Like Nothing Happened

I open the door to the bar and it’s like the last fifteen months never happened.

It’s the first day the Skylark’s open since March 15th, 2020. Every seat’s taken, clusters of drinkers standing close to one another, no distancing of any kind. I count two or three masks out of over a hundred faces. I walk my bike in, weaving through the crowd, get the office key from Sam, and lean it in there, taking care not to knock over any bottles. I’ve done this many many times so it feels natural, but also disorienting.

Back out in the bar, many regulars wave, say hello. Everybody’s so happy. I just take it all in. Don’t know what to make of it. In this room, at least, people have decided to jam the fast-forward (or is it fast-reverse?) button. No plague, no isolation, no new habits; only the bar we all love, in which nothing ever changes.

A few minutes before 8pm, a huge cheer rips through the crowd. It’s because Sherry has walked in. She’s working with me tonight. She’s been at the Skylark ever since it’s been the Skylark. Seeing her tells people that we’re really back. She makes it to the end of the bar nearly in tears after that reception. I’m glad it’s her rather than me. I wouldn’t have handled all that good feeling coming at me very well.

I put my music on and start putting coasters and bar towels in order. That’s how I know it’s actually happening for real. The beer prices are mostly up a dollar, which is a pain to remember, but the rest of the routine comes back in fits and starts. It’s like falling off a bike, I keep saying.

People are so damn happy we’re back. For fifteen months, the first thing anyone asked when they saw me was whether or when the Skylark would reopen. I rained on a lot of parades. I wasn’t convinced it would ever happen. Yet here we are. It’s unreal, yet completely habitual at the same time. Feels like being in two places or, maybe, two time-frames at once.

I tell Sherry we’ll know we’re truly back once we’re no longer happy to see this or that face, go back to cursing them under our breaths. It won’t be this night. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. Because, whatever the day-to-day——whether lockdown or all-access——after a few days, it becomes habit, commonplace. We can’t function moment to moment if the parameters of existence are in question. We have to take on faith that whatever experience we see and hear first-hand is just reality.

I surprise myself by remembering the alarm code for the bar as we leave for the night. We say goodbye and promise to do it all again.

At the Dunkin’ Donuts, on my way home, the woman who makes my breakfast sandwich at 3am is wearing a mask. I made a half month’s rent tonight. Was it a dream before this moment? Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

—I yapped about my book with Ben Tanzer, wrote a profile of writer/publisher Mallory Smart, then started a horror movie podcast with her.

Live from Berwyn

Friday, the city of Chicago “re-opened”. Kelly invited me to her show at Fitzgerald’s. She hadn’t sang in front of people since February, 2020. I was at that show too.

After lunch with a friend in the South Loop, I biked west up Roosevelt to Berwyn. Two-plus months of peddling a couple times a week to River Forest made this ride a snap, though the scorching June sun wasn’t happy-making. Still, I made it to Fitzgerald’s before the band had finished setting up for soundcheck. Kelly arrived a little after and I helped her unload merch.

The air was soupy but the patio full of people were beyond happy to see their favorite band play live and in person, rather through some screen.

It was a joyful night.

p.s. I read the obituary of a filmmaker I’d never heard of in the Times. His first movie, Coming Apart (1969), is a pretty amazing evocation of a particular time in America. Also has some of the most accurate, relatably-awkward sex/seduction scenes I can recall staged for a movie. Plus, it stars Rip Torn.

…love when I make it into the dictionary.

Chicago Repeater

THROKLEY, WILLFITZ & GOIES LLP

Re: Timothy Carey/J.J. Grandville Article

Dear Editors of the Chicago Repeater:

As Timothy Carey and J.J. Granville informed you earlier this week, Throkley, Willfitz & Goies LLP, represents Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville. We write to support Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s——rightful——concerns with the Chicago Repeater’s threatened publication of an article. The threat to publish the current draft provided to Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville constitutes an anticipatory breach of an unambiguous promise on which Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville relied made by the reporter——and for which you are responsible as a matter of law. Without that promise——the gist of which was that the article would not falsely attribute to Mr. Carey or convey that Mr. Carey sought to antagonize a stalker whom Mr. Carey properly fears, or detail intimate details of Mr. Grandville’s love life while Mr. Grandville was estranged from his wife——Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville would never have provided access, information and cooperation to the Chicago Repeater. You have now stated that you intend to publish precisely the type of story Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville said could not be published in exchange for access to them. If you follow through on your threat, you will be in violation of the law under Supreme Court precedent going back nearly 25 years. You will also——as you know——put a chronically ill man in physical danger and cast aspersions on the reputation of a universally-beloved pillar of Chicago’s art community. There really should be no need to do that. But because you have not yet agreed to remove the problematic and wholly unnecessary portions of the article, we write.

We urge you to think carefully about your actions before you publish.

The reporter of your story, Dimtry Samarov, approached Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville about doing a profile of them, their art, poetry, acting and music. Mr. Samarov expressed a desire to highlight Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s work and to correct the egregious injustices perpetrated by various local and national media outlets over the past decade. These articles, stories, videos and multimedia presentations had cast Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville in a false light and——critically here——antagonized particular individuals. As a result Mr. Carey has lived in fear of his physical safety and Mr. Grandville has stopped enjoying the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed (and which he richly deserves due to his tireless efforts in service of art, poetry and the general uplift of the community.)

Accordingly, Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville agreed to participate in developing this story under specific conditions. For example, Mr. Carey has stated that any discussion of the stalker issue would have to come from an objective third-party perspective. Additionally, Mr. Grandville stipulated that no reference be made in the article to Mr. Grandville’s visits to massage parlors——be they of the happy- or sad-ending variety. Nor any mention of the frequency of said visits. To that end, Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville further conditioned their willingness to be interviewed by Mr. Samarov on the latter’s agreement to give absolute veto authority over specific content.

Mr. Samarov expressly agreed, in writing, to both Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville and their respective assistants, helpers and proxies, that he would not publish or post anything unless it was first approved by Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville. Critically, Mr. Samarov also promised that nothing would be attributed to Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville that was not Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s own assertions. Only on these bases did Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville consent to the interview and their participation in writing the profile, including the use of Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s artwork.

Repeatedly affirming the agreement, Mr. Samarov sent Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville multiple drafts of the profile that was to be submitted for publication for Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s review. Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville reviewed the drafts which appeared to minimally comply with their conditions for participation. For example, the drafts did not refer to individuals by name, and did not attribute to Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville statements made by others.

After the profile was submitted to the Chicago Repeater, however, all promises were broken. Mr. Samarov provided Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville with a revised draft of the story that had been edited by the Chicago Repeater’s editorial staff. The editors were well aware of Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s conditions for participation. Not only did the revised article identify individuals and locations by name, it falsely attributed statements made by third parties——including the opinions of psychiatrists, criminalists and social workers who have examined this situation——to Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville. This is but one example of misattribution in this story. Worse still, and to the complete horror of Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville, Mr. Samarov has announced that his editor had required him to contact certain individuals, that he had done so, and that these individuals had reacted negatively as Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville predicted and as any reasonable person would have anticipated.

Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville had placed the above clear and reasonable conditions on his participation because of the very real threat these individuals pose to them and those around them. The Chicago Repeater knew about Mr. Carey’s and Mr. Grandville’s intense and justifiable fear of these individuals. It knew that the reporter held himself out as acting for the Chicago Repeater. It knew the content of the promise. If the story is published with the individuals’ names included, or with any misattributed statements, you, the Chicago Repeater, Mr. Samarov and all other Chicago Repeater employees and agents involved with the writing and editing of this story will be breaching the clear agreement made with Mr. Carey and Mr. Grandville.

[more re legal, moral and financial consequences to Mr. Samarov et al to follow forthwith under separate cover…]