McDonough Is Trying
To Rejuvenate Downtown

I had the pleasure of a few hours with Paul
McDonough a short while ago. He took me on
a tour of Kenosha’s downtown and the many
buildings he has bought, refurbished and is in
the process of filling with quality tenants.
His golden retriever, Autumn, walked with
us and seemed to share Paul’s enjoyment of
our city. You see, Paul is not a Kenoshan. He
resides in that often ridiculed state that lies
south of Russell Road. He originally came
from Connecticut.
His heroic efforts to rejuvenate
our dormant downtown
have been met with the same
familiar (and tiresome) cynicism
that graced the museums,
the trolley, the Virginia,
HarborMarket and about any
other novel idea to improve our
city. Although a visionary, his
engineering background keeps
him well-grounded as to what
works and what looks good — the evidence lies
up and down Sixth Avenue.
Listening to his love of history, art and
architecture could lead one to forget that he
is a pragmatic businessman. Don’t make that
mistake.
I have been around real estate most of my
life and never met a landlord who gives all
of his tenants a loaf of Irish soda bread on St.
Patrick’s Day.
Paul’s true nature showed when we passed
a resident of the Dayton: “People are so troubled
by their appearance, yet, we should be
hugging their necks for what they have done
for us.” I think I want to work for this guy.
Terry Tynan
Somers

K.A.C.--Good for Kenosha

Doing Business With K.A.C.

Patti forgot her lunch again this morning. I drove down to the Kenosha Achievement Center to deliver it—a task I have come to enjoy. By now I know almost all of her clients by name and many of them recognize me. Bruce, as usual, asked if I was coming to the poker game this weekend in his Dad's basement. He customarily runs through an impressive guest list of uncles and cousins followed by “are you comin'?” He will never know how much I would love to sit in on this fantasy event, which did, in fact, take place on a regular basis when he was a boy. Likewise, I would like to revisit my mother's afternoon penny-ante poker games with my aunts and cousin, Frank. Stakes were low but emotions weren't. I couldn't believe my ears when Mom called Aunt May a “sow” after her sister's full house beat her 3 jacks, losing a fat 89 cent pot. Bruce, I can identify...some wonderful memories.

I complimented Russell for the fine job Patti said he did hauling bags of recyclables from Sheridan Lanes. He grinned. I understand that most of the K.A.C. folks perform tasks very well-- that is, when tasks are available. Higher functioning clients thrive on meaningful labor and take much pride in a job well done. Any businessman or woman that can utilize their vast array of talents will not be sorry. It is cost effective, uncomplicated and really a good thing to do. Look around. What might you need to have done? Packing, cleaning, stacking...give K.A.C. a call. It's just good business.

Terry Tynan

Proud To Be A Ranger (Longer version of article published in Kenosha News in 2009)
 
I've lived in Kenosha, off and on, since 1991.  Gradually it became more "on" than "off" and for the last several years it is totally "on."  My wife gets upset when I refer to her beloved hometown as Chicago's finest North Shore suburb.  Believe me, I mean no disrespect.  After all, the North Shore is a beautiful place with stately mansions housing some of America's wealthiest and most influential citizens.  Regardless, I am very content living in the "City For All Seasons."  For anyone who is retired, but doesn't really want to be, this is the place to live.  The enviable advantage of  conveniently lying between two major cultural centers is a given.  Concerts, church festivals, sports events, museums, and lake activities are here in abundance.  I happen to love the trolley rides for a quarter.  Friendly people and great Italian food are equally appreciated. 
 
Four months ago I made a startling, life changing discovery just a five minute ride from our cottage.  I have always been aware of the existence of the University of Wisconsin-Parkside.  For instance, I knew that the Northwestern University football team held summer camp there and that the foreign film program was an entertainment bargain.  What I just learned, though, was that a state resident over 60 years old could audit up to two courses per semester-- tuition free.  No credits, but, at my age, who cares.  I got 120 of  those  over 50 years ago in Madison.  Now, it is solely for the fun of learning.  Computer Science 105 and World History 126, taught by Tim Knautz and Nat Godley, respectively, are awesome.  (See, I am even picking up the lingo)   "Thanks, gentlemen for letting me feel like part of the class and for not making me take exams or turn in assignments."  Talk about your "having it both ways."
 
Besides attending classes twice a week, I am enjoying an endless parade of activities and entertainment, such as: great music and theater, exciting athletic events, discussion groups, lectures and exhibits,
all provided in a state-of the-art environment.  I am, now a member of PASA (Parkside Adult Student Alliance).  I am the most 'adult' person there by decades.  I overheard my wife telling one of her friends that I had joined a fraternity.  I did, ultimately, correct her.  When I told her I was considering spending Spring Break in Key West with my fellow students she said I should stay there.  I have a Ranger ID card with my picture on it, a parking permit and a student e-mail address.  Someone even suggested I run for a Student Government office, which would be a bit of a stretch.  Yesterday, I bought a Parkside cap for 15 bucks from the bookstore.  This bustling  enterprise has collected quite a little of my discretionary funds because, while the courses are free, the text books and supplies, emphatically, are not. 
 
I meet several new people every day, many from  distant lands with diverse cultures. I was even invited to join the International Club--I guess being a native Chicagoan qualifies me. Did I happen to mention that Parkside is absolutely the friendliest place I have ever been in my life?  People actually smile at me in passing.  Everyone is helpful and friendly, whether they be faculty, administration, service, or, best of all, students.  Ah! the students.  Like many of my peers I was becoming deeply concerned about our country's future being placed in the hands of pampered, selfish, thoughtless, rude and, yes, poorly educated young people.  Now, after observing and conversing with UW-P students on a daily basis, I have to say, without reservation, I am not only confident about our future... I am truly excited about it.
 
Just one regret, though--I could have started all this fifteen years ago.
 
Terry Tynan

Last Round For Willy McGovern


The caller ID read “Roberta McGovern.” I hesitated picking up the phone. I knew that my beloved friend, Willy, had finally lost his long and valiant battle with cancer. The odds were heavily against
him—he couldn't win. I just didn't know how long he could hang on. Often he sounded as if it might be forever. His only complaint was that the endless treatments made him very tired. Knowing this, I tried to keep our phone conversations brief. No matter how short the call, I always felt better after talking with him. He could do that for me. Roberta told me that he faded fast once he decided it was time to let go.

Our mutual pal, Jimmy Mills, said it best on his Christmas card: “Willy was 'unique.'” I couldn't agree more. I thought so when I first met him in 1947 and the passing years had re-enforced the image.
He wore glasses, when most of us didn't; he was short, yet somehow made “shortness” attractive;
he had a tattoo—one of only three in the whole school; he was a voracious reader—never without a Penguin book stuck in his hip pocket; he had a grin that just made you feel good; and his voice—his voice was then, and until he passed—music to my ears. Even over the phone, even though he was dying, that voice could transport me back over time to boyhood days and happy times. It was a truly Chicago voice—low, gravelly, deliberate, emphasizing each word, combining a barely discernible sarcasm with a tinge of humor. Thankfully, I can hear him clearly in my mind whenever I wish.

If not for Willy, I might never have heard Tony Smith rock the foundation at the Blinkin' Pup on North Clark St. or gone down to the Blue Note to hear Art Lund sing or George Shearing's jazz. I may never have discovered pegged pants or blue suede shoes. I would watch him dancing with his girlfriend, a foot taller than he, and try to emulate his rhythmic bebop moves—never with much success. I even got a tattoo, although, many years later. I was eager to show it to him—strange behavior for a man well into his sixties.

Together, we joined the high school boxing team and soon were fighting for the Northwest AC, a fairly decrepit 2nd floor gym on Division Street, formerly a Bugs Moran Speakeasy with the peep hole still in the door. I was too young for an AAU license, but Willy's friend, Vinny Peletieri, who worked for a printer, charged me 25 cents for a most authentic looking Baptismal Record, complete with gold seal and baby's footprint. It was completely bogus except for my name and that of the South Side parish where I was christened. Mr. Parks, the AAU inspector, happened to be the father of a girl with whom I went to grade school. Chewing the stub of a cigar, he growled that he knew I wasn't old enough, but signed me up anyway, seeming to admire Vinny's handwork.

Our timing couldn't have been better. There were two amateur shows a week. Tuesdays at the North Side's Rainbow Arena and Fridays at the American Legion Hall on the West Side. It was the early days of black and white television and ABC televised all the bouts. I once got a telegram clear from Pittsburgh. Pop Howard, the matchmaker, took a liking to us and put us on the card whenever we wished. The frosting on the cake was that we received “expense money,” $10.00 for 3 rounds and $15.00 for the 4 round windups. That was some serious revenue in the late '40s for a couple of wise guy teenagers.






Willy and I were sparring one evening at the Midwest Gym on West Madison Street, when over his shoulder I saw the popular heavyweight, Bob Satterfield, come out of the showers. “Willy, you got to see this guy!” He squinted towards the locker room--to no avail. He then rushed to the ring post where he had hung his glasses. Watching him fumble to put on his glasses with boxing gloves was hilarious.
He finally succeeded, took a look, and agreed with me: “Jeeze! That Satterfield is Quite The Man, even if he does have a glass jaw.”

In our senior year, he and Jack Rose devised a way to raise some extra cash. Mac-Rose Enterprises was loosely formed for the purpose of running raffles. The first one had a barrel of beer for the prize and was moderately successful. Willy decided to up the ante—so to speak. Rumor has it that the McGovern's had a cleaning lady with less than perfect morals who was willing to lend her support to the Enterprise. The sale of chances improved immensely as the word spread throughout St. George High School and beyond, but unfortunately, found its way to the attention of our school's principal. The Christian Brothers presented Willy with what they considered a reasonable condition. Either he bring in his father for a conference, or be expelled. This was an easy decision considering graduation was only two weeks away. Surprisingly, Willy opted to be expelled. As he told me many years later, “I loved the old man too much to subject him to that kind of humiliation.” I fear that John McGovern never knew that his eldest son had been offered this alternative to expulsion.

When I got married, my mother-in-law-to-be insisted the reception be held at the Womens Club of Evanston. Since Evanston was completely dry in those days, non-alcoholic punch was to be the featured beverage. “Punch!” roared her husband, Mike. He spat out the word as if it were “cod liver oil.”
He was afraid the Irish uncles wouldn't stay-- that is, if they showed up at all. Not to worry. Willy McGovern saved the day. Marching in with a mile-wide grin and a flourish, he pulled a quart of Jim Beam from his coat and hid it behind the seat cushion of an overstuffed couch. Needless to say, thanks to Willy's foresight, the reception was a huge success.

To me, Willy always seemed even-tempered. I can't recall ever seeing him angry or depressed--if so, he hid it well. Any enemies he may have had were invisible. He had a truly magnetic personality. Everyone wanted to be his friend and I was no exception. I think I loved him most because I sensed the genuine kindness of his heart beneath all that cool bravado. Jimmy Mills was right. Willy was unique--never to be duplicated--not even close. He enriched our lives. I'll miss him.


Terry Tynan

January 22, 2010

“Creative” Emails


I routinely hear from an old college pal--let's call him Murph--who delights in forwarding emails dedicated to the failure of President Obama and his administration. I know that Murph and his cohorts consider themselves patriots and, as such, believe that since the end justifies the means, facts and truth are irrelevant, Several emails ago, I started going directly to Snopes.com or FactCheck.org and forwarding the results to Murph, suggesting he pass it on to the folks who emailed him, as well as his own substantial list, of which I am a member. So far, this hasn't happened nor has he acknowledged or apologized for misleading me so callously.

Today, he didn't let me down. How could he know I was writing this article? Maybe the Forces of Truth guided him to furnish me even more damning evidence. This email has Lee Iacocca, former CEO of Chrysler, saying:

“... Where the hell is our outrage with this so called president?...We've got a gang of tax cheating clueless leftists trying to steer our ship of state right over a cliff...Throw all the Democrats out along with Obama!”

Supposedly, these are excerpts from the book, “Where Have All The Leaders Gone ?” by Lee Iacocca with Catherine Whitney, New York, Scribner, 2007 (notice the date—Obama wasn't inaugurated until 2009). If you read what Mr. Iacocca actually said, you will find that his criticism was directed at the Bush administration. The email creators cleverly converted the references over to Obama and the Democrats so that “... a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff,...” becomes “... a gang of tax cheating clueless leftists trying to steer our ship of state right over a cliff...”

The following quote from an interview by David G. Allen for West Virginia Media, indicates a different Iacocca opinion:

"... I've seen this Obama fellow in action and his breadth of knowledge is so great. He can run the Fed. He knows where we need troops. He can get tax cheats to pay up and perform government service. He knows which CEOs to fire and which CEOs deserve bonuses...”

The email that first prompted me to do this piece contained an article written by Dr. David Kaiser, a highly respected historian, currently a professor in the Strategy and Policy Department of the Naval War College. The article compared Barack Obama and his agenda to Adolph Hitler and the birth of the Third Reich. Unlike the Iacocca quote, in which words and even entire paragraphs were altered, the Kaiser article was not even written by Dr. Kaiser--he says so in his blog. He further states that the views attributed to him are mostly contrary to his real opinions. This is significant--as is Iacocca's above-quoted praise for Obama.

Since there is a plethora of popular and articulate Obama detractors, like Ben Stein, why utilize people who have shown an affinity for the President? My opinion...the email creators are pranksters at heart. How audacious to use two of Obama's fans to discredit him. What perfect irony!





Another question: Why risk embarrassing “The Cause” by employing outrageous lies that can be so easily exposed with a few keystrokes? Does their Party promote this behavior? The Iran-Contra and Watergate fiascos were blatant enough to make one expect that a contrite Republican Party would have emerged, vowing to sin no more, but that didn't happen. The sin of “Bearing false witness” should never be condoned by a political group priding itself on “values.”

The Grand Old Party of Dirksen, Goldwater, and Eisenhower is gone, replaced by political misfits saddled with “bumper sticker” mentalities. It is disturbing to see the substantial numbers of people involved in the viral spread of these two fraudulent emails. Either they were too lazy to verify the content or they were complicit in the subterfuge.

I miss the old Republicans. They were people of principle, usually putting our country's welfare ahead of their politics. They battled the Democrats ferociously, but with honest reasoning, and with an overriding sense of fair play that was typical of most Americans then. Those were years when deciding between presidential candidates could be difficult—not because they were so alike, but because they were both so deserving of the office.

I wish that I could have an honest and stimulating political discussion with my old friend, Murph. Maybe, sometime... Maybe, when pigs fly.


Terry Tynan
Kenosha

terrytynan@att.net

Name Withheld

A recent VOP submission criticized the annoying practice of using “Name withheld” rather than take ownership of a letter. A friend of mine won't read anything by “Name withheld.” I sometimes feel short-changed with an unsigned letter. Here are some reasons why I think people withhold their names: they are overly modest, ashamed of their writing ability, self conscious about their feelings, afraid of compromising their privacy--or the letter itself is full of lies.

After doing a little research, it turns out that, whatever their motive, they have every right to withhold their name and the Kenosha News, though in the minority, is on the right side of history with its policy of printing unsigned letters. My source is Bill Reader, formerly a lecturer of journalism at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. According to Reader, “... unsigned letters were a tradition reaching back to pre-Revolutionary newspapers...” “The New York Times published its first unsigned letter in 1851.” Even though, by 1995, 84% of newspapers had 'must sign' rules, Reader feels that such restrictions “... actually violate the traditions of American journalism, do not support the spirit of the First Amendment in the eyes of the law...” He suggests that to be a true forum of public opinion, newspapers should welcome all views, including those of people who, for whatever reason, feel most vulnerable, thus, choosing to remain anonymous.

For instance, my next letter will be about how the Town of Somers has been over charging me on my sewer bill. Of course, I intend to sign it: “Name withheld.” Have you ever tried to unplug a clogged sewer line?


Terry Tynan

339 Sheridan Rd.
262-939-2303
terrytynan@att.net

Area's Best Kept Secret

I wonder how many of my fellow seniors realize they can attend classes at one of the finest colleges in the Midwest--absolutely free. I always thought of UW-Parkside as a place to see great foreign films on the cheap and watch the Northwestern Wildcats football summer camp. I recently learned that, because of my advanced years, I can audit two courses per semester on any subject that interests me. No credits towards a degree, but, neither are there any exams, assignments, grades or other stresses so well remembered. Besides the joy of learning, I am participating in a never-ending parade of concerts, lectures, films, sports events, exhibits, clubs and discussion groups. All this takes place in a state-of-the-art environment with very talented people ranging from learned academics to accomplished softball pitchers. The adrenalin of Parkside's campus life is, of course, the students. Old and young, from all corners of the earth they move through the halls with a jovial confidence that strongly suggests our future is in very capable hands. Did I mention that Parkside is one of the friendliest places I have ever been in my life? For the person who is retired, yet doesn't really want to be, I say, come back to school and feel younger every day.

Terry Tynan