Begin Here

Everyone has to start somewhere.

This is where it all began. In the center of the picture above is 8111 S. Chappel on the South Side of Chicago. These houses were called ‘bungalows’, I believe. They were built right after World War II so they were affordable for the GIs coming home from the war.

That may all be a lie, but it’s the story told to me by one of my brothers so there’s a 50/50 shot that it’s true.

Two houses to the left is where my best friend in the world, Mauricio, lived. We fought and argued all the time from the time we were 6 years old, which is how best friends in the world are made.

The triangular part of the roof where the windows are is where the attic is supposed to be, but once I came along in 1955, my two brothers used that as their bedroom, and I had the bedroom on the main floor next to the kitchen.

The windows on the main floor that you see are the windows in the living room. I’d like to tell you more about the living room, but we were never allowed in there. If the drapes were drawn open, sometimes I could see it from the outside, but not clear enough to give an accurate description.

In the bedroom upstairs, you had to be careful not to bump your head because, as you can see, the walls were slanted. My brother, Alan, was the interior decorator up there and the walls were covered in Playboy centerfolds. From the time I could crawl up those stairs I was exposed to women who were exposed. I loved his room.

That small patch of lawn in the front of the house, I believe, was an ancient Indian burial ground. It’s the only reason I can think of for my dad beating the hell out of me if he ever caught me playing on the front lawn. He took great care of that lawn and by the time winter was ready to set in, no matter what he did, it was mostly crabgrass, anyway. So, I wasn’t allowed to play on the crabgrass.

Horace Mann Elementary School was across the street and at the end of the block to the left. That’s where I was allowed to play; in their playground; even though the front lawn was so much closer and more convenient…and dangerous.

We lived there until I was going to enter seventh grade. Everyone was moving out of the neighborhood, and my mom decided it was time to move. I’m not sure where everyone else went, but we stayed on the South Side. We were movin’ on up, though. We moved to Pill Hill (nicknamed Pill Hill because a lot of doctors lived there and it was on a natural hill in Chicago, which was a rarity) with the rich people.

This was 1650 E. 92nd St. We had hit the big time. The center house was ours. The house on the right belonged to Rock & Roll Hall of Fame member, Curtis Mayfield.

And god help me if I got caught playing on the front lawn.

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