Forty Years Ago

Charles Pos of Chicago stopped at a fast food place for a cup of coffee. Later in the day, he was afraid it might have cost him $78. He back-tracked the day’s stops in his search for the missing money. Meanwhile, Fred Krumwiede, 7412 Madison, found the money and turned it over to the fast food manager, yet he failed to leave his name. Pos came back, retrieved the cash, learned that Fred was a Proviso High School student and went there to thank and reward him.

Shortly afterward, school principal Hubert Pitt sent a letter to Krumwiede’s parents saying in part, “I compliment you for raising a boy with an understanding of honesty. Too often today, young people are criticized for adverse behavior, and not enough is said about the really nice things they do.”

To jump to the present, let me share a note my wife and I found under the wiper blades of our car just last week: “Hi, I’m sorry, but I accidentally scratched your car (right rear door, under handle). It is a small white dot. Call me at 708-XXX-XXXX.”

It’s more than nice to be reminded that honesty may yet outlast the ENRONs, WORLDCOMs and political scandals of these mean times. By the way, the “scratch” was less than a trifle, and I’ve decided I want to talk to this person, who I already like.

From the Feb. 1965 issues of the Forest Park Review

Thirty Years Ago

Looks like the unemployment problem was pretty severe early in 1975. Editor Larry Kaercher had an idea that he thought might be beneficial to the Forest Park unemployed.

He said that the REVIEW would accept “Situations Wanted” ads free of charge; these ads might be found under the heading, “Help Wanted” or “Job Seekers Anonymous.”

He felt that there were many talented and skilled individuals in town who were unemployed, and that the paper could also serve the needs of many local manufacturers and merchants. He also urged our Chamber of Commerce members to hire locally if at all possible.

Regarding the old “What books would you take if stranded on a deserted isle?” routine: Most answers include stuff like Shakespeare, the Bible or at least John Grisham. How about some bold, new choices like, “101 Ways to Cook Sand,” “The Versatile Coconut” or that old favorite, “Bowditch’s Practical Guide to Shipbuilding.”

From the Feb. 1975 issues of the Forest Park Review

Twenty Years Ago

Let’s focus on the building at the southeast corner of Madison and Circle. That’s what editor Bob Heager did in February of 1985, before Circle Video set up shop there. When the building went up, in 1927, the Forest Parker newspaper described it as “a monument to artistic architecture constructed of expensive face brick and terra cotta.” It housed the Lande Brothers Department Store. In the ’70s and ’80s it was occupied by the Chicago Motor Club. Upstairs was the Lady Bug Thrift Shop with apartment dwellers on floors two and three.

It cost $300,000 to “build,” and was “billed” as the largest and finest store of its kind west of Chicago (hmm). On Grand Opening Day you could buy Palmolive Soap for five cents, rag rugs (for taking to kindergarten) for 37 cents, men’s Flannelette pajamas for $1.29 or Turkish towels for 15 cents. Haeger wasn’t sure, but didn’t think this store or its rival in the Hain building one block east (Madison and Marengo) lasted through the Depression.

From the Feb. 1985 issues of the Forest Park Review

Ten Years Ago

Al Buerger was a fine math teacher here. When he retired he was a fine monthly contributor to this newspaper. The column on “specialty camps”–used to be summer camps, but then things got too particularized.

Wrote Al: “My first experience with being tied up and Fed-Exed to camp was at age 12. It was Camp Ranamucka in upstate Wisconsin, an interfaith facility where I was sadistically [yet ecumenically] beaten by boys of all races, religions and creeds.”

He went on to describe being sent to a succession of camps; one with a Hassidic bent that was big on kosher cookouts. Another was a Neo-Christian fringe group that venerated born-again jocks. Finally, there were camps catering to the needs of speech-afflicted future broadcasters, cross dressers and terminally-driven flashers.

Who Remembers? Jean Hersholt … Bob Saget (hard to take) … spats (a la Fred Astaire (easy to take) … Mystery writer Mickey Spillane (Could he still be living? and his alter-ego, Mike Hammer?) … the Body Politic … The Kingston Mines … the Kingston Trio … Kingston, N.Y.

From the Feb. 1995 issues of the Forest Park Review