Downside to Neighborhood Gentrification

CHICAGO (SNARKY) -- The meteoric rise of "nouveau neighborhood" Wicker Park has some residents up in arms over the changing face of the enclave they've called home.

The neighborhood's recent revitalization and upturn in commercial investment, condominium construction, and soaring property values is quietly uprooting working-class families on Chicago's near West Side. African American, Polish and Mexican families who've inhabited the area for generations are being driven out as yuppies seek a reprieve from the white-hot Lincoln Park and other lakefront real estate markets.

In addition to the loss of affordable family housing though is an equal loss of charming residents who deftly lent their vibrancy to the eclectic neighborhood.

"I used to sit in the park all day just drinking my bottle of grape," said Charles "Stickles" Johnson, 39, from a further-west Humbolt Park bench where he had pissed himself.

"To get by, I maybe sold four or five copies of Streetwise to some sisters who felt some guilt and a little self-righteousness, too. Now the Man has gone and moved me on [to here]."

The situation is even direr for that quintessential neighborhood entrepreneur, the drug dealer.

"Two years ago it was all rock, now my best seller is powder [cocaine]," said Anthony "Two Toofs" Last-Name-Withheld. "It really hurts my bottom line because my income only comes on Friday and Saturday nights now, whereas, I was accustomed to an even daily rate from those ever-reliable crack whores.

"Who knows, I may have to expand into new product lines like knock-off Lacoste polos with the popped collars or maybe those hot Coach handbags just to get by. Fuck it, or I can go out of business all together, you know what I'm saying, fool?" he forlornly continued.

The loss of character hasn't gone completely unnoticed on Wicker Park denizen, Chris T, who overlooks the gentrification's epicenter on Milwaukee Avenue.

"I do miss 'Quarter Guy' who used to stand by the subway entrance and repeatedly yell at me, 'Can I have a quarter?' I'll never forget his lingering ever so eloquently on the last syllable," reminisced T.

Added his roommate, Luke Penca, "I used to leave half-finished beer bottles in my trash for the homeless drunks, you know, sort of as a present. Now the only ones going through the garbage are the rats. It's a damn, damn shame."

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