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My Muck Rack
On my professional Muck Rack, peruse more than 2,000 articles — all written by me between late 2020 and the present
Rare.us
I was a staff writer for Rare.us in 2020 and 2021, when the site was owned and operated by Publishers Clearing House. At the time, its focus was folk-Americana.
Wide Open Country
After Publishers Clearing House sold Rare.us, I was transferred to Wide Open Country where I covered album releases, Western fashion, honky-tonk bars and other relevant country news.
Ultimate Classic Rock
I enjoy freelancing for Ultimate Classic Rock, where I get to cover my all-time favorite music genre (as well as other moments in retro pop culture).
Chicago Agent
Since mid-2021, I've been a full-time editor at Agent Publishing, a national network of real estate trade magazines. I write mainly for their flagship publication, Chicago Agent, and was promoted to the role of senior editor in early 2023.
Reporting for The HoofBeat
Trumped at His Own Rally
March 2016
The crowd of protestors outside the UIC Pavilion on Friday, March 11, was diverse in age and gender and race, but had one thing in common — they were angry. In the hours before the Donald Trump rally was to begin, chants of demonstrators echoed throughout the campus. Young children and parents and senior citizens and Mexican families and Muslim women and Black Lives Matter activists filled the streets. In the air were signs supporting LGBTQ rights and signs that condemned Trump’s xenophobic comments, preaching love — but mostly the signs were caricatures of Trump with colorful plays on his name. The thousands of protesters paraded them proudly. “Not in our city,” was a phrase fiercely repeated through the several blocks of protesting.
A group of police officers separated the lively crowd from the much smaller one waiting to actually enter the Pavilion and attend the rally. In this line was a distinct mix of Trump supporters and dissenters avoiding eye contact with one another as they shuffled into the event. Two young women in line said they went to UIC and were just here to check it out. “I’m just coming to see if he’s really that racist,” one said. Her friend nodded. “The media can misconstrue some things. But mostly I’m here, because I think it’s a part of history.”
An older woman stood alone behind them, decked out head to toe in red, white, and blue. On her shirt was a Trump button. “I’m really just anti-Hillary,” she said. “Trump is the anti-Hillary vote.” When asked if she thought Bernie Sanders was a viable anti-Hillary vote, she shrugged. “I don’t really know much about him.” One group travelled all the way from Ohio to see Trump. Another woman, a 78-year old and long-time Chicago resident, shared why she would be voting for him. “I want to shuffle the cards. I’m tired of an inactive government.” As she spoke, jeers of “F--- Trump” were barely audible from beyond the police officers.
Inside the rally though, as an Elton John album blared from the speakers, that wall of separation evaporated. To enter the center of the arena-style Pavilion, attendees needed a special wristband, something which serious Trump supporters snatched up.. A short metal barrier sectioned off this main floor, but it did not stop either side from antagonizing the other. An hour before the rally was to begin, shouting matches were already personal and aggressive.
In the stands, protesters continued to chant as loudly as the crowd outside, despite physically intermingling with Trump supporters. Between the masses of patriotic colors, the rows of seating revealed a bizarre combination of red “Make America Great Again” baseball caps and Black Lives Matter T-shirts. Trump supporters cheered when provocative protesters were removed from the premises or told to stand down by nearby officers. But not all protesters took an abrasive approach. The row of Muslim men and women praying towards Mecca in the Pavilion balcony and near the concession stand was an affecting sight which conveyed resilience in a tense and rowdy auditorium.
As an exchange over the barrier between a Sanders supporter and a Trump supporter became particularly heated, a crowd gathered around the two men, saying, “Those hats were made in China, you idiot!” Looking on was the staff from Monterey Security, working the Pavilion. An employee who has been with the company since 1995 said this was the “craziest” event she has ever worked. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. They got the CIA all up in here.”
From the Pavilion speakers, “Tiny Dancer” blasted on repeat.
In a nearly empty patch of seats a group of older men stood with their arms crossed. One of them donned a t-shirt that read “Hillary Sucks, But Not As Much As Monica.” When asked which of Trump’s policies he supports, the man said, “He’s not going to let us get bullied.” Equally simple were those answers from other supporters, most of which included “The wall,” “Make Mexico pay for that wall” or some variation of Trump’s blunt “honesty” when he speaks. That’s how a student from St. Ignatius high school put it. The sixteen-year old attended the rally with some friends who said they were not supporters. One of them joked, saying, “You don’t know any policies,” while the Ignatius student responded. “Gun control,” he said back.
Another batch of young men wore “Make America Great Again,” but claimed to be doing so ironically. Unironic were the middle-aged women from Plainville, IL, fully clad in Trump gear. “He’s awesome,” one of them said. “He says what we want to hear.” And what is that, exactly? “Everything.” Upperclassmen from Northwestern University echoed their sentiment. “He’s a winner,” one said. “He’s not PC.”
As the time for Trump’s scheduled appearance grew closer, the crowd inside the Pavilion only grew more polarized. It was hardly a rally by 6:00, the number of protesters inside roughly equivalent to supporters. Tension between sides was palpable. The room was so loud that when Trump officially canceled his appearance, the announcement was nearly indiscernible and took a moment to sink in. But when it did, the UIC Pavilion erupted. Breaking into a frenzy from every side, the auditorium resembled a shaken snowglobe. To the right, spectators egged on a fight. To the left, a supporter and a protester were nose to nose as if daring each other to strike. Any false sense of tolerance went out the window once Trump cancelled. The security, once guarding the barrier to the center floor of the arena, abandoned their posts to break up fights and protesters rushed the spot. From above, the enclosed area appeared like the eye of a tornado as blue chased red. Around it, was the swirling chaos.
Cheers of “We stopped Trump!” rang through the Pavilion as protesters danced and sang. Signs were tossed into the air as the activists hugged each other. In the center of the floor though, Trump supporters stood their ground. They hissed at the protesters, chanting, “Love Trump.” Beyond the barrier, people either fled or stayed to watch the collision like it was a monster truck rally. The sheer volume paired with Americana decor didn’t help — it was hard to remember that outside these walls was a Chicago neighborhood. Protesters eventually combatted “Love Trump” with “Dump Trump.” To hear anything besides the impassioned cries and the word “Trump” was impossible.
The Pavilion eventually cleared out, but the war waging between sides was not nearly over. Outside on Racine, hoards of police ushered people leaving the the still-thriving protest, but conflict seemed unavoidable. Small scraps continued to break out along the street. Now passing a massive crowd of protesters — which could only be described as “Yuge” — Trump supporters walked passed a barrage of taunts, along with chants of “Get up! Get Down! Chicago is a Bernie Town!”
A Harvard University student, originally from Portage Park, watched the protest from the curb. “I’m not surprised. It’s a Democratic city. But these people shouting aren’t voting.” The self-proclaimed independent said he would not be voting for Trump, but wants to see every candidate speak before he makes his choice. He said he was not aware of the Sanders rally in Summit, Ill on that same night. He continued to observe of the crowd. “You shouldn’t preach equality and protest a point of view,” he said. Moments later, a laughing protestor bolted past as he tripped a man holding a Trump sign. “Every time we see a Trump supporter, we beat ‘em up. Literally,” he said, before taking off again. The student shook his head. “See what I mean?”
For the next mile, dejected Trump supporters peppered the streets. “How many people are protesting Bernie?” One said, bothered by tonight’s outcome. In response to the point that Sanders makes far less inflammatory comments, the man shrugged. “I guess he’s pandering to a different kind of crowd.” Another Trump supporter called the rally’s cancellation “ridiculous.” “Protesters want to make this a race thing,” He said. “But I’m just sick of politicians’ empty promises.” This man was certainly not the only one who came to see Trump because of his glorified status as a Washington outsider. The word “outsider” was nearly unavoidable during conversations with Trump supporters.
Inside the rally, a man said he was voting for Trump, because he’s “not bought.” But this is actually a Sanders slogan — “You can’t buy Bernie.” When this was pointed out, he agreed. “Bernie’s the most honest candidate,” he said. This fan of Rand Paul went into greater detail on his views. “I’m independant of a party. I was against the war in Iraq and I want to purge the Republican party of neo-conservatism. I think Bernie’s got some great ideas.” He appeared to be the most open-minded Trump supporter of the night. “But when it comes down to it,” he said, “Bernie is just a communist Jew.”
And there it was.
Not Business as Usual on Bryn Mawr
April 2016
My earliest memory is stepping on the spiky rubber doormat outside the travel agency on Bryn Mawr and Bernard. I grew up right there, just down the street from Northside College Prep. So on the way to school everyday I pass that same storefront and the woman who works in the real estate office next door always waves good morning. I stop in the 7-Eleven for gummy worms. On the weekends, I go to Bryn Mawr Breakfast Club and as a senior I've even spent some time in the local hookah lounge. Sometimes it can be boring living here, in the North Park neighborhood. There's Northeastern, this small collection of shops, and not much else. Between Kimball and Kedzie, Bryn Mawr always resembled a ghost town. Nearly every other storefront is empty and neighborhood staples like The Hollywood Bar are just memories for older residents. But the pocket of businesses west of Kimball has always managed to thrive in its own way — and now even those days are numbered.
Despite remaining the same size — roughly 12,000 students on 67 acres — for over forty years, Northeastern Illinois University unveiled plans in 2014 to expand its campus with the addition of student housing. This is one of several attempts to improve the reputation of the commuter college, which is located on Bryn Mawr west of Kimball, under the somewhat recent leadership of president Sharon Hahs. Not finding the space inside its current North Park campus, Northeastern proposed buying up the block of Bryn Mawr between Bernard and Kimball. But when two of those eight property owners sold easily, the others united. Along with the NEIU Neighbors Coalition and other concerned locals, these business and property owners have spent two years vocalizing their grievances with NEIU through press coverage, local events, and the website, neiulandgrab.com. But widespread support has not stopped the state-funded school from invoking eminent domain as a means to seize the property.
Like its neighbor Albany Park, the Hollywood North Park area is recognized for its diversity. While this neighborhood is not heavy on retail, its unique marriage of cultures is visible even within the handful of businesses between Bernard and Kimball. Hunan Wok, the family-run Chinese restaurant, and the independant real estate agency are both older than the university. Beside them stand The Ugly Hookah Cafe, a popular hair salon, a dentist's office, The Day and Night corner store, and one of the few surviving travel agencies. Many of these are businesses created and maintained by immigrants who have found a home on the corner of Bryn Mawr. Ambalal Patel is one such business owner. While Hunan Wok and the Bryn Mawr Breakfast Club have been at the forefront of discussions surrounding the NEIU “land grab,” being a chain, the 7-Eleven which Patel runs is often overlooked.
Patel first overtook this 7-Eleven location 11 years ago and he has built up quite a relationship with his regular customers. Patel's 7-Eleven, directly on the corner of Bryn Mawr and Kimball, is unsurprisingly a
hotspot for everyday items in an urban neighborhood that lacks the typical plenty of convenience shopping. But the connection between Patel and his staff with their customers extends beyond mere neighborhood niceties; two years ago, his location was recognized nationally at the annual 7-Eleven convention for the best customer service in the Midwest. That's why he scoffs at Hahs' claims that the businesses of Bryn Mawr are "depressed." Shaking his head, Patel says, "There's no way. We have improved the business here very vertically. I have more than doubled my business in ten years." He acknowledged that in addition to hard work, the location is key to his success.
Unlike the Bryn Mawr Breakfast Club, whose owner Emmanuel Meija told DNAinfo Chicago that he wants to remain not only in the area, but on Bryn Mawr, Patel has no such certainty. His lease is month by month, so when the state officially seized the property in January, he knew he could be asked to leave at any moment up until December 2016. Until that happens though, Patel cannot know where the 7-Eleven franchise will relocate him. He will not be reimbursed by 7-Eleven for moving costs or compensated for the shift to a possibly (and very likely) less popular corner — but the eminent domain is already costing his business. Since the state took technical control of the land in January, Patel was forced to remove all liquor products from his shelves to comply with Section 6-15 of Chapter 235 of Illinois Compiled Statutes: "No alcoholic liquors shall be sold or delivered in any building belonging to or under the control of the State." This has already cost Patel 23 percent of his sales. The sharp loss of sales is not reimbursed by 7-Eleven, nor the state of Illinois. While business is not supposed to be personal, the treatment of business owners like Patel in cases of eminent domain seems remarkably impersonal.
"I cannot think about any other locations until they say it's time to move," he said. And when will that happen? Most likely by the time Patel receives any word on the future of his business, he will have lost nearly a quarter of a full year's profit. He echoes the anger of nearby residents: "They want me to stay here," Patel says. While some neighbors argue that a younger demographic will be refreshing for an area that can seem stuck in the past, Patel disagrees. "People are happy here with how the neighborhood is," he says. To him, the problem is Northeastern. “The people here have worked so hard to build up their small businesses and now they are taking away from the small business people.”
Northeastern's seemingly sudden expansion is actually part of their larger initiative called the "Decade of Dreams," created in response to declining enrollment. Currently, the Decade of Dreams reads like a wishlist for the school that includes reconstructions of the Education Building, Science Building, Performing Arts Center, and Child Care Center. The Bryn Mawr student housing falls into the construction of something called "Mixed-Use Developments." According to the official Decade of Dreams report, mixed-use developments are to include "the integration of retail and residential spaces... This complements the overall University environment." And this is where the foundation for the eminent domain which NEIU wields over the small businesses appears flawed. Of course, citizens are aware of eminent domain as the government's right to seize property for the public good. But when NEIU finally bulldozes the ten Bryn Mawr businesses, it won't be the state behind the wheel.
The developing company American Campus Community is set to create and then operate the eventual student housing. They will also profit off of it. The private developer controls the funds of this $50 million project, despite NEIU utilizing "a public function to acquire land for a public purpose." In response to this argument, Hahs reminded the dissenting crowd at a town hall-style meeting last year (which actually took place in Northside’s second-floor atrium) that this is simply how universities go about expansion in states that can't afford it. It is fully legal; eminent domain protects the right for land to be delegated to private corporations to attain a public good. But residents are left to wonder just exactly how “public” the good will be.
Regarding the student housing, NEIU assistant professor Marcos Feldman told the non-profit think tank, Illinois Policy, "the best information we have is that it would serve the top ten percent of our student body." He wonders how such a slim percentage of a frankly small student body could be justified. "That just doesn't add up to public purpose to me," he said. In the same collection of interviews, Hahs says, "If we wait for public purpose to be done in a casual way or an informal way, it will never get done." Northeastern has long been a commuter school but Hahs wants to market the institution in a new direction through enlargement. But considering the school’s current demographic, it is more than possible that these dorms won't do much more than take up space. Patel is certain they are a bad idea, saying, "The people who live here, they hate the dormitories. They know that nuisance comes with students." This influx of a new crowd is certainly a concern to such a residential, and comparatively quiet, bubble inside the city of Chicago.
According to the Decade of Dreams literature, the student housing complexes are to hold a collection of small retail stores for students, an inclusion which feels like yet another kick to residents who support the present Bryn Mawr businesses. The block will be demolished, rebuilt, and remodeled for a new batch of people who will never know what the sizzling chorizo smelled like at The Bryn Mawr Breakfast Club. They won't know how Bill Tong grew up on Bryn Mawr above Hunan Wok and dreamed of continuing the success of his father's restaurant, which has stood since 1954. They won’t think the block feels empty when the Day and Night employees aren’t taking up the only bench, sitting barefoot and smoking cigars. My own father, who receives a pension from Northeastern, even worries that the neighborhood "just won't be for us anymore."
When he says this, I realize, finally, that I will return from college next year to a street that doesn't look like mine. And a few years after that, I may even return to a different house. My parents don't want to live in a university village. Neither do my neighbors. The UIC expansions contributing to the demise of Maxwell Street in the 1980s proved that even within the unique historic framework of Chicago, eminent domain has the power to destroy the oldest of traditions, the strongest of cultures. In a city where gentrification is ubiquitous and unavoidable, I treasure stepping on the rubber mat of the travel agency every morning on my way to school and saying hello to the woman at the real estate agency as I struggle with what it means to live somewhere. To have a neighbor in a city. To have a piece of land that you thought was yours, even if it's just the quiet corner of Bryn Mawr and Kimball. I understand what Patel means when he says, "It just isn't fair.”