Marquette Park Track Club


Proudly wearing the Marquette Park Track Club colors of black and gold!

When I returned to Chicago after three years in the Marine Corps, I moved back to Marquette Park. I lived at 3006 W. 64th Street for six years before I moved to Bridgeport. I loved living so close to the park because then I could go running every day. While in the Marines, I began running seriously after I ran a marathon in California. I thought that if I trained well enough, I could become a good runner. I joined the Marquette Park Track Club after running the Roy Bricker Memorial 5 Mile Race where I placed third in my age group. Roy Bricker was the best runner that the club ever produced. All thanks to Coach Jack Bolton whom all his runners adored. The club would meet every weeknight at 5:30 p.m. rain or shine, snow, or sleet. Jack never missed a practice.

Jack Bolton came from Ireland many years before, but he never lost his Irish brogue. We all loved it. Some of the runners imitated him lovingly. He was a world-class miler back in Ireland and when he came to the U.S. he coached high school teams in Chicago. He always had great runners running for him.

When I first joined the club in 1981, all the practices began with six laps (one mile) on the cinder track at Marquette Park. Jack would lead the pack, and everyone had to stay behind him. This was a group warmup. Jack’s philosophy for this warmup was twofold. 1. Runners learned to run in a pack and 2. Runners learned to run at someone else’s pace, as sometimes happens in a race. In later years, Jack’s ankles gave out on him, and he didn’t run the warmup with the club anymore.

Jack especially loved working with younger runners. He was known for the female runners that came out of his club system. In fact, some high school girls would join Jack’s club in order to develop as runners and qualify for running scholarships at the universities of their choice. Most girls achieved their goal. Of course, many boys also received running scholarships, too.

What everyone loved about Jack was his eternal optimism. He always believed that one of his runners would win the race outright, no matter how overwhelming the odds. I once entered a race and learned at the starting line that Jack had predicted that I would win. I wanted to live up to his expectations, but I had a difficult day and faded halfway through the race. But Jack was always touting some up-and-coming runners from his club. He was usually right, too.

Click here to read an article that I wrote about Jack Bolton for the CARA Finish Line the January/February edition of 1985:

http://davidrodriguez.us/docs/bolton.html 

DDR

My father’s vocation


José Diego Rodríguez Rosiles

When I was in Celaya, my tío Timio told me about how all his brothers studied at the Montezuma Seminary in New Mexico. Tío Timio was the only brother not to attend the seminary. My father was at the Montezuma Seminary in New Mexico for eleven years. My father wanted to become a priest, but they advised him to go back home to Celaya for a while. They told him to get to know the world before he made a final decision. So, he returned to Celaya and while there he met my mother. Needless to say, my father never became a priest. Pues, como quien dice, en Celaya, se la halla.

DDR

Abuelito paterno


Eutimio Rodriguez
El Carmen Mueblería

I actually met my paternal grandfather when I was little and went to his funeral when he died in 1965. I didn’t know him very well, but I heard some stories about him that were not very flattering. My mother told me that he was very mean to me when I was little, but I don’t really remember how he treated me. When my Uncle Plácido became a bishop, I remember reading in his biography that my grandfather had to escape political persecution. I’m not sure where the truth lies. When I was in Celaya, Guanajuato, on my trip to México, my tío Eutimio told me that his father Eutimio Rodríguez Cárdenas, a distant cousin to President Lázaro Cárdenas, met one of the president’s cousins and they didn’t like each other. But other than that, there really was no trouble between them. My tío Timio was the only one from my grandfather’s family to stay in México when all the other family members eventually moved to America.

My grandfather had owned a furniture shop that made furniture to order. The shop was called Mueblería del Carmen because it was located near la Catedral El Carmen in downtown Celaya. He gave the furniture shop to my tío Timio and my grandfather went to America for about a year. While there, he met a priest named Father Thomas Matin, CMF. My parents met Father Thomas in Perth Amboy, New Jersey, and he would eventually become my godfather.

My grandfather promised Father Thomas some furniture if he could arrange U.S. citizenship papers for my grandfather. So, my tío Timio ran the mueblería while his father lived and worked in America. When my grandfather returned to Celaya, he locked himself in his room for days at a time. My tío Timio ran the shop and business was booming. All the profits belonged to my tío Timio since he was now the proprietor. Soon, the shop received a government order for chairs with a round backrest, but they wanted high-quality chairs and in a very short time. My uncle took the order even though he wasn’t sure he could complete it in such a brief time. My grandfather came out of his room and worked in the shop. In order to complete the chairs on time, my uncle devised a mold so that he could cut the rounded backrests four at a time. My grandfather didn’t think the mold would work and told his son that. Well, they had to finish the chairs on time in order to gain more business. My grandfather couldn’t work with the mold and his chairs kept breaking. So, he locked himself in his room again. My uncle finished the order with plenty of time to spare and the government agent was extremely surprised. He said that he should have given him the rest of the order that they gave to another shop. However, they weren’t even half-done with the order yet.

My uncle was paid handsomely for his work, and he gained a lot more furniture orders as his reputation increased. My grandfather took the profits from this enterprise and used the money to go to America. He also took the furniture that his son Timio had made and took it to Father Thomas. If it weren’t for tío Timio, my grandfather and his sons wouldn’t have had enough money to go the U.S. I wouldn’t have been born in the U.S.

DDR

Azteca Tacos


The ambience makes up for the sinking seats.

My favorite all-time Mexican restaurant is Azteca Tacos in Pilsen, 1836 S. Blue Island Avenue, Chicago, IL 60608, 312.733.0219

I’ve eaten there many times over many years. I was still in high school the very first time I ate there. My father and I went to the Fiesta del Sol when it was still on Blue Island Avenue. Rather than eating at one of the vendors from the fiesta, we went to Azteca Tacos and ordered our food through the window with wrought iron grating as we stood on the sidewalk.

It was kind of like eating at a restaurant in México. Authentic Mexican food is served by authentic Mexicans. The food is so delicious–¡Riquísima!–and they serve you large portions. It’s like being in México. Street merchants walk in to sell you everything from chiclets to blankets. Once an elderly man came in with a boom box and a book with a list of songs in Spanish. I picked two songs that I recognized and he sang them for us. I paid him $10 and he left the restaurant with a smile.

I like going there with my friends because it’s a nice place to hang out for a few drinks. Granted, it doesn’t look like a luxury restaurant, the seats in the booths are worn down a little, and the bathrooms remind me of México, but the food and the ambience make up for everything else. You have to go there at least once in your lifetime!

DDR

Chess


 

I can't believe my mother let me grow my hair this long!
I can’t believe my mother let me grow my hair this long!

When I was in high school, I met my friend Jim Harmon in physics class. We really didn’t learn much physics because Mr. Wlecke the teacher didn’t really teach much in the way of physics. He would sometimes make a half-hearted attempt at teaching us something, but then he would lose his focus and stop. My friend Jim always carried a chess set wherever he went. So one day, after Mr. Wlecke inexplicably stopped teaching, Jim challenged me to a game of chess. I accepted, but explained that I only knew how the pieces moved and that I wasn’t very good. We played anyway and Jim won–of course. From then on, we always played chess in physics class and at lunch sometimes. Once Mr. Wlecke missed class and the substitute teacher was surprised to see Jim and I playing chess in class. I told him we played chess in class everyday, but he didn’t believe me. I slowly but surely improved my game of chess. Jim later talked me into joining the chess team. I later learned that Jim was the best player on the chess team.

I became obsessed by chess. I loved playing on the chess team! I studied the chess books that the chess coach Mr. Crowe had lent us. I even bought chess books of my own. When I decide to dedicate myself to something, I go way above and beyond the call of duty! I really improved as a chess player. I wanted nothing less than to be first board on the chess team. Eventually, I played well enough to play first board, but then I lost my game at the match and I never played first board again. This failure only drove me to study chess even more diligently!

Soon after joining the Gage Park H.S. chess team, we went to the La Salle Hotel downtown to play in chess tournaments sponsored by the Chicago Chess Club. I really wanted to win a chess trophy. All my brothers had various trophies for different sports, but I was the only one in the family without a trophy of any kind. So I spent every free moment studying and breathing chess. I won more and more of my practice games. I even beat my uncle at chess even after he stopped letting me win. One day, I did win my division in a tournament. I was the 1974 Northern Illinois High School Novice Unrated Champion! I know this is the exact title because I’m looking at the trophy as I write this. However, as luck would have it, the trophies were not delivered to the tournament on time because the trophy factory had burned down the previous week. These eerie coincidences have happened to me throughout my life. I’m used to them now. None of my friends went to that tournament, so no one believed me that I had actually won a trophy. Especially my mother! She almost didn’t give me the $6 for the then astronomical entry fee to enter the tournament. I was told I would receive my trophy in the mail within four weeks, by February of 1974. Well, it didn’t come until May! And then, finally everyone believed me that I had actually won a trophy. And it was bigger than any of the trophies that my brothers had won. Even my mother had to believe me then!