Published: 9/17/2007 6:01 AM
Some manage to elude police struggling to keep track of them
By James Fuller
The whereabouts of more than 8 percent of the sex offenders in Illinois -- and a good portion of those in the suburbs -- is uncertain, a Daily Herald analysis shows.
An examination of the state's sex offender database showed 1,667 registered sex offenders living in 99 suburbs in the newspaper's circulation area.
In a one-day snapshot, authorities listed 143 of those offenders "non-compliant," meaning they're missing or failed to hit their deadline to check in with police.
The number of non-compliant offenders ranges from only 10, or 3.3 percent, in DuPage County to 865, or 20 percent, in Cook County.
In Lake County, it's 15.2 percent; in Kane County, 6.9 percent; and in McHenry County, 6.2 percent.
Joseph Birkett, DuPage County state's attorney, said those figures are worrisome.
"The bottom line is they are within a group of very dangerous people who are very likely to re-offend," he said. "We need to know who they are and where they are."
All adult sex offenders in Illinois are listed on the Internet with a photo and address. But sex offenders tend to be highly transient because of the stigma attached to their crimes.
It's tough for many offenders to find housing. And because of the sheer number of offenders police are asked to track, some sex offenders vanish into the shadows.
Statewide, there are more than 22,000 registered sex offenders. Of the 1,794 who are non-compliant, roughly 20 percent are classified as sexual predators, sexually dangerous or sexually violent, or are convicted murderers of children.
No home, more roam
Tracking problems begin even before sex offenders are released from Illinois prisons.
The state bans them from living within 500 feet of schools and other places children gather, resulting in a backlog of inmates seeking legal housing. Thus, some sex offenders ready for parole and mandatory psychological therapy are kept in prison until their sentence expires.
"It would be better to have them out in the community, having them monitored, rather than stay with us and get out with absolutely nothing," said Alyssa Williams-Schafer, state corrections department sex offender services coordinator.
The inability to find legal housing may be one reason sex offenders vanish.
For example, when Iowa increased its 500-foot law to 2,000 feet, registration compliance fell from 90 percent to 50 percent.
Which way did he go?
Once sex offenders are released, more problems begin.
On the streets, the offender is either on electronic monitoring, released on parole without monitoring, or on his own after serving a full prison term.
The Illinois Department of Corrections and probation officers oversee about 5,200 sex offenders on the streets. Roughly 90 percent of them are tracked by a GPS device, which makes a big difference, Williams-Schafer said.
"Our sex offenders rarely disappear," she said.
GPS monitoring is gaining popularity in some states, such as California. It's not foolproof; many GPS devices rely on sex offenders to recharge the battery each night.
Birkett said he favors widespread and long-term use of GPS to track sex offenders. It hasn't happened in Illinois because the devices are expensive, and the bulky device tends to be a scarlet letter.
Still, Birkett said GPS will gain popularity if the state forces the offenders to pay for the devices. That's roughly $7 to $10 a day.
Beating the system
All the remaining sex offenders in Illinois are monitored by local police. The most dangerous offenders must register every three months and whenever they move or change jobs. Yet it's still at this level where most sex offenders go missing.
"I'd like to tell you that every person that's been convicted and needs to register has registered, but that's probably not true," said detective Sgt. Dan Cott of the Geneva Police Department.
The state sex offender Web site shows Geneva had 31 registered sex offenders, with eight non-compliant.
Cott said that's misleading because the Kane County jail is in Geneva and that may be an offender's last valid address. That said, Geneva police conduct regular spot checks, but there are ways to beat the system.
For example, some of the spot checks involve only calling a landlord to ask if a person is still a registered tenant at an address. There may be no face-to-face confirmation that the sex offender is actually there.
There are other gaps.
"Is it possible they can change their jobs and not notify us? Sure. That's kind of a loophole," Cott said.
Waukegan's sex offender numbers also stand out. The city has some of the highest totals of non-compliant sex offenders in the state. Out of Waukegan's 159 sex offenders, 40 are non-compliant. In comparison, Aurora has twice the population, but only seven of its 181 sex offenders are non-compliant.
"We're one of the largest cities in the county; we're the county seat, and we've got the jail," Waukegan Deputy Chief Mark McCormick said. "A lot of people get paroled here."
Despite the department's active sex offender registration unit, Waukegan sees many sex offenders fall off the map when they move and don't tell the police where they're going. By the time a sex offender misses his registration date, it may be long after he's gone.
"I think that's pretty common," McCormick said. "There's a label and stigma that's attached to the sex offense itself. They don't want that label to follow them. They think they can escape it. And we go out and obtain warrants on these people."
Birkett said a recurring problem in DuPage County is sex offenders getting their names legally changed, making them harder to track. His office is investigating how to close that loophole.
Short on tools
Some local police departments are also at a technological disadvantage to their peers in other states.
No local police department interviewed had a system that allows it to run searches to see where sex offenders may establish water, electrical or other utility service for a new residence.
But state police have the ability to use credit, employment and utility searches to track offenders. Still, it can take hours or years to find them, said Craig Burge, of the Illinois State Police.
"Imagine taking a segment of the population around 22,000 people and trying to monitor and track their every movement, every employment, every school they enroll at," Burge said. "It becomes overwhelming at times."
State police post the names and photos of missing sex offenders on the Internet specifically to cause concern among the general public.
"A lot of our tracking and monitoring is based on the general public," Burge said. "They know more about their communities than we'll ever know."
But a missing sex offender poses the greatest risk of attacking another child, said Dr. Mark Brenzinger, a clinical psychologist in Schaumburg who's treated and evaluated sex offenders.
Brenzinger favors a biometric identification system for sex offenders, such as retina scans, that police could use to pull up criminal history and registration status during traffic stops or arrests.
"We have a very reactive system," Brenzinger said. "We need to be proactive. There's a lot of work that needs to be done on the beginning end of the criminal justice system. We can't reward sex offenders when they break the law by giving them extended registration requirements or probation or a slap on the wrist.
"They need to feel the full weight of the government."
Thursday
Descriptive: Making the band High school musicians took to the field - and the heat - before school began
September 03 2007
By James Fuller
Daily Herald Staff Writer
None of these teenagers need to be here. Yet something keeps them coming back to suffer with a smile.
All summer they've practiced their portions of songs like "Brickhouse" and "Bohemian Rhapsody" instead of lounging at the beach.
At Wheaton North High School, students fill four rows of blue chairs and gaze at music sheets and a dry erase board filled with notes.
Similar scenes are occurring simultaneously at high schools all over DuPage County in early August, when marching bands began preparations for the school year.
This is weeks before the start of school. There are no lights on. Temperatures outside are in the mid-90s. A handful of moms fill a freezer in back of the room with Popsicles to fight off the brain baking that is yet to come.
Outside, in the parking lot, are drum sets and what appears to be a gong, reminiscent of the old TV show. In a nearby hallway, dance music energizes the flag-wielding color guard performers.
For now, the focus is on the brass and wind instruments in Jon Noworyta's Wheaton North band room. It's 11:57 a.m. and teens in T-shirts, shorts and caps create the chaotic jazz of awakening instruments.
This is the second of two weeklong camps for the band. They know the routine.
With a simple, "OK!," from Noworyta, there is silence.
"Good morning."
Not good enough.
"Good morning, Mr. Noworyta!"
That's more like it.
"We will work you hard, but not until you drop," Noworyta tells them. The band members smile knowingly.
"Somewhere over the Rainbow" is first on the set list. The meandering tune is a test of lung power.
"You have to blow aaalll the way through the long notes," Noworyta instructs. "It's non-negotiable."
Noworyta is firm and commanding in his direction. He must be. A successful band camp is crucial. The two weeks of training is one-third of the marching band's total rehearsal time for the season.
That makes for intense sessions for students like Mark Weeden, who wields the tuba.
Weeden is in his third year with the band. He describes his extracurricular choice as "harder than wrestling."
That wouldn't be the common perception, at least from the outside.
The "American Pie" trilogy linked the words "band camp" to an endless combination of jokes and ridicule.
Those comedians probably never carried a tuba like Weeden, or marched in the sun for nearly eight hours a day while trying to memorize choreographed steps.
"It's fun," Weeden said.
And that's what keeps people like Anhad Jolly involved through all four years at the school. Jolly plays percussion after discovering a love for drums in the fifth grade.
"It's sweet," Jolly said of his choice of instrument. "It sounds cool."
Coming to marching band camp his first time was supposed to be a recreational part of summer.
"I was actually expecting it to be really, really easy," Jolly said of his first band camp experience four years ago. "Band class is (considered) kind of like a blow-off class."
Jolly soon found band camp would sooner blow him up than let him blow it off. Now much has changed.
The tail-busting begins when it's time to head out to the football field.
As the band hits the 50-yard line, the heat is already oppressive.
Each band member lugs out their own gallon-sized jug of water to replace what they're already sweating out.
"Caliente!" shrieks a member of the color guard. "Aye yi yi!" Comes back the reply.
It starts with stretching: quads, delts, triceps, hamstrings, abductors and wrists all get some blood circulating through them.
Then it's time for the 68 members to assume their places for the choreographed marching that comprises their performances.
The band members hold their hands high, simulating the instruments they'll eventually hold. A tapping, like a metronome, bangs out on a plastic container to mark the timing.
"Dut, dut, dut, dut," the band members chant in rhythm to the tapping.
The movements begin in sets of up to 16 counts. The marching involves exaggerated heel-to-toe steps of precise lengths. Many of the steps are performed with blind movement backward or diagonal. One person's screw up can throw off the whole formation, or cause comical, but disastrous, collisions.
The coordination is not unlike running a football or basketball play. Everyone has a role and a place as an individual. It takes everyone to succeed collectively for the band to succeed.
Jen Johnson is such a pro at this now that it almost looks like there's two of her on the field. In fact, there is.
Johnson is one of the two "things" in the band for today's practice, or at least that's what the tag on the front of her shirt says.
Everyone, including Noworyta, has someone dressed as close to identical as possible for the training session. It's called twin day, a team building exercise that unites two band members in a special camaraderie.
There are other exercises the band will undergo with the same goal of jelling into a second family, such as the Rookie Talent Show, where all the new members and coaches must perform something that shows what they bring to the team.
Today, the band is just concerned with surviving the sun and showing they have the acumen to memorize more than 20 sets of movements that make up their show. The first few runs of the day by the Wheaton North marching band shows a little rust.
"Be honest," Noworyta says at the end of one set. "This is the sixth day of camp."
At least a dozen band members hit the grass in recognition of their mistake and bang out six push-ups.
"This is simple review; that's all we're doing," Noworyta says in half encouragement, half come-on-already fashion. "We're not fixing things. When you start talking, you don't listen to me."
If Noworyta is the heavy hand, then Ryan McCann is the tickle that comes with it. McCann, a Wheaton College senior, is one of the coaches who supervises individual sections looking for mistakes and correcting them - with a smile and his "I'm with stoopid" T-shirt.
"The kids know that we mean business when we're out on the field, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun while doing it," McCann said.
Shirts are soaked with sweat, water jugs are drying up with an hour of field practice left. The mental burden never leaves them. Band members check the set books that hang from their necks showing them exactly where they should be vs. where they are.
There are nine sets still to memorize. But the band is now in a groove. Noworyta can end a set, call out "back four" and members race back to their exact starting positions from four sets ago.
"You guys are rockin' today," Noworyta tells them. "See how much faster we are today? You're learning."
The band memorizes six more sets in 40 minutes.
"There's 20 minutes, three sets," Noworyta tells them. "Can it be done?"
"Yes, Mr. Noworyta," echoes the reply.
But 10 minutes later things start to break down.
"Do you want to make it to the end?" Noworyta asks.
"Yes, Mr. Noworyta."
"If you don't want to make it to the end, that's fine," Noworyta tells them, not meaning it for a second. "Do you want to make it?"
The rest of the practice is performed without error.
"YES!" Noworyta tells them in reward. "Good job. Are you excited to be done?"
"Yes!"
"Good, put that excitement into your feet and reset. Time to do it in live time."
There's a tense confidence as the band resets for the big test of the day. One continuous set from first movement to the end, the whole show in one try.
"Dut. Dut. Dut. Dut."
What once was stilted flows like they've never moved any other way. The sense of accomplishment fills the air, but is soon replaced by water balloons. It's a surprise cooling off for the band and a symbol of their achievement, comparable to a Super Bowl Gatorade dunking for the coach.
The morning practice ends with the Popsicles stored away many hours ago.
Looking down the hallways lined with teenagers with plates of watermelon, Noworyta knows he's ended the day with a paint-by-numbers sketch of his season in place. All that's left is filling in the color in the right spots.
Sometimes that takes nurturing. Sometimes a crack of the whip.
"I do what I do to help the kids be successful," Noworyta says. "Regardless of the style, whatever it is, my expectations are high. I will not lower them for the kids. They know what is good enough for today won't be good enough tomorrow. A champion is a champion because that's all that they've got to give."
By that axiom, having fun is paramount. And the most fun of all is winning.
This is Natalie Edwards' last band camp. She's a graduating senior with four camps to her credit. Looking back, she can see a lot of the mistakes she made as a rookie marching band member in the new class.
But she also sees the process that brought her unforgettable memories and friends still at work. Soon the band will form a new family once again.
"I'm gonna miss it," she said. "I'll miss the people."
By James Fuller
Daily Herald Staff Writer
None of these teenagers need to be here. Yet something keeps them coming back to suffer with a smile.
All summer they've practiced their portions of songs like "Brickhouse" and "Bohemian Rhapsody" instead of lounging at the beach.
At Wheaton North High School, students fill four rows of blue chairs and gaze at music sheets and a dry erase board filled with notes.
Similar scenes are occurring simultaneously at high schools all over DuPage County in early August, when marching bands began preparations for the school year.
This is weeks before the start of school. There are no lights on. Temperatures outside are in the mid-90s. A handful of moms fill a freezer in back of the room with Popsicles to fight off the brain baking that is yet to come.
Outside, in the parking lot, are drum sets and what appears to be a gong, reminiscent of the old TV show. In a nearby hallway, dance music energizes the flag-wielding color guard performers.
For now, the focus is on the brass and wind instruments in Jon Noworyta's Wheaton North band room. It's 11:57 a.m. and teens in T-shirts, shorts and caps create the chaotic jazz of awakening instruments.
This is the second of two weeklong camps for the band. They know the routine.
With a simple, "OK!," from Noworyta, there is silence.
"Good morning."
Not good enough.
"Good morning, Mr. Noworyta!"
That's more like it.
"We will work you hard, but not until you drop," Noworyta tells them. The band members smile knowingly.
"Somewhere over the Rainbow" is first on the set list. The meandering tune is a test of lung power.
"You have to blow aaalll the way through the long notes," Noworyta instructs. "It's non-negotiable."
Noworyta is firm and commanding in his direction. He must be. A successful band camp is crucial. The two weeks of training is one-third of the marching band's total rehearsal time for the season.
That makes for intense sessions for students like Mark Weeden, who wields the tuba.
Weeden is in his third year with the band. He describes his extracurricular choice as "harder than wrestling."
That wouldn't be the common perception, at least from the outside.
The "American Pie" trilogy linked the words "band camp" to an endless combination of jokes and ridicule.
Those comedians probably never carried a tuba like Weeden, or marched in the sun for nearly eight hours a day while trying to memorize choreographed steps.
"It's fun," Weeden said.
And that's what keeps people like Anhad Jolly involved through all four years at the school. Jolly plays percussion after discovering a love for drums in the fifth grade.
"It's sweet," Jolly said of his choice of instrument. "It sounds cool."
Coming to marching band camp his first time was supposed to be a recreational part of summer.
"I was actually expecting it to be really, really easy," Jolly said of his first band camp experience four years ago. "Band class is (considered) kind of like a blow-off class."
Jolly soon found band camp would sooner blow him up than let him blow it off. Now much has changed.
The tail-busting begins when it's time to head out to the football field.
As the band hits the 50-yard line, the heat is already oppressive.
Each band member lugs out their own gallon-sized jug of water to replace what they're already sweating out.
"Caliente!" shrieks a member of the color guard. "Aye yi yi!" Comes back the reply.
It starts with stretching: quads, delts, triceps, hamstrings, abductors and wrists all get some blood circulating through them.
Then it's time for the 68 members to assume their places for the choreographed marching that comprises their performances.
The band members hold their hands high, simulating the instruments they'll eventually hold. A tapping, like a metronome, bangs out on a plastic container to mark the timing.
"Dut, dut, dut, dut," the band members chant in rhythm to the tapping.
The movements begin in sets of up to 16 counts. The marching involves exaggerated heel-to-toe steps of precise lengths. Many of the steps are performed with blind movement backward or diagonal. One person's screw up can throw off the whole formation, or cause comical, but disastrous, collisions.
The coordination is not unlike running a football or basketball play. Everyone has a role and a place as an individual. It takes everyone to succeed collectively for the band to succeed.
Jen Johnson is such a pro at this now that it almost looks like there's two of her on the field. In fact, there is.
Johnson is one of the two "things" in the band for today's practice, or at least that's what the tag on the front of her shirt says.
Everyone, including Noworyta, has someone dressed as close to identical as possible for the training session. It's called twin day, a team building exercise that unites two band members in a special camaraderie.
There are other exercises the band will undergo with the same goal of jelling into a second family, such as the Rookie Talent Show, where all the new members and coaches must perform something that shows what they bring to the team.
Today, the band is just concerned with surviving the sun and showing they have the acumen to memorize more than 20 sets of movements that make up their show. The first few runs of the day by the Wheaton North marching band shows a little rust.
"Be honest," Noworyta says at the end of one set. "This is the sixth day of camp."
At least a dozen band members hit the grass in recognition of their mistake and bang out six push-ups.
"This is simple review; that's all we're doing," Noworyta says in half encouragement, half come-on-already fashion. "We're not fixing things. When you start talking, you don't listen to me."
If Noworyta is the heavy hand, then Ryan McCann is the tickle that comes with it. McCann, a Wheaton College senior, is one of the coaches who supervises individual sections looking for mistakes and correcting them - with a smile and his "I'm with stoopid" T-shirt.
"The kids know that we mean business when we're out on the field, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun while doing it," McCann said.
Shirts are soaked with sweat, water jugs are drying up with an hour of field practice left. The mental burden never leaves them. Band members check the set books that hang from their necks showing them exactly where they should be vs. where they are.
There are nine sets still to memorize. But the band is now in a groove. Noworyta can end a set, call out "back four" and members race back to their exact starting positions from four sets ago.
"You guys are rockin' today," Noworyta tells them. "See how much faster we are today? You're learning."
The band memorizes six more sets in 40 minutes.
"There's 20 minutes, three sets," Noworyta tells them. "Can it be done?"
"Yes, Mr. Noworyta," echoes the reply.
But 10 minutes later things start to break down.
"Do you want to make it to the end?" Noworyta asks.
"Yes, Mr. Noworyta."
"If you don't want to make it to the end, that's fine," Noworyta tells them, not meaning it for a second. "Do you want to make it?"
The rest of the practice is performed without error.
"YES!" Noworyta tells them in reward. "Good job. Are you excited to be done?"
"Yes!"
"Good, put that excitement into your feet and reset. Time to do it in live time."
There's a tense confidence as the band resets for the big test of the day. One continuous set from first movement to the end, the whole show in one try.
"Dut. Dut. Dut. Dut."
What once was stilted flows like they've never moved any other way. The sense of accomplishment fills the air, but is soon replaced by water balloons. It's a surprise cooling off for the band and a symbol of their achievement, comparable to a Super Bowl Gatorade dunking for the coach.
The morning practice ends with the Popsicles stored away many hours ago.
Looking down the hallways lined with teenagers with plates of watermelon, Noworyta knows he's ended the day with a paint-by-numbers sketch of his season in place. All that's left is filling in the color in the right spots.
Sometimes that takes nurturing. Sometimes a crack of the whip.
"I do what I do to help the kids be successful," Noworyta says. "Regardless of the style, whatever it is, my expectations are high. I will not lower them for the kids. They know what is good enough for today won't be good enough tomorrow. A champion is a champion because that's all that they've got to give."
By that axiom, having fun is paramount. And the most fun of all is winning.
This is Natalie Edwards' last band camp. She's a graduating senior with four camps to her credit. Looking back, she can see a lot of the mistakes she made as a rookie marching band member in the new class.
But she also sees the process that brought her unforgettable memories and friends still at work. Soon the band will form a new family once again.
"I'm gonna miss it," she said. "I'll miss the people."
Alternative story form: 7 festivals, 7 hours Our fearless reporter hits 7 communities to find some fun
Sunday July 15 2007
By James Fuller
To start, I'll just put it out there - I'm not the biggest fan of suburban summer festivals. Maybe it's because I grew up in Chicago, and my idea of a summer festival is the Taste of Chicago, or the Chicago Blues Festival.
Still, I'm a suburbanite now. And at least once during the summer I venture out to the land of corn dogs and elephant ears. The question is always, which fest to go to.
Saturday posed a rare opportunity. Seven communities, seven different festivals, all on the same day. Driving directions in hand, I set out at 9 a.m. to set a personal fest-a-thon record.
Fest one: I had to pick a festival to get me started on the right track. Naturally, that meant Railroad Days.
I pulled into the parking lot at Reed-Keppler Park in West Chicago shortly after 9 a.m. Railroad Days was an immediate disappointment.
It was early, perhaps too early. Most rides were idle, and unattended. The ticket booths were empty. And the morning's stiff breeze carried no hint of funnel cake.
Referee whistles, however, called me to the unique Railroad Days offering of mud volleyball. Six courts, squared off by sandbags and filled with ankle-deep mud. It's good mud, like the kind in Jeep commercials. Ten minutes of watching some of the best belly flops I've ever seen brightened my attitude.
To those volleyball athletes, here's mud in your eye.
Fest two: From there, I figure that if I can't get a corn dog, then I'll get some culture. Time to hit the first art-themed fest of the day, Wheaton's Fine Art Fair.
In general, my appreciation for art lies with the bizarre, or something that, when I see it, I know it'll stay rattling in my head for a while.
George Bucher's sculptures ended my quest for the bizarre. How often do you find a bust of Benjamin Franklin made of twine next to a twine lady smoking a cigarette?
"I don't make stuff they teach in school," Bucher said.
Then, as Bucher began picking at a homemade 5-string banjo, I knew I'd also found someone that would stay rattling around in my head. This would not be topped. So on to the next fest.
Fest three: Sticking with the art theme, I head over to the Women's Club Art Fair at Naper Settlement. Again, I'm looking for the bizarre. And, again, I find it quickly in what looks like a 10-foot-tall dragon or dinosaur, complete with claws and spiked tail. It's made entirely of scrap metal.
Indeed, all the art created by Allen and Teri Miles has a prehistoric/industrial feel. There's a piranha made partially of what looks like saw blades. And there's a chopper with real chompers courtesy of a large animal skull being used as the fuel tank.
"Our stuff can stay outside in all seasons," Allen Miles explains. You'd be hard-pressed to find a spot for it inside. On to the next fest.
Fest four: Ah, the Fine Craft Exhibition at the Oakbrook Center mall. I'm not sure it qualifies as a festival, but what the heck. Compared to the Wheaton and Naper Settlement fests, this is somewhat boring. Most booths display things you can find other places in the mall. Except for maybe the Herb Johnson booth displaying a giant metal hummingbird with jewel eyes gazing over a cache of metal daisies. There are metal dragonflies, fish and moths to match. I'm not sure why they appeal to me other than their rarity/oddity. I've found a new appreciation for heavy metal.
Fest five: It's well into the afternoon now, and I can't believe I haven't even seen a ridiculously large pile of greasy French fries yet, much less eaten one. So it's on to day three of Itasca Fest. When I arrive, I'm stunned. An entire line of food booths with no lines at all. Pulled pork sandwich, deep-fried chips and lemonade, here I come. Once done, one attraction draws me in. There are free stilt-walking lessons. The key is to keep your balance on a much narrower base than you're used to, with no help from your arms because you must hold onto the stilts. I do OK, but maybe Ishould've gone to the learn-to-make-giant bubbles tent instead. With all the reader e-mails I get about being full of hot air, I'd have natural talent. But the day is growing short. On to the next fest.
Fest six: At Summerfest in Glendale Heights, I follow the crowd to the source of audible laughter. Ah, yes. Teams of children are wearing helmets with cups glued to the top. Adults fill the cups with water and the kids walk a line and empty the cup into a bucket without removing the helmet. The result is lots of water on the kids, not so much in the buckets. There's nothing quite like watching adults laugh and point at kids to put the world in perspective. After laughing at the adults who are laughing at the kids, I decide it's time to wrap the fest-a-thon up with a grand finale.
Fest seven: The last fest is Glen Ellyn's inaugural jazz fest. It's been in the works for three years. With that much planning, I'm expecting something special. As I arrive, Paulinho Garcia and John Moulder are playing a Bossa Nova appropriate for their Brazilian style. Jazz fans have packed Main Street for a full downtown block.
As I sit and listen I decide the fest has a decidedly Ravinia feel to it, except there's asphalt under us instead of grass and table cloths instead of picnic blankets. It has a soothing impact, perfect to end the day.
By James Fuller
To start, I'll just put it out there - I'm not the biggest fan of suburban summer festivals. Maybe it's because I grew up in Chicago, and my idea of a summer festival is the Taste of Chicago, or the Chicago Blues Festival.
Still, I'm a suburbanite now. And at least once during the summer I venture out to the land of corn dogs and elephant ears. The question is always, which fest to go to.
Saturday posed a rare opportunity. Seven communities, seven different festivals, all on the same day. Driving directions in hand, I set out at 9 a.m. to set a personal fest-a-thon record.
Fest one: I had to pick a festival to get me started on the right track. Naturally, that meant Railroad Days.
I pulled into the parking lot at Reed-Keppler Park in West Chicago shortly after 9 a.m. Railroad Days was an immediate disappointment.
It was early, perhaps too early. Most rides were idle, and unattended. The ticket booths were empty. And the morning's stiff breeze carried no hint of funnel cake.
Referee whistles, however, called me to the unique Railroad Days offering of mud volleyball. Six courts, squared off by sandbags and filled with ankle-deep mud. It's good mud, like the kind in Jeep commercials. Ten minutes of watching some of the best belly flops I've ever seen brightened my attitude.
To those volleyball athletes, here's mud in your eye.
Fest two: From there, I figure that if I can't get a corn dog, then I'll get some culture. Time to hit the first art-themed fest of the day, Wheaton's Fine Art Fair.
In general, my appreciation for art lies with the bizarre, or something that, when I see it, I know it'll stay rattling in my head for a while.
George Bucher's sculptures ended my quest for the bizarre. How often do you find a bust of Benjamin Franklin made of twine next to a twine lady smoking a cigarette?
"I don't make stuff they teach in school," Bucher said.
Then, as Bucher began picking at a homemade 5-string banjo, I knew I'd also found someone that would stay rattling around in my head. This would not be topped. So on to the next fest.
Fest three: Sticking with the art theme, I head over to the Women's Club Art Fair at Naper Settlement. Again, I'm looking for the bizarre. And, again, I find it quickly in what looks like a 10-foot-tall dragon or dinosaur, complete with claws and spiked tail. It's made entirely of scrap metal.
Indeed, all the art created by Allen and Teri Miles has a prehistoric/industrial feel. There's a piranha made partially of what looks like saw blades. And there's a chopper with real chompers courtesy of a large animal skull being used as the fuel tank.
"Our stuff can stay outside in all seasons," Allen Miles explains. You'd be hard-pressed to find a spot for it inside. On to the next fest.
Fest four: Ah, the Fine Craft Exhibition at the Oakbrook Center mall. I'm not sure it qualifies as a festival, but what the heck. Compared to the Wheaton and Naper Settlement fests, this is somewhat boring. Most booths display things you can find other places in the mall. Except for maybe the Herb Johnson booth displaying a giant metal hummingbird with jewel eyes gazing over a cache of metal daisies. There are metal dragonflies, fish and moths to match. I'm not sure why they appeal to me other than their rarity/oddity. I've found a new appreciation for heavy metal.
Fest five: It's well into the afternoon now, and I can't believe I haven't even seen a ridiculously large pile of greasy French fries yet, much less eaten one. So it's on to day three of Itasca Fest. When I arrive, I'm stunned. An entire line of food booths with no lines at all. Pulled pork sandwich, deep-fried chips and lemonade, here I come. Once done, one attraction draws me in. There are free stilt-walking lessons. The key is to keep your balance on a much narrower base than you're used to, with no help from your arms because you must hold onto the stilts. I do OK, but maybe Ishould've gone to the learn-to-make-giant bubbles tent instead. With all the reader e-mails I get about being full of hot air, I'd have natural talent. But the day is growing short. On to the next fest.
Fest six: At Summerfest in Glendale Heights, I follow the crowd to the source of audible laughter. Ah, yes. Teams of children are wearing helmets with cups glued to the top. Adults fill the cups with water and the kids walk a line and empty the cup into a bucket without removing the helmet. The result is lots of water on the kids, not so much in the buckets. There's nothing quite like watching adults laugh and point at kids to put the world in perspective. After laughing at the adults who are laughing at the kids, I decide it's time to wrap the fest-a-thon up with a grand finale.
Fest seven: The last fest is Glen Ellyn's inaugural jazz fest. It's been in the works for three years. With that much planning, I'm expecting something special. As I arrive, Paulinho Garcia and John Moulder are playing a Bossa Nova appropriate for their Brazilian style. Jazz fans have packed Main Street for a full downtown block.
As I sit and listen I decide the fest has a decidedly Ravinia feel to it, except there's asphalt under us instead of grass and table cloths instead of picnic blankets. It has a soothing impact, perfect to end the day.
Friday
Transportation:Chicago tests airport ruling
Chicago does tree work in expansion area
Listen to WBBM780 interview me about this story!
By James Fuller
Less than a day after a DuPage County judge temporarily blocked demolition of Bensenville properties for O'Hare International Airport expansion, Chicago officials face allegations of violating the restraining order.
Construction crews trimmed and cleared trees Thursday morning from at least three properties on the 200 block of Orchard Road near the airport fence.
Bensenville attorney Joseph Karaganis said the heavy equipment used for the clearing damaged property and uprooted soil. DuPage Circuit Judge Kenneth Popejoy told city of Chicago attorneys on Wednesday not to disturb any soil at the site until environmental testing occurs.
"The whole premise of the injunction was based on expert opinion that there may be contamination in the soil," Karaganis said. "Don't disturb the soil until the testing is done, and Chicago proceeded to disturb the hell out of it."
O'Hare Modernization Program Executive Director Rosemarie Andolino said Bensenville is blowing things out of proportion. She said the tree trimming and clearing is comparable to everyday landscaping activities at the airport.
In this case, she said, the trimmings occurred to make expansion property owned by the city more visible to airport security patrolling the fence line and property managers overseeing vacant houses.
"We have every right to be on our property, making sure we provide a secure and safe property," Andolino said. "There are a lot of places that people can wander to, a lot of trees that people can hide behind."
Andolino said plans for further security measures at the 500 parcels Chicago controls are in place, including the installation of fencing. She said fencing could begin as early as today along with more tree clearing.
But first, Popejoy will decide if such activity violates the restraining order he has in place. A hearing is planned for this morning.
Chicago attorneys asked Popejoy for permission to erect fences at the last court hearing on Wednesday. Popejoy refused to give an impromptu ruling at the time.
Listen to WBBM780 interview me about this story!
By James Fuller
Less than a day after a DuPage County judge temporarily blocked demolition of Bensenville properties for O'Hare International Airport expansion, Chicago officials face allegations of violating the restraining order.
Construction crews trimmed and cleared trees Thursday morning from at least three properties on the 200 block of Orchard Road near the airport fence.
Bensenville attorney Joseph Karaganis said the heavy equipment used for the clearing damaged property and uprooted soil. DuPage Circuit Judge Kenneth Popejoy told city of Chicago attorneys on Wednesday not to disturb any soil at the site until environmental testing occurs.
"The whole premise of the injunction was based on expert opinion that there may be contamination in the soil," Karaganis said. "Don't disturb the soil until the testing is done, and Chicago proceeded to disturb the hell out of it."
O'Hare Modernization Program Executive Director Rosemarie Andolino said Bensenville is blowing things out of proportion. She said the tree trimming and clearing is comparable to everyday landscaping activities at the airport.
In this case, she said, the trimmings occurred to make expansion property owned by the city more visible to airport security patrolling the fence line and property managers overseeing vacant houses.
"We have every right to be on our property, making sure we provide a secure and safe property," Andolino said. "There are a lot of places that people can wander to, a lot of trees that people can hide behind."
Andolino said plans for further security measures at the 500 parcels Chicago controls are in place, including the installation of fencing. She said fencing could begin as early as today along with more tree clearing.
But first, Popejoy will decide if such activity violates the restraining order he has in place. A hearing is planned for this morning.
Chicago attorneys asked Popejoy for permission to erect fences at the last court hearing on Wednesday. Popejoy refused to give an impromptu ruling at the time.
Hard news: Mixed O’Hare ruling
By James Fuller and Justin Kmitch
jfuller@dailyherald.com jkmitch@dailyherald.com
Posted Thursday, July 26, 2007
Bulldozers could raze Bensenville homes in the area proposed for expanding O’Hare International Airport, but not until the city of Chicago completes environmental testing ordered Wednesday by a DuPage County judge.
The decision by DuPage Circuit Judge Kenneth Popejoy signaled a partial victory for Bensenville officials. It creates a further delay to the demolition work they have opposed for some time.
It’s unclear how long the environmental tests would take. Popejoy said he wants to see the results of the testing before allowing demolition to proceed.
Bensenville submitted sworn affidavits by experts indicating the likelihood of toxic chemicals being present on various parts of the expansion site, such as the old Nelson Steel and Wire Co. property.
“I am not going to risk the residents of Bensenville and the other residents in the surrounding area,” Popejoy said.
Last week, Republican U.S. Rep. Peter Roskam urged the FAA and U.S. Environmental Protection Agency to conduct a thorough study to examine the risks of exposure to toxic substances during the proposed demolition. Roskam called Wednesday’s ruling a “step in the right direction.”
“This decision is in concert with what I was arguing for,” he said. “My constituents need to be protected from these unknown risks.”
But not all of Popejoy’s decisions went Bensenville’s way.
Bensenville had planned to issue stop work orders to any demolition crew and to arrest anyone who ignored them.
But Popejoy ruled Bensenville’s local laws requiring village approval of demolition applications don’t apply to the O’Hare expansion project.
Popejoy emphasized Bensenville’s lack of authority to hinder the expansion. He said he’ll clear his schedule to review the results of the environmental tests to prevent further delays.
That indicates demolition ultimately will proceed. It’s just a matter of when.
Still, Bensenville attorney Joseph Karaganis emphasized his disbelief that full funding of any phase of the expansion will occur.
Karaganis said he believes Chicago to be between $1.5 billion and $2.1 billion short of paying for the initial $8 billion phase.
Earlier this year, project leaders disclosed a $400 million cost overrun and a new projected deadline — pushing the cost from $7.5 billion to nearly $8 billion and setting back completion from 2013 to 2014. They also pushed back the opening of O’Hare’s first new runway by one year.
If demolition proceeds but funding stalls, Bensenville would be stuck with a vast dirt plain.
“Many people, including the media, believe that we are pursuing a lost cause because Chicago is moving some dirt around on the airport grounds,” Village President John Geils said in a prepared statement. “Chicago is engaged in a dangerous and costly game in which they are already spending untold millions before the most important issues are settled.
“If the courts rule against Chicago — and we’re confident that when they follow the rule of law, they will — Daley will need to do some serious explaining to taxpayers why he pursued this folly.”
Chicago’s attorneys declined comment after Wednesday’s hearing and calls placed to O’Hare Modernization Program officials weren’t returned.
Monday
Trend in video games targets the Christian audience
BY JAMES FULLER
Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog, Pac-Man and Jesus Christ could be the faces of the video game industry's Mount Rushmore if Christian game developers have a say.
The video game industry saw record sales of $13.5 billion last year. No Christian games cracked the Top 10 sales lists, but gamers at this weekend's 2007 Christian Game Developers Conference pray that soon will change.
They're starting not just with Best Buy and Circuit City outlets near you, but also in the churches and youth ministries in your neighborhood.
Teaching tools
Parents at St. Thomas the Apostle Church in Naperville are using "Gospel Champions" to supplement summer Bible readings. The church lets parishioners download the game from its Web site right onto their home computers and activate it with an access code for the church's licensed copy.
The game changes monthly to match Bible readings. July's reading is the Good Samaritan story. Characters in the game controlled by kids act out a computerized version of the parable, complete with rehearsing basic Christian prayers in various spots."As a parent, and knowing how much kids are on the computer, I thought this was something that we actually want kids to know," said Patti Dougherty, the parish's religious education director.
The popularity of "Gospel Champions" is unknown, but interest seems to be growing.
Armageddon on PC
On a national level, the "Left Behind: Eternal Forces" game is arguably the Christian game that's attracted the most interest.
The electronic adventure is modeled after the best-selling Christian book series about the aftermath of the Rapture - when God takes all faithful Christians from the earth.
"Eternal Forces" lets players lead a group of Christian forces against demonic soldiers resembling United Nations Peacekeepers in hopes of converting them. There's no blood, and prayer is the best weapon against guns, an aspect of the game that stifled most, but not all, Christian fears about violence in the game.
Lake Villa's Cheryl Gress founded the Web site Christ Centered Game Reviews after encountering too many games with "cult" themes that she felt uncomfortable playing after being inadequately warned by the game labels.
Gress said "Eternal Forces" probably had the biggest budget, name recognition and marketing effort of any Christian-themed game she's reviewed.
Indeed, Left Behind Games, which is tied to Carol Stream's Tyndale Publishers, reports more than 1 million requests for pass-it-on trial versions of the game from churches and ministries.
Still, Gress slammed the game in her personal review, as did most of the national video game press.
"I just found it really hard," Gress said. "And the online help community is not exactly there for it, because it's not a mainstream game."
Finding an audience
The challenge facing developers of Christian-themed video games is difficult, according to Bill Bean, president of the Association of Christian Entertainment, one of the organizations behind this year's Christian gaming conference.
They must create a game capable of not only making it to store shelves - but selling once it gets there.
"No one's looking at our packages and saying, 'Wow, that's good, and look, it says God on the box,'" Bean said. "We, as Christian game developers, need to provide games that are really fun to play, have a message in it and are reasonably priced."
Price is part of the reason John's Christian Stores throughout the suburbs aren't selling nearly as many video games as they do music CDs.
Brian Cook, a buyer for the chain, said his stores have only sold two copies of "Eternal Forces" since it hit the shelves in time for Christmas last year. The $59.95 price tag is one of the reasons.
"The quality doesn't match what you would expect to get out of a $60 game," Cook said. "But it's a unique market. There are very little Christian games, and there are always customers looking for it."
If a developer produces a Christian game that's both high quality and decently priced, Cook predicts the product would sell well.
"There's definitely people out there waiting for something," he said.
A dancing success
One Christian-themed game has sold out at John's Christian Stores.
It's called "Dance Praise Party." And Steve and Katie Willemssen count themselves among the fans of the Christian clone of the popular "Dance Dance Revolution."
Every Friday night at the their Aurora home, the couple and many of their 30-something friends gather around the television for a "Dance Praise Party" contest.
Only they're not bringing "SexyBack" with Justin Timberlake. Instead, they're getting down to Audio Adrenaline, a Christian band.
Steve Willemssen is the decided John Travolta of the group - wowing the crowd whenever it's his turn on the dance mat.
"We probably wouldn't have gotten one if it wasn't Christian, because the music these days is horrible," Katie Willemssen said. "The lyrics today, we would never appreciate something like that. So it's cool that the Christian market is coming up with something - that kids and adults now have an alternative to DDR."
Bean is one of the creators of "Dance Praise Party." He said the reason for the product's success is a lot of time spent on his knees asking God for guidance.
"You really want to make sure that this is what the Lord wants you to do," Bean said.
To that end, Bean said the future for Christian video game makers is to produce products for the big console systems like PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360.
"You ask yourself: What Christian titles have come out that have used good technology, had a good story and glued together good activities with a subtle message?" Bean said. "Is the product of equal quality as the same non-Christian games released at the same time, or did they do a value job on a Christian product?"
So where can Christians find those games?
"I haven't seen it," Bean confessed. "But I'd like to see it."
Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog, Pac-Man and Jesus Christ could be the faces of the video game industry's Mount Rushmore if Christian game developers have a say.
The video game industry saw record sales of $13.5 billion last year. No Christian games cracked the Top 10 sales lists, but gamers at this weekend's 2007 Christian Game Developers Conference pray that soon will change.
They're starting not just with Best Buy and Circuit City outlets near you, but also in the churches and youth ministries in your neighborhood.
Teaching tools
Parents at St. Thomas the Apostle Church in Naperville are using "Gospel Champions" to supplement summer Bible readings. The church lets parishioners download the game from its Web site right onto their home computers and activate it with an access code for the church's licensed copy.
The game changes monthly to match Bible readings. July's reading is the Good Samaritan story. Characters in the game controlled by kids act out a computerized version of the parable, complete with rehearsing basic Christian prayers in various spots."As a parent, and knowing how much kids are on the computer, I thought this was something that we actually want kids to know," said Patti Dougherty, the parish's religious education director.
The popularity of "Gospel Champions" is unknown, but interest seems to be growing.
Armageddon on PC
On a national level, the "Left Behind: Eternal Forces" game is arguably the Christian game that's attracted the most interest.
The electronic adventure is modeled after the best-selling Christian book series about the aftermath of the Rapture - when God takes all faithful Christians from the earth.
"Eternal Forces" lets players lead a group of Christian forces against demonic soldiers resembling United Nations Peacekeepers in hopes of converting them. There's no blood, and prayer is the best weapon against guns, an aspect of the game that stifled most, but not all, Christian fears about violence in the game.
Lake Villa's Cheryl Gress founded the Web site Christ Centered Game Reviews after encountering too many games with "cult" themes that she felt uncomfortable playing after being inadequately warned by the game labels.
Gress said "Eternal Forces" probably had the biggest budget, name recognition and marketing effort of any Christian-themed game she's reviewed.
Indeed, Left Behind Games, which is tied to Carol Stream's Tyndale Publishers, reports more than 1 million requests for pass-it-on trial versions of the game from churches and ministries.
Still, Gress slammed the game in her personal review, as did most of the national video game press.
"I just found it really hard," Gress said. "And the online help community is not exactly there for it, because it's not a mainstream game."
Finding an audience
The challenge facing developers of Christian-themed video games is difficult, according to Bill Bean, president of the Association of Christian Entertainment, one of the organizations behind this year's Christian gaming conference.
They must create a game capable of not only making it to store shelves - but selling once it gets there.
"No one's looking at our packages and saying, 'Wow, that's good, and look, it says God on the box,'" Bean said. "We, as Christian game developers, need to provide games that are really fun to play, have a message in it and are reasonably priced."
Price is part of the reason John's Christian Stores throughout the suburbs aren't selling nearly as many video games as they do music CDs.
Brian Cook, a buyer for the chain, said his stores have only sold two copies of "Eternal Forces" since it hit the shelves in time for Christmas last year. The $59.95 price tag is one of the reasons.
"The quality doesn't match what you would expect to get out of a $60 game," Cook said. "But it's a unique market. There are very little Christian games, and there are always customers looking for it."
If a developer produces a Christian game that's both high quality and decently priced, Cook predicts the product would sell well.
"There's definitely people out there waiting for something," he said.
A dancing success
One Christian-themed game has sold out at John's Christian Stores.
It's called "Dance Praise Party." And Steve and Katie Willemssen count themselves among the fans of the Christian clone of the popular "Dance Dance Revolution."
Every Friday night at the their Aurora home, the couple and many of their 30-something friends gather around the television for a "Dance Praise Party" contest.
Only they're not bringing "SexyBack" with Justin Timberlake. Instead, they're getting down to Audio Adrenaline, a Christian band.
Steve Willemssen is the decided John Travolta of the group - wowing the crowd whenever it's his turn on the dance mat.
"We probably wouldn't have gotten one if it wasn't Christian, because the music these days is horrible," Katie Willemssen said. "The lyrics today, we would never appreciate something like that. So it's cool that the Christian market is coming up with something - that kids and adults now have an alternative to DDR."
Bean is one of the creators of "Dance Praise Party." He said the reason for the product's success is a lot of time spent on his knees asking God for guidance.
"You really want to make sure that this is what the Lord wants you to do," Bean said.
To that end, Bean said the future for Christian video game makers is to produce products for the big console systems like PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360.
"You ask yourself: What Christian titles have come out that have used good technology, had a good story and glued together good activities with a subtle message?" Bean said. "Is the product of equal quality as the same non-Christian games released at the same time, or did they do a value job on a Christian product?"
So where can Christians find those games?
"I haven't seen it," Bean confessed. "But I'd like to see it."
Tuesday
Fans back Floyd Landis in Wheaton, but ...
They wouldn't be surprised if cyclist is found to have cheated in 2006 Tour de France
BY JAMES FULLER
jfuller@dailyherald.com
(Tanit Jarusan/tjarusan@dailyherald.com)
Floyd Landis emerged from last year's Tour de France with both a yellow jersey and a heap of controversy about doping on his shoulders, but local cycling fans stood by him Monday even while bracing for disappointment.
Landis appeared at Borders in Wheaton Monday to sign his new book, "Positively False."Not one person would say Landis was, no doubt, a cheater in a non-scientific poll of people coming to see Landis.
That's not a shocking outcome for a crowd that gave Landis a standing ovation, bought every copy of the book in the store and then waited in line more than two hours to have it signed.
Perhaps more interesting was why they support Landis.
A good portion of the crowd, especially enthusiasts who turned out in bicycle shorts, believe there were flawed methods in the doping test Landis failed.
That's the same argument Landis has put forward for the past year. Some fans had other theories.
Tom Johnson, of Wheaton, said he'd believe in Landis' innocence even if Landis had illegal drugs in his system.
"It wouldn't shock me if someone put something in his drinks without him knowing," Johnson said. "It's not like the stuff is hard to come by. Someone probably did it in exchange for $25."
Kellyanne Thomas' view was similar to many others in that, as a fan, she wants to believe Landis is innocent. But she wouldn't be shocked if Landis was guilty.
Indeed, the names of Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds came up more than once, indicating cynicism about baseball's steroid scandal has already numbed fans to the possible fall of another sports hero.
Thomas, of LaGrange, cited Landis' visible anger when he crossed the finish line and immediately after as very counter to the man she met at the book signing, and a possible sign of " 'roid rage."
"It's the only thing that, if I hadn't seen that, I'd have no reason for suspicion," Thomas said.
Others said there's so much confusion now that there's no way anyone will ever know for sure if Landis cheated or not.
Steve Lindeen of Wheaton said Landis has given the testing methods enough of a black eye with his accusations of shoddy labs and tainted measurements that even a final court ruling against Landis can't be trusted. A ruling in favor of Landis wouldn't be definitive, either, but decidedly better for cycling, he said.
"He says he's innocent," Lindeen said. "For the good of the sport, I think that it's very important he's innocent because he's said he is."
BY JAMES FULLER
jfuller@dailyherald.com
(Tanit Jarusan/tjarusan@dailyherald.com)
Floyd Landis emerged from last year's Tour de France with both a yellow jersey and a heap of controversy about doping on his shoulders, but local cycling fans stood by him Monday even while bracing for disappointment.
Landis appeared at Borders in Wheaton Monday to sign his new book, "Positively False."Not one person would say Landis was, no doubt, a cheater in a non-scientific poll of people coming to see Landis.
That's not a shocking outcome for a crowd that gave Landis a standing ovation, bought every copy of the book in the store and then waited in line more than two hours to have it signed.
Perhaps more interesting was why they support Landis.
A good portion of the crowd, especially enthusiasts who turned out in bicycle shorts, believe there were flawed methods in the doping test Landis failed.
That's the same argument Landis has put forward for the past year. Some fans had other theories.
Tom Johnson, of Wheaton, said he'd believe in Landis' innocence even if Landis had illegal drugs in his system.
"It wouldn't shock me if someone put something in his drinks without him knowing," Johnson said. "It's not like the stuff is hard to come by. Someone probably did it in exchange for $25."
Kellyanne Thomas' view was similar to many others in that, as a fan, she wants to believe Landis is innocent. But she wouldn't be shocked if Landis was guilty.
Indeed, the names of Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds came up more than once, indicating cynicism about baseball's steroid scandal has already numbed fans to the possible fall of another sports hero.
Thomas, of LaGrange, cited Landis' visible anger when he crossed the finish line and immediately after as very counter to the man she met at the book signing, and a possible sign of " 'roid rage."
"It's the only thing that, if I hadn't seen that, I'd have no reason for suspicion," Thomas said.
Others said there's so much confusion now that there's no way anyone will ever know for sure if Landis cheated or not.
Steve Lindeen of Wheaton said Landis has given the testing methods enough of a black eye with his accusations of shoddy labs and tainted measurements that even a final court ruling against Landis can't be trusted. A ruling in favor of Landis wouldn't be definitive, either, but decidedly better for cycling, he said.
"He says he's innocent," Lindeen said. "For the good of the sport, I think that it's very important he's innocent because he's said he is."
Monday
‘So many times they wrote him off’
Aid for Villa Park boy overcoming premature birth might be running out
By James Fuller
jfuller@dailyherald.com
Kelly Walker felt the warm glow of motherhood as she left her doctor’s office the afternoon of Jan. 3, 2004. Her ultrasound showed healthy twins.
A mounting terror erased that feeling when she went into labor at 11 p.m. that night. Mason and Grace weren’t due until April 11, Easter weekend.
“I thought, ‘There’s no way this is happening. They’re three months early. How can they live?’” Walker recalled.
Three years later, Walker finds herself asking that question about Mason again. The family’s insurance is tapped out. Mason no longer qualifies for nursing care through public aid. Soon, all the help Mason needs may vanish.
Now the Walkers are hoping a bowling fundraiser next weekend will help keep Mason moving forward.
Baby steps
Grace triggered the premature birth. Her placenta was 30 percent detached, torn and filling with blood. It was either birth or death.
Hours later, Mason and Grace entered the world in miniature. Their footprints were the length of two quarters with little nubs for toes.
Despite their size, there was relief.
The twins survived their tumultuous birth. The worst seemed to be over as the twins began their incubator lives and the path to going home to Villa Park.
Grace took that path. Mason followed another.
A week into Mason’s life he developed a bruise on the top of his right foot. Doctors attributed it to an awkward sleeping position.
A few days later, when it appeared to worsen, the bruise was traced to needle pokes Mason received during his care. His foot was treated with cream and wrapped in gauze.
It didn’t help. Mason’s tiny body swelled with so much infection his father, Joe, feared his skin would burst. Mason ballooned from a 2-pound premie into 10 pounds of sick child.
Doctors determined Mason had an E. coli infection stemming from a small hole in his intestines.
The mysterious hole healed, but the infection was so severe that medical staff told the Walkers they should take their son’s toys home and prepare for his death.
“They told me they’d never seen anyone that sick live,” Kelly Walker said.
Mason’s body wasn’t ridding itself of the toxins. He hadn’t urinated in a week. That’s when Kelly Walker had an idea.
She told the doctors to try putting his hand in a cup of warm water. After some hesitancy, the staff gave it a shot and Mason responded just like one of Kelly’s friends had done at an ill-fated teenage sleepover.
Mason’s swelling ebbed, but his right foot grew ever worse, eventually tearing open in several places. He received a pig skin graft to close the wounds, but the infection spread to his hip.
A year’s worth of failed attempts to save Mason’s foot followed.
“It was a mangled mess,” Kelly Walker said.
Amputation was the only option left. The infection also stunted the formation of Mason’s hip socket. His right leg would grow at a far slower rate than his left, requiring a prosthesis that makes it look like Mason’s calf was amputated as well.
Now the boy who shouldn’t be alive is 3 years old.
“So many times they wrote him off, and so many times he’s proven them wrong,” Kelly Walker said.
Helping hands
Mason is looking to prove everyone wrong again by learning to walk on his own with the help of therapists at Easter Seals and his nurse, Kathleen Brannon.
It’s Tuesday and that means speech, physical and occupational therapy.
A web of eight bungee cords strapped to a cage on one end and a harness on the other holds Mason upright. Mary Wyler coaxes Mason to perform various exercises while also finding enough entertainment to soothe the rambunctious toddler.
“I want No. 5,” Mason says.
It’s a reference to the “Thomas the Tank Engine” children’s show that Mason currently is obsessed with.
“No. 5 is James,” Mason says. Indeed, he knows all the characters by their names, numbers and faces.
Wyler strategically places the toy train so Mason must lean back and do a sit-up to reach it. Mason’s muscles are underdeveloped. He uses a walker pushed mostly with his left leg to get around. He can’t stand on his own. Yet.
“Are you gonna walk, Mr. Walker?” Brannon asks, shifting Mason over to a treadmill.
“I’m ready,” he replies.
The treadmill also has a harness. It lowers Mason to a standing position on the tread, which moves as slowly as 0.1 mph. Mason intersperses walking with other exercises, such as kicking toy police cars off the treadmill with his prosthetic leg.
This is remarkable progress for Mason. When he first started therapy he was so weak that sometimes he’d stop breathing while trying to lift his head.
Now he’s a little Godzilla on the treadmill, deflecting all would-be objects near his legs.
Once complete, it’s time for Linda Merry to concentrate on some of Mason’s fine motor skills. Mason’s nervous system also is underdeveloped. For instance, he began with no instinctual concept of the danger of letting go while swinging on a swing. Climbing over balls and mats requires a thought process Mason still is developing.
His nerves also are hypersensitive. Touching something like grass or clay can feel so unusual to Mason that it scares him.
“OK, big guy,” Merry says to Mason. “Are you ready to play?”
“OK,” Mason responds. It’s his favorite reply, even when it’s obvious he’d rather not do the requested activity. It’s also not unusual for him to request a hug now and then.
Mason concentrates on twisting lids, drawing vertical lines and pulling putty apart, all of which require coordinated muscle use.
“It’s not all about the legs,” Merry said. “It’s about maximizing strengths to minimize his weaknesses.”
Financial obstacles
Mason is much more capable than he would be otherwise thanks to all the care he receives.
But he’ll still need a lifetime of therapy.
Without some financial help, backward steps may be the first he takes.
One of the first things he’ll lose is Brannon, his nurse. Public aid won’t pay for her anymore because Mason is healthy enough to avoid a hospital stay without her. All told, it’s a $3,600-a-month cost the Walkers can’t afford.
“Without a doubt, if he didn’t have the therapy and extra help that he gets, he would just crumble and not be the same as he is today,” Kelly Walker said. “He has come so far. He’s come from the dead. It crushes me to think that he could go completely backward.”
By James Fuller
jfuller@dailyherald.com
Kelly Walker felt the warm glow of motherhood as she left her doctor’s office the afternoon of Jan. 3, 2004. Her ultrasound showed healthy twins.
A mounting terror erased that feeling when she went into labor at 11 p.m. that night. Mason and Grace weren’t due until April 11, Easter weekend.
“I thought, ‘There’s no way this is happening. They’re three months early. How can they live?’” Walker recalled.
Three years later, Walker finds herself asking that question about Mason again. The family’s insurance is tapped out. Mason no longer qualifies for nursing care through public aid. Soon, all the help Mason needs may vanish.
Now the Walkers are hoping a bowling fundraiser next weekend will help keep Mason moving forward.
Baby steps
Grace triggered the premature birth. Her placenta was 30 percent detached, torn and filling with blood. It was either birth or death.
Hours later, Mason and Grace entered the world in miniature. Their footprints were the length of two quarters with little nubs for toes.
Despite their size, there was relief.
The twins survived their tumultuous birth. The worst seemed to be over as the twins began their incubator lives and the path to going home to Villa Park.
Grace took that path. Mason followed another.
A week into Mason’s life he developed a bruise on the top of his right foot. Doctors attributed it to an awkward sleeping position.
A few days later, when it appeared to worsen, the bruise was traced to needle pokes Mason received during his care. His foot was treated with cream and wrapped in gauze.
It didn’t help. Mason’s tiny body swelled with so much infection his father, Joe, feared his skin would burst. Mason ballooned from a 2-pound premie into 10 pounds of sick child.
Doctors determined Mason had an E. coli infection stemming from a small hole in his intestines.
The mysterious hole healed, but the infection was so severe that medical staff told the Walkers they should take their son’s toys home and prepare for his death.
“They told me they’d never seen anyone that sick live,” Kelly Walker said.
Mason’s body wasn’t ridding itself of the toxins. He hadn’t urinated in a week. That’s when Kelly Walker had an idea.
She told the doctors to try putting his hand in a cup of warm water. After some hesitancy, the staff gave it a shot and Mason responded just like one of Kelly’s friends had done at an ill-fated teenage sleepover.
Mason’s swelling ebbed, but his right foot grew ever worse, eventually tearing open in several places. He received a pig skin graft to close the wounds, but the infection spread to his hip.
A year’s worth of failed attempts to save Mason’s foot followed.
“It was a mangled mess,” Kelly Walker said.
Amputation was the only option left. The infection also stunted the formation of Mason’s hip socket. His right leg would grow at a far slower rate than his left, requiring a prosthesis that makes it look like Mason’s calf was amputated as well.
Now the boy who shouldn’t be alive is 3 years old.
“So many times they wrote him off, and so many times he’s proven them wrong,” Kelly Walker said.
Helping hands
Mason is looking to prove everyone wrong again by learning to walk on his own with the help of therapists at Easter Seals and his nurse, Kathleen Brannon.
It’s Tuesday and that means speech, physical and occupational therapy.
A web of eight bungee cords strapped to a cage on one end and a harness on the other holds Mason upright. Mary Wyler coaxes Mason to perform various exercises while also finding enough entertainment to soothe the rambunctious toddler.
“I want No. 5,” Mason says.
It’s a reference to the “Thomas the Tank Engine” children’s show that Mason currently is obsessed with.
“No. 5 is James,” Mason says. Indeed, he knows all the characters by their names, numbers and faces.
Wyler strategically places the toy train so Mason must lean back and do a sit-up to reach it. Mason’s muscles are underdeveloped. He uses a walker pushed mostly with his left leg to get around. He can’t stand on his own. Yet.
“Are you gonna walk, Mr. Walker?” Brannon asks, shifting Mason over to a treadmill.
“I’m ready,” he replies.
The treadmill also has a harness. It lowers Mason to a standing position on the tread, which moves as slowly as 0.1 mph. Mason intersperses walking with other exercises, such as kicking toy police cars off the treadmill with his prosthetic leg.
This is remarkable progress for Mason. When he first started therapy he was so weak that sometimes he’d stop breathing while trying to lift his head.
Now he’s a little Godzilla on the treadmill, deflecting all would-be objects near his legs.
Once complete, it’s time for Linda Merry to concentrate on some of Mason’s fine motor skills. Mason’s nervous system also is underdeveloped. For instance, he began with no instinctual concept of the danger of letting go while swinging on a swing. Climbing over balls and mats requires a thought process Mason still is developing.
His nerves also are hypersensitive. Touching something like grass or clay can feel so unusual to Mason that it scares him.
“OK, big guy,” Merry says to Mason. “Are you ready to play?”
“OK,” Mason responds. It’s his favorite reply, even when it’s obvious he’d rather not do the requested activity. It’s also not unusual for him to request a hug now and then.
Mason concentrates on twisting lids, drawing vertical lines and pulling putty apart, all of which require coordinated muscle use.
“It’s not all about the legs,” Merry said. “It’s about maximizing strengths to minimize his weaknesses.”
Financial obstacles
Mason is much more capable than he would be otherwise thanks to all the care he receives.
But he’ll still need a lifetime of therapy.
Without some financial help, backward steps may be the first he takes.
One of the first things he’ll lose is Brannon, his nurse. Public aid won’t pay for her anymore because Mason is healthy enough to avoid a hospital stay without her. All told, it’s a $3,600-a-month cost the Walkers can’t afford.
“Without a doubt, if he didn’t have the therapy and extra help that he gets, he would just crumble and not be the same as he is today,” Kelly Walker said. “He has come so far. He’s come from the dead. It crushes me to think that he could go completely backward.”
Tuesday
Fire guts apartment building
Wheaton families homeless; lightning suspected in blaze
Photo by Daily Herald Photographer Bev Horne
By James Fuller
Jared Standridge was sitting in his living room with his dog Arwen when he heard a crash of thunder and saw a bright flash followed by a “zapping” sound.
“Then everybody was running around, banging on doors,” Standridge said. “I think everybody got out fine, but I don’t know.”
The immediate aftermath of a fire that consumed a 24-unit apartment building in Wheaton Monday afternoon was confusion and concern.
Some residents toted their dogs and cats around, nuzzling them with a newfound appreciation. Others bawled with the apparent loss of irreplaceable photo albums and other belongings.
Photo by Daily Herald Photographer Bev Horne
The fire began shortly before an alarm went off in the building at about 3:30 p.m. Heavy rain and gusting winds pounded the Amli at Danada Farms apartment complex just before the alarm, leading both fire officials and witnesses to speculate that lightning may be to blame.
“I saw it kind of smoldering and the fire department got there and it was almost like they didn’t have to call anybody else,” said Rick Schweihs, who lives in a neighboring building. “Then all of sudden flames were shooting up.”
Some 30 fire departments and about 100 firefighters responded to the alarm. Smoke and flames began to dissipate an hour into the fight, but the damage was evident. Nearly the entire roof collapsed, leaving only a series of thin strips of the once-vaulted ceilings grasping at the sky like the teeth of a rake.
Residents of the complex said there were no sprinklers in the building, but a fire alarm system was in place that signals the fire department when triggered by smoke or flames.
In the end, fire officials confirmed everyone made it out of the building without injury. By 6:15 p.m., only a few hot spots remained as firefighters walked the interior of the now uninhabitable building.
Red Cross personnel arrived at the scene in the late afternoon to help the newly homeless residents find temporary shelter. Property managers declined comment.
Wheaton Fire Chief Greg Berk said it was too soon to know the cause of the fire for sure, but fire officials were interviewing witnesses who saw lightning just before the blaze erupted. Berk said the Wheaton Fire Department also received several calls about lightning strikes in the area before the Amli fire alarm sounded.
Photo by Daily Herald Photographer Bev Horne
By James Fuller
Jared Standridge was sitting in his living room with his dog Arwen when he heard a crash of thunder and saw a bright flash followed by a “zapping” sound.
“Then everybody was running around, banging on doors,” Standridge said. “I think everybody got out fine, but I don’t know.”
The immediate aftermath of a fire that consumed a 24-unit apartment building in Wheaton Monday afternoon was confusion and concern.
Some residents toted their dogs and cats around, nuzzling them with a newfound appreciation. Others bawled with the apparent loss of irreplaceable photo albums and other belongings.
Photo by Daily Herald Photographer Bev Horne
The fire began shortly before an alarm went off in the building at about 3:30 p.m. Heavy rain and gusting winds pounded the Amli at Danada Farms apartment complex just before the alarm, leading both fire officials and witnesses to speculate that lightning may be to blame.
“I saw it kind of smoldering and the fire department got there and it was almost like they didn’t have to call anybody else,” said Rick Schweihs, who lives in a neighboring building. “Then all of sudden flames were shooting up.”
Some 30 fire departments and about 100 firefighters responded to the alarm. Smoke and flames began to dissipate an hour into the fight, but the damage was evident. Nearly the entire roof collapsed, leaving only a series of thin strips of the once-vaulted ceilings grasping at the sky like the teeth of a rake.
Residents of the complex said there were no sprinklers in the building, but a fire alarm system was in place that signals the fire department when triggered by smoke or flames.
In the end, fire officials confirmed everyone made it out of the building without injury. By 6:15 p.m., only a few hot spots remained as firefighters walked the interior of the now uninhabitable building.
Red Cross personnel arrived at the scene in the late afternoon to help the newly homeless residents find temporary shelter. Property managers declined comment.
Wheaton Fire Chief Greg Berk said it was too soon to know the cause of the fire for sure, but fire officials were interviewing witnesses who saw lightning just before the blaze erupted. Berk said the Wheaton Fire Department also received several calls about lightning strikes in the area before the Amli fire alarm sounded.
Thursday
Billy Graham's lifelong 'soul mate' in coma
BY JAMES FULLER
Posted Thursday, June 14, 2007
The story of Ruth and the Rev. Billy Graham began at Wheaton College - the two fell in love reading tombstone epitaphs in a nearby countryside graveyard.
Friends of the Grahams now say they wouldn't be surprised if the couple both soon leave this world as the 86-year-old Ruth lapsed into a coma Wednesday.
And Billy Graham himself seemed to acknowledge that when he said: "Ruth is my soul mate and best friend, and I cannot imagine living a single day without her by my side."
Ruth, 86, has degenerative osteoarthritis of the back and neck and has been bedridden at their home in western North Carolina.
The 88-year-old preacher and adviser to presidents has been in frail health for years, suffering from fluid on the brain, prostate cancer and Parkinson's disease.
Ruth Graham AP Photo
Harold Myra and Marshall Shelley co-authored "The Leadership Secrets of Billy Graham," but they came to know the couple long before. Myra is the retired CEO of Carol Stream-based Christianity Today, a publication Billy Graham founded. Shelley is the editorial vice president.
Both men recalled Ruth Graham as a "spunky," strong-willed woman who never feared telling her husband exactly what she thought. Indeed, Myra recalled in a recent article that the door to the bedridden Ruth Graham's room bears a sign reading, "Nobody knows the trouble I've been."
Shelley said Ruth is the grounding force behind her husband - raising their family on her own much of the time and acting as a counselor for her famous husband.
Myra has personal experience with Ruth Graham's strong will.
"One time she called me about an article that we'd run in the magazine and she started by saying, 'Harold, how could this happen!'" Myra said. "She wasn't intruding, but she wanted us to know her thoughts."
He declined to say what the article was about.
But then there was the time just a couple of years ago when Myra's Wheaton home burned down. Ruth Graham was one of the first to reach out to him with a $100 donation to the rebuilding effort, and a copy of one of her books to begin piecing his personal library back together.
"It was her tremendous concern for the downtrodden, the weak and those who have had trouble," Myra said. "Even when Jim Baker was going through prison and all that, when he was released, she reached out to him and gave him hope for the future."
Myra and Shelley said the days of both Ruth and Billy Graham may be numbered. Both have been in ill health in recent years, and both recently lost siblings.
"Her death would obviously be a very powerful loss," Myra said. "He's been ready to step into glory for a while now. If she dies, she would be there, and I think he's ready to go."
Shelley said Ruth Graham's death would cause the Rev. Graham to grieve, but it would be lessened by the hope of her leaving to be in the presence of Jesus Christ.
"Billy has indicated that he has been ready to meet his maker on any occasion," Shelley said. "He is not afraid to die."
Posted Thursday, June 14, 2007
The story of Ruth and the Rev. Billy Graham began at Wheaton College - the two fell in love reading tombstone epitaphs in a nearby countryside graveyard.
Friends of the Grahams now say they wouldn't be surprised if the couple both soon leave this world as the 86-year-old Ruth lapsed into a coma Wednesday.
And Billy Graham himself seemed to acknowledge that when he said: "Ruth is my soul mate and best friend, and I cannot imagine living a single day without her by my side."
Ruth, 86, has degenerative osteoarthritis of the back and neck and has been bedridden at their home in western North Carolina.
The 88-year-old preacher and adviser to presidents has been in frail health for years, suffering from fluid on the brain, prostate cancer and Parkinson's disease.
Ruth Graham AP Photo
Harold Myra and Marshall Shelley co-authored "The Leadership Secrets of Billy Graham," but they came to know the couple long before. Myra is the retired CEO of Carol Stream-based Christianity Today, a publication Billy Graham founded. Shelley is the editorial vice president.
Both men recalled Ruth Graham as a "spunky," strong-willed woman who never feared telling her husband exactly what she thought. Indeed, Myra recalled in a recent article that the door to the bedridden Ruth Graham's room bears a sign reading, "Nobody knows the trouble I've been."
Shelley said Ruth is the grounding force behind her husband - raising their family on her own much of the time and acting as a counselor for her famous husband.
Myra has personal experience with Ruth Graham's strong will.
"One time she called me about an article that we'd run in the magazine and she started by saying, 'Harold, how could this happen!'" Myra said. "She wasn't intruding, but she wanted us to know her thoughts."
He declined to say what the article was about.
But then there was the time just a couple of years ago when Myra's Wheaton home burned down. Ruth Graham was one of the first to reach out to him with a $100 donation to the rebuilding effort, and a copy of one of her books to begin piecing his personal library back together.
"It was her tremendous concern for the downtrodden, the weak and those who have had trouble," Myra said. "Even when Jim Baker was going through prison and all that, when he was released, she reached out to him and gave him hope for the future."
Myra and Shelley said the days of both Ruth and Billy Graham may be numbered. Both have been in ill health in recent years, and both recently lost siblings.
"Her death would obviously be a very powerful loss," Myra said. "He's been ready to step into glory for a while now. If she dies, she would be there, and I think he's ready to go."
Shelley said Ruth Graham's death would cause the Rev. Graham to grieve, but it would be lessened by the hope of her leaving to be in the presence of Jesus Christ.
"Billy has indicated that he has been ready to meet his maker on any occasion," Shelley said. "He is not afraid to die."
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