← Columns

Square Tales

The Source

One of the sweet byproducts of Jacksonville’s newly revitalized square has been the way the project has prodded the memories of some of the town’s old timers. I’ve had the joy of interviewing a few folks for various theatrical productions and their memories of the “old Square” are still vivid. One fellow, a Lincoln Land student in his sixties, remembers selling papers as a boy on the Jacksonville Square. He told me, “The best spots were in front of the cigar stores or the Journal Courier office. You not only sold more papers there but cigar smokers were the best tippers.” He said there was a definite pecking order among the paperboys. “The big kids . . . the older kids . . . got the best spots. One kid was really mean about it and you didn’t dare even walk across his territory on the west side of the square.” He said that the smaller boys would pick up their papers at the JC office then go around the block to get to the square. “The kid’s name was Butch,” he said, “but I don’t think that was he real name. He just looked like a Butch.” Of course most of the Square tales involved cruising. One fellow now living in rural Chapin said that he met his wife one night while circling the square. “I was actually hot on her cousin and they were parked up there one night,” he told me. “That’s how we did it. You’d cruise around and see a carload of girls and honk at them then they’d take off down South Main and you chase them down there.” He said that when he finally caught up to that particular carload of girls he decided he liked his future wife better and started dating her. One lady told me that her cousin from Chicago would often visit in the summertime. “She said she wished Chicago had a square. In Jacksonville you could come to one place and see who was in town. In Chicago that would take forever.” More than one person who hung around the Jacksonville Square in the 1950’s mentioned the “Geeky Biker”. It seems as if there was a kid who’d circle the square in a tricked out bicycle, complete with small balloons clipped to his spokes to simulate the sound of a motorcycle. “The other kids would make fun of him,” said a now prominent Jacksonville businessman. “I mean, he was a genuine geek. . .black glasses, Bermuda shorts and everything. We’d be sitting there in our cars trying to talk up the chicks and here’d come the Geek with his putt-putt-putt bicycle.” This would be a mean story to relate had not the Geek gone on to become a State of Illinois officeholder. Many folks still remember buying popcorn for a dime a bag and carrying it into the Illinois Theatre back in the days before the practice was disallowed and movie refreshments required taking out a second mortgage. “We’d even take in hamburgers and fries,” said one fellow. “You’d walk into the Illinois and it would smell like a restaurant.” And of course not all the Square tales are quite as humorous. When Illinois College and the local NAACP interviewed members of our African American community last year for a theatre project they heard many versions of a familiar story. One of the downtown theatres relegated them to the balcony while the other insisted that they sit in the back. One former resident said, “There wasn’t a sign or anything. You just knew where you were supposed to sit.” Another interviewee told of a restaurant just off the square where only whites could be seated. “We could go in and get a soda, but we’d have to get it to go. They didn’t want us sitting there.” A lady at Knollwood put things in what might be the truest perspective. “Our memories can flower things up. The old square was nostalgic, yeah, but it was also muddy, the sidewalks were dangerous, and there was no formal traffic pattern. If you wanted to cross the street on Saturday night you’d better have you insurance paid up.” She said that stench of auto exhaust pipes would drift into the open doors of the clothing stores and her mother would have to wash their new clothes before they wore them. So much for nostalgia. But in a world where so much seems to be going the wrong direction it’s still a joy to sit sipping an espresso at one of the Square’s cafes, look across the street to see the majestic Farmers Bank building still anchoring the space, watching the owner of the bookstore put out his signboard, see the Lincoln Land students rushing to class, and looking on while the town’s maintenance crew manicures the lawn around the statue. Perhaps without knowing it we’re creating our own new Square tales and these promise to be pretty darned sweet.