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From Plymouth Rock to Quincy granite, the South Shore of Boston has been a place of revolution, relaxation and revelation. Artists have gained inspiration from the meeting of sea and shore, enemy navies have targeted its strategic ports and, in better days, merrymakers have sought its warming sun, cooling breezes, amusement parks and historic and natural landmarks. The Toll House Cookie, the song "When the Red, Red Robin (Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along)" and the U.S. Navy's rallying cry "Don't give up the ship " all were South Shore born. John Galluzzo, author of "The North River: Scenic Waterway of the South Shore" and "When Hull Freezes Over," gathers the best of his "Look Back" column in this compilation of historic vignettes from "South Shore Living" magazine.
Insull launched an aggressive marketing campaign producing booklets, movies, and in particular a set of colorful, artistic posters, which attracted many from Illinois to the sand dunes and steel mills of Northwest Indiana.
A treasure trove of history, profiling many aspects of life in Northwest Indiana. There's the first trolley car to enter Crown Point; the 1954 blast at the Whiting Refinery; the efforts to create the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore in 1966, and the years of effort that lead up to it. There's World War II, the Korean War, and the Cold War. And there's also people having fun, creating communities, making history on the local level. Savor this trip down memory lane!
From Plymouth Rock to Quincy granite, the South Shore of Boston has been a place of revolution, relaxation and revelation. Artists have gained inspiration from the meeting of sea and shore, enemy navies have targeted its strategic ports and, in better days, merrymakers have sought its warming sun, cooling breezes, amusement parks and historic and natural landmarks. The Toll House Cookie, the song When the Red, Red Robin (Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along)" and the U.S. Navy's rallying cry "Don't give up the ship " all were South Shore born. John Galluzzo, author of "The North River: Scenic Waterway of the South Shore" and "When Hull Freezes Over," gathers the best of his "Look Back" column in this compilation of historic vignettes from "South Shore Living" magazine."
A New York Times Book Review Notable Book of 2020 Winner of the Ernest J. Gaines Award for Literary Excellence “A comically dark coming-of-age story about growing up on the South Side of Chicago, but it’s also social commentary at its finest, woven seamlessly into the work . . . Bump’s meditation on belonging and not belonging, where or with whom, how love is a way home no matter where you are, is handled so beautifully that you don’t know he’s hypnotized you until he’s done.” —Tommy Orange, The New York Times Book Review In this alternately witty and heartbreaking debut novel, Gabriel Bump gives us an unforgettable protagonist, Claude McKay Love. Claude isn’t dangerous or brilliant—he’s an average kid coping with abandonment, violence, riots, failed love, and societal pressures as he steers his way past the signposts of youth: childhood friendships, basketball tryouts, first love, first heartbreak, picking a college, moving away from home. Claude just wants a place where he can fit. As a young black man born on the South Side of Chicago, he is raised by his civil rights–era grandmother, who tries to shape him into a principled actor for change; yet when riots consume his neighborhood, he hesitates to take sides, unwilling to let race define his life. He decides to escape Chicago for another place, to go to college, to find a new identity, to leave the pressure cooker of his hometown behind. But as he discovers, he cannot; there is no safe haven for a young black man in this time and place called America. Percolating with fierceness and originality, attuned to the ironies inherent in our twenty-first-century landscape, Everywhere You Don’t Belong marks the arrival of a brilliant young talent.
Here is the new, expanded edition of William D. Middleton's much-admired book on the Chicago South Shore and South Bend Railroad. In more than 250 photographs, maps, and schematic drawings, the rising and sinking fortunes of this technological triumph are chronicled from the first decade of the 20th century to the present day. Using the same technology that produced the electric street railway, the interurbans helped bridge the gap between the horse-and-buggy era in rural America to the modern age of paved highways and family automobiles. The Chicago South Shore Line is unique among the nearly 10,000 lines operating at the end of World War I, not because it didn't suffer the same triumphs and tragedies, but because it is the only one to have survived. It still provides electric transportation over precisely the same route it has served since the first decade of the 20th century. South Shore: The Last Interurban is essential reading for all those interested in rapid transit, railroads, railroad history, and the impact of America's last interurban.
This portrait of Chicago’s South Shore and its people is “a thought-provoking deep dive into a neighborhood that remains in perpetual transition” (Kirkus Reviews). An urban neighborhood remakes itself every day—and unmakes itself, too. It is houses and stores and streets, but it’s also people—the people who make it their home, some eagerly, others grudgingly. A neighborhood can thrive or it can decline, and neighbors move in and move out. Sometimes they stay but withdraw behind fences and burglar alarms. If a neighborhood becomes no longer a place of sociability and street life, but of privacy indoors and fearful distrust outdoors, is it still a neighborhood? In the late 1960s and 1970s Carlo Rotella grew up in Chicago’s South Shore neighborhood—a place of neat bungalow blocks and desolate commercial strips, and sharp, sometimes painful social contrasts. In the decades since, the hollowing out of the middle class has left residents confronting—or avoiding—each other across an expanding gap that makes it ever harder for them to recognize each other as neighbors. Rotella tells the stories that reveal how that happened—stories of deindustrialization; stories of gorgeous apartments with vistas onto Lake Michigan and of Section 8 housing vouchers held by the poor. At every turn, South Shore is a study in contrasts, shaped and reshaped over the past half-century by individual stories and larger waves of change that make it an exemplar of many American urban neighborhoods. Talking with current and former residents and looking carefully at the interactions of race and class, persistence and change, Rotella explores the tension between residents’ deep investment of feeling and resources in the physical landscape of South Shore and their hesitation to make a similar commitment to the community of neighbors living there. “Unlike any work of contemporary urban studies that I know. It combines elements of journalism, archival research, ethnography, and memoir in a study of South Shore—the South Side, Chicago, neighborhood in which Carlo grew up, in the 1970s. It’s at times lyrical, at times analytic, and always engaging.” —Eric Klinenberg, Public Books
This is a personal memoir of good times in Chicago back in the days when candy bars and White Castles cost a mere 5 cents. Chicago is a "city of neighborhoods," whether you are talking about Chinatown, Canaryville, Bridgeport, Beverly, South Chicago, Bronzeville, Hyde Park, Woodlawn or Englewood. This story takes place in the old South Shore neighborhood nestled on Lake Michigan between Jackson Park to the north and the booming steel mills to the south. My cousin, Dr. Bruce Hannon of the University of Illinois, used to say, "Good people make a good place good" and South Shore was one of those places...
An urban neighborhood remakes itself every day—and unmakes itself, too. Houses and stores and streets define it in one way. But it’s also people—the people who make it their home, some eagerly, others grudgingly. A neighborhood can thrive or it can decline, and neighbors move in and move out. Sometimes they stay but withdraw behind fences and burglar alarms. If a neighborhood becomes no longer a place of sociability and street life, but of privacy indoors and fearful distrust outdoors, is it still a neighborhood? In the late 1960s and 1970s Carlo Rotella grew up in Chicago’s South Shore neighborhood—a place of neat bungalow blocks and desolate commercial strips, and sharp, sometimes painful social contrasts. In the decades since, the hollowing out of the middle class has left residents confronting—or avoiding—each other across an expanding gap that makes it ever harder for them to recognize each other as neighbors. Rotella tells the stories that reveal how that happened—stories of deindustrialization and street life; stories of gorgeous apartments with vistas onto Lake Michigan and of Section 8 housing vouchers held by the poor. At every turn, South Shore is a study in contrasts, shaped and reshaped over the past half-century by individual stories and larger waves of change that make it an exemplar of many American urban neighborhoods. Talking with current and former residents and looking carefully at the interactions of race and class, persistence and change, Rotella explores the tension between residents’ deep investment of feeling and resources in the physical landscape of South Shore and their hesitation to make a similar commitment to the community of neighbors living there. Blending journalism, memoir, and archival research, The World Is Always Coming to an End uses the story of one American neighborhood to challenge our assumptions about what neighborhoods are, and to think anew about what they might be if we can bridge gaps and commit anew to the people who share them with us. Tomorrow is another ending.