Staff Sergeant Alfred Hoekstra, Jr. at age 25 on furlough in Paris.



Our dad liked old movie palaces, stately passenger trains and the rewards of devotion.

He liked happy endings.

Our dad Alfred Hoekstra, Jr. died April 8 at JourneyCare Hospice in Barrington, Il. He was 94 years old. He was fortunate enough to see most of the 20th Century.

One of my last memories of dad came a week ago when we were moving hospital equipment in and out of his bedroom. A sepia toned wedding picture of dad and mom had fallen behind a mountain of gauzes, blankets and bottles of water. Dad saw something was missing.

He looked up from his pillow and suddenly asked what happened to the photograph.

Mom and Dad were married 65 years.

He always kept his eye on Mom.

They spent their final months together wheelchairs locked side by side watching the Turner Classic Movie channel. Mom has been in home hospice since August and dad understood every moment was precious. They were as tight as a bouquet of fresh flowers.

Our dad has a gentle soul. He raised beds of roses, he showed me how to open doors for women, he conducted himself with dignity and humility.

You hear stories of passages but now I have seen one. We got a call late Wednesday afternoon that dad had taken a turn for the worse. Our caregiver got mom in the car and we made the drive from Naperville to Barrington to see dad.

We settled in the room that was softly playing New Age music like Kim Robertson’s “Alayi.” Mom leaned over in her wheel chair, took dad’s hand and gave it a gentle kiss. We left them alone. Mom left the suite to return home.

Within the hour dad had transitioned.

He was waiting for her before he boarded his train.


Mom & Dad’s 65th wedding anniversary, February, 2015

I am proud of our dad. He was a Chicagoan to the core. Dad was born in Logan Square. His father Alfred, Sr. came to Chicago from the Netherlands where he opened a dairy delivery company. Dad spent his youth taking the trolley down Milwaukee Avenue to spend entire days in the vaudeville houses and movie theaters of the Loop. He loved to talk about the 1934 Century of Progress World’s Fair in Chicago and somehow the calypso ballad “Yellow Bird” emerged as one of his favorite songs.

In 1939 he found work as a messenger boy in the Union Stock Yards that led to his 40 plus years as a purchasing agent at Swift & Company. My favorite story/life lesson from my father was his recollection of the foreboding goat on the livestock ramps that led sheep to slaughter. This strategy avoided deploying men with whips and other potentially gruesome tactics. Union leaders nicknamed the goat “Judas.”

My dad’s advice: “Don’t be like the sheep.“

His career was interrupted by a call from Uncle Sam. Dad was in the U.S. Army 106th Infantry Division from March 1943-January 1946.. The division was nicknamed “the hungry and the sick.”

Dad was awarded four battle stars on his service ribbon including the Battle of the Bulge. On Dec. 11, 1945 the division suffered 8,063 casualties—416 were killed, 1,246 were wounded and 7,000 were missing. Since dad knew how to type, he was in an office unit nicknamed “Typewriter Commandos” and was in an office during the battle. He credited the typewriter for saving his life.

Still, the war is what got him in the end.

In recent years dad dodged bullets of diabetes, Parkinson’s Disease and heart surgery. But Dad told the oncologist he started smoking when he was given free packs of cigs while in the Army. He quit smoking cold turkey by the time he was 50, but his cause of death is listed as lung cancer.

Swift & Co. transferred dad around the country; from Chicago to New Jersey to Columbus, Ohio and finally back to Chicago in 1967 where we became one of the “early suburban settlers” of Naperville. During a 1966 visit to Chicago to look for a new home dad took me to my first major league baseball game—White Sox-Yankees at Old Comiskey Park. His roots in the stock yards likely made him a Sox fan. I was captured by the 1969 Cubs and dad seemed to enjoy subtle pleasure in tweaking me about the White Sox 2005 world championship. I believe my love of newspapers comes from dad bringing home four Chicago daily newspapers after his commutes on the old Burlington-Northern railroad.

(L to R) Doug, Irene, Dave  and Alfred Hoekstra among the rose bushes of Ohio

(L to R) Doug, Irene, Dave and Alfred Hoekstra in Ohio

Until a few months ago, dad was full of discovery. My mom told us she wanted to see Bob Dylan before she died, so in August, 1989 we drove to the Illinois State Fair to see Dylan in concert. Dad had some trouble with the heat, but once we returned home his critique was, “He’s good, but he’s no Debbie Reynolds.”

At age 94 he was on his computer daily, either looking up online bargains for his beloved grandson Jude or Googling about his latest ailment. We teased dad about the mysterious things we might find under his secondary account of “Naper Man.”

At one time Dad was a Republican and I recall getting into heated debates with him about the mysterious things of President Nixon. Dad abruptly left his conservative ways during the Reagan administration and never looked back.

I inherited my pack rat nature from my dad. I brought some of his old correspondence to the hospice. I forgot he had subscribed to Michael Moore’s Mailing List and I found a 2002 article he sent to my brother and myself. He wrote, “Boys, this is touching.”

Moore composed an essay about the sudden death of his mother. He had planned to show his mom a copy of his new movie. He wrote: “As the end credits would roll, she would get to see what she has seen at the end of all my work; her name along with my dad’s in that list of credits, and it’s the only real credit that ever mattered—because without them I would not have the life they gave me, the way they raised me…it is all a privilege I will never cease being thankful for.”

I’m thankful I saved that e mail as I write this in the early morning hours after my dad’s passing. I feel my dad. I will see him in the promise of the beacon of a train or the romance of a dark theater balcony. He shed light on all that is decent and happy.









SCOTTSDALE, Az.—De Jon Watson is in his first year as Senior Vice-President of Baseball Operations for the Arizona Diamondbacks. He oversees the franchise’s professional, amateur and international scouting and player development functions including the hiring of minor league managers and staff.

It has been a bow-wow-wow-yippi-yo-yippi-yay ride for Watson, 48.

His father is the rhythm and blues guitar hero Johnny “Guitar” Watson, whose “bow-wow” poetry was borrowed by George Clinton and rapper Snoop Dog.

In 1996 Watson had a fatal heart attack after taking the stage in Yokohama, Japan. He was only 61.

Watson was a major influence on Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Sly Stone. Hard core music fans know this, but his son is working to help his father gain entrance into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame.

On an early March morning in his office at the D-Backs Salt River Fields spring training facilty, Watson has a lot more to do than field questions about his father being the father of rap with his 1980 hit “Telephone Bill.” Or, how Steve Miller covered and referenced the 1961 Watson hit “Gangster of Love.”

But Watson is a patient man.

Before landing in Arizona, his baseball journey took him to Los Angeles (The Dodgers Vice-President of Player Development), Cleveland (Director of Professional Scouting, 2004-06), Cincinnatii (Reds Director of Scouting during the Marge Schott era  1998-2000) and even the Midwest League, where in 1987 he was a first baseman (and teammate of former Cubs-Sox pitcher Greg Hibbard) on the Appleton Foxes.

“This is fun,” Watson says with a warm smile. “Working with Tony (La Russa, the D-Backs new Chief Baseball Officer) and Stew (Dave Stewart, the former A’s pitcher and new GM) and the dynamic of relationship we are growing and building here.” And some of the new building blocks are at Kane County, the D-Backs new affiliate.

De Jon Watson, a baseball lifer.

De Jon Watson, a baseball lifer.


Watson knows the Midwest League. He recalls, “My prior club we were in Midland, Michigan (the Great Lakes Loons Dodgers affiliate) so I know the competition. I don’t consider it a ‘Low A’ league. ‘A’ ball is ‘A’ ball. The pitching is very competitive and a little more mature than first year players are used to seeing.

“I remember the Midwest League. I just saw Greg Vaughn (former Brewers first baseman) in Tucson. The year I was there he hit .305 and drove in like 120 runs (105 with 33 HR) for Beloit. Chip Hale (new D-Backs manager) was in the league when I was in that league. He played for Kenosha. When I worked for the Marlins (as a scout), we opened Kane County so I know how well they draw. (Former Seattle Mariner-Detroit Tiger) Rod Allen who was the (Cougars) hitting coach (‘94 and ‘95). He’s my cousin and he’s now doing radio for the Tigers. I can’t wait to get back to Kane County and see how it has changed over the years.”

The D-Backs have as many Chicago connections as a cactus has needles: former White Sox GM Roland Hemond is a special assistant to the President & CEO, former Cub Joe Carter is Stewart’s new assistant, former Cub Mark Grace is assistant hitting coach, former Cub Mike Harkey is pitching coach, former Cubs manager (1974-76) is senior advisor for Pacific Rim Operations and even former Bulls GM Jerry Krause has surfaced as a part-time scout.

Watson was destined for baseball even though his Los Angeles home was filled with music. Watson played drums as a boy and his father wrote the instrumental “De Jon’s Delight” for his son. “Music was my dad’s passion,” he says. “I wanted to find my own path. Sports was my avenue to search and pursue.

“Not many people know who my Dad was and I usually don’t say much about him. But as a kid I loved instrumentals. I always wanted him to do a jazz album but he would never do a jazz album. (Jazz guitarist) George Benson came by the house. Marvin Gaye was a close family friend. Natalie Cole bought me my first guitar. Barry White was our neighbor. I played Pop Warner football and Pony League baseball with his son (Kevin White). Don Buford, Jr was on our team. He’s now an orthopedic surgeon (in Dallas). After he quit baseball he went back to med school.” Buford, Jr.’s number was retired by the Daytona Cubs and he is the brother of former Cubs outfielder Damon Buford.

Watson listens to his father’s music “often.” He draws from a personal  catalog of more than 750 songs. “I Want to Ta-Ta (You Baby)’ is one of my favorites,” he says. “‘Superman Lover’ is a true classic. There’s some ballads I like, ‘Love Jones.’ He was under the radar for sure. Me, my sister and brother are working on getting him in the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame.”

A scout’s anthem would be Watson’s gritty “I Got Eyes,” recorded in 1953 in Los Angeles with session players like Harold Grant on guitar and T-Bone Walker drummer Robert “Snake” Sims. Watson was a musical pathfinder and also served up memorable album covers like when he was saluting in front of a jeep on “Funk Beyond The Call of Duty” and being pushed on a tricycle by three women in 1979’s “What The Hell Is This,” which included the comical pop-funk track “I Don’t Want To Be President.”



The musician taught his son to dream big.

Watson, 6’4,” 190 pounds, played baseball at Santa Monica High School and at West Los Angeles Community College. He was a third round draft pick by the Kansas City Royals and played minor league ball for five seasons. He retired in 1989 and returned to school when he got a call to work in MLB’s RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities).

“That’s how I got back into baseball,” he said. “Gary Hughes (the Marlins first scouting director in 1991) gave me my first job as a scout in the inner city of Los Angeles. That was during the (1992 Rodney King) riots, as a matter of fact. Some scouts were scared to go in the inner city. I said, ‘Come with me, we’ll  be all right.’ You see guys getting chased through the parks but that’s just part of it.”



Watson is featured in the 2012 documentary “Harvard Park” with Darryl Strawberry, Eric Davis and Frank Thomas. Between 1982 and 1994 the park was an urban training ground for baseball prospects and minor leaguers. The documentary debuted on BET.

“If you were playing professional baseball we all met at Harvard Park (in South Central L.A.),” Watson explains. ‘You’d hit in the order of where you were playing at that particular time, big leagues or Triple Guys would throw to each other. This was the grass roots of teaching. Shane Mack was there. Barry Larkin would come out, Kenny Williams. I was fortunate enough to go to scout school with Kenny.

“These guys would share their experiences. It helped us mature and grow to understand there were other young African-Americans going through the same struggles of trying to reach their goals. That’s where I got my passion for this. They kept pushing me to keep pushing forward. I still talk to Eric Davis three times a month. He played for Tony (La Russa) and I knew they had a relationship. I told him I was interviewing so I called him and got some background information.”

LaRussa heard many good things about Watson.

In a separate interview while looking for game tickets for his friend Bobby Knight, the Baseball Hall of Famer says, “It’s a new experience for me being in the front office. So I contacted people I knew over the years for recommendations and De Jon was guys recommended quite a few times. It was the first time I had been around him. I can see why he got all those recommendations. He’s smart. He has an extensive background from scouting director to player hard work. He’s energetic and he has personality. We want to make sure nobody beats us in hard work.”

Watson’s work ethic pushed him forward.

Just the day before our conversation Diamondbacks GM Stewart tells U.S.A. Today, “Baseball is the greatest game there is, but baseball has had a tough time dealing with minority issues. And it probably still does.”

The game has to reach out to minorities at a seed level. Watson says, “Today you have kids who are cookie cutter. They just play basketball. They just play baseball.  Basketball, AAU, they’re taking our kids at 13 where they should be playing Pony and Colt league. We need to market the product. Major league baseball is opening up academies in different places. We’ll provide education and opportunity for work and be able to enhance your talent pool. Right now there hasn’t been a ton of ways for us to enhance the talent pool.”

Johnny "Guitar" Watson in 1987.

Johnny “Guitar” Watson in 1987.


La Russa was also attracted to Watson’s resume’ because of his work in Latin America, particularly in Venezuela with the Dodgers. Kane County fans may see Cuban right hander Yoan Lopez this year. Lopez, 22, starred in Cuba’s 18U national league in 2011 with a 1.74 ERA and 88 strikeouts in 78 innings. He signed with the D-Backs for $8.25 million. He told Baseball America that Arizona was his favorite major league team while growing up in Cuba. Lopez is 6’3” and weighs 190 pounds.

“He has a really clean arm and it works exceptionally well,” Watson says. “He’s up to 97. His first outing this spring he was 92, 93, but he was throwing strikes. He got hit a little and fiddled around a bit, but that’s okay. He was by far one of the more advanced pitchers in the international pool. It creates more depth and the more depth you gives you a better chance to sustain success. Mike Bell, our farm director does a tremendous job of putting together strong rosters. We had five teams in the playoffs last year so I look forward to us having another competitive ballclub in Kane County.”





Mark “Max” Brumbach has a gift for me.

Because of that he has a gift for you, too.

As I walk into Brumbach’s new version of the music room-cafe Township, 2200 N. California Ave., he hands over a copy of the Images of America book “Chicago Entertainment Between the Wars 1919-1939.” The picture book is filled with stuff like an ad for Bert Kelly’s Stables, 431 Rush St.: Free Drinks Every Nite As Many As You Wish–no charge for dancing. Our waiter sings. Our Cook Dances. NOW FREDDIE KEPPARD World’s greatest colored jazz cornetist and his great dance band….

Brumbach is a fine musician, keyboardist with soul legend Otis Clay (1973-78) and a cultural preservationist. In 1993 he opened Smoke Daddy, 1804 W. Division St. when Wicker Park was a no man’s land. He outfitted that music room-restaurant with booths and bar stools he bought at an auction from Chic Rick’s social club on South Michigan Avenue. Brumbach saw jazz organist “Brother” Jack McDuff three times for no cover during the late 1970s at at Chick Rick’s. In 1998 Brumbach restored and opened the California Clipper, 1002 N. California in Humboldt Park.

Brumbach took over Township around Thanksgiving and has partnered with previous Township co-owner Tamiz Haiderali to recalibrate and repaint the entire place. Gone are all the stickers, graffiti and stench that resembled the Empty Bottle.

Max and Tamiz at their diner counter (Photo by Erica Corniel)

Max and Tamiz at their diner counter (Photo by Erica Corniel)

The new Township retains the front diner that still serves excellent French Toast with honey chevre mousse and the Saag Paneer Scramble (spinach, paneer, potato cake, almond sauce and two pooris, which are an Indian fried flat bread.) Haiderali brought over the paneer scramble and a couple of other items from his excellent Treat restaurant, 1616 N. Kedzie. Haiderali sold the restaurant in April, 2011.

The Woodlawn Four (Scott Dirks, Willy Greason, Justin O’Brien, Dave Waldman) will migrate up from Jimmy’s Woodlawn Tap in Hyde Park to play blues alternate Sunday afternoons in the 80-seat Palmer Room and dining area (as it faces Palmer Street). The main “Jungle Room” holds about 120 people for live music.

“We’re going to have one of the best sound systems this side of Lincoln Park,” Brumbach says in a lunch time conversation. “The best sound I’ve heard in town is Lincoln Hall. Genius. Here, you’ll be able to every instrument, every word somebody is singing.” The sound is being designed by Matt Edgar of AIS (Audio Integration Services) in Chicago. Brumbach says, “We are going to have a mixed array of music. Its going to be hard to brand this place. It is no longer going to be a rock place.”

Brumbach retained the Township name because of the cafe’s reputation for great neighborhood brunches. “To do what I’m doing is a huge undertaking,” he says. “And a very expensive undertaking. Even changing the name would be a lot. What we’re doing here is almost like building a club from scratch. But this is a great location. And we’re going to have entertainment seven nights a week.” DJs Frankie Vega, Gabriel Palomo and Eddie Riot “soft open” the Jungle Room with electro, industrial and techno dance music on Feb. 13. Nashville singer-songwriter Rorey Carroll appears Feb. 21 at Township.


Township isn’t the first room Brumbach has brought back to life.

“I bought the building and was the contractor for Smoke Daddy,” he says. “I took a derlict space that had been a Polish bar called The Midnight Inn. You know who used to drink there? Your friend from Weeds (that would be Sergio Mayora). What a great guy. He would come in in his overalls with his sidekick Angel. At one time there were 50 taverns on Division Street between Ashland and Damen.” The strip was called “Polish Broadway.”

“I learned a lot from doing Smoke Daddy,” Brumbach continues. “I opened it July of ‘94 and sold it in the fall of ‘02. Then I bought the California Clipper from the old Italian brother and sister whose late brother had started it right after Prohibition. I found out that building was built in 1911 as a Nickelodeon.

“Humboldt Park was a Jewish-Italian-Scandanvian neighborhood. I always try to imagine a space. Smoke Daddy was all out of my head. The Clipper was already there. The murals, lights and booths were there.”


Setting the stage in the new Township music room.

Although each space is now under different ownership, they retain Brumbach’s eye for evocative romantic lighting, Chicago muscle and a clear sense of mid-century history—and not nostalgia. It will be interesting to see how Township develops.

Brumbach, 63, is a native of near west suburban Franklin Park who began playing guitar and harmonica in 1963. His first gigs were with Chicago blues greats Wild Child Butler and Sunnyland Slim. He first recording was on the 1970 Darrel Fletcher ‘45 “Power to the People!” in a session that featured Chess Records session legends Phil Upchurch (guitar), Louis Satterfield (bass) and Donny Hathaway (keyboards).

Brumbach played a tour of Canada with the late great Jimmy Reed and has vivid memories of appearing at important Chicago clubs like Burning Spear with Otis Clay.

“Our home base was the Burning Spear,” he said. “That had been the Club DeLisa. It still had the elevator stage from the days of Count Basie and Duke Ellington. It was the premiere ‘Black & Tan’ club. The Club DeLisa wall murals were still covered with cigarette smoke and dirt.”

One of the frequent guest Club DeLisa artists was Hi-Fi White, a 300 pound transvestite comedian who wore a dress and sang. Hi Fi was a protoge’ of Redd Foxx.

“We had a good looking Iranian saxophone player named Fred for about a year,” Brumbach says. “Dark wavy hair, kind of a Romeo looking guy. Hi Fi would go, “That’s my husband, Fred.’ And Fred would get so embarrassed.”

After Brumbach sold the Clipper in 2002 he continued to play music and he built houses in the Chicago area.  He played piano alongside Elvis Presley guitarist James Burton and harmonica great Charlie Musselwhite on 2004’s “Back in the Saddle Again” from former Calumet City strip joint rockabilly singer Matt Lucas (Ten-O-Nine Records). “I’ve been trying to keep my nose clean,” Brumbach says as the rays of a promising sun slide through the windows of Township.

Max Brumbach portrait by Erica Corniel

Max Brumbach portrait by Erica Corniel

Thomas Sweets and a wayward brown pelican from the Carolina Coast. The bird was tagged as a baby in the Carolinas. (Dave Hoekstra photo)

Thomas Sweets and a wayward brown pelican from the Carolina Coast. The bird was tagged as a baby in the Carolinas and the young pelicans often get dehydrated on their first flight from home. (Dave Hoekstra photo)

KEY WEST, Fla.–The most serene spot in this once remote island on the southern tip of Florida is suddenly disturbed. Thomas Sweets is rushing through his small clinic carrying a large turkey vulture as if he was rescuing a baby from a fire. The bird’s squawking and the bitter stench recalls the halcyon ambiance at the Green Parrot, the former dive bar up the road.

Sweets is executive director of the Key West Wildlife Center.

The fenced park is on eight acres acres of land near the White Street Pier and the Atlantic Ocean on the south end of Key West. The park is landscaped with mahogany trees, gumbo limbos and indigenous plants that grow along winding walking paths.

The center rescues and rehabilitates sick or injured native wildlife from mile marker 0 to mile marker 15, towards Miami, including wild birds, sea turtles, land turtles and land and marine mammals. I’ve been to Key West at least 15 times over the past 30 years and never came across the center until last month.

I was interested in the learning more about the increase in pelican pouch slashings in the Middle Keys (not in Key West.) In January several brown pelicans were found with cuts down the length of their pouches and throats. This enables fish to slip out, leaving the bird unable to eat.

But by hanging around the center for an afternoon I also found what may be my new favorite spot on the island, the center’s quiet turtle pond enhanced by the Florida Keys Audubon Society.  The pond –which is part of a natural swale–contains gambusia fish, (they eat mosquito larvae),  a rare Florida mud turtle and a Peninsula cooter turtle. The pond is surrounded by Saw Palmetto palms and a majestic Pigeon Plum tree that was filled with white ibis (wading) birds. I sat on a bench and just took everything in. Stress floated out.

Key West Wildlife Center pond--I was so lost in the moment I forgot to take a pix so this is courtesy of Thomas Sweets

Key West Wildlife Center pond–I was so lost in the moment I forgot to take a pix so this is courtesy of Thomas Sweets

The center consists of more than 100 species of trees native to the Florida Keys. The center is a non-profit that consists of a two person operation: Sweets and certified wildlife rehabilitator Peggy Coontz, former director of the Blue Ridge Wildlife Center in Millwood, Va (2004-08). They are assisted by dozens of volunteers.

The sunny center is on the Charles “Sunny” McCoy Indigenous Park. McCoy is a former mayor of Key West (1971-81), who in 1978 water skied from Key West to Cuba.

The land used to belong to the U.S. Dept. of Interior and they deeded it to the City of Key West with the provision that the park never would be sacrificed for development.

Sweets and Coontz came on board with the non-profit in 2011. The center does get funding from the City of Key West to rescue sick chickens, which are a protected feral population. There is no admission charge to the park.

The stressed out turkey vulture had been knocked into the water and rescued by a boater. Within 24 hours Sweets and Coontz dry out the bird, get him warm and give him food. Sweets is taking the vulture to the large wild bird aviary for flight testing as I stumble in the clinic. The aviary is covered with shade cloths because the center is not allowed to openly display birds they are treating to return to the wild. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife and Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) want the birds to be as wild as possible.

“We focus on birds,” Sweets says with egrets fighting over territory in the background. “We get lots of raptors, songbirds in the spring and fall migration. The white crown pigeon is unique to the Keys. They move in a circular pattern throughout the Caribbean and Key West is sort of at the northern end. This park is the real jewel. It’s one of the last stands of upland scrub habitat left on the island. For birds coming through Florida south for the winter or north for the spring, the Florida Keys act like a migratory choke point. So this park sees a lot of heavy action. Through loss of habitat there’s not as many places for these birds to fuel up. From Key West they have 90 plus miles of open water to Cuba. Especially the hawks. You’ll see Cooper’s Hawks, Red Shouldered Hawks, Peregrine Falcons. We get a lot of those in the Keys. Listen. Now. You can hear a broad-winged hawk calling. That’s a hawk that’s actually moving through the park on migration. That’s what we’re talking about.”

Courtesy of Key West Wildlife Center

Courtesy of Key West Wildlife Center

Sweets, 47, looks like a smiling “Ghostbusters” era Bill Murray and his get-it-done energy seems familiar. It always comes back to Chicago.

Sweets graduated with a degree in painting from the Art Institute of Chicago. He worked as a paper conservator at the Graphic Conservation Company in Chicago. “I was actually sent to  Key West on an art related job,” says Sweets, who grew up in St. Louis. “And I started volunteering here. My real passion grew when I took over the rescues. It’s exciting. You never know where you’re going. One moment you may be on a Navy ship, the next moment you’ll be in somebody’s little shack.”

Sweets says the center is set up as a field hospital for wild birds. He uses the same eye for landscape detail he learned in the art world to  help his animals. He explains, “We can handle basic stabilizations, broken wings, we get a lot of dehydration. Entanglement. If we get something that requires surgery we work with veterinarian clinics.

“The pelicans are an unfortunate situation. Some have been slashed in the  middle keys or even as far as Miami but we haven’t seen any here. It’s an open FWC case so they are trying to get leads. In the four years we’ve been here we’ve only seen a handful of cases like this. We do get a lot of pelicans that are fed bone and fish carcasses and that can tear up a pouch as well.”

No one knows who is slashing the pelicans. It could be frustrated fishermen, it could be a nut case or a bored kid. Pelicans do smash and grabs on bait fish. “Pelicans eat fish up to about eight inches long,” Sweets says. “We get a lot of pelicans migrating at this time of year. They’re hungry. They will dive on fishing lines repeatedly. Maybe someone gets frustrated about that and vents it, although I can’t say that for sure. We count on fishermen a lot. They’re out on the water and they bring us injured birds.

“People don’t understand that sometimes even a sea bird that gets knocked in the water can cause problems. They keep themselves covered in oil from their glands and that keeps them waterproof. But once even a waterproof bird is knocked into the sea water that will degrade the protective coating on their feathers and eventually make these birds waterlogged. At that point they can’t remove themselves from the water. They’ll just drift until somebody finds them or they wash up on a shore. We certainly don’t see a mutilation of birds on a regular basis.”

Our conversation is interrupted by a phone call.


Key West Wildlife Center, Jan. 2015 (Photo by Dave Hoekstra)

A double-crested cormorant has been found on the side of U.S. 1, just outside of Key West. “Somebody stopped and picked him up and now he is inside a tattoo parlor,” he says. Sweets leaves, runs out of the clinic and jumps into his Ford F-150 rescue truck to fetch the bird.

Sweets first visited Key West in the 1970s when he was 11 years old. His family took a trip to the island. “My father was a closet writer,” he says later. “He liked to some down here and see where all the writers came (Philip Caputo, Ernest Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, more recently the late Robert Stone). It was a real different place back then.”

Key West is now swarming with condos, fancy restaurants, big hotels and cruise ship visitors. A Waldorf Astoria has now opened next door to my beloved Southernmost Hotel in the United States. How does the growth on the two mile by four mile island effect the wildlife? “We’re fortunate we have the (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Florida Keys National) marine sanctuary,” he replies. “That does a good job of giving wildlife places to feed directly around the island.  There has been development and we’ve lost a lot of habitat areas but if you look at something like the raptors, our numbers are looking good at least in the last couple years. We hold the sea turtle permit for Key West as well and sea turtle hatchings are up.

DSCN6824 copy 2

Dave Hoekstra photo

“One of the biggest issues we have here are the non-native species. A lot of animals like green iguanas that used to people’s pets were released and they cause a problem.” The green iguana, for example, will eat a lot of floral on the island, which decreases the number of butterflies. Sweets explains,   “We have a decline in butterflies and hummingbirds. We have to be careful that future planning takes all our animals in account. It is the future of the Keys.

“The economy is the environment.”


Parking lot, Key West Wildlife Center, Jan. 2015

Frankie Knuckles

Frankie Knuckles

Most people don’t eat the same meal every day.

I search out different music to nurture my changing moods. Calypso for fun, old country for loneliness. My knowledge of house music is pedestrian but I’ve always been intrigued by its deep Chicago roots.

This became very clear on Saturday night when Chicago house music DJs Derrick Carter, Darlene “DJ Lady D” Jackson and Marea Renee “The Black Madonna” Stamper joined me live in studio for my Nocturnal Journal radio show on WGN-AM. The station’s Allstate Showcase Studio was filled with an expressive joy I won’t soon forget.

We explored the seed sounds of house in soul Chicago churches, Disco Demolition and the legacy of hearing music on Chicago streets, especially in the anticipated endless nights of summer time. We paid tribute to house pioneer Frankie Knuckles who would have turned 60 years old on Jan. 18.

On Martin Luther King weekend, we played Carter’s Cratebug Edit of  “Dreams,” an example of the technique that Knuckles used, where he mixed Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech with house records and other sound effects. You hear part of Knuckles “The Whistle Song” that became part of a Lipton tea commercial and a portion of Knuckles final set at the Smart Bar, Thanksgiving 2014. Stamper is talent buyer and resident DJ at the Smart Bar.

DJ Lady D

DJ Lady D


I found out  just a couple of weeks ago that in 1995 DJ Lady D moved in with three other DJs to a 3,000 square foot loft space at 120 N. Green at Randolph (now restaurant row). Carter and DJ Mark Farina were also living in the 120 N. Green building during the early 1990s.

At the same time I was in a post-divorce bachelor loft across the street at 131 N. Green. I lived above the S&S Restaurant where the greasy scrambled eggs danced off the rye toast. My neighbors were also house music DJs and I bet I drove them nuts with my Martin Denny records blaring across my tiki bar.

A second or third version of the Warehouse dance club was just a block away on West Randolph and there was a club called Alcatraz on North Green Street. House music roared late into the night and then a new morning.

Always a new morning.

Derrick Carter

Derrick Carter






Bruce Rickerd getting certified by the Guinness Book of World Records for not missing a performance in 21 years (Courtesy of Mystere', Cirque Du Soleil)

Bruce Rickerd getting certified by the Guinness Book of World Records for not missing a performance in 21 years (Courtesy Cirque Du Soleil)

When I come home from my radio program I reflect on the show we made to share with you.

I consider questions I might have asked, a button I shouldn’t have pushed to aggravate my fine producer Dan Long  or maybe an anecdote I could have contributed to inject some of my personality. I had a hard time getting to sleep after the Jan. 3 Nocturnal Journal. I was thinking about the thread of purposefulness that connected my guests:

* At the end of December, Bruce Rickerd broke the record for most theatrical performances by a male musician in his role as guitarist in “Mystere” at Cirque du Soleil  at Treasure Island in Las Vegas.

His mark of 9,958 shows got him in the Guinness Book of World Records and as he told us, he is bearing down on 10,000 shows since “Mystere” debuted in 1993. Rickerd, 62, has not missed one gig playing prog-rock electric and Eastern European acoustic guitar.

* Nick Russo, the long time swinging piano player at Jilly’s on Rush Street is back in the game. You can hear him between 7 and 10:30 p.m. every Thursday at Zeal’s restaurant in the shadow of the Woodfield Mall in Schaumburg.

I had heard Nick had been ill, but it wasn’t until I was helping him take his gear down after the show that I learned he goes to Dr. Vincent Buffalino in Naperville, the same heart specialist that has taken care of my parents. Nick was a great guest with great stories. “A month ago I wouldn’t have been able to do this show,” Russo told me as we rode down the Tribune Tower elevator. Russo, only 61,  has survived two quadruple bypasses and congestive heart failure. “Dr. Buffalino has saved my life three times,” Russo said on Monday afternoon.

The Four Hoarsemen: (L to R), Nick Russo, Dave Hoekstra. Jon Langford, Dan Long

The Four Hoarsemen: (L to R), Nick Russo, Dave Hoekstra. Jon Langford, Dan Long

* Jon Langford, Nan Warshaw, Rob Miller  and Bloodshot Records have been delivering real country music and rock n’ roll with consistent quality and utmost daring for the past 20 years. A Bloodshot Records anniversary celebration kicks off at 6:30 p.m. Jan. 10 at Metro in Chicago. Langford made the radio show despite the recent sudden loss of his mum Kit. He told me he is headed off to his native Wales on Thursday for the seventh time in something like the last 30 days.

Langford showed up on Saturday and even jammed with Russo on a velvet-drenched version of “Sweet Home Chicago.”

I sort of made them do that.

Facebook has become repository for whining and complaining about the weather, but Langford’s FB message about his Mom’s passing was a keeper: “Thanks so much for all the messages of sympathy love and support. Kit wanted to keep going forever. No quarter given to miseries and moaners. A life well lived and well worth celebrating at this festive time of year. “

You can smile in the face of adversity.

* Gregory Warmack, a.k.a. “Mr. Imagination” encountered an uncanny amount of misfortune in his life but it didn’t stop him from dreaming. Warmack died May 30, 2012 of an infection in an Atlanta, Ga. hospital. He was 64 years old. He is the subject of a major retrospective that opens Jan. 9 at INTUIT–The Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art in Chicago.

In the summer of 1996 I visited Warmack in his crowded studio-apartment near Wrigley Field. He told me how he became “Mr. Imagination.” In 1978 he was a hair dresser and clothes designer, but he had never been an artist.

“I used to give this guy nickels and dimes for wine,” Warmack said. “One day he turned around and said, ‘I want all your money.’ I had like 40 cents. I heard what sounded like two huge cannons going off. I saw sparks. I saw fire. I realized this guy had shot me. It felt like someone opened up my stomach and poured in hot coals. I ran into a bar and told someone I had just gotten shot. My eyes went dim and I was in a coma for six weeks.” Warmack said that while in the coma, he traveled back into the past through a tunnel of light. He then pointed to rows of Aztec-influenced sandstone faces in his apartment.

He saw the faces while he was in the coma. He saw himself as “Mr. Imagination,” an African king.

He was liberated.


Mr. Imagination and his artwork in New York, 2009 in a show curated by the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore, Md.

And he remained in the creative heavens despite the fact:

* His brother William broke his neck and died while trying to break into Warmack’s apartment. “It didn’t make Greg bitter or break his gentle spirit,” founding INTUIT member Cleo Wilson wrote in her notes to the exhibit. “In fact, he created an altar tribute to his brother at the National Museum of Mexican Art in Pilsen.

* In 2000, Warmack became an artist in residence in Bethlehem, Pa. A January, 2008 fire gutted Warmack’s home while he was at an art show in Florida. He lost everything include his beloved dog and five cats.

Friends helped him rebuild and move to Atlanta in 2009 where he created an Angel Garden for children of the world to congregate.

Just like the fortitude I heard on Saturday night, there is no limit to imagination–especially when you nurture the kid inside of you.

“If there was a limit to using your imagination when they built the first buildings they would have all looked the same,” Warmack told me. “Architects had to use their imagination. Fashion is based on imagination. The whole world is built on imagination.”

Perseverance and imagination is what “Mystere” is built on.

“Being a musician, if you’re not a star, most of the times you’re not making a whole lot of money,” Rickerd said in a Monday evening conversation before his 90-minute show at Treasure Island. “And when you don’t play you don’t make an money. I was a band leader and lead singer back in the day. If somebody was out, nobody worked.”

What bands were those?

“I had a band called Equinox,” answered Rickerd, who grew up outside of Ottawa (On.) Canada. “And Hard Wood.”

Hard Wood?

Rickerd laughed and said, “I never thought of it like that. You just gave me a totally different perspective on it. But I was just being responsible with my work. Reputations get ruined real quick. If you’re a no show for a gig, they don’t call you any more. With Cirque du Soleil, it’s not the same thing. I could have taken a day off now and then, but it is a responsibility. If I can do the job I will.”

Over the years Eddie Van Halen, E-Street Band guitarist Nils Lofgren and Michael Jackson have seen Rickerd perform at a Mystere. “Michael Jackson came here close to a dozen times,” said Rickerd, who also played behind John Lee Hooker as a 22-year-old in Canada. “Of course he was always incognito. We knew that because he was the only guy with a mask on followed by five seven-foot tall guys.

“Ronnie Foster (keyboardist George Benson, Roberta Flack and others) comes to the show. He’s a musical director at one of the shows here (“Smokey Robinson Presents: Human Nature”). Neil Merryweather is a bass player who produced Lita Ford records and played with Rick James. As a matter of fact I’ll be jamming with them after the gig tonight at a dive called Saddle n’ Spurs. After playing for 3,000 people I’ll go out and play for 30. It is way off the strip, a locals place.”

The work ethic never rests.


What a posse taking in a Havana ballgame: (Che’ Guevera (1928-1967) with beret); to his left is Raul Castro, to Che’s right is baseball player and revolutionary hero Camilo Cienfuegos (1932-1959), Fidel Castro is to the right of Cienfuegos. I bought this picture a few years ago at an antique store in Little Havana outside of Miami.

Joe Cambria charmed an island that is used to bewitching moments.

Once the owner of the largest laundry in Maryland, Cambria scouted Cuba for the Washington Senators/Minnesota Twins from 1934 to 1962. He is known for tooling around pre-Castro Cuba with a loaded cigar and his chauffer, a retired highway patrolman who drove a big fat Lincoln.

Cambria was in the business of importing dreams. He held court with a female correspondent from Minnesota who followed him in search of something that reminded her of home.

Cambria lived at the American Club in Havana. He leased a restaurant and tavern, the Bar Triple A, over the right field fence of the Estadio Lationoamericano ballpark (opened October, 1946) in downtown Havana. There was always music as there always is in Cuba. He loved the beat of the rumba which Congolese slaves had taken to Cuba so long ago.

Cambria connected with the resilient spirit of the Cuban people, who gave him the nickname “Papacito” (“Papa”) Joe. They even named a “Papacito Joe” cigar after Cambria. His face was round and jolly, just like something the natives would see on welcoming Yankee currency.

The effervescent Cambria signed more than 400 Cuban ballplayers in 25 years.

He scouted Fidel Castro. His Cuban major league alumni includes Camilo Pascual, Tony Oliva, Preston Gomez, Pedro Ramos, Zolio Versalles, Julio Becquer, Sandy Consuegra and Willy Miranda. Cambria also discovered the first Venezuelan major leaguer, Alex Carrasquel, whom he saw pitching in Havana in 1938. Cambria signed Venezuelan outfielder Vic Davallillo and his older brother Yo-Yo, as well as American players Early Wynn, Mickey Vernon and Eddie Yost.

Papa Joe unearthed Joe Krakauskas, surely professional baseball’s only Canadian-Lithuanian. A southpaw, Krakaukas topped out with an 11-17 record for the 1939 Senators, with 110 Ks (and 114 walks) in 217 innings. He plucked Allen “Bullet Bob” Benson from the House of David barnstorming team and Benson made his 1934 major league debut with the Senators. His career lasted two games.

Papa Joe was dispatched to Cuba because of the tightwad mentality of the Griffith family who owned the Senators and the Twins. When Camilo Pascual arrived in the major leagues with the 1954 Senators he discovered his pitching coach was ex-White Sox pitcher Joe Haynes—the brother-in-law of future senator owner Calvin Griffith.

That’s cutting corners.

During a 1991 interview in his Florida condo Griffith said Cambria scouted Fidel Castro, a somewhat effective left handed sidearm pitcher, who at the age of 18 was proclaimed as “Cuba’s outstanding athlete.” Castro once swam more than seven miles in the ocean to escape an assassination attempt. He may even still be alive today, at the age of 88.

Fidel Castro (right) and Camilo Cienfuegos in 1959 when they played for Barbudos ("The Bearded Ones.") A spirited leader of the revolution, Cienfuegos became canonized in Cuban culture later in 1959 after his Cessna 310 airplane disappeared over the ocean. He died at the age of 27.

Fidel Castro (right) and Camilo Cienfuegos in 1959 when they played for Barbudos (“The Bearded Ones.”) A spirited leader of the revolution, Cienfuegos became canonized in Cuban culture in 1959 after his Cessna 310 airplane disappeared over the ocean. He died at the age of 27.

Cambria first saw Castro pitch when Castro was a teenager in the center of Havana and he followed his career until Castro enrolled at the the University of Havana, where politics took precedent over sports. “Joe got in good with Castro,” said Griffith, who kept an autographed baseball from Castro in a trophy case next to an autographed baseball from fellow chairman Frank Sinatra. “Papa Joe told him, ‘Your fastball isn’t fast enough.’ But he still pitched in college. A sidearmer? I don’t know what the hell he was. But Joe Cambria and Fidel Castro got to be buddies. About the only Cuban he missed was Minnie Minoso.”

“Baseball was in Joe’s blood. He lived on olive oil and garlic. Every time you cooked, you had to have olive oil and garlic for him. He was a one-man show. You don’t get to be called ‘Papa Joe’ unless you are a good citizen. He did everything in the world for the Cubans. He literally was their Papa. He gave them things they never had before. Whatever he had in his pocket. Money, clothes.”

Who was Papa Joe?

      *                    *           *                    *

Joseph Carl Cambria was born in Messina, Italy on The Fifth of July, 1890.

His family came to America when he was eight months old and he was reared in Boston. Cambria was an outfielder for Newport in the Rhode Island State League and barnstormed with St. Louis Browns pitcher Urban Shocker. Cambria retired after breaking a leg in 1916.

After serving in the military in World War I, Cambria relocated to Baltimore and opened the Bugle Laundry. By 1928 it was the largest laundry in Maryland.  The laundry supplied jackets and towels to Baltimore business houses.

The Bugle Laundry also sponsored a semipro team and played under temporary lights on a diamond Cambria named “Bugle Field.” Calvin Griffith was a reserve member of the team. His uncle Clark G. Griffith owned the Washington Senators. When Clark died in 1955, Calvin inherited the Senators. He moved the team to Minneapolis in 1960.

Clark Griffith had paid close attention to Cuban pitcher Dolf Luque, a major influence on future Senator and Twin Camilo Pascual. Luque helped Pascual master his wicked curveball. At age 42, Luque joined the New York Giants in 1932 and helped them to the  National League Pennant. Luque pitched four scoreless innings in the 1932 World Series.

After that performance, Clark Griffith got the idea to dispatch Cambria to Cuba.

“By that time Joe ran several ball clubs himself,” Calvin Griffith said. “Hagerstown (Blue Ridge). Albany (International League). Salisbury

(Eastern Shore), Greenville (Sally), Youngstown (Middle Atlantic, where Cambria also was a manager).” In 1933 Cambria also owned the Baltimore Black Sox of the fledgling Negro National League. He took players off salaries and operated on a percentage basis to remain fiscally solvent during the Depression.

Papa Joe and his Senators

Papa Joe and his Senators. Camilo Pascual is the fourth player from the left.

“He has been called a sharpshooter and fly-by-night operator,” Frank O’Neil wrote in the Jan. 18, 1945 edition of The Sporting News. “He has been indicted as a man who could squirm out of an eel trap, and discredited as a hazadorus risk to any league in which he might obtain a franchise.”

But by mining Cuban talent, Cambria was setting the stage for the integration of baseball in America. Until Cambria’s arrival, the only

Cubans in the major leagues were Adolfo Luque and Miguel Gonzalez.

People don’t realize the Cuban prelude to integration.

*                                                        *

Jackie Robinson broke through major league baseball’s color line in 1947. But, between 1911 and 1947, about a dozen guys in the major leagues had played in the Negro Leagues. They were Hispanic. They were black enough to perform in the Negro Leagues and white enough to play in the Major  Leagues.

John “Little Napoleon” McGraw would do anything to win. He was always looking for the edge when he managed the New York Giants between 1901-1932. [Bill Veeck’s midget at bat was inspired by a little person named Eddie Morrow that McGraw kept in the club house as a “good luck charm.”] McGraw knew there were players of color in Cuba. He had no racial agenda. He just wanted to win.

The 1933 Albany Senators were one of the first teams Joe Cambria stocked with Cubans. A setting for the moody baseball novel “Ironweed,” Albany had the smallest population of any city in the International League. It was a no-win proposition, but Cambria used money from his Baltimore laundry to finance the operation.

Cambria took over the International League franchise from the Chicago Cubs. In 1933 the Cubs optioned Stan Hack to Albany to play third base. Hack was a colorful Senator. “Something about playing with the men of Cambria made him do strange things, especially like climbing the light tower in left field,”  Joe Buchiccio wrote in the Nov. 1968 edition of “The Evangelist.” Despite being Cambria-ized, Hack still made the league’s all-star team that year.

Cambria thought outside the box.

His 1934 Senators featured outfielder Fred Sington, a former Alabama football star who led the league in RBIs (147) as well as Cuban imports who could neither read or write in English. Cambria gave them identification tags to wear around their neck in the event they became lost. The team’s future Cuban major leaguers included MIke Guerrera, Tommy DeLa Cruz, Bobby Estallela and Reggie Otero, who went on to coach for the Cincinnati Reds.

In 1935 Cambria signed Alabama Pitts to a contract, which forever made Papa Joe part of Albany sports lore. Pitts was a 25-year-old ex-convict with a honest-to-goodness baseball reputation. He had just been released from Sing Sing Prison in Ossing, N.Y., where he was doing time for armed robbery. Cambria instructed his general manager Johnny Evers to pay Pitts $200 a month. The acquisition was overruled in the courts and also by Baseball Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis. But Cambria and the Senators won out.

In June, 1935 more than 7,000 fans came to see Pitts baseball debut.

The field was flooded with water from an all-night rain. Cambria burned gasoline on the field to get it into playing condition. Pitts went

2-for-5, but finished the year hitting .233 in 116 at bats and striking out 24 times. He missed many games due to injuries. According to the Aug. 29, 1935 issue of the Sporting News, Pitts went down with blood poisoning which resulted when he “spiked himself and paid little attention….until his foot swelled.”

Pitts was done. He was released at the beginning of the 1936 season. Pitts died in 1941 from knife wounds incurred in a roadhouse fight after he had played in a game with the semi pro Valdese (North Carolina) mill team.

Cambria already had enough.

The 1935 Senators were dreadful, finishing in last place with a 49-104 record. They weren’t much better in 1936, finishing last again with a 56-98 record, despite having the league’s leading hitter in Smead Jolley (.373), who had flamed out with the Chicago White Sox. After the 1936 season Cambria sold the Senators to the New York Giants for $75,000. The Giants moved the club to Jersey City, where they finished  last again with a 50-100 mark.

*                                                            *


Papa Joe hits “The Sporting News” Jan. 18, 1945

Helen loved to visit Joe at the American Club. She was a young feature writer for United Press International and had met Papa Joe down the road at the Tropicana nightclub. The American Club was a safe haven. The hearty food reminded her of the restaurant her parents ran back home in Minneapolis. She was supposed to work in that place, too. She grew up behind the counter and quickly came to understand the regiment of the working class. She heard the complaints. She saw the creases that ran across the faces of old men like threads in a quilt.

And she hated snow.

Joe took great delight in the American Club’s spaghetti and the spicy nature of the Cuban seasoning. He would talk about the discovery of another mediocre Cuban ballplayer that he could fly under the radar  back to Washington, D.C. Helen would talk about the latest Saturday Evening Post that had landed at the club. There were stories about Wyoming and poems about broken music boxes.

Helen and Joe adored the artwork of Cuban Andres Garcia Benitez that adorned the covers of Bohemia and Carteles magazines. Garcia Benitez preceded the popular Vargas in the pages of Playboy magazine. Garcia Benitez also produced images of Cuban team pinup girls wearing colorful team jerseys.

The Cienfuegos Baseball Club on the cover of Carteles, Nov. 1952 (Art by Andres Garcia Benitez)

The Cienfuegos Baseball Club on the cover of Carteles, Nov. 1952

Helen had a calming effect on Joe’s restless nature. Joe never married and he had no children. “My kids are on the fields of Cuba and Venezuela,” he would say. Joe was no longer a young man when Helen met him in 1944. They were an odd couple who were friends more than companions. Helen was tall and lithe and her Scandanivan complexion did not like the tropical sun. Joe was short and squat and he loved Panama hats that on occasion shaded his blue eyes. Their direct nature was their connective thread, their mojo that made them friends. Helen was straight-ahead in a practical Midwestern sense. Joe confronted everyone with his Catholic-Italian brotherhood. He would wrap his arm around the shoulder of a young ballplayer and sell him a dream. He did this thousands of times across the entire island of Cuba. Helen wondered what it was that drew him to the game of baseball like a match to a cigar.

Sometimes he wondered where the time went.

*                                                                   *                                                                             *

On Jan. 7, 1945 Papa Joe was presented with a gold watch by Cuban ballplayers who had reached the major leagues between games of a winter league double header at La Tropical Stadium in Havana. Cuban baseball writers gave Cambria a bronze plaque. More than 15,000 fans paid tribute to Cambria.

Tomas de la Cruz of the Cincinnati Reds—who earlier in the week had pitched a no-hitter for Almendares—made the player’s presentation with Papa Joe looking on. Speeches were given by Rogelio Valdes Jorge, president of Cuba’s professional league and Merito Acosta, who was a star for Louisville in the American Association. Helen was in the stands and began to understand the bridges Joe was building.

Riding high with the Cuban people, in 1946 Cambria founded the Havana Cubans of the Florida International League. It was the same year the Brooklyn Dodgers signed Jackie Robinson and moved spring training to Havana to escape the segregation of the United States.

The Cubans played their maiden season at the La Tropical Stadium. Bobby Maduro bought the team in 1954, renamed it the Sugar Kings  and relocated it to El Gran Estadio del Cerro (a.k.a. Gran Stadium) in Havana. The Cubans delivered future major leaguers like former Cubs manager Preston Gomez and pitcher Camilo Pascual.

Pascual became Cambria’s best friend. Cambria was best man at Pascual’s 1958 wedding in Havana. Cambria discovered Pascual when he was a 16-year-old third baseman on Club Ferroviario (named after a Cuban railroad) in Havana. “He watched every game from a distance,” Pascual told me over a 2002 breakfast at the Versailles Restaurant in Little Havana, outside of downtown Miami. “He would sit in the stands, down the third base line. He wore white shirts with Panama hats. He told me I was going to be a pitcher. He knew.”

He saw the national pride of the Cuban athlete.

Papa Joe in his white hat during his early days in Cuba

Papa Joe in his white hat during his early days in Cuba

Clark Griffith was a minority Havana Cubans owner which created the pipeline to the Senators. Conrado Marrero and Sandy Conseuegra all played for the Cubans between 1946 and 1950 when they won four consecutive Florida International League titles. The Class C league also had teams in Miami, Miami Beach, Tampa, West Palm Beach and rural Key West.

During the regular season Fidel Castro attended Sugar Kings games at Gran Stadium. Not long after assuming power he pledged to underwrite the Sugar Kings debts. During the Cuban Winter Leagues, Castro followed the Alamendares Club of Havana, whose heritage dated back to 1879. The Almendares mascot was a scorpion and the team motto was “He who defeats Almendares dies.”

Hall of Famer Monte Irvin played for Alemandares between 1947 and 1949. He batted against Castro, who pitched batting practice. “He would work out with us,” Irvin once told me. “He had a fair amount of speed, but his control wasn’t what it should have been. Marrero once said, ‘If we had known he wanted to become a dictator, we would have made an umpire out of  him.”

*                                                          *                                                                        *                                                        *

In the late 1940s Helen received an assignment from U.P.I. to write about the cigar factories in Pinar Del Rio. The fertile tobacco growing region was about two hours from Havana. She had no way to get to Pinar Del Rio. She asked Joe to accompany her. Joe liked cigars and Benny More’. The Cuban songwriter got his start in these factories, composing songs like “Sete Cayo’ El Tobacco.”

And Joe had a driver.

“There was a boy from Pennsylvania named Alex Kvasnak,” the driver told Helen as they waited for Joe to emerge from the American Club. “Joe called him ‘Squash-Neck.’ Not a bad hitter. Squash Neck had quite a reputation around his home town and word got out to the Red Sox that Joe was sniffing around. The kid’s father was a barber. He couldn’t make up his mind between Joe and the Senators and the Red Sox.” “Splitting hairs,” Helen said, adjusting her wide brimmed hat.

“So you know what Joe does?,” the driver said while looking at Helen in the rear view mirror. “He had a brand new barber’s chair delivered to his father’s shop. And Squash Neck signed with the Senators.”

Helen looked out at the American Club and wondered. Was Joe an operator? Or did he explore every possibility in life? Did his open spirit contrast her shadowed nature?

Joe rolled out of the American Club like a red carpet in Hollywood. He had the whole bit going on: Panama hat,  light white shirt with a pocketful of cigars and a satchel with a bottle of Havana Rum sticking out from the top. He seemed excited about the day trip, but there was no way Helen could tell for sure. He was a scout. He knew about the music around the factories such as the percussive punto pinareno that was indigenous to Pinar Del Rio. Maybe he would find a baseball game along the way. This day trip was where Helen learned that Joe never liked to see the sun set.

The five-mile Malecon that connects Papa Joe's Old Havana with  New Havana

The five-mile Malecon that connects Papa Joe’s Old Havana with New Havana

*                                                                                                                                          *

Former Washington Senator/Minnesota Twin Julio Becquer was scouted by Cambria and kept in touch with Papa Joe his entire life. “Joe always knew what we were doing,” Becquer said in a mid-1990s conversation in his Minneapolis home. “We didn’t call him on the phone or things like that, but especially when we went to Cuba he would help us with accommodations. He would always inform the major league clubs what we were doing in Cuba.”

When Cuban ballplayers arrived in the United States, Cambria would take them to Spanish restaurants. After signing Carrasquel, the first Venezulean in the big leagues, Cambria gave him dozens of rumba records to keep him from being homesick.


Becquer played for Havana in the Florida International League (1953, 54), San Diego in the Pacific Coast League (1955), the Senators (‘55, ‘57 and ‘58) and Louisville in the American Association (1956). “There were so many Cuban players in triple AAA in 1956 it was unbelievable, nearly 100,” Becquer said. “ Philadelphia had Tony Gonzales, Cookie Rojas, Ruben Amaro, Tony Taylor. And that’s only a few. You go to Cincinnati and there was Leo Cardenas, Tony Perez.

“We always had a group and we stayed together. Cubans ate together, we slept together, we played together. We got along well. I knew there was racism. In Louisville I was called everything. I never acknowledged it, but we didn’t forget. I was trying to avoid confrontation. I came to the United States to play ball. But we protected each other.

“If you had to deal with one, you had to deal with the rest of us.”

“And you cannot win. The only way you can win is if you eliminate all of us.”

Becquer met his wife Edith in 1951 in Havana. She was studying to get her Pharmacy degree from the University of Havana. They got married in 1961, the year Castro cut off Cuba and ended professional sports. “After Cuba closed off, that was it for Joe,”  Becquer said. In firm tones Edith added,  “Papa Joe is the reason I am in this country.”

Joe Cambria died in 1962 in a Minneapolis hospital. Cuban balll players across America shed a tear for their papa. Joe had long lost touch with Helen, who relocated to New York before the 1959 revolution. She also had raised a family.


Tropicana 50th anniversary revue, 1989

It will be 25 years ago on Dec. 27 that I first set foot in Cuba.

I gained entry on a journalist visa.

I took a midnight charter flight on a Haitian airline out of Miami into Havana. A few days ago I found my receipt from Marazul Tours in New York: three nights at the Habana Libre (the former Hilton) for $192. I was alone in a very strange place. I arrived at my hotel around three in the morning and the staff claimed the room wasn’t “ready” for this American. slept on a lobby sofa for the next five hours. When you are alone like that you are very much alive.
I wrote about baseball and music. I made two subsequent trips to Cuba, the final one in 1992 when I brought along Chicago Sun-Times photographer Bob Black. We went on our own dime. We walked around Havana for a few days and on one occasion officials told us we could not take photographs of young men repairing bicycles in a Havana garage.  I have memories that no photograph can capture.

On my first visit I strolled along the seafront Malecon near Old Havana distributing American baseball cards to Cuban kids as a goodwill gesture. They  didn’t care about the players. They loved the pink bubble gum. (I told Black to bring along chocolate candy bars and he made fast friends with the female elevator operators at the Habana Libre.) I still remember memorials to Abraham Lincoln that stood along the Malecon because many Cubans consider black slaves as part of their heritage.

The author in a bit of Havana baseball diplomacy, 1989

The author in a bit of Havana baseball diplomacy, 1989

In 1989 I interviewed German Mesa, a young shortstop who went on to manage the Cuban national baseball team.

Mesa had a rifle of an arm and hit with the control and range of Panamanian Hall of Famer Rod Carew.

Today his 18-year-old son Victor is a shortstop for Matanzas and in October, Baseball America wrote, “No young player in Cuba can match Mesa’s
combination of tools, athleticism and upside.”

And the desire.
Cuba is an island of desire.

That is why I grew to love her  so much. For me it’s not about the mystique of Cuban cigars (some of the most storied Cuban cigar makers moved to the Dominican Republic after the 1959 revolution) or the allure of things you can’t get (I’ve brought Havana Rum back to Chicago from Toronto). It always returns to desire of the heart.

I wonder about Ester deValle Campello, who in 1992 was in her 21st year as a gift shop clerk at the historic Tropicana nightclub in Havana. She was a writer. She was a graduate of the University of Havana, where she studied American, English and Spanish literature. She was a fan of William Shakespeare. Ester worked at the Tropicana from 8 p.m. until 4 a.m. six nights a week selling programs, cassette tapes and cigars. She wrote during the day.

“I write about lives, I write about people and events,” she told me before a show. “I want to know about people. I’d like to know how they think, how they are, how they meet. I would love to travel. But Cubans never go anywhere.” I can only imagine the cultural power of a desire that will eventually will be released.

Cuba is the smile behind a window of tinted glass.

I will return to Cuba someday. Maybe it will be on a cruise ship. Even in the early 1990s research firms predicted that Cuba would become the world’s number one cruise destination. The Port of Miami had proposed constructing a downtown port annex for cruise lines and a Miami-Havana ferry service. Cruises make sense since most of Havana’s hotels are not in the best of shape.
It is unlikely the influx of Americans who inevitably will make the trek to Cuba will make an initial dent in the political atmosphere of the island, about the size of Tennessee. Tourism is already a big deal in Cuba. According to a recent Bloomberg News report, 2.9 million tourists visited Cuba in 2013, a 12 per cent increase from the previous year. I recall meeting many Canadians and tourists from the Soviet Union during my early 1990s trips.

Tropicana show girl, 1989  (Dave Hoekstra photo)

Tropicana show girl, 1989 (Dave Hoekstra photo)


The Tropicana will be on my list of encore visits.

The open-air nightclub began operation in June, 1939 on a tropical six-acre estate outside of Havana and en route to the Jose’ Marti  Airport. Large banyan  trees remain in the outdoor show area, framed by deco arches and glass walls.

During its hey-day the Tropicana chartered planes filled with dancers and musicians and a wet bar to fly in fun-loving tourists from Miami.

During my 1989 and 1992 visits to the Tropicana, waiters wore black ties and served tropical drinks. I wore my best pleated guayabera for the 50th anniversary revue in January, 1989.

Pretty cigarette girls
sold cigars and souvenir VHS tapes. The dancers “Las Diosas de Carne” (or “Flesh Goddesses”) shimmied from the stage doing the mambo and
cha-cha-cha into the aisles of the arena, which seated up to 600 people.

The cover charge was too expensive for most Cubans to gain admittance. Even today, the average Cuban takes home $20 (U.S.) a month–Cubans have free health care and subsidized rents. I heard that Cubans could attend Tropicana shows as a “reward” for their loyal work.

Locals told me that the Tropicana was one of the businesses that Fidel Castro did not fiddle around with, with the exception of removing gambling tables. The Cuban government lavishly remodeled the Tropicana in 1990, back in the days and nights when Fidel was known to drop in now and then.
John F. Kennedy, Marlon Brando, Sammy Davis, Jr. and Ernest Hemingway were among hundreds of American high rollers who visited the Tropicana. I learned that Kansas City, Mo. born mobster Lewis J. “Mack” McWillie supervised gambling activities at the Tropicana in 1959 when he was visited by future Lee Harvey Oswald assassin Jack Ruby.

Long time Tropicana musical director and pianist Bebo Valdes (1918-2013) helped develop the mambo and played on Nat King Cole’s 1958 album “Cole Espanol.” Cole made annual visits to the Tropicana, usually around Carnival. Haydee Portuondo was a member of the Tropicana’s popular girl group Cuarteto D’Aida and her sister Omara went on to fame in Ry Cooder’s Buena Vista Social Club.

In 1989 I sat down with a translator and Joaquin Condal, who had been artistic director of the Tropicana revue since 1970. I had never written a story about our visit until now. Condal was born in the Cuban province of Matanzas and began dancing at age 15. He debuted as a Tropicana singer in 1958 before being promoted to choreographer in 1962.


“Nat King Cole, Liberace and Carmen Miranda were appearing here when I started,” Condal said.

More than 100 people were in the Tropicana revue, including dancers, singers, musicians and the jazz-influenced Opus 13 Orchestra. The Tropicana is where I first saw the five man rumba band Los Papines, who touched the stars with their intense African drumming.

The revue covered five acts, including “El Manicero” (“The Peanut Vendor”) “The Cha Cha Mulattas,” the traditional “Babalu,” first recorded by Cuban balladeer Miguelito Valdes and later popularized by Desi Arnaz, Jr. as Ricky Ricardo; the anthem
“Guantananera” (recorded by Pete Seeger in 1963 in the aftermath of the Cuban Missile Crisis) and “Chicken in the Pot.” The show concluded with the entire ensemble gathering on stage for “Tropicana in Havana.”

I was washed away by warm desires.

“We try to present the show in an international way through our music and our dance,” Condal said. “I danced at the Dunes Hotel in Las Vegas.” Condal taught ballet, modern and folk dance at the Tropicana. “The most important thing I tell my dancers is they have to feel the music inside,” he explained. “Then the people will enjoy.”

The Tropicana revue was making annual visits to Spain and in 1988 the Tropicana brought a 55-person revue to Los Angeles for two weeks and New York City for three weeks. “It was the first time since the revolution,” Condal said. “Maybe it will happen again. Maybe.”


Old Havana, 1989

For the definitive take on the Tropicana, check out “Tropicana Nights (The Life and Times of the Legendary Cuban Nightclub)” (2004, Harcourt Books) by Rosa Lowinger and Ofelia Fox. Fox (1924-2006) married Tropicana owner Martin Fox in 1952. They moved to Miami, Fla. in 1982. 


Radio might be the last place you would find me.

I’ve liked being an observer. I’m uncomfortable at center stage. I’m the guy at the end of the bar. I’m the fly on the wall– behind the curtain.

I’ve been a guest plenty of times on radio and television, but to host a show–even for a couple of hours–seems daunting. Good radio is truth. And that’s the truth.

But I am curious.

I like to hear other people’s stories. I’ve been in print journalism for more than 40 years, dating back to my idealistic stint as editor of the Naperville (Ill.) Central High School newspaper (I had a column called “Writing Wrongs,” and that’s the truth.)  Unless it is the New York Times, the daily newspaper format for regular storytelling has gone the way of fountain pens and film canisters.

“The Nocturnal Journal” debuts at 10 p.m. Dec. 6 on WGN AM 720. The show can be streamed on demand at wgnradio.com or subscribe through iTunes.

We will discuss roots music, musical road trips, foodways, tiki culture, oddball sports, flea markets and truck stops. We will observe and discover. If we learn one new thing on a Saturday night then the journal is a success.

I’ll curate a diary on this website.

Our first guests are the gracious L.C. Cooke, brother of soul singer Sam Cooke; Rick Wojcik, owner of Dusty Groove America and a show sponsor;  tequila drinking Chicago raconteur Sergio Mayora and Don Luttrell calling in from Springfield, Mo. to talk about his Luttrell Auction and Live Music Barn, the greatest live music experience I have had this year this side of Bruce Springsteen and Lucinda Williams.

Sergio will play an in-studio song and we will be giving away a few copies of the fantastic “L.C. Cooke–The Complete SAR Recordings” (ABKCO), featuring 18 tracks and the session work of Earl Palmer, Billy Preston and Bobby and Cecil Womack.

Sergio Mayora, the one on the right (Chicago Bar Project, a great website)

Sergio Mayora, the one on the right (Chicago Bar Project, a great website)

In one way radio is a happy full circle for me.

I grew up on Chicago radio. In the risk of sounding jingoistic,  I can’t think of a better sound experience. I doubt I would have appreciated the boundless diversity of rock n’ roll and soul if I hadn’t listened to late 1960s, early 1970s AM radio.

In early high school we would take the Burlington Northern train in from Naperville to watch Larry Lujack work at WLS-AM and the more edgy WCFL-AM personalties at Marina City. Lujack, Clark Weber, Wally Phillips, “Chicago” Eddie Schwartz, Yvonne Daniels, and to this day Dick Biondi, Herb Kent and Bob Sirott weren’t disc jockeys. They were personalities. They were part of  the community. They walked among our stories.

Other 1960s’ early 1970s personalities like Ron Britain (and his Psychedelic Circus), the late Barney Pip (who played a trumpet while telling listeners to ‘Turn Into Peanut Butter’) and Captain Whammo (a.k.a. Jim Chanell, who became a Christian disc jockey in West Dundee, Ill.) were about theater.

And there was Studs.

Studs Terkel blended storytelling and theater with a voice that sounded like a Maxwell Street push broom. “In creating radio documentary you’re much freer,” Studs said in 2001. “Voices, sounds, music. The rest is you and the microphone. The storyteller doesn’t need special effects, they’re supplied by the listener.” After we get our feet on the ground in 2015 we will take “The Nocturnal Journal” on the road and into the community.

Hoekstra, not at the end of the Matchbox bar (Photo by Lena Rush)

Hoekstra, not at the end of the Matchbox bar (Photo by Lena Rush)

What could be more kinetic than the energy of the Saturday night chorus? Musicians, bagmen, lost poets, bartenders, short order cooks, tall strippers, waitresses, newspaper reporters, truck drivers and stadium beer vendors. Many of them are my friends.

There is noise from this group, of course, but drama is found in the space between the voices. We hope to create that ambiance.

I’m a story catcher. Alan Lomax was a sound catcher.

In the fine 2010 biography “Alan Lomax–The Man Who Recorded The World,” Sun Ra biographer John Szwed wrote, “To those who knew Alan’s work only from his songbooks he seemed to be…a kindly guide for a nostalgic return trip to simpler times. But he might have thought of himself as a spokesperson for the Other America, the common people, the forgotten and excluded, the ethinic, those who always come to life in troubled times….”

Contemporary radio is fragmented, but for a few moments in the mystery of darkness, the audience can be on a level playing field. There’s beauty of a billion stars on a clear night. Even if you can’t see them you can listen.

You will hear the nuance of a voice, the curl of a phrase, the pitch of laughter. Life finds perspective.

And that is what good radio can do.

Maybe there's a reason I saved these.

Maybe there’s a reason I saved these.


Peggy Mullins from a distance (Rene’ Greblo photo)

SPRINGFIELD, MO.–It is nearly an hour before showtime at Luttrell’s Auction and Live Music Barn on a recent Saturday night. An elderly woman in a purple sweater walks through four aisles of empty white plastic chairs to find a spot in the front row. This is her place in the world. There cannot be a sense of history without a place.

Peggy Mullins was married to country singer-songwriter Johnny Lafayette Mullins for 53 years.

He died in October, 2009 and that’s when she started coming to hear music in the former feed store.

Johnny Mullins is best known for the top ten hit “Company’s Comin,” recorded in 1954 by Porter Wagoner. Mullins met Wagoner at the Ozark Jubilee in downtown Springfield. That was a big place back then.

Mullins had a way with words and jingles. He grew up in Barry County, Mo. and taught himself how to play guitar by swatting wasps. Between 1957 and 1982 he was a custodian for the Springfield school system. He titled his 1983 autobiography “America’s Favorite Janitor.”

Johnny Mullins

Johnny Mullins

 “I met Johnny in 1956 at the Ozark Manufacturing Company in Springfield,” Peggy says before the main show featuring “The Barn Band.” “He was a packer and I was upholstered chairs. He got fired (laughs) not long after we met. He got in trouble for fussing with his boss. We got married about six months after we met. Then he started working for the Springfield school system.”

Peggy, 78, is packing a lot in on this early November day.

She has caught a 9 a..m.  show in Branson, about 30 miles south of Springfield. “I saw ‘Who’s Gonna’ Fill Their Shoes,” she says. ‘It’s about George Jones, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash and Loretta Lynn. Then I came here. I love this place.”

Her husband had the gumption Branson loves.  “Johnny was mainly a one man show,” she says. “He didn’t have a band. He wrote his own songs and sent demos to people. He had written ‘Company’s Comin’ before I met him. Then Loretta Lynn did his ‘Success (Has Made a Failure Out of Our Home in 1961)’ and that was a hit for her. She called John for another song. That was an experience. I answered the phone because he was at work. Since she was from Kentucky and had blue eyes, he wrote ‘Blue Kentucky Girl’ for her. Emmylou Harris recorded it 15 years later.”

Elvis Costello and Sinead O’Connor each recorded Mullin’s “Success.”  The Ozark Playboys, a former Luttrell’s Auction Barn house band covered Mullins’ “Angel In The Hills” for Springfield’s own Top-Side label.

Long time Springfield guitarist D. Clinton Thompson (Morells, Skeletons, Park Central Squares) attended the Eugene Field elementary school in Springfield when Mullins was working there. “Mostly we just folded chairs and stacked tables,” he writes in a Friday email. “He was a nice man but I didn’t know he was a songwriter until I was told he was going to be on the Slim Wilson TV show (which aired 1964-75 from Springfield on KYTV-TV) singing songs he had written. I was only 11 and seeing someone I actually knew on TV was almost as exciting as seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. He wrote country songs and I was not interested in country music at the time.

“Little did I know it was already an inescapable part of my life.”


I’m glad our photographer Rene’ Greblo takes a distant picture of Peggy.

It says a lot about the power of connection.

In his 1989 collection of essays, humanist-farmer Wendell Berry wrote, “A human community, then, if it is to last long, must exert a sort of centripetal force, holding local soil and local memory in place. Practically speaking, human society has no work more important than this.”

Living their entire life in this remote big place of Springfield, Mo. Peggy and Johnny had two daughters and two grandsons. In his later years Johnny liked to play horseshoes and he dabbled in organic gardening. He never strayed far from the music which is why Peggy comes back to this place, a pocket-sized throwback of the Ozark Jubilee.

She smiles and says, “The Jubilee was a wonderful place to go. It was clean. No alcohol. They started out with fiddle, guitar and banjo. They didn’t have drums years ago. Nothing was electric. They’re losing that now and it makes me upset. I went to the Grand Ole Opry recently and it was loud, loud music. I like to hear my music. I like to hear the  words.”

When Peggy Mullins hears the words she knows she is not alone.