I worked part time on Saturday evenings in the public darkroom in the basement of the building. I lived on the top floor, so I had only 3 flights of stairs to walk to develop my pictures.
The owner gave me a key so that I could work after hours, so I normally put in 12 hour days, working from 6:00pm - 6:00am.
It may sound like a dull way to spend a Saturday night, but as I liked to joke with the owner, I met more girls in the darkroom than I ever had in a bar.
One Saturday a beautiful dark haired woman walked down the stairs. She seemed a bit impatient, as if she needed to get a lot of work done in a short time. I quickly collected her money, gave her some darkroom supplies, and let her get to work.
I set myself up a couple of stations away from her, and as the night progressed, I got a chance to see what she was working on.
One of the benefits of working in a public darkroom is that I got to see what everyone was printing, because all pictures could be seen in the common developing and fixing trays.
I saw a lot of good work, and a lot of bad. One guy photographed bands for a living, he wasn't after the art look, but one girl I knew, Susan, could not stand his pictures. "What's the point, look at that shit, it's all the same."
People were curious about my work. One of my first nights working at the darkroom, Leigh, the girl managing the stations, was standing at the developer tray with me, our prints mixing together. When my image started to appear, I saw a look of disbelief on her face, and she let out a gasp.
"Ohhh, that's just like a Robert Frank", she kindly said. I looked closely at my picture. "No, it misses the mark." She looked more closely, and kind of agreed, but said, "yeah, but it's still good". I smiled. It was awesome to get that kind of reaction from someone, especially since I was just starting out.
I found myself checking out the dark haired woman's work. It looked like she was doing a documentary project on an old painter. I saw pictures of an elderly woman riding her bike with an easel on her back, also one where she was stooped in concentration, brush in hand, dabbing paint onto a piece of paper.
The pictures were not bad, especially since she was printing them on plastic resin coated paper, which gives a cheap effect. I figured they would look better on fiber paper.
About midway through the night I heard the woman slam her easel down in disgust. Everyone stopped their work and looked her way. I walked over to her, and asked if she needed any help.
My reaction surprised her, she must have been expecting me to come over to tell her to treat the equipment better.
She calmed down, smiled, and told me about her project.
When the session ended at midnight I was standing at the work counter waiting for the people to leave.
The woman walked up to me, hesitated a moment, then handed me her business card. I looked at it, her name was Steffen, she had an Italian last name.
Steffen
"Call me sometime, I'd like to go to lunch with you", she told me.Yep, better than a bar, I thought to myself.
Later in the week I decided to call her. We set up a date and met over lunch. I can't remember much about the place we ate at, but she told me she believed I was one of her angels, sent down to earth to help her find her way.
I knew differently, but I didn't want to burst her bubble. Maybe people can be angels to others by helping them on their way.
She was older than me, I was 26, she was 37. She hadn't been married, did not have kids, but she was hoping to start a family soon.
We ended up becoming friends, and she was the person who got me back into running.
She loved to run, and was in terrific shape, with a body to match.
On the other hand, since moving to Chicago I had given up running, and was terribly out of shape. Being skinny helped hide the fact that I had lost my endurance, but she could tell I was in a sorry state of fitness.
One day she mentioned to me that I should try running.
"yeah, I used to run", I told her, remembering my Saturdays at Blackwell fondly.
"Yes! Get back into it, we could run together."
It sounded like a good idea to me. The lakefront was only 1 block from my apartment, so I had miles of gravel pathways to use.
The first day I could not run more than 1 mile. My knees wobbled, and I had lost my upper body strength. I was a wreck. I realized it was going to be a while before I could run with Steffen, so she had to wait patiently for me to get back into shape.
It ended up taking me 6 months of running 3 times a week before I felt I had recovered my normal strength.
Of course, Steffen did not want to wait this long, so I agreed to run with her after about 1 month of running. She was disappointed that I had to stop after 3 miles.
"That's it?" she complained.
"I'll get there, I need a few more sessions".
Steffen was a fantastic cook. My studio apartment had an enormous kitchen, which I never put to use, as my cupboards were always empty.
One evening Steffen stopped by after a darkroom session and asked me to make her something. The meal I made was a bust, absolutely the worst. I tried to make her stir fry, which consisted of rice and 1 can of warmed up mixed vegetables, with no spices.
She pushed the plate aside, "alright, let's go across the street and buy some groceries".
Across the street was Treasure Island, a fantastic European grocery store. My favorite item was a $3 bottle of French red table wine.
We walked the aisles together, filling the cart full. I ended up spending more than my budget allowed, but I figured it was a fair price to pay to spend some time with Steffen.
When we returned to my studio Steffen took over in the kitchen and made a delicious Italian meal of pasta, garlic bread, and soup. It was the best food I had tasted in a long while.
When the summer arrived I had gotten myself back into shape, and even felt comfortable enough to run shirtless along the lake. I had regained my muscles, and loved to feel the freedom of running with only a pair of shorts and shoes.
I got into the habit of jumping into the lake after my runs. It remains one of my favorite memories of Chicago. The lake stayed warm until October, so I would be out running in 55 degree weather and still jumping in the lake to cool off afterward.
North Ave Beach, Chicago
To be continued.....Picture I worked on today :
5 Degrees
Al Hammond Jr. :
Al Hammond Jr. :
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