It was 1967. I had just graduated, was newly married, and had begun teaching at Lowell School located near Division and Homan in a neighborhood rapidly changing from Eastern European to Puerto Rican. After reading Division Street: America, an engaging series of interviews with individuals from dissimilar groups who occupied niches along the Division Street corridor, I felt an instant kinship with Studs Terkel.
I considered which story of the Depression would be most like the one my parents would have told in the 1970 book, Hard Times. But the stories which branded me were the searing 1974 tales of working life. I wanted to be Studs Terkel. To this day, I query cleaning ladies, bouncers, beauticians, and soldiers about the satisfactions and frustrations of their jobs.
I revised my teaching of history. My hologram now brought the lives of ordinary people forward while the privileged classes formed the backdrop story. Whether I was teaching Ancient Civilizations or Middle Ages, I always kept an eye to the people whose labor allowed that civilization to function.
Much later in my teaching career, with my chair’s encouragement, I chose to tell the life history of a retiring teacher who had taught for social justice. While I’m proud of my book, I’m no Studs Terkel.
Three years ago, I was delighted to learn from my friend and former dissertation chair, Bill Ayers, that he had cajoled his 94-year-old friend Studs away from his typewriter long enough to consent to being the keynote speaker at a national educational conference.
My arriving an hour early testified to my excitement at finally hearing my muse in person. As I wandered the Hyatt, I ran into Bill and his brother John seated at a booth with the author. I was invited to join the threesome. True to form, upon being introduced, Studs inquired if I were any relation to Robert Healy, the former head of the Chicago Teachers’ Union, who was one of the interviewees in Working. While I wasn’t, it opened the door for me to gush about how much that book had influenced me-even to my encouraging my older son to become a firefighter because that was the job that seemed to bring the most satisfaction in his book.
After half an hour, Bill asked if I could accompany Studs to the auditorium. Could I! We sat chatting for about 20 minutes until people started entering. Both the influential and the ordinary approached Studs. He introduced them all to his friend, Pat Healey. When a conference photographer took his photo with some well-known educators, he also requested one with his friend, Pat Healey.
From the stage, Bill introduced Studs to the filled auditorium where he spoke for 30 minutes. Afterwards, he autographed copies of his book, Race. Finally all was done. I returned the hat and trenchcoat I had been palming for the previous one and a half hours.
My assignment had seemed so appropriate. I had been holding onto Studs Terkel’s coattails for most of my life.
Pat Healey is a retired D97 teacher and Oak Park resident for 38 years.
