Zimmerman Brush

Before I get to the subject of today’s post, Dear Readers, let me first wish my daughter Natasha a very happy birthday.

(That’s Sam, Natasha, yours truly and Carly taken this past June.)

Wishing you my darling daughter – and everyone dear to me in this photo- many happy returns of the day.

Love, Mom/Gran

… And now on to the main event.

The doorway on the photo that heads the blog today is at 900 West Lake Street in Chicago.

It is the former home of the Zimmerman Brush Company.

It was owned by my Uncle Mike- my dad’s sister’s husband- and for over twenty years my dad was the national sales manager.

Which meant he traveled Monday through Friday all over the United States.

(When I was a little girl, I thought he lived at O’Hare.  I always set the table for three people during the week – and if my mother was cooking brought the catsup bottle out FIRST.)

900 West Lake was a broom and brush factory.  The plant was on the bottom of the building.  The office- where my dad did his paperwork- was on the fifth floor.

The elevator- with a sliding cage door- was rickety, scary and kind of cool.

The pop machine on the factory floor was awesome.

The factory also had cats- to keep away the rats and mice, I suppose.

I loved these mangy guys.  I called them “crouchers.”

My dad’s office had a swivel desk chair.  I would pretend to “file” but mainly zoom around on the chair.

There was also a closet with stationery supplies.  How I loved all those unused new boxes of envelopes, pencils and order pads.

But best of all, I loved being with my father.  He would take my brother and me down there on Saturdays during the summer.

Back in the days, before Edens Highway was finished, It was quite a trek from Lake Avenue in Wilmette to Lake Street in Chicago.  It took forever and I though we were going to the moon.

But I was always excited to (finally) get there.  There was an unearthly- and unsuburban- roar that always heralded our arrival.

The El!

And lunch was always a treat.  Anything from Barney’s (“Yes, Sir, Senator!”) to Batt’s to Bishop’s.

Sweet, sweet memories.

But these days, whenever I walk by 900 West Lake on the way to Leslie Hindman’s Auction House at Lake and Ada, I can’t help notice a few changes.

First, the old rusty, sawdusty factory of Zimmerman Brush is now a pricey Yuppie condo.  The cutest twenty-something gal was coming out of the front door right before I snapped that photo.

The El?  A noisy nuisance that shook the building and aggravated everyone?

Nope.  Not any more.  Now it’s cool and so Risky Business.

The whole neighborhood is so hip now.  Everything from the new McDonald’s Headquarters to the trendiest of restaurants are in that Fulton Market area these days.

Who would have dreamt it?

As I walk, I look around in wonder.

And every time, as I pass the entrance to 900 West Lake, I marvel that it looks exactly the same.

And I look for something else, too.

Every time I look at the building, I expect to see a little girl and her little brother following their father into work.

If I squint my eyes and gaze through the mists of time, I can just about make them out.

And what would I tell that little girl about the woman now walking by on her way to work?  What would I tell her about the life she was going to lead?

I think about it and then decide.

Nope.  That little girl- who only loved books, dogs and horses…

She’d never believe me.