May 24

May 24 5 Demos, 1 Day

Chicago Tourism, Chicago, Demonstrations, Performance, Protest, Public Declarations

Today, I left the house with three cameras, each with a fixed-length lens mounted to it. No zoom lenses; no flash. Two of the cameras were Leica Monchroms (no capacity to capture colors), both with contrast filters attached to the lenses. I was hoping to turn the blue sky black as I meandered on my indeterminate path through the Loop. Chicago’s architecture was the target.

The 146 bus downtown was jammed pack, so I hopped off at 900 North Michigan—the first stop on Michigan Avenue. In the distance, I heard demonstrators chanting. Keep in mind no large demonstrations were scheduled for today. I wondered, “Are people still demonstrating outside the Gold Coast Tesla dealership?” I decided to take a quick look. Big mistake.

Yep, on the corner outside the Tesla dealership were 20 seemingly familiar faces. I hadn’t returned to the Tesla dealership on a Saturday in about a month. The demonstrations in front of the store were the equivalent of summer reruns from back in the days of Gilligan’s Island and the Beverly Hillbillies.

The Tesla Takedowns are now a pointless effort. Elon Musk has already done his damage to the Federal workforce. He also inflicted damage on Tesla and his net worth, producing some rough justice. Musk, however, is no longer a factor, quietly receding into the background, with his head between his legs. To the extent those on the street were seeking camaraderie, they could have just as easily gathered for eggs, pancakes, and coffee at the nearby Original Pancake House.

I spent most of the time at the Tesla dealership talking to one of the police officers monitoring the situaton. I noted that the number of officers equaled or exceeded the demonstrator headcount. He laughed. As we parted company, the officer said, “See you over at Jane Byrne Plaza at 2:00 PM.” I responded, “What?” Yep, the Palestinians were holding a Saturday demonstration. I had not seen it announced on the web despite having looked.

At 1:50 PM, I made the short walk to the plaza. I saw a couple of people wearing keffiyehs, but none of the organizers who set up the sound system each week before the program begins. The only reason I even headed to Jane Byrne Plaza was because I wanted to hear what the pro-Palestinian leadership had to say about Wednesday night’s shooting outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C. I decided to wait to hear what the speakers had to say about the incident.

Around 2:10 PM, the organizers arrived in the signature maroon Dodge RAM that is present each week—the truck’s owner should get an endorsement deal from Stellantis. After shaking hands with one of the leaders, I asked him about the shooting. After noting that he had addressed the question with multiple media outlets on Thursday, he said—paraphrased but probably very close to his exact words—’I had 35,000 people in the streets after October 7. I do not have control over every person who shows up at our demonstrations. We don’t advocate violence.’ I then noted the incident didn’t help the Palestinian cause, providing Trump more ammunition to use against the Palestinians. End of discussion.

As usual, I did not listen to every speaker. None of the speakers addressed the shooting, at least that is my recollection. One of the organizers made an announcement, asking that those in the crowd not speak with the media should they be approached for comment. He noted that the Palestinians had media spokespeople on hand. If approached, the demonstrator should refer the inquiry to a spokesperson. The announcement was made without reference to the shooting, but I assumed that the shooting was the reason for the announcement.

Shortly after the speeches began, I heard an extremely loud racket coming from Water Tower Place. The heads of both photographers and cops abruptly turned toward the noise. I didn’t wait. As I crossed Michigan Avenue, a small cadre of demonstrators came into view. My suspicions were quickly confirmed. The anti-fur activists were out today. Normally, they gather a block or two further north, either outside Max Mara or Louis Vuitton. Today, they were in front of the American Girl store. I don’t associate fur with toy dolls, but I am not American Girl’s target demographic.

These demonstrators were calling out some guy named Roger Lynch, whoever he is. Their effort was idiotic. A steady stream of tourists in town for the Memorial Day weekend were passing by in waves, providing the group with an excellent opportunity to impart its message. Their mistake: using multiple bullhorns under the marble canopy covering the walkway in front of Water Tower Place. I had never heard louder bullhorns—painfully loud once the voices were further amplified by the marble surface above. I immediately popped in a set of earplugs, but most people don’t walk around with earplugs in their pockets.

Rather than pausing even momentarily to hear the spiel, the pedestrians rushed past. I wanted to ask who Roger Lynch was, but the group gave off a somewhat hostile vibe. Moreover, the leader never paused, so there was never an opportunity to ask.

Turns out, Lynch is Condé Nast’s CEO and a Mattel board member. Condé Nast owns Vogue magazine, which apparently runs ads or articles featuring fur. Mattel owns American Girl. Some of its dolls apparently incorporate animal fur. No doubt Lynch was secluded somewhere far away, enjoying the Memorial Day weekend in sunny solitude.

After capturing a few images, I headed back to Jane Byrne Plaza, where I listened to civil rights veteran Frank Chapman and Chicago Alderman Byron Sigcho Lopez speak. No new ground was covered by either of them, but I always enjoy listening to Chapman, whose roots run to Bobby Seale and Fred Hampton, among other historic figures.

I decided to wait for the march to begin, figuring I would follow it to the river, and then split off. When I arrived with the marchers at the Tribune Tower, I saw the Black Hebrew Israelites preaching on Michigan Avenue, claiming that Blacks, Latinos, and Native Americans are among the Lost Tribes of Israel, or something like that. Interestingly, their website states that “Kanye West, Kyrie Irving, Kendrick Lamar, and other [celebrities] acknowledge the tenets of the black Hebrew Israelites.” The reference to Ye tells you all you need to know about the bilge that was being pumped into the air.

I’ve encountered this and similar groups preaching on the streets several times before. Their schtick consists of outlandishly provocative rants interspersed between readings from the Bible. The Anti-Defamation League refers to this movement as “a fringe religious movement that rejects widely accepted definitions of Judaism and asserts that people of color are the true children of Israel.”

For the tourists, suburbanites, and other passersby, the Black Hebrew Israelites offer nothing a carnival-like spectacle. Gawk, snap a quick photo, but move on before the leader calls you out. A group of Jehovah Witnesses normally has an information “booth” feet from where the Black Hebrew Israelites were preaching, but the Witnesses were missing today.

Looking at my watch, I saw that it was 4:30 PM, so I decided that I would walk to the Landmark Cinema for the 6:30 PM screening of Michael Jordan’s Sinners. Walking on Michigan, I encountered the Jehovah Witnesses a block north on the opposite of the street. I stopped, asking them, “So are you here today because of the all the racket in your regular location?” The response: affirmative laughter and grims.

Continuing north, I eventually arrived back at Jane Byrne Plaza, where I a saw four people wearing Guy Fawkes masks. Dressed in black, they each had video monitors strapped to their chests. Each monitored displayed a different video showing animals in precarious positions as the animals were killed while being processed for human consumption.

A nondescript woman approached me as I captured a few images. She wanted to know what I thought about eating animal meat given the suffering that the animals endure during the production process. I asked her whether she eats eggs. ‘Nope.’ What about fish? ‘Nope.’

Whether I agree with a group of demonstrators, I usually conclude that there is at least a grain of truth in whatever their position might be. On a Saturday afternoon in late May, I finally arrived at a bridge too far. I thought to myself, “Why are you demonstrating in a park off Michigan Avenue? Nobody is converting to veganism today. The sarcastic side of my brain thought, “Why not head to Gibson’s in the Viagra Triangle as people sit at outdoor tables devouring marbled steak and martinis?” They might enjoy the videos while chowing down.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It. The Images Are Not Necessarily in Exact Chronological Order]