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Davis, you're correct. Years ago I did telephones downtown Chicago, and would see the same folks standing at both ends of the bridges crossing the river from the train stations, pan handling the commuters, EVERY day. There used to be this one fella, was polite about it, but a pan handler just the same, and I was never mean to him, even stopped and shot the bull for a minute or so a couple of times. We all got Christmas bonuses this one particular year, and were a few $Thousand. So, I cash my check (before direct deposite existed), and on my way home with my few $Thousand extra, I passed the guy and gave him a $100 dollar bill. What the heck, I was in a good mood, full of holiday (dark beer for lunch with the other trades) cheer, it was extra money that I didn't have... so no big deal, I gave the guy a $100 bill. I figured he'd have one pretty good day, even if he blew it on... whatever. I didn't care. A month or so goes by, I'm coming into work and there the guy is, a security officer sitting at a desk letting me into a secure area. He sees me, I see him, and he says "Hey, I've got a job" all smiles, and I congratulate him, shoot the bull, and go on to my job. He's there a couple of weeks or so, then one day on the way home he's standing at the bridge pan handling again. I stop and ask him what in the world? He tells me, "I make a lot more money doing this". We never talked again after that. Used to be this guy dressed up in Marine fatigue lowers, jump boots, hat, and wear a red silk coat that said US Marine something or other that took up space by the Opera House. Stand there accosting commuters every day, "Can you help a disabled Marine...". The only problem is that he was never a Marine, nor could he ever get his story right about any of his units, because... he was never a Marine. Get this. Used to be school busses that would bring kids from schools all over the place that would line up matine shows as field trips for elementry and middle school kids. Little kids. The busses would let them off on "his" corner, where he would accost them getting off the busses with "Can you help a disabled Marine..." for their milk money and stuff. That "never" a Marine got smacked on quite a few occasions by sparkies, pipe fitters, dry wallers, phone guys (myself included), and the various trades. But, he kept coming back until someone must've called Chicago's finest, whom picked him up one day and we never saw him again. I don't miss Chicago. I miss the women. I miss the Blackhawks. But, I don't miss doing telephones in Chicago. Mark
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