By John Lendman

Wednesday

It was doomsday. An inevitable movement. A reality nobody cared to think about—until they absolutely had to.

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Wednesday was an unusual morning for the fourth floor of the Chicago Tribune. This is where the features department is located, where I sit, surrounded by cubicles of busy reporters working on culture and entertainment stories. But on April 22, the Tribune Company had to make some tough decisions in the wake of last year’s Chapter 11 bankruptcy filings. Restructuring, redesign and repackaging stories seemed to be the new theme of the evolving paper, with layoffs becoming all too common.

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“So today’s the day,” one entertainment writer, I’ll refer to as Jim said at 10 AM, “I just don’t want to be in the office as it unfolds.”

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And that’s when his phone rang. It was a brief exchange but he knew exactly what it regarded. He exited to another room where the door closed behind him. The other writers in surrounding cubicles slowly stood up and glanced at each other, with their hands over their mouths.

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Another phone call came a few cubicles away from Jim’s. Another writer, who I’ll call Ted—who ironically wrote a blog about surviving the recession—answered and hung up just as quickly. He walked off in the same direction Jim did.

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At this point everyone noticeably stopped doing work and started looking at each other in an eerie anxiety. It was like a lottery, only there were no winners.

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As Jim walked to his desk we all looked at his somber face; searching for any kind of revealing expression. But before anyone could ask what happened he started saying his goodbyes in what sounded more like epitaph in first-person. He said goodbye to not only his colleagues, but his friends of so many years. He was oddly calm, but in retrospect how would anyone expect him to react?

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The writer that sits across from him, I’ll call Sarah, was speechless but stood staring at him like she had a mouthful to say. So, Jim spoke for her, reassuring her that he was going to be OK.

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Just then Sarah’s phone rang. She jumped; saw the caller ID, then started crying after finding out the call was merely a friend.

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One-by-one phones sporadically went off throughout the Chicago Tribune building, and one-by-one journalists were called into a conference room until noon when a mass email was shot to the remaining staff, informing them of the resulting aftermath—53 reporters.  The day’s layoffs had officially ended.

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I left soon after to help one of the remaining writers, I’ll call Mark, shoot video footage for a project he was working on.

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The long drive to the location we were shooting left for much reflection. I couldn’t help but think of how helpful Jim had been since the first day I started my internship. As a current journalism instructor, Jim was extremely accommodating and supportive when he really didn’t have to be. He often went out of his way to make sure I was busy and getting a worthwhile learning experience when ever I came in.

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Later that day, Jim and Mark were discussing the day’s events over the phone while we were driving back to the Tribune Tower.

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“Is John with you?” I could hear Jim ask loudly to Mark from the phone’s speaker. “Tell him I said hey. And tell him that it’s gonna get better, it’s not always like this, hopefully by the time he graduates.”

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“But is that really true?” Mark asked him, thinking I couldn’t hear the conversation.

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To which Jim replied: “Then could you just lie to him for me?”

Still second class citizens in Illinois

A lot of buzz is generating behind same-sex marriage in Illinois, following measures passed in Vermont and our neighbors in Iowa.

As a Midwestern “heartland” state, it seems unlikely to pass however. Many of us in liberal Chicago seem to forget the conservative constituency in the rest of Illinois. Even viewers polled on an ABC Channel 7 news poll voted 70-30 against same-sex marriage, similar to the Chicago Tribune poll results from three weeks ago.

According to the Chicago Tribune, it may take Illinois time to warm voters up to the idea of gay “marriage,” while settling on civil unions for a few years, like Vermont (which is more like “a separate, but equal” approach). It seems scripture-armed conservatives and “family” groups care not for a committed gay or lesbian couple’s right to visit each other in the hospital or share assets.

While civil unions allow for many of the same rights as married couples, it’s rarely recognized outside state limits. But I guess it could be worse, states like Utah, Arkansas, Michigan and Oklahoma won’t even let gay couples adopt.

What I like about living in Chicago’s Lake View is how common it is to see a gay couples holding hands or pushing a stroller, but it’s definitely a socially progressive bubble confined to so few locations in our country.

Other rights denied to gay and lesbian community: Serving openly in the military without fear of discharge, nationwide hate crime protections, nationwide employment non-discrimination laws and the American Red Cross denies gay men from donating blood, to name a few beyond marriage and adoption equality.

Hearing about all the road blocks in equality legislation, I can’t help but wonder how I am supposed to be proud of a country that denies me so many rights?

Everyblock search: Around Melrose St. & Broadway

The neighborhood I live in is Lake View, Boystown adjacent, right by the always open Melrose Diner, which I’ve only stumbled into after the 2 AM bars close. The neighborhood is surrounded by newly renovated apartments and condos, internet cafes, trendy restaurants, baby strollers and joggers.

There are tons of Asian restaurants around these blocks, with varying reviews on Yelp, such as Wakamono, Wangs, Joy’s Noodles and Rice, Ping Pong, New Tokyo, New Peaking, Sura Thai Bistro, Hatsu Hama, and Bamee Noodle Shop—many right across the street or next door to each other (all of which passed health inspections). A bunch of popular coffee shops are scattered in the area as well: The Coffee and Tea Exchange, Argo Tea, Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea, Caribou Coffee, and of course a Starbucks.

The most recent movie filmed here was “Public Enemies” with Johnny Depp. From what I remember, in March of last year, they parked 1920s buggies throughout the streets to shoot in the middle of the night.

The crime isn’t excessive, just a few domestic disputes and a recent shoplifter, kind of what you would expect from an adjacent suburb. Not much has happened in the news in this area, except for a review of the Lakeshore Theater by Broadway and Belmont.

Wake up call

As graduation nears, with all the Manifest and Commencement mailers pouring in, I can’t help but fear it’s coming too fast, with me unprepared.

I haven’t even applied for any jobs after I graduate, like many of my peers—although they’re all getting turned down left and right for anything “paid.” I keep getting told I may have to move to find work, anything available, which scares me the most.

I can’t imagine reinvesting in another city like Chicago. I moved here after high school five years ago, earnestly absorbing the culture of the city whenever possible. It took forever. From learning about all the theater groups and art galleries to making contacts at city departments, cultural hubs and community centers, it didn’t just happen over a few Google searches.

Pragmatically, I haven’t applied to my favorite magazines and newspapers in New York City and Los Angeles (which could be more pessimism than pragmatism), and I know I’ll probably be working retail for awhile as well. The reality is the next few years are going to be the toughest of my life without the safety net of college opportunities and internships.

And all I can think about is all the 30-somethings I’ve worked with over the years in shoe stores and coffee shops with ambitious degrees in art history, fashion design and theater, unapplied over the stress of paying off student loans. I can’t remember how many potential actors and lead singers for indie bands I’ve maintained sale racks with. I always assumed they just didn’t want it badly enough or failed in some way of fulfilling their aspirations. Not me though, no—I knew where I saw myself after graduation. I refuse to see myself in them but I’m certain they’ve dreaded the same fate. And now repayment letters from my bank are flooding in with the rest of the bills and I’m still an unpaid intern at a bankrupt newspaper.

Podcastic

The only Podcast I ever really listen to regularly is NPR’s This American Life, which I know is going to be every budding journalist’s choice.

It offers a well documented snapshot into the everyday lives of interesting people and events while captivating listeners with inspiring—and sometimes chilling—interviews. I usually listen in to hear how they report on difficult issues to get tips on how to be more conversational in my writing.

One of my favorite shows was one they did here in Chicago at the Wiener Circle in Lincoln Park. It’s basically a 24 hour hot dog and hamburger stand where the obscenely rude “ladies” taking orders make cracks at the customers and cuss out people who take up too much of their time.

The angle This American Life took was more than just a profile of the popular business, but a look into how hurtful this snarky—and often racist—exchange of blows can be to the workers. It made me completely take a second look at a place I often avoided for their lack of professionalism. The writing for the show was captivating to say the least with unique coverage.

Becoming an addict

Ok, so I’ve been updating my Twitter account quite often for the past few weeks with a range of musings and links, and find that I check my Facebook page a few times a day as well. Is this normal?

The Twitter thing I can’t help, it’s part of an assignment for this online journalism class, but Facebook has me fixated on uploading photos, links, updating my status and checking out everyone else’s content. It’s an obsession in defining the best traits of your identity, like rolling up to your class reunion in a Lexus and wearing an expensive suit.

I overheard people saying they were going to give up Facebook for Lent and I thought they were crazy. How will they know if someone tagged them in a photo at some party or added them in a chain letter note? How will their friends know if they’re having an exceptionally bad day that can only be described in a witty status? And more importantly, how will you know when a surge of friends have joined an anti-Willis-Tower group?