A little over a year ago, I shared some memories from the 60th floor of Chicago's magnificent Marina City, known to some as the "corncobs." You can read the whole episode yourself if you go back to May of 2006 on this blog site.
I never thought I would ever return unless I knew someone who lived there, and that was pretty much a no-go. I even thought at one time it would be neat to just be walking through the lobby with a curious, in-awe look on my face that would attract the curiosity of a resident who would say, "Well, would you like to see the view again from the 60th floor?"
Conventional wisdom said that wasn't going to happen.
But it did - and I owe at least a little of this good fortune to my good friend Eric, who like me, likes to take pictures of trains which he emails to everyone that he knows who likes trains. That's how we met - on an online railroad enthusiasts' discussion thread. I responded to something he left, he responded to me, and the rest , well, you know how it goes. I call him my sorta-kinda nephew. Sorta kinda or not, he's a good luck charm - when we're together something extraordinary takes place.
Eric and I traveled to Chicago to see a few downtown sites, some of the places that were really important to me over my growing-up years that I couldn't resist sharing. Marina City is one of those places.
We're walking through the building's lobby after blitzing through Macy's Department Store and ran into but a broker for Marina City Real Estate. His name is Mike. Eric thinks he noticed my camera and might have thought we were tourists and just curious about the building, both of which were more or less true. Mike hands me a card announcing a website called http://www.marinacityonline.com/. All kinds of neat stuff about the building can be found there (if I can ever get past the home page).
While talking with Mike, I get nostalgic and chat him up about going up on the roof in 1969 when my hair was brown and I cavorted around the loop in a pair of brown plaid bermuda shorts. I share my memories of the ABC television masts up there and the light show they put on for downtown Chicago. Our new friend dons the role of the gracious tour guide and asks us if we'd like to see the roof. My heart goes into my throat and I cannot believe this is happening. But then I think of the biting cold weather. . .what if I should get blown over the rail and fall through the ceiling of the House of Blues? How will Eric get back to the Metra station?. . .what if our tour guide isn't really a tour guide but a felon who is going to hold Eric and I up there for ransom? Eric reminds me we have cell phones; while we try to out run our captor as in a Mack Sennett comedy chase we can call for help on our cell phones. Collecting common sense, I decide that nothing ventured is nothing gained; let's go for it. Up we shoot to the 61st floor only to find the outer door locked.
I whip out my cell phone, activate the camera, and shoot a photo through the glass - what a view to send to my wife and our kids! I then get ouy my regular camera and shoot some scenes looking northwest and north - how great is this? Mike tries the door again, no luck, it's locked. We'll be back next spring. At least I know I'm not going to fall to my death from the roof today.
He invites Eric and I down to the 5st floor to see his residence. The view overlooking the Chicago River and Wacker Drive looks and feels as good as it did in 1968. The sense of wonderment never dies, even if the hair follicles start loosening up and the mane fades from brown to gray. This is a kind of God-moment for me. Okay, email me and tell me how twisted that sounds.
Mike is a real estate broker for Marina City and he's paid to do this kind of promotion. I understand that point, but let me counter it by saying that I wasn't exactly dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit with a matching pair of Florsheim's making me reek of urban sophistication. Both Eric and I were dressed for the day in sweater and jeans. A trip to wander downtown stores doesn't usually call for a men's haberdasher to outfit and I felt comfortably inconspicuous. So I'm pretty sure Mike didn't think I was the next client to buy a prime view on the 59th floor.
Mike is one of the people that are like sprinkles on sugar cookies, the glaze on a Krispy Creme donut, the nice guy who is genuinely friendly, open, and in our case, accomodating. If I lived in the towers, I'd be the same way.
He's that person and I'm thankful he came our way - thanks, Mike, for the tour, the hospitality, and allowing us to see the view just as the first snow storm of 2007 got underway before we made our way back to the train.
Now, if we can only find that roof door unlocked next time. . . .
Conventional wisdom said that wasn't going to happen.
But it did - and I owe at least a little of this good fortune to my good friend Eric, who like me, likes to take pictures of trains which he emails to everyone that he knows who likes trains. That's how we met - on an online railroad enthusiasts' discussion thread. I responded to something he left, he responded to me, and the rest , well, you know how it goes. I call him my sorta-kinda nephew. Sorta kinda or not, he's a good luck charm - when we're together something extraordinary takes place.
Eric and I traveled to Chicago to see a few downtown sites, some of the places that were really important to me over my growing-up years that I couldn't resist sharing. Marina City is one of those places.
We're walking through the building's lobby after blitzing through Macy's Department Store and ran into but a broker for Marina City Real Estate. His name is Mike. Eric thinks he noticed my camera and might have thought we were tourists and just curious about the building, both of which were more or less true. Mike hands me a card announcing a website called http://www.marinacityonline.com/. All kinds of neat stuff about the building can be found there (if I can ever get past the home page).
While talking with Mike, I get nostalgic and chat him up about going up on the roof in 1969 when my hair was brown and I cavorted around the loop in a pair of brown plaid bermuda shorts. I share my memories of the ABC television masts up there and the light show they put on for downtown Chicago. Our new friend dons the role of the gracious tour guide and asks us if we'd like to see the roof. My heart goes into my throat and I cannot believe this is happening. But then I think of the biting cold weather. . .what if I should get blown over the rail and fall through the ceiling of the House of Blues? How will Eric get back to the Metra station?. . .what if our tour guide isn't really a tour guide but a felon who is going to hold Eric and I up there for ransom? Eric reminds me we have cell phones; while we try to out run our captor as in a Mack Sennett comedy chase we can call for help on our cell phones. Collecting common sense, I decide that nothing ventured is nothing gained; let's go for it. Up we shoot to the 61st floor only to find the outer door locked.
I whip out my cell phone, activate the camera, and shoot a photo through the glass - what a view to send to my wife and our kids! I then get ouy my regular camera and shoot some scenes looking northwest and north - how great is this? Mike tries the door again, no luck, it's locked. We'll be back next spring. At least I know I'm not going to fall to my death from the roof today.
He invites Eric and I down to the 5st floor to see his residence. The view overlooking the Chicago River and Wacker Drive looks and feels as good as it did in 1968. The sense of wonderment never dies, even if the hair follicles start loosening up and the mane fades from brown to gray. This is a kind of God-moment for me. Okay, email me and tell me how twisted that sounds.
Mike is a real estate broker for Marina City and he's paid to do this kind of promotion. I understand that point, but let me counter it by saying that I wasn't exactly dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit with a matching pair of Florsheim's making me reek of urban sophistication. Both Eric and I were dressed for the day in sweater and jeans. A trip to wander downtown stores doesn't usually call for a men's haberdasher to outfit and I felt comfortably inconspicuous. So I'm pretty sure Mike didn't think I was the next client to buy a prime view on the 59th floor.
Mike is one of the people that are like sprinkles on sugar cookies, the glaze on a Krispy Creme donut, the nice guy who is genuinely friendly, open, and in our case, accomodating. If I lived in the towers, I'd be the same way.
He's that person and I'm thankful he came our way - thanks, Mike, for the tour, the hospitality, and allowing us to see the view just as the first snow storm of 2007 got underway before we made our way back to the train.
Now, if we can only find that roof door unlocked next time. . . .
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