To me, Rock Records was a symbol of solidarity. Its cartoon-adorned facade sat on the south side of Washington Avenue, right around the corner from the 'L' station where I de-board each day. I would pass it and smile internally as my feet kept their typical "shoot-I'm-gonna-be-late-again" pace. Flanked by tall, glassy office buildings, this independent shop represented the possibility of what I was trying to do: paralegal by day, writer by night; business casual in my cube, thrifty chic at home.
About two weeks ago, I called Rock Records looking for a copy of an old Noah Baumbach film on DVD (you probably know which one I'm talking about). The phone rang, and rang and rang. No answer. I figured the clerks were just listening to something loud and couldn't hear the phone. I decided I'd stop by after work. When I did, I found that my partner in downtown indie had permanently closed its doors. The blue-painted metal diamond-shaped gate stretched across the front glass windows and entryway, and even the painted characters had been taken down. Though downtown still appears tall and shimmery, economic fall-out looms, and Rock seems to be the first to feel it.
It seemed only a matter of time - given this first recession-related blow - before the same thing would start happening to other independent downtown businesses. My sense of foreboding, it turns out, proved accurate when, this week, I was laid off from my job - only eight months after I started.
I keep coming back to Rock Records and all the other closed-up storefronts in the smaller neighborhoods of Chicago. Clark and Diversey is almost a ghost town these days. It just doesn't seem like the best time to be living in an expensive city anymore. As I made my way home from work, still in shock, I noticed something disheartening among my fellow 'L' riders - that is, just how many of their work bags and laptop cases were outfitted with corporate logos (a lot).
As small businesses stuggle and dwindle in this economy, security seems to lie only in numbers - big giant corporate numbers - and the ability to remain in Chicago, for most of us, depends on the strength of these companies. My doom & gloom prediction on the train platform that day was this: when it all boils down and the numbers even out, those who can't afford this town will be forced out, leaving a skeleton of large corporate entities and a vacuum of personality and culture.
Today, refreshed after a few days of contemplating my creative options (now that I have so much time on my hands), I have a new prediction: all those folks who have been married to the growing volume of their work, who have stayed late and stressed and taken on extra hours as the economy boomed, who now find themselves jobless (like me), will see this as an opportunity. Maybe our hopeless predicament will lead to an outpouring of creativity. Maybe this is what we needed to feed the souls of the corporate society we had become.
Two possible directions for society. So many possible directions for me. This is the time. Rock out.
