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| This is not a mere photograph of the city of Chicago. It is a lovingly woven piece of fabric given to Doctor Teepu Siddique by a grateful ALS patient. It hangs in his Northwestern medical center building, a testament to imagination, craftmanship and love. |
Different things happen in Chicago than in, say, Passaic, New Jersey. In 2017, there were over 50 sightings of a flying human-like figure near Lake Michigan and a few dozen more in 2018. Some appearances had the creature swooping down over startled passersby, others had it landing on top of cars with a large thud. More than one observer reported the winged wonder taking off from the top of the Willis Tower and flying low over the lake. Did Mothman make a temporary comeback, and if so, why Chicago?
On a beautiful August day in 2004, the Dave Matthews tour bus was rolling through the city and over one of its famous little bridges, the Kinzie Avenue span, when the driver suddenly realized what a wonderful spot this would be to release the 800 pounds of human waste stored up in the lavatory. Just as the fellow hit “Release,” an architecture tour bus passed under the bridge and 120 unsuspecting tourists were drenched in Davedoody. Matthews apologized profusely and donated $50,000 to the Chicago Park District and another fifty grand to Friends of the River, but the legend of Poopgate lives on.
In 1903, a Chicago bartender named Mickey Finn was found to be giving his customers altered drinks to incapacitate them so he could rob them. In 1918, over a hundred waiters followed suit using “Mickey Finn” powder bought at waiters’ union headquarters to poison bad tippers. Only three people died, so it could have been worse. And you were worried about someone spitting in your soup.
Let’s not forget legendary Chi-town mayor Big Bill Thompson, whose antics ranged from the ridiculous to the sublime. Thompson once held a debate between himself and two live rats. He also staged a real live rodeo inside the City Council chambers. The mayor owned a brothel and a floating speakeasy and was on good terms with megagangster Al Capone. In a city well known for its corrupt politics, Thompson eventually earned the vaunted title, “Pioneer of Chicago Corruption.” Carp at Big Bill if you will but our crooked pols almost never provide actual rodeos.
And then, of course, there was Mrs. O’Leary’s cow, which was unfairly blamed for kicking over a lantern and burning the city down while being milked in 1871. The livestock defense firm Pushem, Pullem & Milkem rushed to the fray and pointed out that dairy farmers didn’t milk cows in the evening (when the fire started). The true cause of the blaze is lost to the ages, though it could have resulted from the internal combustion of hay in the O’Leary barn. A Chicago journalist named Mike Ahearn claimed that two ne’er-do-wells had snuck into the O’Leary’s shed to steal milk and thought they heard someone coming, then ran out and knocked over their lamp, starting the fire. Ahern liked the cow story better, though, and that’s the newspaper tale he fabricated. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow.
We Need a Whole Lot More Of Jesus And A Lot Less Chivas Regal
“Listen! Seventy-five percent of our idiots come from intemperate parents, eighty percent of the paupers, eighty-two percent of the crime is committed by men under the influence of liquor, ninety-percent of the adult criminals are whisky-made. The Chicago Tribune kept track for ten years and found out that 53,556 murders were committed by men under the influence of liquor.”---Billy Sunday
In 1918, firebreathing evangelical preacher Billy Sunday returned to his home town of Chicago to take on the devil of all social demons, the saloon. He came to Chicago not only as a religious man but also as a social reformer. His crusade in the Windy City illustrated how revivalism often had the secondary motive of Prohibition reform, and it was successful to a point. In 1920, the making, sale and movement of alcohol was outlawed in the United States for the next 13 years. Thirteen YEARS!
All this was just fine with an enterprising criminal by the name of Al Capone. Big Al and other Chicago bootleggers flooded the city with their own brand of liquid fun, earning a fortune and making a joke of the law. The government responded with the Federal Prohibition Unit, which consisted of untrained volunteers from the public, one of whom was Izzy Einstein, a former postal service worker. Izzy and his crew melted in well to the saloons and speakeasies, using a range of disguises. At one time or another he arrested bartenders while pretending to be a German pickle packer, a Polish count, a Hungarian violinist, a Yiddish gravedigger, an Italian fruit vendor, a Chinese launderer, a black man from Harlem and Mr. Peanut.
Despite the efforts of Izzy, Billy Sunday and the famous Carrie Nation, Prohibition ultimately failed in Chicago and elsewhere because of inadequate resources at the federal level and a lack of commitment at the state and local levels. Several states refused to pass prohibition laws, which meant that their law enforcement personnel had no authority to enforce federal prohibition laws. Also, it was clear that more than half the adult population wanted to carry on drinking. The 18th amendment to the U.S. Constitution passed in 1919, paving the way for Prohibition, was repealed in 1933 by the 21st amendment, which cancelled out the 18th. This is the only time in American history that a Constitutional amendment has been rescinded. Make a quick note of this for the next time you’re on Jeopardy.
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| Above, "Eat your heart out Dashiell Hammet;” below, the view from Lakefront Restaurant at twilight. |
We’re Off To The Coxville Zoo
Despite flying out of Gainesville Intergalactic Airport, we made it on time to Chicago and our new digs at the end of Navy Pier. The Pier stretches from downtown well out into Lake Michigan and all the rooms in our Sable Hotel overlooked the lake. The hotel, itself, was chummy, moderately expensive and convenient for our purposes. Unfortunately there was a brassy bar almost beneath our third floor room that featured hysterical yowling on the last night of our visit. Thank God for those little balls of cotton they put at the top of your medicine bottles which can be pulled apart and stuffed in your ears.
The Pier is ground zero for all boat rides on Lake Michigan. It also features a small amusement area with tiny carousels and the requisite giant Ferris wheel which all big cities are now obliged to have under penalty of being sniffed at for not being cool. Especially in the early morning, joggers and dog-walkers traverse the Pier in pursuit of health and beauty, often accompanied by varying degrees of fog. The views of the lake and skyline from the Sable windows are invariably smashing.
Siobhan and I have come to Chicago to visit Doctor Teepu Siddique of Northwestern University, the leading man in her non-profit company’s battle against Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Dr. Siddique, a native Pakistani who has been investigating the disease for nigh on to 30 years, is likely the most accomplished ALS researcher in the U.S. and perhaps the world. He is one of a baker’s dozen researchers Siobhan has tracked down and melded into a panel which meets via Zoom regularly to share information. This group is more progressive than your average ALS research teams, which don’t seem to be in much of a hurry. Siobhan does not have the benefit of unlimited time, since her main concern is her friend we've dubbed Captain Noonan, who has been wasting away with the disease for over three years now. Despite their many phone calls and Zoom meetings, this is will be the first time Siobhan and Dr. Siddique meet in person.
The meeting ground is the well-situated Lakefront Restaurant not far from downtown. The evening is pleasant, though cloudy, temperatures suited for outdoor dining. The food is good, the service uneven, but nobody cares since we’re here for lengthy discussion. Teepu’s affable American-born wife Nailah is the fourth participant in the affair. I have come to know the wives of these researchers quite well, as Siobhan’s talks with the academicians often reach stratospheric scientific levels which we commoners are unequipped to contemplate. Nailah turns out to be fun, the brilliant Chicago skyline sparkles in the distance and the walkers, runners and cyclists scampering through the nearby lakeside mists provide a wistful atmosphere. Our dinner table is a pleasant place to be. The company is good, the conversation easy and the surroundings elevating. The Windy City rarely disappoints in the halcyon days of Summer.
Cruising Down The River….
After dutifully checking to insure the Dave Matthews tour bus was nowhere in the vicinity, Nailah Siddique bought us all tickets for the Chicago Architecture Foundation Boat Tour, a midafternoon cruise on the Chicago River past strapping antique buildings which have stood the test of time. If that sounds like a snooze to you, you haven’t been reading USA Today’s Readers Choice poll which calls the trip the #1 boat tour in America.
For more than 25 years, the Architecture Center’s expertly trained volunteers have led the river cruise, sharing spectacular stories about more than 50 iconic buildings along the route. Riders learn how Chicago grew from a small settlement into one of the world’s largest cities in less than 100 years. Over the course of 90 minutes, customers get a great overview of Chicago, it’s architecture and its history. Our boat, the First Lady, was full but comfortable. The docent, an elderly woman, was extremely knowledgeable and spoke clearly with plenty of volume. She was passionate about her buildings and often funny.
When we approached the Kinzie Avenue Bridge everyone rose nervously for a moment of silence for the victims of what the volunteer woman called “the Disaster.” A few cruisers sneaked a peek upwards to insure no similar offenders lurked. After an agonizingly slow passage beneath the scarred span, everyone sat and exhaled. We were safe from Dave Matthews for another day.
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| Above, the Deadly Duo in Lincoln Park; below, the Teepu Crew. |
Teepu’s World
Over the last three years, Siobhan and I have learned a lot about ALS. If we had illusions that all scientists and researchers were pure of heart, we eventually accepted the reality that they are much like other humans, running the gauntlet from dedicated and genuine to dishonest and greedy. When you are doling out grants for studies to advance a hopeful new technology, as Siobhan’s Neurodegenerative Disease Research, Inc. does, prospective recipients will promise you anything and often deliver little. Finding the heroes requires slashing your way through the jungles of false promises and gilded information to reach the City of Gold.
One reason researchers are able to blithely report “Oh, well...” is that they are safely ensconced in their ivory towers having little face-to-face with victims of the disease. They don’t see the day-to-day deterioration, nor do they feel the despair. Many ALS victims are people who took excellent care of themselves, were in the peak of health, did everything they were supposed to do to remain vigorous and strong. Our captain Noonan is such an example. ALS doesn’t care. Whoever draws the short straw takes the gaspipe. Muscles weaken and twitch, there is a loss of mass. Joints stiffen. Speaking, swallowing and breathing become difficult. Mouth and throat muscles become paralyzed. It becomes more difficult to bring in oxygen. And all the while, the victim knows no cavalry will arrive, there will be no reprieve call from the governor.
Doctor Teepu Siddique sees all this because he is not just a researcher, he is directly involved with patients. Northwestern is unique in that ALS victims are presented with a team of helpmates to ease the struggle, allay the confusion, lead the way through the maze. The crew includes a nutritionist, a cardiologist, a respiratory specialist, a psychologist, the works. Almost anywhere else, ALS victims are on their own, dazed and confused, waging a lonely, terrified battle against impossible odds. Seeing the slaughter every day has a way of altering a man. Consider Teepu Siddique sufficiently altered.
On a walk through Lincoln Park after a visit to the Zoo, we walked together as Siobhan and Nailah lingered behind. Teepu was happy to have a free day, enjoyed his walk, had a spring in his step. The doctor is still vigorous at age 75.
“When will you retire, take some time for yourself?” I ask him. He smiles, a combination of sadness and good humor. “I think about retiring,” he says. “My wife would probably like it. Travel a bit. Go to Florida to see Siobhan’s goats. Maybe we will take a bit of a vacation, but retire, that would be difficult. When I dream about retiring, spending my life having fun, I think of my patients. I feel like I can still learn things, make discoveries, make a difference to humanity. So as long as I can make a contribution, I will carry on.” Then he smiles his patented Teepu smile and laughs. “Hey, I’m having fun now, right?
Whenever you have fears about the declining quality of the human race, think about Doctor Teepu Siddique toiling away in his lab up there in Chicago, confronted with the ultimate Rubik’s Cube of medicine. He will not be camping out in the Tetons this year or taking in a play on Broadway because he knows that ALS takes no holidays, that every year another 20,000 victims will be struck down and that he is one of the very few who has an iota of a chance to stop this heedless juggernaut. He has his mission and he chooses to accept it. Thank you, Teepu, and Godspeed!
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| A parting dinner at the Somerset Restaurant with Nailah, Teepu and daughter Niaz, who took the photo. |
That’s all, folks….
