40 years ago

Carl Schwebl and Bill McKenzie Jr., interim owners and saviors of the Review, hired a “rookie” columnist named Bob Haeger. His “Once Over Lightly” (O-O-L) column included local tidbits, some larger and some smaller than others. Two examples:

“This week’s award for straightforwardness goes without serious competition to a young man who wrote to a local merchant about his past due account. ‘I know I owe you $193 and just want you to know I’m getting married next month to a girl with money.’ The mailman must have rejoiced, too, because the note was written on a postcard.”

O-O-L No. 2: “I can’t help noticing how many keep mispronouncing that gland which causes so much distress in adult males, the prostate. There’s no second R in the word. Otherwise, you’re describing yourself or someone lying facedown as if zonked out.” (Or supine if you’re flat on your back, face up. Or is that sublime? No, that’s ecstatic, like former background radio noise.)

From the Sept. 30, 1970 Forest Park Review

30 years ago

Most people are aware of the world’s ills. Others do something about it, like Forest Park’s Patricia (Pat) DiCola who gave more than 1,000 weekend days to paralyzed war vets at the Hines Veterans’ Administration Hospital in Maywood. With so many veterans utilizing the hospital on an inpatient and outpatient basis, it’s hard to separate the hustle from the bustle. Yet there’s one sector, the Spinal Injury Ward, where action, mobility and sometimes simple movement is a sparse commodity.

Ms. DiCola became a volunteer extraordinaire in 1975, serving with hundreds of others who provided arms and legs to a thousand war vets who had lost the use of their limbs. She was singled out at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare in October of 1980 with a handful of other volunteers never too busy to share their time with those confined to wheel chairs or worse yet, their beds. Special thanks and recognition went to her in the form of a humanitarian plaque with thanks and recognition.

Presenters were Congressman Henry J. Hyde and former Texas Governor John B. Connally. Pat DiCola responded to the award presentation with these words: “Just being there (the 1,000 hours) was enough for me. Just [us volunteers] being there was everything to the troops.”

From the October 1, 1980 Forest Park Review

20 years ago

A Forest Park police officer remained a suspect in the matter of thousands of dollars missing from the coffers of the Fraternal Order of Police. An audit first disclosed the shortfall in March 1989, after which the U.S. Attorney’s Office subpoenaed all financial records, declaring it an open case.

FOP president and Sgt. Michael Mayman then turned the matter over to the State’s Attorney’s Office, which refused comment pending return of all the confiscated records.

During this runaround, the suspected police officer resigned, not from the force, but from his secretary-treasurer position with the Fraternal Order, citing “other responsibilities.” It remained unclear whether or not the investigation was related to other federal probes involving local mob activities.

From the October 17, 1990 Forest Park Review

10 years ago

For those who like a little rough edge to their holiday humor … some say the late Henny Youngman was the world’s quickest joke-teller. Two examples:

“Telephone rings at the New York law firm of Schlemmer, Schlemmer, Schlemmer and Schlemmer: Hello, let me talk to Schlemmer. / He’s in Detroit on business. / Well, let me talk to Schlemmer. / He’s getting divorced. / Let me talk to Schlemmer then. / He’s watching a football game. / Well then, let me talk to Schlemmer. / Speaking.”


Doctor to patient: “I’ll give you six months.”

Patient to doctor: “I don’t have any money.”

Doctor to patient: “I’ll give you six more months.”


And the one-liner that got him launched: “Take my wife. Please.”

From any December issue of any year

Bob was born in Yonkers, N.Y., in 1932. His family encouraged him to join the Air Force (ours) during the Korean War. There, he fell into the clutches of Barbara Miles. They still have two world-class daughters, Jill and Cara. “Each of the four of us likes the other three of us,” says Bob.