Many words are wasted on some false rivalry between Chicago and New York. But we need to focus on the real enemy: the menace to the west, that fiery mudslidey earthquakey Babylon: The entire state of California.
There are many reasons to loathe that vile state, but let’s start with one people easily forget: they stole the movie industry from us. Granted that was like 100 years ago, but there are too many talented starving actors tending bar (or doing Paper Machete) for meager tips in this town for we Chicagoans to just “forget” where the jobs went. Thanks President O’Harding or Taft or, whatever, some old dead white dude. So never forget, Chicago is the original Tinsel Town.
Hell, Chicagoans INVENTED the movie... kinda. Edison invented the kinetoscope, this wooden mailbox looking thing you would bend over and grind to see the pictures move. But a Chicagoan named George K Spoor figured out how to make those little moving pictures project onto a flat surface. Which means movie theatres. Which means by proxy, he’s also responsible for the hickey, the yawn stretch and squeeze, and the surprise popcorn handjob.
So that guy Spoor teamed with this other guy, Anderson, and they formed a company using their first two initials. Essanay. If you recognize that name, you’ve earned yourself a shot of Malort true Chicagoan. Or if you’re not a Chicagoan, you’re probably a film history major, and all you’ve earned is a degree you can’t do shit with. Essanay’s studios were actually right down the block at 1333 West Argyle street here in Uptown. It’s not there anymore, so don’t like… walk over there after this or anything. There’s just an apartment building and a cemetery. Because everything dies. (take a sip)
Essanay sold the invention, the Magniscope, all over town and even started shooting films to sell right along with it. They got pretty good at making films, some of which starred two folks who eventually became the biggest film stars of their day and maybe ever: Gloria Swanson and Charlie Chaplin. The Essanay team is even credited with inventing the “western” – which eventually proved to be the downfall of the Chicago Film industry. It turns out it’s better to shoot westerns when you’re… west. They started a “western division” out in LA and eventually moved the whole company out there to escape the unpredictable weather here in Chicago. Which is the same reason people we used to think were cool move to LA now. That and because they’re weak and sick of working for “free.” Psssh. Actors. So California stole our movie industry, our sunshine, probably, and all of our most attractive friends, or at least the ones most likely to bleach their assholes.
And now, we have a brand new reason that California is the worst: This week Chicago got the George Lucas museum over LA and San Francisco. This new museum will house Lucas’s Collection of Star Wars Memorabilia, installations on the innovations of Industrial Light and Magic, and his Norman Rockwell Paintings. With a passing glance, this news seemed kind of cool. Yaaay, we beat out California to get it. And, Yaaay. We get the tourists who will come see this stuff, and, Yaaaay, we get the money that comes with the tourists who will this stuff. But do you know how we got the museum? The way Chicago makes anything happen: by compromising our morals.
Let’s… discuss.
When our city was first planned, there were to be only public lands east of lake shore drive and a massive green space in the form of Grant Park. That meant no buildings blocking the lake.
Our city has held fast to that original plan with the few exceptions being grand temples of art and science: Our glorious museum campus. The Art Institute. The Field Museum. The Adler Planetarium and the Shedd Aquarium. And as of a few days ago, the George Lucas Museum of the Narrative Arts.
And why not put the new museum there? Just one more to add to the bunch, right? Because this particular museum while housing some cool stuff makes no fucking sense. What do Norman Rockwell paintings have to do with Star Wars? They’re calling it the “Lucas Museum of Narrative Arts” which is marketing and branding doublespeak for “George Lucas had a bunch of shit in his basement so we’re going to put it on display and come up with some weak reason for it all but you’ll pay to look at it anyway, peasant.” But to try and stand this museum against the Cathedrals of Human Achievement in our museum campus is just laughable.
But that’s the essence of the problem. Nobody involved sees it that way. This is seen as a gift from the Gods of the film industry bestowed upon one of the flyover states. And we are to bow, and say thank you sir for blessing our city with your garage sale museum.
And besides all that, Lucas is pure California. He grew up there, he works there, and despite what he’ll say about having a home in Chicago, he lives in California. He might summer here, which is somehow worse. He hasn’t earned Chicago summers by living through Chicago winters. He’s come here to bask in our fleeting hours of sunlight and stake his claim right there on our beautiful lakefront with his name on a poorly planned museum of seemingly random stuff that flies as an insult to our own history of film, not to mention our history of sticking it the fuck out in a climate that wants to hurt us.
So instead of this Cali bullshit, let’s help Mr. Lucas see the museum that should be: The Lucas Narrative Arts Museum could share space with the Harold Ramis and John Hughes Memorial Museum of Chicago Cinematic History. Walk into an old magniscope of Chaplin spinning his cane, in the next room, smoke pot with Emilio Estevez. You could crash hundreds and hundreds of police vehicles in the Mission from God simulator, then roll a baby carriage down a flight of stairs before you step onto a parade float and sing Danke Shein. And finally, for the real Chicago Cinematic Experience, stand for a few hours in a frozen locker in the “Waiting to get my tickets for Star Wars 7 scheduled to release December 2015” simulator. And then, only then, after you’ve taken your medicine, after you’ve earned it in True Chicago Fashion… then… you can step into the Star Wars section. Because, fine, whatever, who doesn’t want to see a life size Millennium Falcon?
There are many reasons to loathe that vile state, but let’s start with one people easily forget: they stole the movie industry from us. Granted that was like 100 years ago, but there are too many talented starving actors tending bar (or doing Paper Machete) for meager tips in this town for we Chicagoans to just “forget” where the jobs went. Thanks President O’Harding or Taft or, whatever, some old dead white dude. So never forget, Chicago is the original Tinsel Town.
Hell, Chicagoans INVENTED the movie... kinda. Edison invented the kinetoscope, this wooden mailbox looking thing you would bend over and grind to see the pictures move. But a Chicagoan named George K Spoor figured out how to make those little moving pictures project onto a flat surface. Which means movie theatres. Which means by proxy, he’s also responsible for the hickey, the yawn stretch and squeeze, and the surprise popcorn handjob.
So that guy Spoor teamed with this other guy, Anderson, and they formed a company using their first two initials. Essanay. If you recognize that name, you’ve earned yourself a shot of Malort true Chicagoan. Or if you’re not a Chicagoan, you’re probably a film history major, and all you’ve earned is a degree you can’t do shit with. Essanay’s studios were actually right down the block at 1333 West Argyle street here in Uptown. It’s not there anymore, so don’t like… walk over there after this or anything. There’s just an apartment building and a cemetery. Because everything dies. (take a sip)
Essanay sold the invention, the Magniscope, all over town and even started shooting films to sell right along with it. They got pretty good at making films, some of which starred two folks who eventually became the biggest film stars of their day and maybe ever: Gloria Swanson and Charlie Chaplin. The Essanay team is even credited with inventing the “western” – which eventually proved to be the downfall of the Chicago Film industry. It turns out it’s better to shoot westerns when you’re… west. They started a “western division” out in LA and eventually moved the whole company out there to escape the unpredictable weather here in Chicago. Which is the same reason people we used to think were cool move to LA now. That and because they’re weak and sick of working for “free.” Psssh. Actors. So California stole our movie industry, our sunshine, probably, and all of our most attractive friends, or at least the ones most likely to bleach their assholes.
And now, we have a brand new reason that California is the worst: This week Chicago got the George Lucas museum over LA and San Francisco. This new museum will house Lucas’s Collection of Star Wars Memorabilia, installations on the innovations of Industrial Light and Magic, and his Norman Rockwell Paintings. With a passing glance, this news seemed kind of cool. Yaaay, we beat out California to get it. And, Yaaay. We get the tourists who will come see this stuff, and, Yaaaay, we get the money that comes with the tourists who will this stuff. But do you know how we got the museum? The way Chicago makes anything happen: by compromising our morals.
Let’s… discuss.
When our city was first planned, there were to be only public lands east of lake shore drive and a massive green space in the form of Grant Park. That meant no buildings blocking the lake.
Our city has held fast to that original plan with the few exceptions being grand temples of art and science: Our glorious museum campus. The Art Institute. The Field Museum. The Adler Planetarium and the Shedd Aquarium. And as of a few days ago, the George Lucas Museum of the Narrative Arts.
And why not put the new museum there? Just one more to add to the bunch, right? Because this particular museum while housing some cool stuff makes no fucking sense. What do Norman Rockwell paintings have to do with Star Wars? They’re calling it the “Lucas Museum of Narrative Arts” which is marketing and branding doublespeak for “George Lucas had a bunch of shit in his basement so we’re going to put it on display and come up with some weak reason for it all but you’ll pay to look at it anyway, peasant.” But to try and stand this museum against the Cathedrals of Human Achievement in our museum campus is just laughable.
But that’s the essence of the problem. Nobody involved sees it that way. This is seen as a gift from the Gods of the film industry bestowed upon one of the flyover states. And we are to bow, and say thank you sir for blessing our city with your garage sale museum.
And besides all that, Lucas is pure California. He grew up there, he works there, and despite what he’ll say about having a home in Chicago, he lives in California. He might summer here, which is somehow worse. He hasn’t earned Chicago summers by living through Chicago winters. He’s come here to bask in our fleeting hours of sunlight and stake his claim right there on our beautiful lakefront with his name on a poorly planned museum of seemingly random stuff that flies as an insult to our own history of film, not to mention our history of sticking it the fuck out in a climate that wants to hurt us.
So instead of this Cali bullshit, let’s help Mr. Lucas see the museum that should be: The Lucas Narrative Arts Museum could share space with the Harold Ramis and John Hughes Memorial Museum of Chicago Cinematic History. Walk into an old magniscope of Chaplin spinning his cane, in the next room, smoke pot with Emilio Estevez. You could crash hundreds and hundreds of police vehicles in the Mission from God simulator, then roll a baby carriage down a flight of stairs before you step onto a parade float and sing Danke Shein. And finally, for the real Chicago Cinematic Experience, stand for a few hours in a frozen locker in the “Waiting to get my tickets for Star Wars 7 scheduled to release December 2015” simulator. And then, only then, after you’ve taken your medicine, after you’ve earned it in True Chicago Fashion… then… you can step into the Star Wars section. Because, fine, whatever, who doesn’t want to see a life size Millennium Falcon?
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