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Forty Years Ago

Chester Czajuk of Chicago was walking past 7400 Roosevelt Road when he was accosted by a man wielding a black revolver. He demanded-and got-Czajuk’s wallet. It contained $114. Not far away, Gladys Thompson of the 1000 block of Hannah Avenue was walking home when a man shoved her. As she fell, he snatched her purse, carrying nearly $100 in coins. No murder in either case, but comedian Flip Wilson had a line for such behavior when he said, “The cost of living is going up, but the chance of living was going down.”

As long as we’re into useful quotes, even though New Years’ Eve over-celebrations are past, this observation by Woody Guthrie still rings true: “Lot’s of thoughts in a pint; not so many in a quart.”

From the Dec. 14, 1967, issues of the Forest Park Review

Thirty Years Ago

“Every which way is wrong.” Or, “not only must your brother fail, but you must outdo him tenfold.” An 18-year-old loser had designs on the contents of the cash register at the Astro-Putt Miniature Golf Co., 7300 Madison St. He made a post-midnight visit, uprooted the register from the counter, tried beating it to death in his effort to open it and nearly ruptured himself getting it home-for fear of waking neighbors.

Next day, the lovable loser dragged it out to his apartment alley and resumed his assault. While bludgeoning the bee-jays out of the safe, he caused a neighborly commotion. Inevitably, police arrived, found him and the cash register at odds, and delivered both to the station house. There it was discovered that the money box contained nothing at all. To complicate family matters, his younger brother had been arrested the day before for shoplifting and theft at A&P. (Another quote: “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop.”)

From the Dec. l2, 1977, Forest Park Review

Twenty Years Ago

And the last of the Swifties go to Tom: “I told that bootblack I wanted a better shine,” he rebuffed … “I have a complaint to make to you Hertz people,” he said, truck-you-lent-me … “We are revenue agents,” they said collectively … “My favorite writer is Hemingway,” said Tom, earnestly … “I can’t find the bananas,” she said fruitlessly … “Let’s get out of the boiling sun,” said Elizabeth Barrett, browning … “I wrote ‘The Adventures of Augie March,'” Saul bellowed … “I guess I’ll be wearing my surgical stockings,” Tom sup-hosed … “I’m all out of Milky Ways,” said Tom, holding no bars … “I wish they’d play a card game other than Old Maid,” he sighed, whistfuly … “Gee, but I feel bright and shiny,” he reflected … “That tartar is especially saucy, said Tom, with relish … “There’s my ‘Coy Mistress,'” Andrew marveled … “I’m going to re-enlist,” he rejoined … “And then I wrote ‘All quiet on the Western Front,'” Erich remarqued … “I wonder how AT&T is doing,” he speculated … “There’s rumbling in the distance,” he thundered … “I’ve got a straight flush and you’ve only got four-of-a-kind,” he said high-handedly … “Bad grapes,” said Tom sourly … “I’ve forgotten what I wanted to buy,” he said listlessly … “I make a thousand a day,” he said, grandly … “At last I’ve got my sports car,” said Tom, triumphantly.

From the missing pages of 1987

Ten Years Ago

After 7:30 p.m., closing time, the female clerk at the currency exchange on Roosevelt Road across from the mall had just balanced out and put things in order for the next business day. Outside, she unlocked her car, swung open the door and was about to slide in. A hand held the door, a gun was pointed at her and a command to return to the exchange was given. Inside, the hold-up man ordered her to open the safe and place the money-$5l,000-in a plastic bag. He then tied the woman’s hands and legs with telephone cord, and took his leave. It wasn’t known how he fled the area, although his victim heard a car door slam.

From the Dec. 17, 1997, Forest Park Review