(story my sister suggested)

By Dennis

I called my sister the other night to see how things were going; you know just general chit-chat. She told me she had visited the Seniors Writers website and had read all that I have written, and many others. She suggested that I write about some of my experiences in Chicago when we both lived there. I hadn’t thought of that yet and possibly wanted to just forget it. But she said it would make for great reading as it made for great telling at the time. So here goes.

When I moved to Chicago I had no place to stay. I had just escaped from Florida, so as any good son would do, I moved in with my parents. So I, my dog, my motorcycle, and piano had arrived. The dog and motorcycle proved to be no problem. However the piano was somewhat of one, but that’s another story. My parents lived in a two story walk up and the piano proved to be quite a challenge. So I sold the piano and tried to start a new life.

Having studied radio and television, when I saw an ad seeking sales help at ”Stereo City” I thought, “Cool, just my thing.” As with all ads like this they were seeking an assistant. manager. So I applied and got the job. The store was located at the intersection of 63rd Street and Kedzie. This was a major intersection where many roads intersected.

One day, an unusually slow weekday, two gentlemen came in, but their intentions were somewhat less than honorable. One man had my employee, Dianne, show him around the show room while the other just remained by the door. In a short amount of time they came back. Now Dianne had a gun to her head. In short order the man at the door produced a saw-off shotgun and asked me to accompany him. He asked that I empty the cash register and lead him to the “back bank,” which I did without hesitation. He then ordered all the employees to lie on the floor with our heads down.

One of my technicians, named Ron, was dating the Dianne, who was leading the other robber to the high end equipment. Ron kept looking up to see what was happening to the love of his life, while the shotgun holder kept yelling, “Put your head down!” Not knowing he was not referring to me, I pushed and pushed my face into the floor, which accounts for the rather wide, flat nose I have today.

They gathered the equipment they wanted and started to leave, when Dianne stopped them and pointed out a Chicago Police car in our parking lot. I credit her with not getting us in the middle of a cross-fire. Soon the police left and the bandits made their getaway only to return three weeks later. After the second robbery my bosses decided to close that location and move us all to one more secure location. They relocated us to a neighborhood called Melrose Park, an area bordering the city of Cicero, home of the Al Capone Empire, but that’s another story.

June 2014

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