Partial Con Report for Chicago motss.con (1996)

Part 1
Here's my attempt at writing a con report.  I fear it is going to turn out to be rather long.  So maybe I'll break it into a couple of parts and post the rest at a later time.  If it seems disproportionately about food, that might be because I went to the con to eat and have a good time, and specifically not to engage in hot-hot-man-man-sex or cruising, or even flirting.  Perhaps I wouldn't have rejected it if it had happened; but that was far afield of my current mood and I didn't seek or expect it.  This ultimately led to a wonderfully relaxed con, one where I got plenty of sleep and stayed healthy.
 
If you've never been to a con it is difficult to convey the feeling of immersion into a social matrix that one undergoes.  Oddly enough, even though this was just my second con (I missed DC, unfortunately; but I did attend Las Vegas, though my status at the time was lurker and "spouse" and I neither knew nor was known to very many people) I had a clear picture or had actually met in person a fair proportion of the people who attended.  So I felt no anxiety about what was to come, only anticipation as I deplaned at Midway on Thursday afternoon. 

I had made plans by e-mail to meet Jeremy Mallory and Dan Benfield at the airport to share a ride back to the con hotel.  Even though I had missed the DC con, I had met both of them previously when I was in DC for the Vermeer exhibit.  So at least I had no trouble identifying Jeremy at the gate when I arrived.  I think he was slightly mystified by the change of appearance I had undergone since February.  I have cut off my beard (for the first time in 5 years); and I think that made a difference.  In any case I went up to him and re-introduced myself and we were off to find Dan who was guarding the luggage (it turned out that the Jeremy and I had identical Samsonite suitcases, a strange connection.)

I'd like to make it clear right now, that there are a whole bunch of soc.motssers at the con who I find incredibly attractive and interesting. Both Jeremy and Dan fall right into that category, though for differing reasons.  Jeremy is voluable and verbally amusing while Dan has one of the nicest personas (and shy smile to go with it) that I've ever encountered. Both are drop dead cute (though this shouldn't be news to anybody since most con reports have made that point one way or another.) In any case, after a slight amount of dithering over whether we should try a limo or public transportation, we decided to risk a cab (a good decision since it turned out to be a quite reasonable fare for the 3 of us and got us to the hotel in great time.)  The cab ride was made pleasurable by conversation and participating on the ongoing boy/man watching which all three of us found ourselves involved in.  Chicago is full of gorgeous guys.  Many of them on roller blades, which seemed to turn Jeremy on a great deal.

When we got to the hotel my first Chicago.con sight was Josh Simon holding court in the main lobby (which ended up being an almost perfect con-central meeting and socializing spot.)  Josh has a wonderfully sarcastic verbal style, and I warmed to him immediately and always enjoyed being around him.  He was passing out con packets, which contained color coded maps for each planned event and a badge (which I lost the second day among the detritus in my room and didn't find again until I was packing to leave.  Fortunately, by then, most people knew who I was.)  When I checked in I was given a room right next to the elevator.  I could hear the thunk of the door quite clearly during the day.  I immediately knew that was going to be trouble; so I returned to the front desk and pleaded with them to change me to a quieter room.  I ended up being quite pleased with the room they gave me, across from the elevator and in a corner - safely on the quiet side of the hotel away from the El and the street.  I am certainly glad I did this, since it meant I slept quite soundly every night - even more soundly than I do in my own bed in LA.  I *loved* the hotel because of this (in addition to all the other nice things about the City Suites, mainly that they let us take over the lobby and were remarkably sympathetic and gracious hosts.)

When I came down to socialize after "freshening" up for dinner, I saw Jess Anderson (we've known each other for years, and it was like picking up a conversation we had just quit the day before.)  Jess and I did a lot of the con events together, ate most of our meals in common.  I even ended up accompanying him on many of his smoke breaks (though cigarets are far from my mind nowadays,) just to bask in his aura and enjoy the delights of his company.  Time after time he would make observant commentary which would crystalize the experience for me.  He is truly a worthy compadre and I can't imagine what the con would have been like without his company.

We decided to go Greek for dinner.  The con had chosen three restaurants to make reservations for that evening.  The Greek Island sounded the best (and to tell the truth, Greek food and wine is one of my favorites; and I'd heard that Chicago was famous for its Greek Town eateries.)  I guess ten of us ended up decending on the restaurant (and we were soon joined mid-meal by a few more, notably Greg Havican), and they accomodated us with no problem, though the reservation had been for four.  I drove to the restaurant with Jess; but this turned out to be the last time I would use anything except bus or El (and a lot of footpower) for the rest of the con.  Chicago is a remarkably civilized city in its transportation system...just another reason to love it.

Maybe I should make a brief digression here about Chicago.  I had only been to the city three times in my life, the last in 1967.  I had previously only been there during the dog days of summer (the first time pre-airconditioning when I was about 12).  Chicago was one of Howard's favorite cities.  He lived there for a while and was always raving about the food and the life.  So I was anxious to experience it (but sorry, as with just about every aspect of my current life, that I could no longer share it with Howard.)  Any fears I had about beastly weather were banished by the presence of the great weatherjesus who blessed us with almost perfect (for me) cool/sunny or drizzly weather.  Actually, the only weather I can't abide is hot-humid, so I was in heaven the whole time.  And Chicago, what can I say?  It has bounded to near the top of the pack in terms of my favorite cities...I can't wait to return and sample more of its pleasures.

Back at the restaurant, I was instrumental in getting the table to order the mixed appetizer plate of things like squid and fish roe salad and other delights of Greek cooking.  They were all done quite nicely, and I was very pleased.  Chuck Craig (a Chicagoan who obviously had been to the restaurant before) shared a couple of his favorite appetizer plates with us and they were remarkable (and not exactly spa food):  a garlic potato spread and a white cheese grilled to perfection in olive oil.  The bread was excellent.  And, though the restaurant didn't have the wine I wanted, the Greek white they came up with (Lac des Roches) was quite acceptable.
I ordered lamb (something I almost always do in Greek restaurants), which was a massive rack baked in a gloppy lemon batter.  It was delicious.  Great choice, con.committee (and I noticed that several committee members had joined us, a good sign that we were making the right choice.)

By the time we returned to the con.hotel around 10 PM, several new people had shown up.  It all gets a little hazy here.  I was incredibly tired after an extremely long day (Arne had inadvertantly set his alarm for 4:30 AM, and I had to be at the airport by 8:30, so I never got back to sleep; and I had been working night and day for a week anyway, so I was several hours in serious sleep debt.)  So I forewent going out to the jazz club crawl led by Tim Pierce (whom I had never met before; but who was *exactly* how I had imagined him.  Although the parts revealed the next night as he graphically illustrated Ilona's story came as a pleasant surprise.)  I retired early, and had a wonderfully restful 9 hours of sleep and awoke early Friday morning raring to go.

[I can see this is going to be a lengthy process.  And I fear most people are bored to tears with con reports.  So I'm going to stop right now, only one day into the con, and pick up the rest later if I can make time.  In any case, I had one of the best weekends of my life and I want to thank everybody involved.  Can't wait till the next one!] 

PART 2
In part one of these con reminiscences I was waking up refreshed after a wonderful nine hours of sleep early Friday morning.  After my usual morning ablutions, I decended the stairs to the already jumping lobby by 9 AM.  This was to be the pattern for the rest of the con.  No matter what hour one arrived in the central lobby there were several people occupying one of the two couches and several chairs or spread in various states of repose or rapt conversation on the floor (incidently, there was also a lot of more or less public displays of affection going on quite openly in the lobby, too; and the hotel staff or occasional non-motss guest passerby never seemed to as much as blink...another reason I loved this hotel.)

After greeting friends and newly met motssers we all set out by el for the first big con event of the weekend, the brunch at the West Egg Cafe downtown on the Gold Coast. 

But before I get on that elevated train, I'd like to digress for a few paragraphs and describe for you some of the new acquaintences I had made on Thursday night (which should have gone into Part 1, but didn't, because of my fitful memory and the rather unplanned nature of this report.)  I also must apologize in advance for the scattershot nature of these thumbnail descriptions.  Unlike Jess, I don't intend to try comprehensively to describe everyone I met at the con:  only those who for one reason or another were important to *my* con experience.  I will miss many people who were there, and with whom I enjoyed experiencing the con; and I'm sorry about that.  I don't intend this report to go on forever, only almost. 

Two of the first people I saw when I arrived were Scott-Saffier-Champ-Knecht.  One has to think of them as one individual since they seemed to be connected like siamese twins the whole con.  However, they turned out to be very different personalities for all that.  Scott was outgoing in person and had a video camera to his eye for most of the con, Champ seemed more reserved.  They made a good pair.  And when Champ showed up Friday morning with an obvious hicky on his neck, I'm sure nobody was surprised. The very first thing I did when I encountered them in the elevator was inquire how each pronounced his name.  Knecht didn't surprise me (the K is sounded); but Saffier (like the word safer) was a surprise.  Scott reminded me that I had mentioned on the con mail-list that I was going to go to the Art Institute on Friday; and he wanted to make sure I included him and Champ in those plans.  I was delighted.  And when Scott showed up in the lobby after dinner on Thursday shirtless and leather vested (with extremely fetching hairy pecs), for one of the few times at the con I was tempted to flirt.  But I maintained my icy control.  If anybody at the con was "taken", it was Scott.

Also when we got back from Dinner on Thursday, eagle-eyed Josh noted the car with Ohio license plates parked in front of the hotel and wondered aloud if Arnold or Anne had arrived.  It turned out to be Ayana Craven, whom I had met at a dinner we held in LA a month earlier.  I was glad to see her, we hugged, and then I don't think I saw her the entire rest of the con.  Mysteries like that seem to happen at cons.

The highlight of the evening happened when I wandered outside the hotel entrance to join Jess in one of his frequent cigarette breaks (where a lot of the important conversations were joined).  Jess was talking  animatedly to a rather diminutive person in a nice flax colored linen jacket.  I had my suspicions, and sure enough, Jess introduced me to the fearsome man-lopper, Melinda Shore, whom I had never met before. I'm not sure what I expected from this gigantic net presence;  but I found the reality was a wonderfully warm, smiling, totally 'there' presence, which shouldn't have surprised me in the least.

*sigh*, I still can't manage to get past Thursday.  Four more days to go, too.  Well, this con was that kind of event...consistantly enthralling and fascinating.  It's no wonder that the mail-list is still quite active after more than a week - nobody wants to let go of the euphria most of us felt (or maybe it's also the ubiquitous con cold that many others seemed to have caught.)

Alright, back to that Red Line train to downtown, where we exited at the Chicago/State stop and treked en masse through downtown to the cafe for brunch.  This was my first look at downtown Chicago, and Jess pointed out the charmingly primitive Waterworks building among the striking skyscrapers, so I knew I was actually there. 

The West Egg Cafe turned out to be a nice breakfast place with a huge menu.  We took over most of the inside room, probably at least forty people, with more arriving by the minute.  I made a bad choice, the Grabowsky:  polish sausage and eggs, which I requested poached.  The eggs came out hard as rocks...probably runny poached is foreign to the culture of the midwest.  The star of the meal was a long haired latecomer, Steven Levine, who is supposed to be shy and retiring in social situations from his own posts.  However the way he ended up "doing the room" at the West Egg, going from table to table schmoozing with everybody in turn, was almost a textbook example of social skills.
I was impressed.  Also sitting across from me were another couple, whose names escaped me.  This turned out to be the former lurker Michael Abramson and his friend James.  For some reason I never did catch their names during the con; and only afterwards through Michael's posts have I established a firm identity for this mysterious couple.  It is true that lurkers can have a good time and meet people at the con (hi, Leroy!); but it certainly does help in identifying strangers when somebody has firmly established an identity by posting prior to the con.  I do remember warning Michael not to try the Grabowsky, which was so disappointing...but he ordered it anyway.  

After the meal the attendees separated into two groups.  Some went off shopping.  I helped lead a group of maybe 15 walking south to the Art Institute.  On the way, we toured Michigan Ave. over the Chicago River. Finally some of the Chicago I remember from my youth (the Wrigley Building and the Tribune were once towering presences; now they're all but lost in the clutter of the new cityscape.)  We passed a remarkable park full of statues of rabbits, of all things.  I dubbed it the "Tom Farrell Memorial Park" and several pictures of the group standing in front of the statuary were taken. 

When we got to the Art Institute we broke into smaller groups (after a surrealistic experience of buying tickets from a singularly unenthusiastic ticket seller:  he kept pleading with us to please, go to the other line across the hall.  And I had the moral dilemma of whether or not to fudge my age by 4 months and get in for half-price as a 55 year old senior.  My honest side won out over my greedy side, in addition to the fact that I'm not rushing senior citizen status.)

I ended up touring through the Impressionists, Post-I's, and Moderns for the first hour with the delightful twosome of Jess Anderson and Melinda Shore.  Melinda seemed particularly taken with Joseph Cornell's artful boxes, something I attributed to her living in Ithaca (haha, no relation, I think.)  I found the vaunted collection of Impressionists quite impressive, even overwhelming.  But I was far from museumed out when Jess and Melinda decided along with most of the rest of the group to retire from the field early.  I went back and spent an additional hour and a half touring the old-master collection, and what was available from the American art collection (which was mostly in storage while they are in the process of refurbishing the exhibit to reopen in October.)  I was struck with awe by the main room on the second floor with a magificent El Greco alterpiece of the ascending Virgin in the center flanked by an impressive Zuberain crucifixion and a gorgeous Caravaggio resurrection on either side.  This is a room to rival the Velasquez room at the Prado, which is also quite awesome.  Another much beloved painting, El Greco's St. Martin and the beggar was on view.  I especially love this painting because St. Martin reminds me of Howard Faye and I literally cried while viewing it here in Chicago.

I was disappointed by the shortages in the American collection and the fact that American Gothic was out on loan.  But Hopper's Nighthawks made up for a lot.  And there was a wonderful exhibit of Chuck Close upstairs in the Rice Building (contrasting him with another American painter whose name escapes me; but who offered an astounding painting which consisted of all the words in the dictionary minutely hand-printed and intertwined in an artful melange...it was called "Everything" or something like that.  Also a memorable bar of soap scored with a concentric design.  Ah, modern art...)

I was left unsatiated and needing an additional fix of American art.  A kind woman at the front information desk touted me to the collection at the Terra Museum across from Niketown on Michigan Ave.  I went there and was impressed by their show of four African American artists, particularly William Edouard Scott, an early 20th Century master whom I had never heard of.  Look out for him, he's a great, relatively unknown artist!

I decided to check out the Sony store before I went back to the hotel, and was impressed by some of the exhibits.  And I was amused to note that Niketown had a sign in front that said its hours of operation were from 10 AM 'till 8:07:20 PM.  Somebody has a sense of humor; but I'm just anal enough to return one day with my watch calibrated to the second to see if they live up to their sign.

By this time I was tired of shopping alone, so I returned to the hotel only to be hit by a whole new wave of people in the lobby (I especially enjoyed meeting Jeffrey Sandris finally, though we never managed to have that chat we've been promising each other in e-mail for ever.)  After making huggy huggy with several people I was seeing for the first time I retired to my room to read and rest up for the evening to come at Reza's and the theater.

Which is where I'll stop for this post.  I've managed to get through only 8 hours of events for all this verbage.  At this rate I'll have written a novel by the time I finish.