tumblrbot asked: WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?
1. Brazil
2. Kenya
3. South Africa
4. Japan
5. Greek islands
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Helsing’s Time-In Vodvil Lounge, 4363 Broadway, 1970, Chicago. Wayne Sorce
This place had everything: bowling, burlesque, a bar, a sportswear shop and magic…
Love the name. Someone should bring that back.
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The most significant issue has to do with young women, women reentering the workforce, and women in career transitions still getting the advice that the best entry into a field is through an administrative position,” Danna Greenberg, Associate Professor of Organizational Behavior at Babson College in Boston, told Yahoo! Shine in an interview. “We would never tell a 21-year-old male college grad that the way into a job is to start in an administrative position. But we’re still, unfortunately, in this country, still stereotyping it as a fashionable place for women to start. And data shows that women don’t traditionally transition out of administration positions into more white-collar work.
— The Most Common Job For Women in 2013 is still secretary, after all these years. (via nishachittal)(via annfriedman)
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Former Los Angeles Aztecs part-owner, Elton John, alongside George Best.
These were the days. Via Ben.
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This to me is the most interesting thing I’ve ever posted. I could stare at these for hours.
Two meticulous maps showing the names and locations of every brothel, bar, casino and saloon that existed in the Cheyenne and Levee Districts of Chicago between 1870 and 1905.
Completed by Levee historian Bryan Lloyd.
Click to enlarge.
Incredible.
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Jimmy Started Something New
In 1977, Jimmy Carter started a tradition that has now become one of the most anticipated events on Inauguration Day.
While in the motorcade of the Inaugural Parade, Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter exited their car to walk the route to the White House.
Only the Secret Service had been notified of Carter’s decision to break with tradition, and at first, parade viewers thought the car had broken down.
Nine-year-old Amy Carter joined her parents for part of the parade route, jumping and skipping along Pennsylvania Avenue in her excitement.
-from the Carter Library
(via todaysdocument)
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The Bloomingdale Trail as seen from Leavitt Street.
One of the entry points to the elevated trail.
Certain buildings look like prisons from the back.
A haven for photographers, spray paint.
The L's Blue Line, above the abandoned Bloomingdale Line.Today I walked the Bloomingdale Trail. It was built in the 1910s by the Chicago and Pacific Railroad Company as another elevated rail line in Chicago, but it’s now abandoned and used by photographers, walkers, and taggers. It runs from Humboldt Park through Bucktown, above the street, offering views into many condo living rooms.
The trail is now owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway, and there are signs at every possible entry point (all of which involve some scrambling) that ahead lies both danger and trespassing. There are big plans to turn the trail into a High Line-style park, but until then, the Canadians are still in charge, and it’s a little nerve-wracking to be 15 feet above the street, with few non-legbreaking escape routes, and you’re trespassing. The ground is also uneven, there’s plenty of broken glass, and there are unsubstantiated claims that shots have been fired from the trail down to the street below. Yikes.
Secret trails are certainly rad, but it’d be nice to not have to watch my back and my step so ardently. Support your local elevated parks!
(Much, much more history here.)
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No worries in Chinatown.
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Living in a city with real public transportation changes everything. In Austin everyone I knew either drove to work, or biked to campus, or worked from home. In Chicago most everyone takes the bus or the L. I would like to bike to work (at least on balmy days), but bikers get hit all the time on Milwaukee Ave, which would be my route. Walking home from the L stop today, I saw a bunch of firemen talking to a young woman who looked like she’d been knocked off her bike. A firetruck idled next to them; it wasn’t clear if the firetruck had hit her or come to her aid.
So I take the train to work each day. I’ve learned the rules and the tricks. But the most interesting thing about the train: it’s so quiet inside. The more crowded the train, the more silent it becomes. We’re in the bone-cold dead of winter here in Chicago, so at rush hour the train cars are full of us, standing pressed against one another, bodies pillowed by down and wool.
There’s no hostility; every now and then someone says, “Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re going to fall over,” to a lady who can’t reach anything to hold onto. We keep each other upright. We’re all living in this city together.
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Toledo: Gateway to Zanesville. Klinger’s my fashion icon.
