“It was a bar, you know. A bum’s bar,” says Andy of the space that’s now home to his new club, the Spectrum Bar & Grill on Halsted near Jackson.
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“The bums don’t give us any trouble,” says Andy. “Not yet.”
A young man, who’s stuffed into a red flannel shirt, an unending smile across his round face, sits at the bar, sipping a beer and bobbing his head. He’s wearing a fishing cap covered with buttons and pendants. One says DAMN FUCK PISS HELL in a neat white-lettered stack. A man with long gray hair broods over a drink, and a petite Oriental waitress whisks by. Across the street a currency exchange promises to accept payments for Luz, Agua, Telefono.
“It doesn’t bother me a bit,” he says. “It’s happening all over the city. But I’m not indigent. If this place goes, I’ll move on. They kicked me out of the west side when they built the projects in the 40s.”
The couple walks out.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos/Richard Alm.
