By John H. Sibley

"You may be big and financially tall, but guess what, one day you may fall, UIC & Chicago, you are not smart at all." - Jimmie Lee Robinson

It was a cold, morgue-like Sunday afternoon in January as I devoured one of Jim's Original famous Polish sausages. The pungent open-air odor wafted past my nostrils as the hot grilled onions clung to my mouth like blood-sucking leeches.

As I washed down the Polish with a grape pop, I glanced at my watch and patiently waited for Roosevelt economics professor Steve Balkin, vice president of the Historic Preservation Coalition of Maxwell Street. He contacted me because of a nostalgic piece that I wrote in New City (a free Chicago weekly) about Maxwell Street. Steve suggested that he take me on a tour to show me the historic marketplace that soon would be demolished by UIC. A marketplace that was started 120 years ago by Russian Jewish immigrants, this was one of the few areas not damaged by the Chicago fire of 1871, which became home to many immigrant cultures, including African-American, Greek, Irish, Italian, and Mexican.

After waiting for a while, I walked half a block down a deserted street and gazed at a cloudy, sorrowful, and disheveled sky. It cast its graven shadows down upon a street that was once seething with existence. Now it was as silent as slain rats rotting belly-up in the noonday sun. I noticed: a culture that was the birthplace of the cryin' strings of electrified blues, a mode of being-in-the-world based on a blues epistemology of feeling the world intuitively but with anticipation.

To quote Associate Professor of Anthropology at UIC Michael Dietler's appeal letter to Katherine Stevenson of the National Park Service: "it is astonishing to me that the University of Illinois at Chicago still does not recognize the historical treasure that lies in its backyard. Maxwell Street is not just another quaint neighborhood for which a few people have a certain sentimental regard. It is a uniquely important landmark in the history of music and in the history of Chicago, and the blues constitutes Chicago's greatest claim to international fame."

I walked further down the street and saw parked bulldozers, bobcats, cranes, scrappers, and excavators that reminded me of Sherman tanks in 'Nam, with blood splattered on their mucous-green exoskeletons. I kneeled down and grabbed a handful of ashes and dust mixed with blood, sweat, and tears of forgotten bluesmen like Baby Face Leroy, Muddy Waters, Jimmy Rogers, Little Walter, Buddy Guy, and Junior Wells.

As a boy, my uncle Miles, who sold two-wheeled metallic and refurbished shopping carts, would take me to Jewtown (Jimmie Lee Robinson stated that Maxwell Street in the olden days was known respectfully as Jewtown) every Sunday. I have always been overwhelmed by the palette-like sounds, colors, and acrid smells that blanketed the marketplace. For a long time I have felt that Maxwell Street and markets like it around the world are economic engines, supplying opportunity for the have-nots and the socially marginalized.

As a young artist, I viewed Maxwell Street as a place in Rome, where an artist like Caravagio would sell tiny oil still-lifes. I used to do portraits and caricatures on Sundays, not for money, but to be drenched in the spontaneous energy of the wah-wah-wang of the blues guitar of Muddy Waters, which is descended from the coded field songs of slaves.

At the University of Illinois at Chicago, students listened, in their new condo dorms, to English rock groups like the Rolling Stones, Cream, Led Zeppelin, and many others who tried to pluck and duplicate notes created by the Maxwell Street bluesmen. It is critically important that they realize that their dorms were built upon the cradle of Chicago's most influential musical contribution to the world.

"In my view, Maxwell Street has similar potential as a focus of development for the University neighborhood. Something along the lines of Beale Street in Memphis. I would also argue for the importance of establishing a Blues Museum," Dietler stated so passionately.

Maxwell Street's place in American and world history has already been carved out. At this point, because the Proposed Maxwell Street Historic District is not eligible for listing in the National Register of Historic Places, its fate is sealed. But, why not a Maxwell Street Blues Museum? This would serve as an intellectual bridge to UIC, a tourist attraction, and a cultural center displaying the archival evolution of the most distinctive music in the world - a site of homage and pilgrimage for blues fans around the world.

The controversial issues orbiting the demolition of Maxwell Street touch on anthropology, archaeology, musicology, economic and microeconomic analysis. As Roosevelt economics professor Steve Balkin states: "Public policy concerning the informal economy and phenomenon of street markets in general warrants serious and deliberative attention. The elimination of the Maxwell Street market imposes a cost on users of at least $35.2 million. Adding to indirect non-user losses from reducing spending of the vendors (the multiplier effect) brings the total estimate to $49.3 million. The Maxwell Street market involved 850-plus vendors selling to 20,000 shoppers at peak times of the year. The real reason for the destruction of the market is the mayor's insistence that the market be moved. Why did the mayor insist? UIC was pushed into this land deal because the mayor and ward alderman wanted to accelerate gentrification."

In the last quarter century, American cities have been increasingly under siege by greedy land developers and right-wing forces. They do not realize that by riding the A train, you view an urban landscape full of vitality and cultural genius.

"As long as I live, I shall continue to fight with the Coalition to preserve Maxwell Street, and her history. We will not go away. We will continue to fight."

If you are interested in the Maxwell Street Coalition efforts to encourage UIC to build a blues museum on Maxwell Street, I urge you to visit www.openair.org/maxwell/preserve.html, or contact Mayor Daley's office at (312) 744-4000, request 311 (public comments), and make sure your called is logged in.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

John Sibley's novel BODYSLICK will go on sale June 24 2008. He writes about the inpact of Maxwell Street bluesmen in the preface. He also mentions Steve Balkin's preservation efforts. Go to: www.kensingtonbooks.com to read the synopsis.

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