Zing

About a month ago, the bricks came raining down from the façade on the Blackstone side of our building.




Yes, dear readers---we’re having façade issues again.

Except this time it was a different section.

Once again we were lucky that no one got hurt. But unlike the last time, our little mishap didn’t go unnoticed.

Hence the love note from the city.

How did I find out?

Easy---the city sent out the notifications to the last information that they had on file. Seeing that no one has bothered to file an annual report or bothered to change our registered agent with the state, the city decided to send notification to anyone they could find.

That included my address.

Now before I get on my soap box, I will acknowledge a few things in defense of my neighbors who are doing the heavy lifting.

The focus at the time was on paying off our existing special assessment and continuously following up on those members severely behind in their monthly assessments.

That hand you see being raised would be mine. Guilty as charged.

The rigors of dealing with association business and your own personal life has been known to drive a person batty. Trust me, I’ve been there.

Watching your lay about neighbors make excuse after excuse on why they either won’t or can’t help; listening to empty promise after empty promise can wear on your nerves.

I can understand the frustration for those of you who take the mantle of leadership upon your shoulders.

I can also understand why you’d want to slap the living dog piss out of your neighbors.

Nonetheless, the burden is yours to bear until you say you don’t want it anymore.

So as long as you control the money or are on the board---you have a fiduciary responsibility to act in the best interest of the association.

That means filing the correct paperwork with governmental bodies.

That means applying for the refuse rebate from the city.

That means following up on capital projects despite the fact that no one wants to hear about another special assessment.

Because when you don’t----well---you have our little situation.

I personally used to handle those initially insignificant tasks that come back to bite you in the ass but personal matters got in the way.

Then the unemployment.

Then I was told I was a bad neighbor.

At that point, I decided why should I use my talents and connections for people who don’t fully appreciate them?

I’ve showed everyone what was needed to be done.

If you’re too busy or too lazy to print out a piece of paper, fill it out and find supporting documentation---shame on you.

I’m done enabling a group of grown ups.

I know it’s not all about me. I simply dug down deeper than most are willing to do and found the answers we needed for our multiples situations.

It’s not like I’m curing cancer.

But it appears that in my absence, things have been handled in a less than efficient manner.

Your condo is your home, you have to treat the association like a business.

Or at the very least insure that the city doesn’t come snooping around.

Make no mistake ladies and gentlemen, we have completely stepped in it---the proverbial shit is getting ready to hit the fan.

My concern is that when we get these violations repaired that our cash strapped city will find new ones.

If the city is trying to collect on Bears season ticket holders PSL's, anything's possible.

I predict that this is not gonna turn out well.

Not Good

Per my Twitter post yesterday, we received this "love note" from the city.



Jesus take the wheel.

The backstory about this avoidable mess will follow in short order.

60

Yes, that's the year John F. Kennedy was elected President.

And as luck would have it, it’s also the ranking my humble offerings were given by the Chicago Media Workshop’s report titled “Journalism We Want and Need.”

I’m wanted and needed? I feel very valued right about now.

You can find my blurb on page 19.

Chanting “I’m number 60!” doesn’t have the same ring as “I’m number 1!”

But sometimes you can't put a price on being wanted AND needed.

Restless

It seems that my fellow Woodlandites are none too happy with the shenanigans and foolishness going on around 61st Street/South Campus area.

If you didn’t know, South Campus is the new name for that part of Woodlawn just south of the Midway (60th Street). Commonly recognized as the dividing line between University of Chicago and Woodlawn.

In the past the University of Chicago specifically told their students and faculty not to go south of the Midway. While that stance has been eradicated, the perception persists that once you cross that boundary, your physical being and immortal soul are in peril.

Nonetheless, those brave souls who have done just that and decided to make their homes in Woodlawn are pissed.

Potholes and gunfire just don’t seem to be their cup of tea.

As a matter of fact, one new blogger is simply furious at The Woodlawn Organization.

So much so that his whole blog is dedicated to shine a light on what he perceives as mismanagement of the subsidized housing managed by the organization.

Oooh Whee…

South side stand up.

Salting The Earth---The Pictures

Vacant lots that until recently had grass and weeds in abundance. Then a few weeks ago---nothing.




Now do you see what I'm talking about?

Eye In The Sky

I noticed a new addition to the 63rd Street Metra commuting experience this morning: The platform is now equipped with security cameras.

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

As usual, I was running for the train when I saw a metal pipe-like structure attached to one of the wooden lamp posts. Imagine my surprise when at the end of the pipe I spied the unblinking eye of a camera.



Though I haven’t walked the platform to confirm it, there are probably cameras in plain sight of all four entrances to the station.

That suspicion was nearly confirmed as I looked across the way on the south bound platform and saw another camera pointing at its south entrance.

The scuttlebutt is that Metra in conjunction with Apostolic Church, had the cameras installed.

After all, the rapist still hasn’t been caught and the platform, stairwells and viaduct are extremely dark and isolated during the daytime much less at night.

While I welcome the cameras, I wonder if they’re monitored---If so, by whom? Dose this mean that they’re may be an emergency call box somewhere in our future?

If the scuttlebutt is true, it’s nice to see public and private entities working together to achieve a common goal.

Now I have to be careful if I have a “wardrobe malfunction” and go to correct the problem.

Unlike this crazy YouTube generation, there are just some things that just don’t need to be caught on camera

Hammer Time

If you think for one minute that I wouldn't be all over this if given the opportunity, you're nuts.

Ladies and Gentlemen, that was a big bowl of awesome!

A&E, let's flash mob Michigan Avenue.

Drop me a line, let's talk.

Salting The Earth

I noticed something the other day.

Nothing was growing on the numerous vacant lots in my neighborhood.

Not a weed, not a blade of grass---absolutely nothing was green.

And when I say nothing was green, the grass had been cut a few weeks ago and the remaining stubble was brown.

On its face and in the short term, that might be seen as a good thing. But natural things just don’t stop growing for no reason.

They definitely don’t all stop growing only on the vacant lots in Woodlawn at the same time.

Is it possible to save money on labor, gas and the wear and tear of equipment that the city may have literally salted the earth?

While I hate weeds and overgrown lots, the possibility that some type of chemical was applied to the ground makes me incredibly uneasy.

If this is what’s going on is this a new city policy? Is it safe for the ground and the water table? Hell, are we even by the water table?

What happens if a (reputable) developer someday builds on those vacant lots? If a chemical was applied will it retard any other vegetation growing?

Could you dig and put in a vegetable garden?

Note: Due to the high concentrations of lead paint in older buildings, it’s normally recommended to not use the grounds around the site of an older building or former building for vegetable planting.

I just find it extremely odd and the timing too close to be a coincidence.

Has anyone else noticed new “brown fields” popping up on city owned or vacant lots in their ‘hood?

Dodge Ball

The bad news is that I’m still losing my job.

The countdown continues.

The good news is that I’ve renegotiated my mortgage (*again*) where I now pay $300 less a month.

Believe it or not, my mortgage is near what it was when I first moved in 2001.

While that frees up money, it would be nice if I continued to have a steady source of income.

Reducing instead of increasing debt would be welcome right about now.

My roller coaster life would kill a lesser person.

Oh. My. God.

First we had to see this:




Then we had this:




And as of Friday, finally this:






Nice, eh? But based on past behavior, will they water the lawn so the turf takes to it's new home?

Now will the building be condos or rentals? Affordable? subsidized? market rate? If the building goes condo, will parking be factored into the equation? Who will market the property?

More importantly, who's the developer?

This story is moving forward (with a nice lawn might I add) but still developing.

Cock Starz, Part 2

All quiet on the western front.

There wasn't a wayward car, stripper or over stimulated party girl in sight Sunday night.

Methinks the message may have FINALLY gotten through.

Just Planted

Despite the fact that I live two blocks away from the urban garden, I'm still getting the hang of turning on the water supply from the golf course, ducking flying balls and not watering the veg so late that it's dark by the time you put the hose away and lock up.

I love our little patch of heaven but I ain't trying to get caught in a secluded grove of trees off a non-fenced golf course that's in a Chicago public park.

That's a recipe for a really bad time.

In fact, when I was watering last Tuesday about a 1/2 hour before the sun went down I noticed that random men were popping up on the golf course---without golf clubs and on the path surrounding the garden.

Creepy.

Unfortunately my time to water is limited as early in the morning isn't an option while I still have a job.

And no, there's nothing new to report on that front. Once I have news, I'll let you know.

Why do you think I'm trying to grow my own tomatoes, bell peppers and collard greens?

Anyhoo...

The potential for something very bad to happen back there is a real possibility so I always carry my cell phone and look for other people either jogging or on the golf course. So I try to very much stay aware of my surroundings while indulging my urban gardening steez.

Keep good gardening vibes coming my way. Keep your fingers crossed that a bounty is only a few months away.

Enjoy the pictures below.

Batty Batty Batty

After having a rare Saturday night off, I woke yesterday morning intent on doing chores.

Number one on the list was to start with the front porch.

I had filled up paper bags with stuff from the day before and was transferring them to the back porch to finally go to the alley.

The first bag---no problem.

But when I picked up the second bag, a loud and aggressive hiss came from whatever was under it.

Startled, I did what any self respecting feminist would do.

I screamed like a little girl, turned tail and ran into the house.

Sad, but true.

Perplexed, I went about my chores until I screwed up the courage to see what exactly was hissing at me.

Courage being my middle name (*ha!*) I opened up the window that leads to the front porch, opened it and took the broom handle and once again lifted the overflowing trash bag.

What revealed was an uglier version of a mouse with rougher looking fur.

Ladies and Gentlemen I believe I had found a bat.

This time he didn’t hiss at me so I assumed that he was dying.

My burning question was why a bat had suddenly appeared incapacitated on my front porch?

Despite their blindness, bats have built in sonar so it’s not like their going to slam into wall, objects or people.

Furthermore, they tend to avoid people and sunlight.

I could only deduce that Mr. (or Ms.) Bat might be infected with rabies.

Now I was tempted to let Mr. Puss out to make short work of the beast but the ensuing vet bill if the bat was infected gave me pause.

All I need is for my crazy cat to become rabid. He already has a questionable disposition.

The only reason why he hasn’t cut me is because I have opposable thumbs and can open his food.

So a few more hours pass and my intent was to scoop up the dead bat and throw him over the side where I imagine some neighborhood scavengers would take care of him.

But when I went to check on his whereabouts, he had moved.

@%^&*#$?!

I hoped he had taken flight and left me alone.

When I went to reach for the trash bag and disturbed some of the other stuff on the porch, that hiss told me otherwise.

*Cue Woody screaming and running like a little girl (again)*

It was time to call 311 (The City of Chicago’s non-emergency help line) for animal control.

While I missed them the first time, they did come within the hour and were quite courteous and helpful.

The ladies (yes, ladies---I felt so ashamed) popped in and scooped up Mr. Bat within 5 minutes.

They agreed with me that the beast was acting strange and they wouldn’t be surprised if it had rabies.

Their next concern was Mr. Puss’ exposure to the bat; as they were prepared to take him in as well.

I told them he rarely went out on the porch and had not been out on the porch yesterday.

After taking some additional information, they gave me a slip and said if the beast tested positive someone would call me within 72 hours and follow up with me.

So while I ran like a girl and immediately thought of how a man should help me; to my credit I did contact the proper authorities who in turn handled the situation with promptness and professionalism.

And they didn’t laugh at me.

Even though I had some laughable behavior.

With all the waste you hear about concerning the City of Chicago, at least you know that your dollars are being wisely spent at Animal Control.

I can stare a wannabe gang banger down like nobody’s business but a bat can make me his (or her) bitch.

Woody, redefining irony everyday.

Club Honey

I received this text on Saturday from one of my neighbors:

"I think there is something going on at the Metro Club. Gave some ladies directions to 'Club Honeys' at 1445 East XXth Street."

Yet when I came home the street wasn't mobbed with cars.

Odd.

The reason made itself apparent when I was walking to the train yesterday morning:



Is this lasting progress?

Jackson Park Urban Garden, 2

Clean and green volunteers making signs.





Garden view of the golf course.

Jackson Park Urban Garden

Yes, we're just that close to the Jackson Park golf course.


The start of a new fence.


A young helper digging post holes.


My little "half acre."


The compost pile.

Here Comes The Judge, Part 2

I just don’t get the Honorable William Pileggi.

He seems like the real deal.

He’s cosigned on common sense initiatives and has even received an award from Neighborhood Housing Services.

From what I’ve been able to find on the web and glean from my lawyer friends, Judge Pileggi is okey doke.

He seems like a jurist who will put some bite and muscle into the maze of building codes in our fair city.

This makes his rulings concerning the property at 1512-1514 E. Marquette and Mr. Knight all the more troubling.

Court records indicate that on numerous occasions Judge Pileggi has given Mr. Knight more than enough time to comply with the City’s order.

My question is why was he granted so many chances?

If I can find the numerous actions filed against Carlton Knight in Cook County court system, surely he can as well.

One would think that those records alone would serve as a litmus test of Mr. Knight’s actions & behaviors.

Clearly I’m in the minority on this one.

As a result case number 2007-M1-402799 has been dragging out since October 4th of 2007.

But as I was recently mulling over the judges’ actions, I took a gander across the way and saw something miraculous.

A brand new porch.

Maybe it’s because I rarely look out of my back window or raise the shade. Perhaps with the sun rising earlier and setting later, it gave me an extended opportunity to gaze across the way.

Whatever the reason, that looks like new porch construction to me.

If the porch is new, I would be the first to tell you that I have no clue why Mr. Knight would all of a sudden comply with the city’s order.

I could offer up any number of theories but it would be a waste of both blog space and your time.

The bottom line is that the porch was built.

Now whether it’s up to code is the city’s call.

Inspiration

This person is one of the reasons why I keep on titling at windmills.

Development Update?

The old fence has been removed from the front of the building and looking through the window, any passerby on the street can see a visible ceiling fan box.

This begs a couple of questions:

Is the building going condo or not?

Whatever it's fate, when will the construction be completed?

When, for the love of God, is the landscaping portion of the rennovation gonna happen? Overgrown grass and weeds are NOT attractive.

And last but not least...

They must have great security to leave a pricey looking ceiling fan box visible in the window. Normally that serves as a red flag to theives who prey on construction sites.

Developing...

Here Comes The Judge

You may be a little shocked to discover this but there is more than one questionable real estate developer in the city of Chicago.

I know---who'd thunk it, right?

And because the great city of Chicago is so vast, it’s been my experience that if you want something done you’re gonna have to get off your can and let the appropriate people know.

Appropriate people = government officials = the City of Chicago & the State of Illinois.

But as most of you know, that’s easier said than done.

Nonetheless, if you’re like me, you’ll tilt at windmills until you finally find the correct parties.

You know---the people who will listen to you AND do something about your plight.

That’s the route my concerns about Mr. Knight’s real estate development took to the Corporation Counsel’s Department.

That the nice way of saying the city’s law department.

It took a long time to find someone who would listen.

And when I found someone who would listen they’d get transferred to a different division or promoted.

Then I’d have to start over again with a new person.

Then the dance would begin again.

I would have to explain my issue with our development. Why it’s pointless to sue Mr. Knight despite overwhelming evidence that the “renovations” weren’t up to code.

But eventually, someone from the city did listen---and care.

They took up the banner in light of some egregious and flagrant revelations about Mr. Knight’s development practices. While it might be too late for our association (unless we find his money), perhaps someone else can be spared the same drama.

Successfully navigating the infrastructure that is the City of Chicago is a full time job in and of itself.

Getting someone to care and act is something I truthfully didn’t anticipate happening.

But it did.

So if the city feels that they have merit to drag Mr. Knight into court, why does one judge in particular feel the need to keep on giving him break after break?

Shooting? What Shooting?

This foolishness has now crossed over into just plain stupidity.

At least the police were able to apprehend the suspects (finally).

I wonder if they happened to be in the right place at the right time and were able to give chase or if someone from the neighborhood gave a piece of vital information?

...And it ain't even warm yet.

You Want To Know Why They're So Much Better Than You?

A small aside to athletic opponents of Mt. Carmel High School.

You want to know why they're always so good in so many sports? It's because they're up practicing when everyone else is in bed.

When I have to work early and leave the house before 6:00 AM, I notice that the lights in the new field house are on and there are people inside engaging in physical activity.

Or at least that's what I think is going on.

All while I can barely keep my eyes open schlepping to the train.

That my friends, is some crazy stuff.

That my friends, is dedication.

So the next time your team is getting ground in the dust by the Caravan, you'll know the reason why.

The Disappeared

I knew the minute I patted myself of the back about making progress, something catastrophic would happen.

This time was no exception.

Wednesday was a bloody and brutal day at the place where I work.

95% percent of my department as well as 9 other people from our location were laid off in a precise and efficient manner.

That’s if you’re looking at it from a corporate perspective.

If you choose to take the human view of things, you may have a different opinion.

Instead of retelling Wednesday’s bloodletting, I’ll tell you how my previous employer went about the process in the summer of 2007.

My whole group was notified 60 days out that our department was being eliminated and that we had that time to post internally.

Everyone and their mother knew that unless you had the in” with peeps from another department, you weren’t going anywhere.

But at least we had 60 days to wrap our head around what was going to happen, make financial arrangements, dust of the resume, clean out our desk and say our goodbyes to our work friends.

In short we had closure.

Now I know with people and things being what they are these days, you have to look out for #1.

No entity embodies this philosophy better than corporate America.

You don’t know if someone is going to screw with your internal systems or if they’re going to walk in with a gun and shoot the place up.

The world is a scary place.

That being said, it’s difficult enough to try to figure out your next move when you have 60 days notice. Imagine being called from your desk one minute and the next you’re being handed your severance package---if you’re lucky.

That might just screw with your head.

The flip side of the coin is that you’re good enough to secure employment and trusted enough to be granted access to a secure office in a secure building; it’s ironic in a manner of a half an hour you have someone looking over your shoulder watching you clean out your desk.

That’s some cold shit.

But you’re probably wondering, what does this mean for Woody?

That, my friends, has yet to be determined.

Progress

The back property taxes have been paid and my special assessment is now a distant memory.

Getting rid of debt is painfully slow but things are getting better.

A toast to progress.

Cock Starz

Exotic revues abound in Woodlawn but common sense seems to be in short supply.

It makes one ponder if the social service organization that owns the building knows about this foolishness?

Barter System

The paint job in my condo looks like a bag of ass.

Then of course it started looking like a bag of ass about the first anniversary of my move in date.

As I'm sure you can imagaine, a lot of high quality finishes went into our conversion. The paint job was no exception.

(Tounge placed firmly in cheek)

And while I like the colors I choose, I long for something new and exciting.

Becuase if you have a smudge on your wall it might be nice to wash it off without taking a large portion of the paint with it in the process.

So I want to paint my place but there are two glaring issues.

1. I'm not the best painter. I tried to paint my kitchen years ago and the efforts didn't exactly turn out House Beautiful worthy.

2. Money ain't exactly flowing around here so paying someone isn't in the game plan.

So I have a proposition---let's barter.

If you need a containter garden put down and can paint---high quality, I might add---then I think we might be able to help each other.

You'll advise me on materials, I'll advise you on materials.

You'll shop with me, I'll shop with you.

You'll paint and help me learn the skill, I'll plant and you'll get the hang of it in no time.

And when I say "help me learn the skill" and "you'll get the hang of it in no time" what I really mean is I'll plant and you'll paint and neither of will really want to learn the opposite skill.

'Cause if you really wanted to plant and I really wanted to paint, we would of learned how to do it by now, right?

But it's nice to aspire.

So if you're game, I'm game.

I'm not a master gardener but I have had some luck putting down well received container gardens for myself and others.

Because in today's economic reality, knowledge and know how may very well be better than money.

The Farmer In The 'Hood

Guess who applied for a vegetable garden plot in the Jackson Park Urban Farm?

It's like a modern day Green Acres---I don't have to say goodbye to city life in order to scratch my country mouse itch.

If I get it, be prepared for rants against all forms of small animals---squirrels, possums, raccoons, rats---you name an animal and I'm sure I will have sworn a blood vengeance against it by the end of the summer.

Now to find a floppy straw hat.

Passive Aggressive

I recently had a long overdue conversation with a lovely neighbor who also happens to be a new mother.

Not only are her real life I-just-had-a-baby stories eye opening, but they are Hilarious.

Laugh out loud, breaking into coughing fits HI-LAR-IOUS.

So because she has a new baby, a husband, and various animals around the house, I figure I'm not going to add to the burden by fulfiling my requirment as the "wacky neighbor down the street."

Dropping in unanounced when you're trying to put down a fussy baby may not lead to further social invitations.

Luckily a few days ago I had the priviledge to speak to the little mother and catch up on life and all things Woodlawn.

As we chatted she happened to mention that conflict resolution among her family tends to skew toward passive agressive tactics.

I paused on the other end of the phone and said "Passive agressive? And you live around black people? How's that working out?"

"Not so much." She replied.

As a rule, I explained, black folk don't really respond to passive agressive. You pretty much have to let us know what you want---hinting around isn't gonna make the magic happen.

A cultural exchange, neighborhood gossip and new baby stories all in the same conversation.

Enough Already

A sight recently seen at the 55th & Lake Park Walgreens in Hyde Park.

Everyone Has One

I just couldn't take it anymore.

After tweeting about the trash, when I got dropped off this afternoon it had seemingly multiplied. Naturally I was forced to pick it up.

But you’ve got to have limits so I only tidied up in front of my building.

Of course now that the weather is warming up, people tend to be outside so it was inevitable that I get to see neighbors I haven't seen in months.

Today was no exception.

So when I happened upon neighbors X and Y, our conversation eventually turned to the trash that had gathered in front of our home.

Of course the conversion morphed into our maintenance man not being paid enough (their emphasis, not mine) and other topics.

Then neighbor Y stated that she had questions about certain things around our happy little home.

She was a relative newcomer so it was only to be expected.

I suggested that she might want to check into my blog for a historical perspective of our happy little community since I am one of a hand full of people who have been here since the property went converted.

From a slanted, biased Woody perspective of course.

By this time she was on a roll but did manage to tell me that she’s not really a “blog” person so she wouldn’t be reading my humble offerings.

At this point I knew I was listening to another person who had more opinions than solutions. Inevitably that would translate into zero work done on the association’s behalf.

While I’m not feeling the love for all of my neighbors right now, I will say I do know who will actually step up and work on behalf of the association and who will sit there and flippin’ complain all day.

So it was with this knowledge I listened while I continued to pick up the trash.

Because I was dealing with someone of the later mindset, not the former.

This was later confirmed as X and Y were walking away and Y commented that she “wasn’t going to pick up anything.”

So in the end I guess I’m doing the right thing by limiting my involvement in my association---don’t forget I’m the “bad neighbor.”

Because people with big talk along with big ideas but with no follow through are “all hat and no cattle"

Because everyone has an opinion.

That and $2.25 will get you on the bus.

The Hood Is A Twitter

There are a few things that some people had wished I had never discovered.

I’m sure my mother never wished I had discovered boys, my developer wished I had never discovered blogging and my waist line wished I had never discovered beer.

But those pale in comparison to my latest, greatest discovery----Twitter.

While it’s new to me, technologically savvy cats have been “tweeting” (the proper term for a Twitter message) for awhile now.

For those of you who don’t know, Twitter is basically Facebook on steroids. It allows you to send a short 140 character message about what you may be doing, feeling or thinking at any given moment.

That way you can update people who subscribe to your Twitter account with what’s going on in your everyday life.

AND you can link your account to a website or blog.

For me, it’s the perfect way to transmit what’s going on in the ‘hood via text message “tweets” without going through the process of updating my blog.

‘Cause you may be surprised to find out that I don’t exactly carry my laptop around with me everywhere. Plus the added adventure of potentially dodging bullets may necessitate that I have to duck for cover.

If I do, I may potentially damage my laptop. That would be really, really bad.

But as a blogger, the upside for me is that I may “tweet” something that I see and later give you guys the full blown story by turning it into an actual post.

If you look over in the left hand margin, you will see that I’ve already started making observations about the little patch of paradise I call home.

So check into the blog to see what I’m “tweeting” about or you also have the option to subscribe to my Twitter account directly.

I’m telling you this is gonna be great.

Flying Under The Radar

Clearly I have not been paying attention to the goings on in the neighborhood.

It might have been because I was (am?) putting my life back together after 11 months of unemployment (Note: Not as easy as one would think).

Or it might have been the brutality of this slow moving winter and my knee injury.

Or it might have been because my head may have been firmly ensconced up my ass.

Either way, I had no clue that there was (is) a gang turf war in our little patch of heaven.

At least I didn’t know until it erupted on Monday night resulting in the shooting death of a 15 year old.

While the violence was a shock, I was fully prepared for the negative comments that usually accompany the subsequent Tribune and Sun-Times stories about the incident.

Luckily, the Tribune disabled the comments section by the time I had read the article.

Perhaps they already knew the caliber of commenter and simply disabled the ability to comment from the beginning.

No matter how you feel, someone’s child is dead.

While the consequences that led up to that fact are important, at the very least you should err on the side of respect.

Yes, I understand that some people cause their own problems.

But a majority of comments on articles about urban crime are mean and tip toe right up the line of being racist.

So it was with this in mind that I steeled myself after reading the Tribune’s article.

But it was all for naught.

I will say this to you who feel that “some people,” specifically black people, don’t care about the communities where they reside.

Let me preface my statements by affirming that while I may speak for myself, I also happen to know a huge swath of other black folks who feel as I do.

Yes, we care about where we live even though some may not think so.

Yes, we call the police.

In my experience the places that are usually the worst on the block are owned by either people who live in the suburbs or well meaning social service agencies.

Ironic, huh?

So the suburban neighbor that you so enthusiastically great each day may be the single largest contributing cause to crime in any given neighborhood.

Go cluck your tongue and pass your judgments on them.

Because lax tenant screening + credit requirements + non-resident management = a recipe for disaster.

But what do they care?

They keep on getting money that supports their comfortable lifestyles in their practically crime free neighborhoods.

And these well meaning social service agencies are no better.

I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth so I very much understand people needing help.

So I know that a lack of financial resources does make you or your family bad people.

Yet because of the fact you or your family may not have the time or the resources to mount a time consuming, draining protest about issues in your neighborhood doesn’t mean you don’t care.

In fact, that’s what I think some dubious people look for.

They look for the people who are the hardest pressed and will squawk the least.

‘Cause it’s a hell of a thing holding down multiple jobs and/or raising children and/or staying on the straight and narrow AND trying to get people to do right by your neighborhood.

Trying to get long time institutions to respect where you live.

Trying to get landlords to treat your neighborhood with the same consideration that they treat their neighborhoods.

Trying to uncover the maze of LLC’s who illegally convert rentals to condos and leave them when they run out of money.

Trying to get the police to pay real attention to those no good thugs on the corner.

It’s exhausting.

If you let it, it can drain your essence.

Trying to fix something that has been broken for a long time takes patience and resourcefulness.

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

That’s a pretty tall bill for working class people who may not be well versed in how the city that works really works.

For those of you who can’t see beyond race, look up how UIC got built and get back to me.

So when I see these cowards hide behind a comment section and spout off about “why those people in that neighborhood don’t do anything” I know they have no idea what they’re talking about.

Because I know that I care about where I live---my neighbors do too.

Some things just fly under the radar.

Number 29

Jesus.

And So It Begins

I was greeted by the sight of police tape as I was taking out the trash this evening.

This was not gonna be good.

Apparently the beefin' between young men who live south of us and the young men who stand on the corner of my street and Stony Island reached a violent conclusion a little after 4:00 PM today.

A young man was shot twice in the field behind my home.

I don't know the status of his condition. I can only hope that he survives.

A few neighbors said that he was a part of the Stony clique that hangs out down the street.

They also said that he was 15.

So the young men to the south of us are armed and I'll bet you that the young men from down the street are probably arming themselves now.

The end result is that all of the rest of us will be caught in the middle of a pitched battle.

One with no winners.

God, it's gonna be a long fucking summer.

Question Mark

I haven't personally seen any work being done on any of these buildings in several months. In the case of the trio of buildings on 65th place I haven't seen workers on the premesis since early 2008.

It goes without saying that the Living Green Lofts were never built. That's the picture of the huge vacant lot and the pile of wood that used to be the sign annoucing the development.

The question is can the 'hood (and the city for that matter) survive another round of broken promises and broken buildings?


This building's residents have been MIA. I suspected that this was going to be converted to condos but nothing has hapened to indicate which course the current owner will take.



Brand new development on 65th Place that sits empty. It's only a matter of time before squatters or a bad element take hold.



The sign for Living Green Lofts sits in pieces after the development was never built.



The vacant lot where the Living Green Lofts were supposed to be built.

My New Favorite Person, Part I

My fellow Metra riders and I have been on edge since the attacks on women started near our train stop.

A few weeks ago I saw Metra security making the rounds of the parking lots and slowly cruising under the viaducts where the stairs lead to the platforms.

Then of course that was during the day.

But for those of us who ride the 5:43 from downtown and arrive at our destination in the dark, the Mt. Carmel security guard is a welcome sight.

Apparently the lads at Mt. Carmel have had intermittent trouble in transit to or on the train platform. The school thought it was a good idea to hire a security guard to make sure the boys have safe passage.

While I don't know for sure, it's probably a safe bet that he gives the school parking lot the once over as a part of his duties. It makes sense, right?

But I when I exit the train I usually see him either on the platform or on the steps leading to the viaduct/64th street level.

While he dosen't have to stick around to make sure that the local commuters get down from the platform, I think it's awful stand up of him to take a few extra minutes to keep an eye out for us.

I may not know his name but he's my new favorite person.

Fractured Fairy Tale

There once was a lady who lived with her son on the south side of Chicago.

Unfortunately and unbeknownst to them, they lived in an apartment that had lead paint.

The exposure to the poison left the little boy with elevated lead levels in his blood.

So the lady left the building and moved to another place.

I can only assume to raise her child in the safest environment she could find and afford.

Unfortunately for her, the next place at 6959 South Paxton was no better than the first.

Or so the lawsuit allegeds (2008-L-005961).

Quadria Thomas and her son Danais Thomas are not only going after Merrill Square Cooperative and Quality Management Services---the first location; but also Carlton Knight and fellow defendants Walter Thomas and Theresa Thomas owners and/or property managers of the Paxton address.

Mr. Knight, Mr. & Ms. Thomas were the owners of the building where Ms. Thomas and her son “lawfully lived in and/or frequently visited an apartment in the said premises.”

I wish them luck.

I don’t think the esteemed lawyers of Conway & Conway know who they’re dealing with.

Even if they can prove that:

“…The said lead based paint to peel, flake, powder and otherwise deteriorate to the point where it could be and was ingested by the minor plaintiff;”
And…

“Caused other materials containing lead to be and remain on said premises and the apartment occupied by the plaintiffs, thereby creating a dangerous condition;”

And…

“Failed to warn the plaintiff’s parents and/or grandparents of the danger posed by the presence of lead on the said premises and/or apartment, though they knew that minor children were living on the premises.”

I’m mystified on how they’re going to get any type of financial relief.

I strongly suspect that legal shenanigans and delays will frustrate the plaintiffs and their lawyers.

And since a delayed payday is never on a lawyer’s agenda (or at least any lawyer I know), it’s within the realm of possibility that the plaintiffs may be dropped by their legal representative(s).

Leaving them up the creek without a paddle.

But when you think about it, would you really blame the lawyers?

You have a case constantly delayed with little if any chance of finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow what would you do?

But I hope against hope that’s not gonna happen.

Because if anyone needs to fight out a lawsuit, it needs to be on behalf of a little boy who’s very sick and was injured through no fault of his own.

I’m hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

Coming and Going

Good things come to those who wait.

Or at least that’s how the old saying goes.

The latest in Carlton Knight legal news is a doozy.

When I last wrote about him, Inland Bank and Trust’s lawsuit to get their million dollars was evolving into a page turner.

Well I’m proud to report its officially crack-a-lackin’---simply delightful reading material.

Let me break it down for y’all:

Inland Bank filed two separate cases against Mr. Knight regarding the Dixie Highway property in Harvey. The first was for a complaint to foreclose (CH07-10840) and the second was for a complaint for a confession of judgment.

A confession of judgment is when a defendant confesses to the accuracy of the plaintiff’s complaint or signs a “cognovit actionem, a written confession made out earlier by the defendant.”

“The cognovit note says in writing that the debtor owes a particular sum and has voluntarily submitted himself or herself to the authority of the court. If the debtor later fell into arrears, the creditor could obtain a judgment against the debtor without even bothering to notify the debtor of the proceedings.”
Explanation courtesy of Answers.com

Carlton’s lawyers in turn filed a motion (07-L-051164) to consolidate both of the cases while hoping to vacate the confession of judgment and/or “stay any further enforcement and allow the court hearing the mortgage foreclosure case to determine the alleged issue regarding the legality of the note.”

In short, if the cases get consolidated and there are grounds for dismissal on either point, the whole thing goes away.

That is the pimpiest of pimp legal moves I have ever seen.

At one point I questioned the prowess of one of Carlton’s legal team but I do have to say that these new kids (or at least new to me) from Cook, Revak & Associates are good.

Sharp cookies, indeed.

Inland fired back by stating:

“Mortgagee has several remedies (personal judgment, foreclosure, or recover possession of the property) that may be pursued to enforce payment. These remedies are concurrent or successive, as the mortgagee deems appropriate. When a mortgagee chooses to pursue remedies concurrently, they must be maintained separately.”

“The plaintiff may choose its remedy-or remedies-as it deems necessary and may pursue multiple remedies concurrently. It is clear that the proceedings must be tried separately. Therefore the plaintiff was proper in bringing both a mortgage foreclosure proceeding and the confession of judgment proceeding and the court should not consolidate the cases.”

Boo-ya, baby!

Apparently Inland isn’t taking the possible loss of over a million dollars lightly.

King Charles and the Concealed Carry

Pride is a dangerous thing.

In a way, pride is just the ultimate setup for disappointment.

That’s the way it goes in life and that’s the way it’s going in the ‘hood.

Why? You ask?

Walking from the bus stop on Sunday night, I saw two things---one a more common place occurrence and the other is something I’ve never seen in Woodlawn: A young white woman walking a Cavalier King Charles.

That's a breed of dog you don't see too much around these parts.

As more people discover our gem in the rough known as Woodlawn, white neighbors are not that rare of an occurrence anymore.

A Cavalier King Charles on the other hand, is a reason to celebrate.

You see my friends, when you live in an emerging neighborhood; it’s the little things that make a difference.

I hate to say it, but image is everything.

Whether its shoes on a wire, the Jenkins Boys on the corner, trash on the parkway or a woman (regardless of race) walking her Cavalier King Charles.

In the dead of night, might I add.

These are the non-verbal clues that help people shape their perceptions of your neighborhood.

And for some people, perception is reality.

So there I was feeling the upward trajectory of the ‘hood when I got a text Monday night.

“I just heard about the muggings at your Metra Station on WGN. Please be careful.”

Apparently King Charles Cavilers don’t mean shit to a knife wielding lunatic.

Naturally, this was the talk of the train stop on Tuesday morning.

All of the ladies were putting together the bits and pieces of what we heard vs. fact vs. what was on the news.

More importantly, we all talked about how to stay safe.

I recounted the story of my aunt who lived in (and still lives in ) Gary, Indiana in the 1970’s.

As a nurse, she would have a rotating shift that sometimes put her waiting on public transportation after dark.

She had already anticipated that some jagoff was going to screw with her so she took my grandfather’s .38 along as a traveling companion.

Imagine that the nurse who’s caring for you during your convalesce is packing heat in her locker at the hospital.

Hot.

One night while waiting for her bus, someone tried to mug her.

She shot him---lit him up like a Christmas tree.

Then on another night in a separate incident, another idiot tried to mug her.

She shot him too.

After that, she didn’t have any more problems.

To this day, we don’t just pop over to her house. We phone first. We always let her know that we’re coming.

Knocking on her door or entering her house unannounced is not a wise thing.

But this little story serves as a good lesson.

I have a saying, “The sharks go where the fish are.”

Apparently the fish have moved to Woodlawn.

That station is super creepy and is the perfect place to snatch up a sister if you have sinister intentions.

You see my friends; this dumbass just hasn’t met the right woman yet.

Trust me, I’m not her.

I’m not walking around with my chest poked out with an “S” on my sweater.

But you all must understand that sisters are doin’ it for themselves.

You can’t wait on the police to come and rescue you; especially when some bumblefuck decides that because he’s a little short on cash that any random woman walking down the street is going to be his personal ATM.

Because when he runs into the woman who doesn’t give a fig about the illegality of handguns in the City of Chicago and he makes his play, let’s suffice it to say that he’ll see the lightning flashing.

And I, for one, will cheer.

Ghetto Libretto

I love the opera.

It the same drama you see on “Springer” or “Maury” with better costumes and vocals.

Fortunately for me and other thousands of opera buffs in Chicago, we happen to be blessed with the Lyric and its beautiful opera house on Wacker Drive.

I also happened to get blessed with a ticket from time to time.

While I love the opera on its own merits---the lush productions, the timelessness of the stories and the beauty of the music; the thing that really chaps my hide is the overt misogyny in most of the classic works.

Usually the lead female role is the naive ingénue, scheming whore or general all around victim.

Life happens to her. She rarely gets to determine her fate---which when you think about it was indicative of the times the operas were written---meekly bowing to the wills and needs of others.

...Or plotting to have them killed exiled or otherwise pushed out of the picture.

Frankly, I call bullshit on these one dimensional broads.

‘Cause it just churns my butter to see women so grossly misrepresented in the name of high art.

Think about it---Someone shelled out alot of money for that ticket. If you want to see women stereotyped, dominated or run down there are many vehicles within our popular culture where you can see that for free.

$135.00 a ticket is a bit much, no?

Anyhoo…

So it was with this mindset that I walked into a recent production of Madame Butterfly.

I knew the general plot and had heard some of the music from the beloved Puccini work but had never seen it in person.

And no I hadn’t seen Miss Saigon.

I still tried to keep an open mind---raising my objections to yet another opera where the woman gets the short end of the stick to my opera buddy.

My opera buddy is a kind and patient man who puts up with commentary like:

Gilbert & Sullivan---“Gay! I love every gay minute with those sailors. I wonder who’s the top in this relationship?”

Wagner’s Ring Cycle---“So I spent how much money to see drama caused by a horny dwarf ? Everyone in this story is 100% bat shit crazy.You’ve got to be kidding me right? Hitler loved this stuff? No wonder the Nazi's lost the war.

Note: This is when I had a full time job and money.

Cavalleria Rusticana & Pagliacci (better know as Cav/Pag)---“Laugh clown! Laugh!”

Aida---“I can already see the look on her parent’s face.”

Lulu---"I've got porn cleaner than this.

Usually, I sit quasi grumbling through the Acts, as the drama unfolds below. All I can say is thank God for the English subtitles.

But its opera and it’s beautiful so I go.

And I sit.

And I absorb.

And I learn.

Do not even get me started on how long it took me NOT to talk back to the stage.

And all was well until I saw the following discourse from the opera Madame Butterfly between B.F. Pinkerton the American Sailor and bridegroom and Sharpless, a counsel at the American embassy in Nagasaki:

With echoes of the Star Spangled Banner, Pinkerton tells Sharpless that, throughout the world, the Yankee wanderer is not satisfied until he captures the flowers of every shore and the love of every beautiful woman. “So I am marrying in the Japanese style: for 999 years, but with the right to cancel the marriage each month”. Sharpless is critical of Pinkerton’s beliefs, but they stand and agree, “America forever”. Pinkerton tells Goro to bring Butterfly to him. When Goro leaves, Sharpless asks Pinkerton if he is really in love.

Pinkerton admits to Sharpless that he does not know whether he is really in love or just infatuated, but he is bewitched with Butterfly’s innocence, charm and beauty, like a butterfly fluttering around and then landing with silent grace, so beautiful “that I must have her, even though I injure her butterfly wings”. Sharpless tells Pinkerton that he heard Butterfly speak, when she visited the Consulate, and he asks Pinkerton not to pluck off her delicate wings. However, Pinkerton tells Sharpless that he will do “no great harm, even if Butterfly falls in love.” Sharpless takes his glass of whisky and offers a toast to Pinkerton’s family at home, to which Pinkerton adds, “and to the day when I will have a real wedding and marry a real American bride.”
Courtesy of Wikipedia

Oh hell no.

Oh hell-to-the-no.

Oooh wheee…

And then Sharpless asks Butterfly how old she is.

“15.”

I thought I was gonna come out of my seat and put the funky beat down on Pinkerton.

The last thing a pre-menstrual, single, gimped up 40 year old woman needs to (or wants to) see is a young woman child going into a train wreck.

Around these parts we call that the Drew Peterson syndrome.

The neck rolling, teeth sucking and eye rolling was monumental.

I was so pissed.

Not just railing as usual, but actually pissed.

I was so pissed I was my Sam Adams straight from the bottle AT THE OPERA!

During the intermission the nice lady behind me said, “Dear, you know its make believe? Right?”

Clearly I was having a psychotic break.

You see Butterfly really did love him. When she sang Un bel di I was in tears.

Child, I was the hottest mess in Chicago.

I was such a hot mess that I had to leave before the opera was over.

I’m such no one wanted to read the headline, “Crazed Black Woman shoots Lyric Tenor After Break With Reality.”

But I really do have a purpose for telling this story.

Other than the fact I’ll be really scared for anyone who meets me when I’m going through menopause (Which really isn’t too far off when you think about it.)

While I have my issues with some operas, it’s certainly well worth the experience.

Prohibitive costs aside; everyone should have a chance to see great art.
If you haven’t noticed, our country has slipped into a tad of a cultural abyss.

In the early 90’s school boards across the country sacrificed gym, recess, music and art to balance their budgets.

Now we’ve got a country of slovenly rubes that identify the “Ride of the Valkyries” as the Blues Brother’s song.

My bad, if you were a child born in the early 90’s you wouldn’t know that.

Let me try again---Now we’ve got a country of slovenly rubes that identify the “Ride of the Valkyries” as the song from the Hyundai commercial.

Sweet Baby Jesus.

But there is one man who’s making a difference.

The effervescent Neil Steinberg of the Chicago Sun Times is trying to turn the tide of dumbassness and cultural ignorance by giving away 100 tickets to Pagliacci & Cavalleria Rusticana on February 18th.

Granted, the clown is crazy and I think he pushes his poor put upon wife into cheating on him, but that’s just my opinion.

If you want to know what I’m talking about, go see the production or pray that luck is on your side and you win a ticket.

But whatever you do, don’t yell out “Laugh, clown! Laugh!”

Site Manager

For those of you who’ve been long time readers already know I wasn’t going to let this Metropolitan foolishness fade to black.

In fact, since I seemingly couldn’t get any answers that I needed; I did what every resourceful, tax paying Chicagoan should do-----I called the police.

Well not 911 but the 3rd District CAPS office.

I started chatting with one nice police officer who then referred me to another nice police officer.

I’m gonna be honest with you, I thought this was shaping up to be a pass the buck type of moment.

Fortunately for me that wasn’t the case.

Everyone over at the 3rd District CAPS office has been extremely responsive; so much so that I heard via the grapevine the nice people at TWO recently had a chat with the police.

Now I wasn’t there at this little pow wow but from what I understand the word has come down---ixnay on the parties.

Apparently (and allegedly) no one over at the main TWO office knew anything about the shenanigans on 65th Street.

But they know now.

From what I heard, the site manager took the brunt of the blame in the conversation between the police and the TWO.

While I know it sounds mushy and girlish, I hope he or she doesn’t loose their job---more than likely they won’t. That wasn’t my intention.

My intentions were two fold: (1) Find out who’s making the party decisions at the Metropolitan and (2) Have them understand why it’s not appropriate to book a series of teen parties in a residential neighborhood.

Or strippers for that matter.

So at this point, it appears that things very well may be settling down.

But you never know.

I’ll pass the word along to the neighbors---Vigilance from everyone is required.

Legacy

Parts of the entrie episode can be found here, here and here

Church Lady Mafia

They may go by a different name in your neck of the woods but I know you've seen them.

In my world, the nice ladies who ride my Metra line are generally quite, considerate and keep to themselves.

They tend to read the Bible or similar inspirational tracts that they received in church.

All in all a very picturesque scene.

Until you sit in a seat that was meant for their friend.

For those of us who know how it works---those of us who ride a commuter train 5 days a week, it is essential that you know your role.

It's essential that you know who reads, who sleeps, who puts their makeup on and who likes to "spread out."

If you take the train seat of one of the SSCLM, that's your ass.

SSCLM is short for the south side church lady mafia.

No harsh words are spoken, no voices are raised.

One look is all it takes.

For the most part you should already know your role.

If you're a regular, you have a tad more standing. Slight infractions might be overlooked.

But if you're repeat offender----It will get ugly real fast.

Real, real fast.

Are You Kidding Me?

Admittedly this isn't the best picture.

But as I walked---limped, gimped---home from the train late Monday night, I was struck by how pretty the snow was on this tree.

The snow is nice to look at, but now that it's freezing due to the sub zero temperatures, it's beauty has increasingly decreased exponentially.

12 below?

12 friggin fraggin below?

If the summers weren't so phenomenal, I'd ditch this ice rink.

Slip and Slide

Convalescence is not for the faint of heart.

I should know, I've been gimped up for nearly three weeks as a result of slipping on the ice a few days before Christmas.

Hairline fractures to my right patella, thank you for asking.

That's kneecap to those of you who may not know.

And let me tell you how challenging it is to do so many of the things you take for granted when your knee is messed up.

Getting dressed, walking down stairs, walking in general---all so painful to do when you can't bend your knee.

Let's not even talk about getting in and out of the shower or going to the bathroom.

Especially when your bathroom is not ADA compliant.

If the cat had a camera attached to his head, I'm sure the resulting footage would be sheer comedy.

But on the morning I slipped it sure wasn't.

I took a header in front of the Bank of America building near the corner of LaSalle & Jackson across the street from the Federal Reserve.

I'm sure that fall was sheer comedy as well.

That morning was brutally cold and ice was everywhere.

I thought I missed the sheets of ice in front of the building by stategically stepping around them but apparently I was wrong.

Oh so painfully wrong.

When I slipped I planted my feet so I could fall backwards. Apparently that strategy didn't work as after I was helped to my feet I felt something very wrong with my right knee.

24 hours, an emergency room vist and a couple of glasses of wine later I was on the road to recovery.

It still hurts like a mother but I will say it's getting better, so at least I'm making progress.

And by making progress I mean being to go to the bathroom without as much pain.

Unfortunately I won't be doing any of the dance scenes from Royal Wedding anytime soon.

Post Script

Just wanted to keep you all in the loop on a couple of recent developments:


Per my expectations, the driver responsible for my latest bootleg cab experience has been found liable of violating the municipal code of Chicago.

I bet you he won't ask another person to prepay if they happen to live on the south side.

When will people learn that one way or the other, that they'll pay the price for their ignorance.



My Developer, Carlton Knight, goes back to court on the 12th of this month. He wil appear before the Hon. William Pileggi in regards to the buidling violations in the Marquette Road condo development.

Naturally, I'm sure there will be yet another loophole for him to slip through to not comply with the building codes.

Go figure.

Rumor has it that he was granted more time by Judge Pileggi due to the fact that he was making an effort to move forward on the work.

I wonder if the good judge would be as understanding with Mr. Knight if he knew the intersting circumstances surrounding the single family townhome at 32nd & Rhodes.

Now I will say that my time has been spent the past year or so scratching around, looking for and keeping multiple jobs.

So my Inch High Private Eye game may be off a bit.

But the last time I checked, Mr. Knight did not have a valid City of Chicago real estate developer's license.

Furthermore, the property at 32nd & Rhodes was supposed to continue to be a hole in the ground until Mr. Knight got his seemingly questionable permits approved by way of a legitimate developer's license.

Clearly that wasn't the case.

Per this listing the single family townhome is nearing completion and delivery.

Now Mr. Knight could have applied for and received his real estate developer's license.

He could have sold the property and another limited liability company (or corporation) may have scooped it up.

This project may be totally on the up and up.

Yet if Mr. Knight is still heavily involved---and I tend to think he is---I would consider his past real estate efforts and total up the wins for the owners in the won/loss column.

You tell me who comes out wanting.

So let's play hypothetical.

If I'm a "real estate developer" who dosen't have a City of Chicago real estate developer's license and yet I still get permits and the like pushed through one of two things springs to mind---I either said that the development was for myself and turn around and put it on the commercial market

OR

Things are not as squeeky clean and monitored as the city would like us to believe.

Hypothetically speaking of course.



Lastly, you've never seen a happier woman than me watching the salt trucks go down our humble little street last night.

What was previously a two block ice rink prior to a drastic turn around in snow removal and salting policy has now become a passable throughfare.

Which is good considering I'm all gimpy from my recent tumble.

Development?

Lately there's been a little too much room for cars on our street.

Normally it's nuts to buts attempting to park.

I don't have a car, but living down here for seven years I know that if you're not home and parked by 6:30, you'll be parking on the next block.

Something wasn't adding up.

Coincidentally, the trash on the parkway has dropped dramatically.

It wasn't until I walked east toward Stony Island and looked at the building next to the Astor Properties debacle did I figure it out:

It's empty.

I haven't seen anyone parking in front of or going in or out of the building in the past two weeks.

Because I normally take the Metra to work, I rarely pass by the other end of the block. But when I put my thinking cap on, it all made sense.

I bet you that building is going condo.

And as we all know, depending on who buys the units and/or who moves in that may or may not be a good thing for the 'hood.

If the Astor Properties building is any indication, we may have another weed choked yard in the near future.

I'll keep you posted.