Check This Out

Lots of traffic this beautiful, 40-degree, sunny Chicago day on the seventh of January. As I stop for the red light at Lawrence Ave. northbound on Western Ave., a spray-painted eye catches my eye, on the bricks up above some shiny stainless steel letters of a storefront. I whisk out my compact Canon, prop it atop the steering wheel, zoom it and capture the image. But then I notice a policeman approaching, walking in between the lanes of stopped cars the way the homeless panhandlers do. That’s odd, I think — I wonder if he’s collecting for the policemen’s benevolent fund. He motions for me to lower my window, which I do and I ask, “What’s up?” He says, “We’re checking for cell phones today,” and his eyes go toward the device still in my right hand. He says, “Oh good, it’s a camera.” And I’m thinking, yes, it’s very good, indeed. Grateful that, at that moment, my chosen communication device is for visual communication, instead of the verbal and textual variety; otherwise I certainly would have been out several hundred dollars in fines!

Yesterday I witnessed how quickly the power of nature is able to transform a peaceful event into chaos.

Kim Laurel and I were asked to juror the Fountain Square Art Festival in Evanston. The day started off spectacular — white art tents brightly offset against blue skies. But during the day the winds became gusty. The first disaster was when a Chicago artist’s large raku vase got knocked over and smashed by the wind.

By mid-afternoon some exhibitors were holding onto the corner poles of their white tents to prevent them from jumping around. I heard an huge crash, and saw that one artist’s whole wall back wall had toppled, smashing all the glass of the framed paintings that had been hanging from it.

I was chatting with a California artist when all of a sudden his booth twisted
caty-wompus. I held onto one corner pole and another guy grabbed a second corner, while the artist ran around re-centering the other poles and taking down the heavy pictures that hung from the top frame of the tent, which were making it top-heavy.

Some exhibitors began to tie down the side flaps of their tents, closing for business. Most others remained open, as the streets were still filled with potential customers.

Somebody told me that severe weather was approaching and was already hitting the suburbs. So I started to warn the exhibitors that it was time to “batten down the hatches” and prepare for a pounding.

I became concerned about my personal safety, so I hurriedly finished up my checklist and walked back to the Special Events office to turn in my ballot. A few minutes later Kim returned too. When the rain began, carried in on powerful gusts, we were happy to be inside a building.

Within minutes we heard several sirens and saw a fire engine pull up to the corner. When we went to investigate we were shocked by what we saw — destruction and chaos in the intersection where just a few minutes earlier had been an art fair. Tents were down, broken glass everywhere, four ambulances had pulled up and we saw the crew from one wheeling a woman out on a gurney, her bloody fingers visible from the sling on her arm.

It seemed to us that a micro-burst had hit the intersection, turning the art tents into parachutes. People had gotten knocked around under the flying booth walls and framed art. A lot of beautiful artwork and jewelry was strewn across the pavement, mixed in with broken glass, mangled tent poles and tent vinyl.

It was just freaky. Other parts of the art fair survived unharmed.

Bottom line, Kim and I were fine. We each helped warn people beforehand, and tried to help out afterwards. The weather can be hell for art-fair participants. I hold those brave artists in high regard, and hope they quickly recover their losses.

Here’s a video newscast:
http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?section=news/local&id=6234275