Just a Braidwood Guy

“Everyone has a story”

One of my greatest pleasures is to engage a conversation with a total stranger, at the coffee shop culture, in an airplane, on the bench in the mall, where ever the opportunity presents itself. These strangers tell me their stories.

This story, however, is about my experiences over my lifetime. It is intended primarily for me and my family but may be of interest to others who have led lives that don’t hit the news media but nonetheless could tell similar stories. Like most of you, my peak experiences are more numerous then my valleys, but neither qualifies as momentous in the eyes of the public at large. Given the time and inclination, many others could tell personal stories that are far more interesting than mine.

Socrates said that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” And for many years, family and job obligations – usually self-imposed – have you legislated against serious and regular reflections. Over the past 20 years, I have found myself to be paying closer attention to reflection time and to document those reflections.

Most recently, I found myself as the leader of a small, not for profit organization, that resided within a Jesuit university, Regis University of Denver, Colorado. With the help of several key people, I was able to grow an idea that has produced and generated ways for educational institutions and their students to achieve more of their respective potentials. Over 50 years ago, when I graduated from college, I had absolutely no idea that I would be in that situation. I certainly had no idea what Braidwood had meant to me at that time. Now I do.

Braidwood, Illinois

If you were to look at an Illinois map, you can find Braidwood along I-55 just 20 miles southwest of Joliet. With a population of approximately 1,200 in 1950, Braidwood would not qualify for identification on a map of United States, but would, even at that time, rate some mention in regional journals because it was the birthplace of some historical, newsworthy individuals. Anton Cermak, a mayor of Chicago in the 1930s, worked as a youngster in the coal mines. You might remember that Cermak was killed in an assassination attempt on federal FDR in 1933 while in a car caravan. John Mitchell, a United mine workers leader whose statue stands in Scranton PA, had similar work experiences in the mines during the early 1900s.

While diversity was hardly evident in most towns the size of Braidwood, there were some diverse resident populations in the city. Imported from West Virginia in the late 1800’s, Black mine laborers got off the train in Braidwood to work the mines during a strike situation. Mine owners may have been remiss in not telling them that they would be strikebreakers, but only told them of employment opportunities. In the 1940s forties and 50s, there remained several black families who were active citizens in Braidwood.

The mines attracted other ethnic groups, such as Bohemians, Italians, Germans, Irish, Scottish, and English. As mining gradually receded, many of these people sought other employment or moved away to new opportunities.

In 1950 and before the interstate road system, Braidwood was dissected by route 66. The amount of traffic along that famous highway necessitated the installation of a four-way stop so that locals could navigate from the west side to the east side.

My Earthly Arrival

My entry into the world in general, and to Braidwood in particular, occurred on October 8, 1940. Dad was a farm kid from near Wilmington and mom was raised between Wilmington and Elwood in a house that had route 66 in the front yard and the railroad in the backyard. Mom’s father worked for a pumping station near Elwood.

Dad was the 3rd to the oldest of five children and mom was in the middle of eight children. Dad’s family was Irish/Dutch and Mom’s was German. Mom’s mother died at age 52 and dad’s mother died in childbirth at age 35. Both mom and dad were considered “good looking,” so it was natural that their family situations and their attractiveness pulled them toward marriage.

So, I came into the world of Braidwood and although I stayed there until I was 21, Braidwood has always been a distinct part of me. My early world consisted of: a sister born in 1943 and a brother born in 1949; my self-employed father’s business as a truck driver/heavy and light equipment operator; a baseball field adjacent to our house; and my mother’s total preoccupation with us kids. Later, my world would expand to all of Braidwood, the church, school, and weekly trips to Wilmington and even Joliet. My world was expanding.

I find it impossible to separate myself from my early Braidwood years. In fact, Braidwood is more a part of my conscious self than ever before. Small town streets, stores, houses, employers, and people represented not only my early years, they were the foundation for my entire life. Besides Main Street and Walker Street, I could hardly remember or name any of the other streets. Walker Street was a gravel road where my second house – the one I remember best – was located on this street. All of the other streets were nameless for me because we never bothered with street names. Only family names and houses were referred to. Sections of the town were identified as lower Braidwood, the east side, or downtown.

The View Around Me

Merchants and other businesses were easily identified because of their relatively small numbers and significance as workplaces. The post office on Main Street, Grinchuck’s pants factory, Rossi macaroni factory, the Peabody coal company, the Braidwood recreation club, and the Rossi Motel: they were the primary local workplaces where residents had jobs.

Merchants, including taverns, or landmarks were more easily identified than streets. Taverns where my dad frequented, many times accompanied by me, were numerous, considering the total Braidwood population. Barnett’s, Dillon’s, Dixons, McElroy’s, Spitty’s, Baber’s, and the 13 Club were some of the local watering holes. I was in all of them at one time or another.

Merchants of other consumables probably were typical of any other small town. Grocery stores included Shaughnessy’s, Joe Testa’s, Scotty Dalziel’s, and the lower Braidwood grocery store.

Kate Jackson’s store and Davito’s sold hardware and other household items while two major gas stations were McElroy’s and Barnett’s.

Other employers were the public schools and the Braidwood recreation club. In the late 1940s, I was aware of three public schools: Reed Custer high school; the lower Braidwood elementary school; and the East side elementary school. The most significant employers were the Pants Factory, the Rossi’s Macaroni Factory, and Northern Illinois Coal.

With the leadership of M.J. Donna in 1949, the Braidwood Recreation Club was developed over several hundred acres of “spoils” or reclaimed strip mine areas. Comprised of man-made lakes up to 60 feet deep and hills probably not higher than 300 feet, the BRC became a mecca for recreation for people within a 30-mile radius. It was, and remains, a private club that has a cap on membership numbers, but automatically qualifies Braidwood residents after a certain period of time. At one time, there were no minorities as members, but I have been informed that now there are minority members.

Surrounding My Town

Within a 5-mile radius of Braidwood were the small towns that maintained their own identities. To us, Wilmington was the upscale town 4 miles north. It not only prided itself with the major river, the Kankakee, running through it, it also had not one, but two movie theaters, the Mar and the Wilton. Wilmington also has a thriving downtown area that to my eyes literally bustled on Saturday nights. A dancehall, several restaurants in town taverns, a hardware store, confectionery, drugstore, and shoe and clothing stores were all within a four-block walk along Water Street. Going to Wilmington on a Saturday night, and even getting the Sunday paper, was a big event, especially since both mom and dad, and many relatives, were from Wilmington. The paper mill and the Joliet Arsenal were major employers for many residents.

Wilmington also had an active Catholic church, St. Rose, that started a grade school in 1948, which I attended from the third grade through graduation. My first two years were at the East School in Braidwood where Miss Cowden was my teacher.

To the south of Braidwood only 2 miles away, were Godley and Braceville. Godley was the more famous because of the Mafia-controlled house of prostitution. In my college years, my Chicago fellow students would only know of Braidwood as being the town just north of “Godleys” as they referred to it.

For me, Braceville was rather nondescript, and Gardner was where Fatlan trucking and Hank’s Drydock Tavern were located. South Wilmington was a farm and mining community populated by many Italians. Just north west of Braidwood was a series of villages and towns, seemingly connected with one another but maintaining their own distinctions. Coal City was connected to the shaft mining communities of Carbon Hill, Eileen, and Diamond. My uneducated impression was that Italians were the most significant population.

With the possible exception of Wilmington, with a population nearing 2000, none of these towns exceeded 1500. In the case of Godley, only about 200 residents were permanent although they probably had 100 times the number of male visitors over a given period of time.

The People of Braidwood

Of far more importance to me than the features and characteristics of Braidwood and its surrounding towns, were the people. I assume that every small town has a cast of characters but that only later in life does one realize their importance and their uniqueness’s. As I grew up, I took them for granted. They weren’t special at that time, but I now realize how unique and significant they were to me.

Because I delivered the Herald-News to a wide population in town, I became acquainted with them as I delivered and collected money. Collections were due every other week for $.35 cents per week. As with many customers, Suzie E. was dirt poor and living in a ramshackle house that had no indoor plumbing. But Suzie always managed to scrape pennies and nickels together to pay the $.70 cents. I seldom had to go back a second time, unlike the more well-to-do customers who would tell me to come back later. That taught me a lot.

Nicknames?

Nicknames were as common as mosquitoes in Braidwood, and I am sure that they caused a lot of discomfort to some of those tagged. Some names were innocent enough while others probably hurt. Regardless, these nicknames clung long after their reason, to be erased only if the person moved away from Braidwood. Some nicknames were decidedly ethnic, while others were from childhood or incidental to an event. Keetsie, Kaco, and Guido happen to be Italians. Bodie was probably an abbreviation. Tofie, too.

Other characters were also easily identified and remembered. Dolores and Jackie Martinetti, Joe and Andy Berta, Ronnie Flint, Joe Munch, Jungle Jim Zboril, Squeaky Dennison, Chewy Mulligan, Moon Mullins, Termite Lazier, Red McElroy, Sonny Boy McElroy, Gene “Moon” Mullins, Scotty Dalziel, Ed “Bender” Voboril, Lulu Nielsen, Clue Jones, Little Nancy Spiezio, Killer Koslowski, and Mud Pinnick were a few of the popular folks around Braidwood. I considered all of them as friends.

Influencers?

Beside my own immediate family, there were several other influential people who strongly shaped me in early years. Mrs. Sarah Jeffrey was almost a grandmother to me and lived on Walker Street. Mary and Olaf Dahl were half a block away. Living next to the baseball field afforded me the chance to play baseball with Barney and Mike Faletti, Richard Bone, Danny Turner, Buddy Pinnick, Dennis Mahler, Colin Kelly, Larry Bennett, Buddy Perona, Bob Wilson, and Pete Cinotto. They were all kids I grew up with in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s.

Other influences came through my father. “T.J.” as he was known to his friends, T.J. was popular and gregarious. I rubbed shoulders with his friends on various job sites, restaurants, and bars. They played cards, drank coffee or beer, told jokes, and worked. T.J.’s friends helped formed a young boy’s philosophy of, and outlook on, a life that provided the basis for future actions. That, together with mom’s less cynical, but equally effective, view of the world formulated my approach to a life that would later be complemented and expanded by a singular giant, Coach Gordie Gillespie.

Of T.J.’s companions, a few emerge as the most prominent influences. Dad’s brother, Ray, epitomized gentleness and simplicity. Dad pretty much raised Ray after their mother died at a young age. Albert Crater, like Ray, was a World War II veteran but unlike Ray was full of stories and jokes and was always ready for laughter and a wide smile. Leo Fatlan was another World War II vet and a close companion of T.J. Leo learned the trucking and construction business from dad. Other friends and companions were Ray and Al Rink, Cliff Muncie, Bob Lamping, Dean Onsen, and Uncle Nick Van Duyne.

As stated before, dad’s friends had a significant influence on me. I was with them and T.J. mostly on the job sites but listened intently to them at their leisure in the bars and the restaurants. In many ways, they became role models – for good or ill – but mostly good.

To this day, I find myself most comfortable with people who do real labor, construction or otherwise. If a counter is available in a neighborhood restaurant, that’s where I sit. If the restaurant serves cappuccino, I’m in the wrong place. It doesn’t matter if the guy next to me is black, Hispanic, or white, I will always send out signals that I’m open to a conversation.

Mom’s Friends

Mom, on the other hand, seemed to have had fewer close friends that I was aware of. Her sewing business came in her later years so most women with whom she talked were relatives.

Aunts Helen, June, Mary, Kate, and Alice – all sisters – provided a core group that sporadically enjoyed one another’s company. I say sporadically because of their common disagreements that would cause a cessation, sometimes brief and sometimes lengthy, of their friendships.

Mom’s closest friends during my early years was Sarah Jeffrey, who lived in the small house across the street from our house on Walker Street. Mrs. Jeffrey became a guiding star, a mentor for mom. Mom’s mother had died when mom was only 18 years of age, so she did not have a mother relationship during a critical period when she had children. Mrs. Jeffrey was also a grandmother figure for my sister and me during these times and counseled mom when we suffered the usual childhood diseases. Only an older, experienced mother could advise and support. That was Mrs. Jeffrey.

Mrs. Jeffrey also leaned on mom for help. Mrs. Jeffrey worked in Joliet during the week where she was a house keeper for and even older woman, then returned via a bus or train to Braidwood where mom would pick her up at the station. She was a gentle, loving woman who had immigrated from England when she was quite young and married a man who worked in Braidwood’s coal mines. Her daughter, Louise, taught school in lower Braidwood, married Ted Taylor, and moved toward Chicago. In a way, mom became the second daughter to Mrs. Jeffrey.

Mom’s penchant for caring was also demonstrated by her dedication to transporting another older woman, Mrs. Kaiser, to Coal City doctors. Mrs. Kaiser wasn’t able to drive and needed a lift on a regular basis.

Character Builders

In addition to the camaraderie of T.J.’s friends, I learned compassion and personal sacrifice from mom. T.J.’s friends weren’t compassionless, but their strong traits were more collegial for the most part and coupled with competitiveness. It was mom who wanted my sister and me to take music lessons, an expense that our family could ill afford. It was mom who pushed us into the Catholic schools, and thereby set us in the direction that forced us to think outside our narrow geographic boundaries. It was mom who influenced me to grow beyond a limited career path. But it was dad who never let me forget our roots.

It was mom who sat with us in the car on Wilmington’s Water Street pointing out the different characters who passed by our windshield while dad had a few beers in the tavern. But it was dad who, while we were by ourselves, took me into those taverns and introduced me to a whole different culture.

It was mom who made me promise never to smoke a cigarette, while dad continued the habit which later contributed to early death. It was mom who seldom missed church services and had a faith that extended past the mortals who ran the church. But it was dad who had a healthy cynicism and who seldom attended services while having a very cynical view of the priests who believed they were superior.

The combination of Adelle and T.J. formed a balanced foundation for a son entering into high school in 1954. My tendency at that time was to follow the more structured reverential path of my mother, but echoes of T.J.’s voice rattled around my mind until they surpassed my mother’s more faith-filled approach. Of course, Vatican II did not help mom’s outlook.

Lessons Learned

• Given the same opportunities as wealthy people such as educational and networking opportunities, Braidwood folks would do as well or better than those who had more opportunities.

• Braidwood has seen more than its share of extraordinary athletes, historical figures, other talented people.

• My world started with Braidwood, was extended later to include Wilmington, and then was further extended by age 15 to Joliet. Some of my friends never got beyond that and are probably just as happy.

• As I learned later, Braidwood was the community that formed me and I am grateful being “just a Braidwood boy.”