly Gilligan's Island--first became fascinated with the weather at age 8, when derechos (windstorms) and water spouts spiced up a summer spent with her family alongside Lake Michigan.

Her interest in studying Meteorology at Valpo was further inspired by her father's unique vocation: making tennis courts. "I noticed how upset people got whenever it rained when it wasn't supposed to. I guess you could say it [her chosen course of study] was a way of making daddy happy."

VU's meteorology program, in which Ginger began as a freshman, provided her the chance to embark on storm chasing excursions that greatly amplified her education. "It's such a great way to learn. You're able to watch your forecasts come true almost instantly," she imparted.

Without collegiate training in journalism, communications or broadcasting, a future in TV wasn't necessarily in Ginger's long-range outlook until an internship alongside noted meteorologist James Spann at the ABC affiliate in Birmingham, Alabama, proved quite enjoyable. While still in college, she was hired to deliver weather reports for WYIN in Merrillville, Indiana.

Coming to Chicago and WMAQ-TV in 2006 after stints in Grand Rapids and Flint, MI, Ginger is pleased with what she is able to provide to viewers.

Tomorrow's weather--and everything she says--remains entirely unscripted

"I hope to add to a little light in the middle of the newscast. Excepting days when the gravity of preceding stories or my forecast preclude it, I think it's OK to smile," she shared, while revealing that like most TV meteorologists these days, she doesn't script her weather segments nor use a teleprompter.

Although her talents have led to a guest stint on the Today show, in order to gauge how well she's heeding her abiding tenet for televised forecasts, Ginger admits to occasionally using a tried and true barometer: her mom.

"One thing I tell my students is to answer your viewers' main questions right off the bat. If I'm not quickly telling people what they most want to know, that's not good," Ginger remarked. "So sometimes I check with my mother to make sure I'm not overlooking the obvious."

As evidenced by my admission that I wasn't familiar with Ginger Zee until a couple months ago, a lot of people get their weather in ways beyond the local news. Rather than bemoan the new virtual reality, Ginger embraces both the benefits she brings to TV viewers and the advantages offered by the social media age.

"Especially in the case of extreme weather, an iPhone app can never provide the same sense of proximity and urgency that I can on TV. But with the Chicago vicinity being so vast, there's an inherent difficulty in giving each viewer a precise indicator of what they can expect, as weather can vary greatly over a 30-mile span and beyond. With Facebook and Twitter, I can provide more detailed projections, region by region. It's like a never ending broadcast."

Ginger recently donned a chocolate gown to benefit the
For The Love Of Chocolate Scholarship Foundation

She welcomes your feedback,
but please keep it clean
(and preferably not mean)

Although Ginger enjoys and appreciates her legions of online fans, friends and followers, and--as corroborated by her quick response to my request for an interview--reads and responds to all e-mail messages, some of the attention she receives is a bit untoward. As Christopher Borelli of the Chicago Tribune detailed in this 2010 article about her, Ginger is often the recipient of insulting, inappropriate, lewd, creepy and downright disturbing comments.

In the Borelli piece, she suggests that someday she'll "publish a book of crazy e-mails to meteorologists," but admits that it took awhile for her skin to thicken. "During my first two years in Flint, I cried every day. No one prepares you for getting ripped to shreds in e-mails and other online forums.

"I don't mind criticism and will take valid comments to heart. But when people get really vicious, not just about me but in ways that demean others around me, I'm sure to share those comments with my colleagues."

The above event benefiting the
Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
took place last May

From the Green Screen
to the Green Scene,
with lots of charity work in between

In addition to her somewhat arduous weekend schedule on Channel 5--between working morning, 5:00pm and 10:00pm newscasts, napping is a vital weekend activity, especially as she is narcoleptic--Ginger does environmental reports for the NBC station.

Her "Green is Universal" segment airs Thursdays at 5:00pm and "Ginger's Green Scene" is a weekend staple. Having spent much of her adolescence on an organic farm, Ginger clearly conveys that her environmental concerns go far beyond a nice way to increase her air time.

"Our air is dirty, our water is dirty. We have to do something about that. We have to take care of the Earth," she stresses. "Though friends keep it light by calling me the 'recycling police,' it's really quite serious.

"Don't you want to breathe clean air?"

Something else Ginger is deeply committed to is putting her time off work to good use, not just for herself but for many others. Although she is proudly a TV junkie, happily watching everything from 30 Rock to the History Channel to Jersey Shore--"it's important for us be entertained," she posits--Ginger spends hours each week teaching Meteorology at her alma mater, talking to elementary school students and participating in (and often hosting) many charity events.

Tonight (Feb. 10) she will be at the Chicago Auto Show's First Look for Charity; on March 19, she will host the Spring Fashion Show for the Brain Injury Association of Illinois, where she serves on the board. She is also on the board of the Chicago's Children Choir--I neglected to ask if she herself can sing, although I've read she was quite a hit at past Newsapaloozas--and each year assists with the One Step Camps through which Children's Oncology Services allows kids with cancer to enjoy a variety of outdoor pursuits.

"I usually do 2 or 3 charity events per week," Ginger told me, saying that she has particular affinity for non-profits that provide very tangible and local support to affected individuals and their families. "If someone asks and I have time, I'm usually open to helping out."

Sorry guys, she's got a boyfriend
(and a big dog)

Photo from Discovery.com

Last fall, Reed Timmer, who like Ginger grew up in Grand Rapids and became a meteorologist, asked her to chase tornadoes with him for the Discovery Channel series Storm Chasers, in which he stars. Having loved storm chasing in college, Ginger leaped at the invitation.

"He's breaking into science in a way that's so exciting to me," declares Ginger, who is now dating Timmer. "We're learning much more about how exactly tornadoes work, and in getting a better read on the vertical wind of each twister, it will eventually enable more resilient structures to be built."

As Ginger shared on Facebook and Twitter, last Saturday, Feb. 5--National Weatherperson's Day, though she suggests the title should denote Meteorologists--she was delighted by visits to the NBC Chicago studio from two special guests: Timmer and her beloved black lab, Otis.

With some recent national TV exposure and an enthusiastic fan base, it's easy for me to imagine Ginger being in a position to significantly expand her presence in coming years. But she claims she is "thrilled and grateful just to be working." Like anyone, she'll weigh possibilities as they present themselves, but while she's not adverse to becoming a bigger TV star, even perhaps beyond the realm of meteorology, it's clear that her passion remains where it began: with a love of the science behind the weather. Particularly in the Midwest.

Some days are hot, some days are cold. But at the end of most of them, I imagine that Ginger Zee genuinely enjoys her life, and whatever effect her expertise may have on yours.

Even as I conclude this in the dark of night, with the outside temperature below zero and feeling much colder, I expect that Ginger's own forecast for all the weeks ahead will be nothing but bright, warm and sunny.

Just as she is.




Ginger Zee, NBC 5 Chicago Meteorologist
Saturday 6am-10am, 5pm and 10pm newscasts
Sunday 6am-9am, 5pm and 10pm
Facebook: facebook.com/gingerzeetv
Twitter: @ginger_zee

Snowbound for 13 Hours (or: The Worst LSD Trip Ever) -- as shared by an ever grateful Paulette Jacobsmeier

Paulette Jacobsmeier's back Mini Cooper is in
the left lane near the top of this photo.

Paulette Jacobsmeier is a smart, accomplished businesswoman. She makes her living helping to settle personal injury lawsuits, so she's acutely aware of risks and consequences. As a self-described "tough Iowa chick," she has long experienced Mother Nature at her most diabolical. And as Chicago's near-record "Blizzard of 2011" began touching down during the afternoon of Tuesday, February 1, her downtown office offered a great vantage point to see the storm's developing impact, even on nearby expressways.

Far from oblivious, Paulette didn't feel compelled to leave work until shortly after 5:00pm, had no problems making a routine stop at a post office and still doesn't feel foolish for her choice to take Lake Shore Drive, her regular route home to Rogers Park (on Chicago's far north side).

"Once I got on Lake Shore Drive, it was slow going, and the wind was really whipping off the lake, but we were moving," Paulette told me this morning, a week later. "Perhaps I could have been more aware of how treacherous LSD might be, but in discussing the drive home with colleagues, no one expressed undue concern."

Her commute typically lasts 30-45 minutes. After getting on the Drive at 5:30pm on Feb. 1, Paulette Jacobsmeier didn't arrive home until 6:40am on Feb. 2 ...without her car, with which she didn't reunite until the evening of Friday, Feb. 4.

Paulette and I share a close mutual  friend, Paolo Palazzi-Xirinachs, and I had met her at a party last Halloween. We weren't connected on Facebook until last Thursday--after Paolo had relayed that she was one of those who had gotten stuck on LSD, one of the most harrowing repercussions (and likely lasting images) of the blizzard--so I didn't know she had been posting updates in real time. But reading back through them was still incredibly compelling and in addition to talking to me about her experience, Paulette kindly allowed me to share her posts here.

Saying that she considers what happened something of a 'Perfect Storm,' Paulette notes that it wasn't the snow, waves or wind in themselves that left her and nearly 1,000 other motorists stranded, but a series of accidents up ahead in Lake Shore Drive's northbound lanes.

Photo by Paulette Jacobsmeier

"I didn't specifically know about it as it happened, but the bus accident at Belmont is what really brought everything to a standstill" says Paulette, who would spend most of the night in her black Mini Cooper, stalled just north of the North Avenue footbridge. "Certainly, I thought of trying to get off the Drive, but we were bumper-to-bumper, so there was never really an opportunity.

"At 8:00, I had stopped moving. By 8:30, when about 6 to 8 inches of snow had drifted onto the cars around me in just a half-hour, I was pretty convinced we weren't going to move again. And we didn't."

As you can see, Paulette's Facebook posts were becoming steadily more concerned--and concerning--but she says that her Friends provided vital support...and more. [Note: I'm not sharing the Comments to her posts, both for space and privacy reasons, but there were many heartwarming responses to everything Paulette expressed.]

"I usually don't post often to Facebook, but I'm so glad that I did. I never felt alone and there were even practical benefits. A friend of mine called her sister, who lives in a building overlooking the Drive. She called me and was able to provide a bird's eye view, so I had a better idea of what was going on, or if help seemed to be on the way."

It wasn't until 10:30pm that Paulette first spoke to an on-site firefighter, who told her that 'help would come in a half-hour.'

With a full tank of gas, a warm car and friends keeping her company via her fully-charged smart phone, Paulette was relatively secure, although understandably frightened, as that "half-hour" turned into five additional hours before she was told to leave her car and board a warming bus.

Even today, she sounded much more relieved and grateful than angry or bitter, and I greatly admire her positive outlook. Still, she can't help but wonder if things might have been handled a bit better.

"I know it was a crazy situation, and to their credit, the firemen who helped me and others, candidly admitted there wasn't really a clear plan. So I'm extremely glad it turned out well," Paulette assessed. "But do I think they could have gotten to us sooner? I do. Early on, there were snow plows and salt trucks in the southbound lanes. So I'd like to think they could have brought in buses and gotten us out of our cars a lot earlier."

As it turned out, even after being safely removed from her car after 10 hours of being stuck in it, Paulette's night didn't get any easier.

Following her rescue by firefighters, one of whom walked with her to the warming bus, only to mutually fall into a snow drift--"I looked up at him and managed to wryly say, 'this is ridiculous,' and he agreed"--for whatever reason, hundreds of frazzled citizens who were heading northbound on Lake Shore Drive were taken to Malcolm X College, located near the United Center on Chicago's West Side.

There weren't enough cots for all those stranded and after about 15 minutes, Paulette and a group of fellow refugees walked to the Blue Line 'L', which was relatively full of shift workers heading in on a Wednesday morning when many area employees would stay home. Paulette then switched to the Red Line and rode it to Howard, normally a nice 15 minute walk to her Rogers Park home.

It was the worst part of a calamitous night, as Paulette began to wonder "if I was going to make it" in the midst of a blizzard that would drop 20.2" inches officially and feature some of the harshest blowing snow in memory. There were no cabs at the Howard station, and not many cars on the street as she soldiered home. "As a runner, I did what runners do. I counted down the blocks."

"At 6:40am, I walked in my door and started sobbing."

It's clear in talking to Paulette that her car was never her major concern, even in the subsequent days. Although it seemed a bit silly to her that license plates weren't recorded and tracked, resulting in a fruitless search on Thursday night, she says after surviving the experience largely in tact, her attitude about her Mini was, "I'll find it when I find it."

Still, once we had connected on Facebook, I was quite happy when I saw her Facebook post on Friday night.

Quite a story; one that I'm grateful isn't my own but just as grateful didn't wind up worse for Paulette, or seemingly most others who were among the most visible victims of Snowmageddon. For her part, Paulette says the experience left her shaken and emotional, but that she's doing well both physically and mentally.

In a world where people can't stop grouching about minor contrivances--heck, I whined about being stuck inside my safe, warm condo during the snowstorm--what's remarkable to me isn't just Paulette Jacobsmeier's perseverance, but her perspective. During our hourlong conversation, she not only was entirely open, but effusively grateful to the firefighters who extracted her and others from LSD, to the numerous friends who kept her upbeat during the ordeal and to the workers at the Soldier Field parking lot where she retrieved her car--"they cleared off my car, had jumper cables & tow trucks at the ready and were just extremely nice."

In summation, Paulette suggests:

"If you come out of a 13-hour ordeal like this with only a tiny bit of frostbite on your feet--despite having worn kitten-heeled boots to work that day--I think you're pretty lucky."

I'm glad you were, Paulette. Thanks for sharing your story; let's hope it never happens again. And if anyone deserves a trip to Florida, it's you.