Chicago: The Rookery

What started out as a week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio, 

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago. 

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours, 

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced 

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago 

all those many years ago. 

* * * * *

As we walked up LaSalle Street, my daughter and I, I began to remember.

Each morning, as my bus crawled up LaSalle Street, I would crane my neck to watch the Board of Trade building come in to sight. Looming at the end of the street, this architectural icon of my Chicago life filled me with awe and grandeur, a pinch-me-I-must-be-dreaming moment every day of the week.

I remember how I hopped off the 136 just a block shy of the BOT at another building just as worthy of my attention and joy. 

The Rookery.

I remember climbing this breathtaking staircase on snowy winter mornings, paying close attention to my steps as my wet boots met the slippery marble stairs. 

I remember running my hands, still in my leather gloves, along the copper banister.

I remember taking in the details of the staircase, wrought iron flowers as they seemed to me, flat and twisting and layered and dimensional, all at the same time.

 On the upper balcony of the lobby, I remember how I circled back toward the front of the building, admiring all I had just passed, and approached the elevators that led to my client's offices.

Though the upper floors were relatively nondescript, I remember once when a client employee who was helping me track down an answer to my questions led me to an office on a different floor.

Rather than taking the elevator, she slipped down a staircase that I had never noticed before. 

This staircase was beyond magical. 

I remember how I stopped dead in my steps to take in the incredible artistry as her heels clicked quickly down the stairs ahead of me. 

I remember the weight of the sheaf of papers in my arm as I tipped my head back and stared; whatever work-related problem that had been on my mind disappeared into the rarefied air of the staircase.

* * * * *

Three decades later, these memories came rushing back to me with incredible speed and power as my daughter and I toured the Rookery. Our lively guide gushed about the building's incredible history, the owners and architects who imposed their vision on the architecture over the years, the phases of change and innovation and pure artistry that make The Rookery what it is today.

 "Just imagine," she gushed, "what it must be like to work in this building! Can you imagine what an incredible thrill that would be?"

And I smiled at her. "Yes," I said, "I can imagine. I worked here years ago. Let me tell you what I remember." 

* * * * *

If you'd like to know more about the colorful history of The Rookery, go here.

If you want to just  look at pretty pictures of this gorgeous place, go here.

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Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Italian Village
Doughnut Vault
Wells Street Bridge
The Rookery
Flamingo Again
Wabash Arts Corridor
The Berghoff
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