Day 46: Case Closed, The Steepest Gradient Yet

Day 46:  Monday July 21st, 2014.

Waukesha, WI to Wilmette (North Chicago), IL.  90.5 miles.

Before going to bed, I sent out a few messages on WarmShowers.org, hoping to have a host in Northern Chicago for this evening.  Mike and Susan responded, and were happy to host me.  They were my first choice, as they are situated on my route and within a day's ride (albeit a long day).  With my destination determined, I set out for the North Chicago neighborhood of Wilmette.

My legs were a bit sluggish, their soreness a result of the long day yesterday on top of the cumulative effect of riding without a rest-day since La Crosse, subsequently having traversed across the state of Wisconsin in short order.

Starting out, I definitely felt the shock of being thrown into a major urban area, one that would not be defined uniquely from other places by way of open space, but rather a gradient of urban that would become more intense as I made my way toward Chicago.  My route, while still on fantastic bike trails, would follow massive powerlines, pass by not lakes and fields, but industries, power plants, industrial complexes, and residential neighborhoods.

Reprieve from the concrete and metal came by way of city parks with well-manicured grassy fields and trees.

I was on mostly bike paths, including the New Berlin Trail, the Oak Leaf Trail and the Robert McClory Bike Path.  Occasionally, I would transition to roads, then back onto trails.  Before Racine, I crossed over a Chicago-Milwaukee artery, Interstate 94.  

By the time I reached Racine, I was hungry for lunch.  I took a detour off the bike path and onto the streets, passing by boarded up warehouses and storefronts, a superfund site, and a school that had been fenced off.  This town appeared to be hurting.  

I chose a small family-owned diner for lunch.  While there, I asked the waitress what people in town do for work.  She replied, "People in town don't work - they're mostly on welfare."  She told me the story of her mother, a faithful long-time employee of the Case Company, working at the Racine manufacturing plant assembling tractors.

The founder of Case, arriving in the mid-1800's in the Racine area, built up the company over time.  Passing away in 1891, Jerome Case is buried in the Racine cemetery.  Eventually, the Case company became the Case Corporation in 1994, going public on the stock market.  Since that time, some jobs, manufacturing, and assembly have been moved overseas.  The Case tractor plant in Racine closed it's doors, like several other manufacturing operations in the town, dealing huge blows to the local economy and to the families of those who lost their jobs, including my waitresses' mother.  "The massive building doesn't even exist anymore - they tore it down in 2005.", she added.  Racine, a victim of the stock market, of a company directed by shareholders interested in the biggest returns, disconnected from the lives, livelihood, families, and towns that are behind the scenes of the trading floor.

Back on my bike, I rode through the South side of Racine on my way out of town, through the 2-3 story project neighborhoods.  It was depressing.  The bike path switched from paved to dirt, and was routed arcoss streets with no stop signs, making frequent, busy road crossings a challenge.  I couldn't imagine kids using this path, as it was dangerous.

Through Kenosha, I then crossed the state line into Illinois.  As I rode through Waukegan, the bike trail infrastructure improved, and I was back into a lush tunnel of narrow green, with residential areas on either side.

I was in the Highland Park area of North Chicago.  The bike path now paralleling the commuter train tracks, each station was bustling with people, dressed up in Summer casual clothing, sporting bags and baskets loaded with fine wine, cheeses, baguettes, and other picnic rations.  They were all headed for a common destination - the Ravina Festival, an outdoor Summer concert series in a park-like ampitheater setting.  The festival has been ongoing since 1904, and people are free to byo-anything.  I learned about where everyone was headed from a police officer directing traffic on a corner.  He said, "We love it because you get 15,000 people showing up, bringing their own beer, wine, whatever, and we never have a problem."

Ever since Racine, I had been riding along the shore of Lake Michigan, yet I hadn't once seen the lake, my view hidden by buildings and trees.  Finally, my first sneak-peak at the lake happened as I rode through Highland Park.

Just one block from the shore, my view was now being blocked primarily by massive mansions on the lake.  The ominous display of obscene wealth was dizzying, especially after having just been through the projects of the Racine area.

The gradient of wealth was incredibly steep, and by far the most dramatic visible diplay of the haves versus the have-nots I've seen across America.  Highland Park, and the lakeshore wealth, blended into Wilmette.  Little did I know, I would be staying in one of the wealthier neighborhoods along Lake Michigan.  I pulled onto the street where my hosts lived.  Huge old homes with big yards were the norm.

I rolled into the driveway and was greeted by Mike and Susan.  They were very friendly and invited me into their home, treating me as if I was family, providing me with a guest room and connected bath on the second floor.

They also invited me to dine with them.  I sat at the table with Mike, Susan, and their Sons on the deck in their back yard, big oak trees overhead, joining in on their conversation from time to time while eating from a fantastic spread of food.  Their two daughters, now grown up and out of the house, were a big topic of discussion.  Choosing unexpected paths relative to their wealthy parent's expectations, their daughters have exploited their creative sides, one studying to be a goat farmer/artisan cheese maker, and the other living at a Co-Op of sorts in the Berkeley area and working a social services-type job.

Mike told me that their daughter's creative and unique paths have enlightened Susan and him, introducing new perspectives that they may not have otherwise had.  But, he admitted that it sometimes can be a delicate topic of conversation to share the latest news about what their offspring are up to at neighbor get-togethers, among people that may not "get it", such as their friends and neighbors the Ricketts, who currently own the Chicago Cubs and Wrigley Field.  

Making vague references to his work on the trading floor, and "in the pit", I assumed that their wealth came from Wall Street, or the Chicago trading floor.  Regardless, they were a generous, family focused on learning, exploring, sharing, and branching out.

After dinner,  Mike and Susan walked me across the street and a block East through a narrow public access to a beautiul beach on Lake Michigan.

"So, how did you get involved in hosting bicyclists?", I asked.  Mike explained that one of their daughters had been on a long-distance bicycling tour recently, and used WarmShowers.org hosts along the way.  She convinced her parents that they needed to help her return the favor by hosting bicyclists passing through the Chicago area.

Retiring to the guestroom for the evening, my mind was racing.  I stared at the ceiling in bed for a while before falling asleep, thinking about the whirlwind tour of urban landscapes, of the incredible degree of economic disparity in what I saw today, and the power of the "free market" that is Wall Street, of what it can do to a town like Racine and to the family of the waitress that served me at lunch, as well as what it has done for a few families like that of my hosts that invited me into their home.