When they were done, I introduced Senator Dixon, and we were ushered onto the bus to the next event at Loyola.
◊◊◊
Loyola was a Jesuit Catholic university located in the City of Chicago. In fact, they had six campuses. One was in the heart of the city, next to the historic Water Tower, a block west of Michigan Avenue. We were going to the Lake Shore campus at Devon and Sheridan. That was where the Gentile Arena was. It held about two-and-a-half times as many people as the gym at the University of Chicago.
This time Jett and the band were more the center of attention. They’d played some different venues on the north side when they lived here. The band had a following of their own; combine that with the interview on Channel 9, and we had a good turnout.
When it was time for them to play, I got on stage to introduce them.
“Thank you all for coming out today. I’m David A. Dawson, and I’ll be your MC.”
“Take your shirt off,” a girl called out.
“As much fun as that would be, I promised them I wouldn’t do that today.”
I smiled when some more joined in. It sounded like a few of the attendees had had a couple of drinks before they came today. I was worried about what they might say to the candidates.
“Are you ready to have some fun?” I asked.
That got the expected result.
“I want to introduce our band, Birthrite. Many of you might recognize them because they played under a couple of different names right here on the north side. I’m sure you’re in for a special treat. Give a warm Chicago welcome to Birthrite!”
I decided to stay and listen to a few songs this time. Jett had just finished her first song when a fan shouted out, “Show us your tits!”
I started up to the stage to defend her but stopped when she acted as if she were searching the crowd.
“Did you actually say that?” she asked. “Do me a favor and point him out for me.”
It was a young college guy. He was with a group of his buddies, who all sold him out and pointed at him.
“What does your t-shirt say?” Jett asked.
“You’ve been a bad girl, now go to my room!” he called back.
I wanted one of those.
“Nice,” Jett said as she rolled her eyes, which made the audience laugh.
Security was working their way through the crowd towards him.
“Hold on,” she told security. “Let’s give him a chance. What do you do for a living?”
“Freelance sperm donor!” he called back.
I thought Jett was going to drop her mic. That sounded like my job, damn it!
“Ladies … would you like to accept a donation?” Jett called out and received a resounding “No!” back.
“Since this is an election,” Jett began, “why don’t we vote on it? Who here wants our ‘sperm donor’ to be escorted out?”
The crowd cheered.
“Who wants him to stay?”
I could hear crickets.
“Sorry, dude, you’re gone!” Jett said to cheers.
Security escorted him out as Jett started her next song.
◊◊◊
DePaul University’s campus was in the Lincoln Park neighborhood, not far from where Jack and Bev Mass lived. I loved this area of Chicago. It was popular with young professionals. They could catch the ‘L’ to the Loop for work and go out to all the trendy restaurants and bars when their day was done.
DePaul was the largest Catholic university in the US, and the largest private institution in Chicago, serving nearly 24,000 students. Surprisingly, this was the smallest venue we would use. Their basketball arena was in the suburbs, and Max wanted to keep everything in the city. They had a relatively new theater that held 250 people. This was the only event people had to have tickets to.
It turned out to be a terrible idea. Over half of the ticket-holders didn’t show up. For the band, it was even worse. Going from a rowdy crowd of nearly five thousand to maybe 125 is a big difference. And the audience wasn’t into it like they’d been at Loyola. I expect we were all glad when the day was done.
◊◊◊
Governor and Betty Higgins were hosting a fundraiser tonight at the hotel, The Peninsula Chicago, which was close to Michigan Avenue. I talked Brook into going for a walk with me. I wanted to show her some of my favorite places. Of course, we had to get hot caramel corn. You can’t walk past that place without stopping. They had an exhaust fan that pumped the aroma right out onto the street. Whoever thought of that was a marketing genius.
She talked me into going into the Water Tower Place mall, which was six stories of shopping. Brook had a great time and forced me to be her pack mule. She did let me buy some teas at a specialty tea store. Then I spotted the sporting goods store.
I ended up buying three pairs of baseball shoes; that would probably get me some grief from my teammates for being like a girl with all the footwear. The first pair was a turf shoe. Baseball players will only wear turf shoes during practice or training. If you aren’t practicing on a field, you should be wearing turfs. This was because they’re more comfortable and won’t tear up the training facilities like metal cleats do. The second felt like they were running shoes on spikes. I got those for baserunning. The final pair was an AdiZero 5-Tool series of cleats, which were lightweight and would feel good in the field.
I also bought a Nokona X2 Elite Series 1275 baseball glove. My current gloves were for the infield, and I needed a slightly longer glove for the outfield. I picked the Nokona 12.75 inch because it was made of kangaroo leather. It’s stronger and lighter than cow leather, or so I was told. It had a composite padding system that offered increased protection and comfort, and I picked the H-shaped webbing. I couldn’t wait to break it in.
They talked me into getting a sliding glove that looked like a seal flipper. It covered your fingers and thumb to prevent hand injuries when sliding headfirst into a base. I think they saw me coming because when the afternoon was over, I ended up spending more than Brook.
◊◊◊
The dinner/fundraiser was held in one of the ballrooms. I watched the various politicians to see how they interacted with the donors. Ian Davis and Jack Mass found me.
“Why are you so intense?” Ian asked as he sipped his cocktail.
“I’m watching the politicians work the room. I bet I can predict who wins and who doesn’t, based on what I see,” I said.
The two men were now intrigued.
“I’m not sure what we’d bet, but I’ll bite,” Jack said.
“For you to understand, I think you need me to show you what I do. Do either of you need anything?” I asked.
“What are you talking about?” Ian asked.
“Just that, do you need anything? I’m going to talk to people who have money and are here to give it to Governor Higgins,” I said.
They both looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Fine, come with me and learn,” I said with a smirk.
I walked up to the first couple. They both had to be in their seventies.
“I wanted to introduce myself. I’m David Dawson. This is Jack Mass of Mass Investments, and this is Ian Davis, Political Science professor at State,” I said as I shook their hands.
“I’m Bill Carl, and this is my wife Elinor. I’m a retired banker and minority owner of the Chicago Cubs.”
“My plan is to play for the Cubs someday. I just got an acceptance to try out for the Under-18 USA Baseball Team,” I said.
“Dawson?” Bill pondered for a moment, and then said, “I think I recognize that name. Are you related to Davey Dawson?”
“Yes, he was my grandfather. My grandmother has me volunteering for Governor Higgins to help him get reelected. I was with him at his three events today.”
“You’re the actor,” Elinor said.
“Yes, I have a movie out right now.”