Just Whose Street Is It, Anyway?
by Vince Daliessio
Leaving Chicago's Midway Airport this evening, I drove west down Cicero Avenue to the (Adlai) Stevenson Expressway. To proceed south on the Stevenson (Interstate 55), you have to drive under the Stevenson overpass.
This gritty bit of the city is populated by "disabled veterans", people who "will work for food", people who "helpfully" try to tell you about something wrong with your car, "squeegee" men, covert prostitutes, and frank mendicants.
Their "industry" thrives on guilt, and discomfort, and I felt the familiar pangs associated with failing to "love thy neighbor" sufficiently.
But it also thrives on public property, the confluence of Federal and State property in this case, and I also thought the familiar outraged thought, "where are the cops?". Rudy Giuliani built a political career answering this same outraged question.
I thought about it some more, and came to the conclusion that since these streets and highways are "public" property, i.e., owned by no one, these people have just as much right to conduct their "business" there as I do, our guilt and discomfort aside.