MiniMicroJuggFest in Chicago
I met Jigga for lunch on Sunday at the oldest restaurant, (not the oldest bar) Schaller’s Pump, in Chicago. It opened in 1881 and is run by the fourth generation family member, Mr. Jack Schaller and his son Jay. Daughters Jill, Betty, Sue and Kim are servers. The place is right across the street from the 11th Ward Democratic offices where Mayors Daley, Kennelly, Bilandic and Kelly have set policy for the City of Chicago for decades. There is a portrait of the current Mayor Daley and another of his father (both avid South Siders) above the bar. The place survived prohibition and gangster era turf wars.
Mr. Schaller (who is 83 years old and holds court with just about everyone who walks in the place) told Jigga and I that he was born upstairs from the brewery (The South Side Brewery) that used to be in what is now their parking lot. He was showing off pictures of himself and local celebrities (Steve Stone, the White Sox broadcaster was the only one we knew, but he also had pix of him and some fat guys from The Score, a local radio broadcast). I got there a little late due to the serious rain and remnants of Hurricane Ike in the greater Chicagoland area this weekend. We had a couple of pitchers and a nice butt steak sandwich. The ceiling was leaking in the men’s room.
Here is a pic of Jigga and Mr, Schaller:
and one of me and the old man:
It was a nice slice of Chicago, and even though we could have scored some free tickets (being given away by patrons as the Saturday game was rained out so the White Sox were playing a double header) to the game, we choose not to go. Besides, with that shirt Jigga was wearing, I didn’t want to get killed. Also, the weather was pretty lousy.
If you ever get to Schaller’s Pump, don’t miss the hash browns. Mr. Schaller asked if we had ordered any, and then went in the kitchen to make sure they were included for our meal.
We watched the good half of the Bears game and then I sent Jigga on his way to Glenview to his hotel and I went back home in a deluge that ended just about the time I got in the driveway. It was good to get together for a couple of hours. I wish the weather had been better, but then, those tickets would not have been available and the bar would have been dryer.
I hope Jigga made it safely to his destination and is having a good mediation this morning.
I am glad you guys got together. I must get out there soon too. I would like to go to Schaller’s as well… Also to a good BBQ place. I know Chicago must have some great BBQ somewhere.
Any other photos taken?
No good BBQ that I know of. Great steaks, yes. BBQ, no. There are a couple of places that pass for BBQ, but I am from the south, so they pale in comparison. Go to B’ham and hit the Golden Rule. That’s BBQ.
We took no other pics. I was not going to take one of the leaking celing in the men’s room, also for fear of being killed by some large South Sider who would appreciate a camera in the men’s room.
What a coincidence that Steve Miller was there the same time you guys were.
Heh heh heh…butt steak.
Seriously though, great story.
The likeness to Mr. Miller has faded. He is grayer and I am fatter and taller.
Yeah, but Steve Miller is richer and quite a has been.
FB, I was looking at these shots and had a question. On the bottom photo, are you the guy on the left or right?
Here’s a hint: I am the one who has had a couple of beers and does not look like a leprechan.
What’s a leprechan? Is that like Charlie Chan with leprosy?
I googled “Leprechan” and found this joke:
A man is down on his luck. He just lost his job and his car’s engine blew up. He decides to go to the bar to drown his sorrows in some drinks.
When he goes to take a leak, there is a leprechan at the urinal next to him.
“whats wrong me laddy? You look depressed”
the man tells him his problems. the leprechan replies ” hey, I can help you out.” the man says “ohyeah, you got a pot of gold, dont you? ”
“yep”, the leprechan says “just let me fu@k you in your ass and I’ll give you some gold.” the man says “no thanks” and goes home.
The next day his wife leaves him and he has $20 left to his name. he decides to go drinking to try to forget. He goes to take a piss and the leprechan is in there again.
“hello me laddy, how are things”
the man replies “everything is worse, my wife is gone and I’m broke.”
“well son, remember, my offer still stands” After a few minutes the man gives in and says “fine,i really need the money ,just do it”.
The man bends over and the leprechan goes to town on him.
the man screams “i cant believe I’m letting you do this!”
the leprechan replies” yeah, well I can’t believe you fell for that leprechan shit”
Hey… wait a minute. Don’t we always have a Juggfest around this exact time of year?
No sign of FB on the eastern seaboard, is he waterlogged and afloat in a jonboat somewhere in the midwest?
I’m thinking the Sleestak blood is still thick in the Bloglord’s pool.
Yarbz and I were lamenting that very issue recently. I will see if I can arrange a trip, but am so freakin busy lately, it may not be possible.
Is Jigga’s last name Boo?
I fuckin had to…