This is one of a large series devoted to Chicago writers. These articles are expansions of ones written as introductions to two anthologies of Chicago writing I did: first, with David Starkey, Smokestacks and Skyscrapers, and second, my Black Writing from Chicago. See links at end to go to complete lists of the writers covered, and to the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame, a leading literary organization I am currently on the board of.
Over 700 people died of heat in Chicago’s 1995 heatwave, so this summer hasn’t been that bad, though its 25 days over 90 has bested the historic average by over a week, placing it in the top 20% of Chicago’s hottest. And then it just stopped. Suddenly we’re in the 60’s and 70’s before September, with night-time lows in the 50’s, even 40’s. Suddenly, a little nostalgia for summer creeps in, and that’s why I thought of Albert Halper’s “Young Writer Remembering Chicago,” excerpts of which David Starkey and I included in our book Smokestacks and Skyscrapers: An Anthology of Chicago Writing.
David and I, often accompanied by my sons Daniel and Bryan, went around doing shows on Chicago writing featuring writers from Smokestacks, and the short Video below is David reading a Halper passage about summer in Chicago.
Halper was born in Chicago in 1904, growing up on the West Side and holding a variety of poorly paid blue-collar jobs before turning to writing full time. With the exception of Union Square (1933), which was set in New York, most of Halper’s major fiction takes place in Chicago. The Foundry (1934), The Chute (1937), Sons of the Fathers (1940), The Little People (1942), and The Golden Watch (1953) all make substantial use of local color to tell their stories.
Always a booster of the city’s literary life, Halper’s anthology This Is Chicago (1952) was, until the publication of our Smokestacks and Skyscrapers, the most complete collection of Chicago writing available. He also edited an anthology of nonfiction narratives about the city’s criminals entitled The Chicago Crime Book (1967). When Halper died in Poughkeepsie, New York, in 1984, Joseph Epstein, editor of The American Scholar, wrote: “If there is such a thing as a Chicago point of view, Albert Halper had it in the best sense.”
He was certainly at his best writing about the city he loved. “Young Writer Remembering Chicago,” from On the Shore (1934), contrasts New York with Chicago, giving a vivid account of how the latter city’s four seasons shaped him as a writer. Like so many Chicago writers, Halper is both cynical and sentimental, trenchant and dreamy. “If I was born in a raw slangy town,” he writes, “if I happened to see raw and slangy things, why shouldn’t my stuff be raw and slangy.”
Fall is the first section of “Young Writer Remembering Chicago,” and, among many other things, he describes trains coming in through the South Side—“long gray metal monsters, racing from off the plains, thundering over viaducts, small squares of light flittering from their windowed steel bodies.” In the Winter section he focuses on Jake Bowers, coming in broke from downstate. “In Chicago the wind whistles through your pants and you shiver plenty…Hey, Jake, how do you like Chicago? Tell the folks about it.” He’s writing from New York where “the gusts blow in from Battery Park. The raw dampness makes the keys of his typewriter stick a little, “and I have to pound a bit harder; so hard in fact that some folks will say ‘Too raw and awkward, too unfinished and slangy.’” “But,” he continues, “I was born in a raw, slangy city, in a raw slangy neighborhood…I could smell the strong odor from the stockyards rolling in heavy waves all the way from the Southside. Just try to write in the classic tradition with that stink in your nostrils, sit down and spin out smooth poetic sentences with the roar of railroads in your ears.” When Spring comes, the city’s “howling mood is gone, gone down that twining river which disappears into the trees.” And yet while “in the winter all things do not die…death takes many things in the spring.” It’s in Summer that, despite the heat that blazes and smothers, some ease, some fulness, even some romance enter his memories.
David Starkey’s reading below is accompanied, as usual, by me on the keyboards, where when I was improvising the first thing I thought of was the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Summer in the City,” of course. Daniel’s guitar is there, though Bryan’s bass seems to be missing. The sound and graphic quality aren’t the best. It was recorded at a performance long ago—where and with what lord only knows. Still, we think you’ll enjoy it.
♦ Go HERE for a list of Chicago writers, many from Smokestacks and Skyscrapers, and HERE for a list of Black writers, many from Black Writing from Chicago. Read my article on the founding of The Chicago Literary Hall of Fame, where I currently serve on the board of directors.
Whales, and An Ethic for the Age of AI
The graphic for Addrienne LaFrance’s Atlantic article.
Below is a 3:48 highlights VIDEO of a recent trip my wife and I took to Cabo San Lucas, specifically to watch whales. We were not disappointed. But aside from the Video, this commentary isn’t really about whales. It’s my take on Adrienne LaFrance’s article in the July/August 2023 Atlantic titled “In Defense of Humanity.” As the subheading says, “We need a cultural and philosophical movement to meet the rise of artificial superintelligence.” It’s more nuanced and sophisticated than my summary, so I’d urge you to read it for yourself. It’s not long. It amounts to four points from which a possible ethics for the age of AI could arise. Whales are an illustration of Point Four below.
1. TRANSPARENCY: If you’ve used AI to create anything, just tell us you did. Writers like Ayad Akhtar, who won a 2013 Pulitzer for his play Disgraced, are already openly making AI a part of their writing process, as are many visual artists. As a former writing professor, I would just ask students if they used AI and have them describe their process of using it at the end of their papers. A law or an ethic of transparency would do much to warn consumers about AI-generated pictures purporting to be of someone doing this or that, including posing naked. Short of banning such pictures or hunting down and prosecuting each offender—which would be the best solution, of course—a statement saying something like “AI was used to generate this image,” or “this sound,” would give consumers important information and afford victims some semblance of protection from the beginning. This point is related to Point Three below.
2. PERSONAL CONNECTION: How convenient to meet on Zoom. Yet this should not take away from meeting in person, face-to-face. Live, personal contact should be seen as a necessity. This point is related to Point Four below.
3. PRIVACY: LeFrance says, “privacy is the key to preserving our humanity.” On a personal level, this means learning that you don’t have to share everything you’ve ever done or thought. This calls for a measure of modesty, a growing sense of your inner vs. public self, and for a careful drawing of lines that will protect you and those closest to you from outside intrusion.
4. PERSONAL WITNESSING: Whenever possible, go see things for yourself and through your own eyes. Do not rely on a virtual reality tour of Rome, but go there yourself. Which brings me back to the Video below. How long I’ve wanted to actually see whales in the wild. I watched films, including one of my oldest son’s family going whale watching in kayaks and having a humpback surface no more than 10 feet from them. So during one of the coldest days in 2025’s Chicagoland winter, we were able to fly off to Cabo San Lucas and experience what the Video below shows. What a privilege. And how privileged was I. Not everyone can do that, or actually step onto Vatican Square in Rome, as I was also able to do many years ago, but the more you can see with, and through, your own eyes, with no intervening technology, the better. Actually see your neighborhood, your backyard, the people closest to you, and even those who are strangers.