Growing up in Chicago by Sales Trainer and Motivational Speaker Victor Gonzalez, from Atlanta, Georgia

My Chicago Neighborhood

My family moved from Puerto Rico (a USA commonwealth) in the late 50s. My parents had no formal education and spoke zero English. So you can imagine the hardships they face in trying to find decent employment.

I'm often asked about my upbringing. "Was it really that bad?"

My reply is always, "Absolutely! Living off food stamps, welfare, powdered milk and government cheese wasn't fun!"

As much as I hated the struggle, it taught me a lot. During my last trip to Chicago for a speaking engagement I had some extra time and I decided to cruise on down by my 'hood' to see if my old house was still there. Believe it or not, the house where I grew up was still there.

I enjoyed seeing my old house because it reminded me to appreciate everything I have today and remember the less fortunate in this world.

Pictures Taken with Camera Phone

(click pictures to enlarge)

This is my house located in Chicago's northwest side near Ashland and North Ave. Believe it or not, it looks a little better with the plastic trash cans instead of the old metal drums we use to have. This alley was my playground for the first 13 years of my life. I slept with my two brothers in the same bedroom that measured 6'x9'. At one time there were 9 of us living in this house. Look closely and you'll see the plastic sheen on the left window in the top picture. The windows back then were so drafty, every winter we had to "plastic" seal the windows to preserve heat. Apparently, things haven't changed.

Here's a closer look at the entry way from the alley. The wooden stairs are still the same ones my father build more than 30 years ago. Amazing! We use to squeeze between the wall and the railing gap on the right hand side to get under the staircase. We used it as a club house and peeked out from the knot holes and board gaps to keep an eye out for "club house" invaders.

This is the gangway from the other side; between the two buildings in the picture above. It was narrow. It's probably no more than 4 feet wide between buildings. When we couldn't play in the alley, we hung out in the gangway playing. With a small rubber ball we would play stick ball, "pinners" or dodge ball...yes, dodge ball with the same hard rubber ball...ouch! Welts were a part of your anatomy for a while after a good game. My father wanted me to be good at baseball. Here is where he taught me how to 'field' ground balls. One day, we went into the gangway and he would throw hard, fast bouncing balls (with an official hardball) at me so that I would learn how to catch. Since I couldn't move left or right, I was forced to try (learn) to catch his mean fast balls. It was painful, but I did learn to field groundballs.

The house behind me is the backside of our house. You can see the fire escape. We use to pull down the ladder and run up and down it. We used it to play 'tag' or drop water balloons on our neighbors or friends. That really pissed them off.

Here's another view of the fire escape; again our house is directly behind me. We use to climb up the side of the building on the rusty gutter in front of me to get to the fire escape.

This is a shot below the fire escape. Right over my left should you can see a door which was our basement. This basement had so many rats that during the winter when it got cold, they'd gnaw their way into our house above. A rat died trying to get inside our bathroom; we couldn't reach the decomposing body...the bathroom stunk for weeks. Now you really had to hold your breath when you went to use the toilet. The door you see over my left shoulder, above my head, was a door from one of the bedrooms that went nowhere. My father had to "nail" it shut to make sure no one opened it and stepped out. As you can see, some graffiti still remains.

The front side of our house faced the Kennedy Expressway (I-94). I use to take metal garbage drum lids (used to keep rats and cats out of the trash) and go under the expressway and slide down the concrete slope just beyond the green grass sloping downward. If you fell or slipped off the lid, you were guaranteed many scrap or a broken limb. This was our "slide park". You can see they've fenced it off...now you know why!

Copyright © 2005 by Victor Antonio All rights reserved. This article MAY be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, as long as the author’s name, website and email address are included as part of the article’s body. All inquiries, including information on electronic licensing, should be directed to Victor Antonio at info@salesasylum.com.

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My Chicago Neighborhood