Hardball

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I first came to Chicago in the summer of 1966 to do community service for the Chicago Presbytery’s “Summer of Service.” I was assigned to a white neighborhood on Chicago’s Southwest Side, not far from where Martin Luther King had been living since January.

My job that summer was to work with kids six to ten years old. My coworkers and I tried to educate them and support them during a frightening time.

My summer in the city was the defining time of my life. My immediate boss, the Rev. Thomas Phillips, saw that my coworkers and I were immersed in every aspect of the city and neighborhood life, from local white citizens’ council meetings, the Catholic youth group, and other neighborhood groups, to broader city political and social events.

The White Sox, who were in our backyard, wouldn’t return our phone calls, but the Cubs gave our kids free tickets every Thursday, so I became a Cubs fan-a heavy price to pay for a summer of service. We also watched Shaw’s St. Joan, performed under moonlight at the University of Chicago, which made the university-my current home-seem like a magical place.

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