Some Things Never Change: Ben Hecht and Michigan Avenue

I usually avoid Michigan Avenue at all costs, especially around Christmas, when it is filled with impossibly slow-moving tourists and suburbanites, but today I had to head down there to pick up a Christmas gift.

It was, of course, full of meanderers and sidewalk-standers, stopping to look in the windows, at the cars, or just gape at the rest of the passersby. For some reason, it reminded me of these words from Ben Hecht's 1001 Afternoons in Chicago:

"This street, I begin to understand, is consecrated to the unrealities so precious to us. We come here and for a little while allow our dreams to peer timorously at life. In the streets west of here we are what we are – brow-beaten, weary-eyed, terribly optimistic units of the boobilariat. Our secret characterizations we hide desperately from the frowns of the windows and the squeal of “L” trains. But here in this Circe of streets the sun warms us, the sky and the spaces of shining air lure us and we step furtively out of ourselves. And give us ten minutes. Observe – a street of heroes and heroines. Actors all."

Ben Hecht (1894-1964) is best known for his screenplays, but his collection of essays, 1001 Afternoons in Chicago, is a real gem as well. Hecht was a journalist at a time when Chicago was (in Hecht's own words) "a sort of journalistic Yellowstone Park, offering haven to a last herd of fantastic bravos." (That quotation comes from his play "The Last Page," which went on to become the film "His Girl Friday.") Coupling a taste for literary experimentation with a firsthand knowledge of the language of the streets, Hecht and other writers of his time gave Chicago form, personality, and aspirations. In Hecht's collection of columns, he focused on all aspects of Chicago life, alternately telling the stories of a bankrupt Russian immigrant on the verge of suicide, a hardworking single mother who becomes insane, and a "little fop" who spends his days artfully lounging in hotel lobbies.

Hecht's words about Michigan Avenue still seem to ring true to me today. When I look at my Uptown neighborhood and try to imagine what it was like 100 years ago, it can be very difficult. But Michigan Avenue does not seem to have changed at all. If Ben Hecht came back today he might be saddened by the state of journalism in Chicago, horrified by the transformation of his seedy north side neighborhood into the overpriced Gold Coast that it is today, but, at least, comforted to see that Michigan Avenue has, for better or worse, remained the same.

Michigan Avenue, 1929. Source: Chicago Daily News