Billy Connolly's Route 66_ The Big Yin on the Ultimate American Road Trip - Billy Connolly [14]
I always liked to stand at the crossroads outside Fanny Mae’s for a wee while, imagining flaming arrows flying overhead. On one occasion a young woman came up to me, a kind of hippy girl, and asked what I was doing. I told her I was thinking of Indians ambushing the pioneers.
‘Oh, you like all that kind of stuff about Chicago?’ she said.
‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘Love it.’
‘Do you like architecture?’
‘Oh yeah. You bet.’
And it’s true – I do. The Michigan–Wacker Historic District in the centre of Chicago, where Fort Dearborn used to stand, is an amazing place for gazing at buildings. There’s a remarkable line-up of world-class architecture on both banks of the Chicago River, such as the gleaming white art deco Wrigley Building, chosen by William Wrigley, the chewing gum magnate, to house his company. There are several other stunning granite skyscrapers built in the 1920s and 1930s. But smack in the middle of all that fabulous beauty is a glass monstrosity, erected where another lovely white stone building used to stand. The modern eyesore was built by Donald Trump and, in my opinion, it’s a piece of shit, so I always just pretend it’s not there. It looks totally out of place, and it makes me quite angry that Trump was allowed to build it. He wants to be President, but I can’t help thinking that the whole country would end up looking like a public toilet if he was ever elected.
Gazing at all of the surrounding buildings with the hippy lass, I pointed at what looked like a big, skinny cathedral. ‘That’s my favourite,’ I said.
‘Oh, mine too,’ she said.
So we started to walk towards the Chicago Tribune Building, and on the way over she asked, ‘Do you have old buildings in Scotland?’
I’m still laughing about that question now, but at the time I just said, ‘Yeah.’
‘We’ve got buildings here a hundred years old,’ she said.
‘Ooh.’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Do you know,’ I said, ‘in Scotland, there’s a place called New Bridge. It’s called New Bridge because they built a new bridge there … in the seventeenth century. Mind you, they’re still driving over the old bridge.’
The girl looked kind of bewildered, then wandered off. I’m sure she didn’t believe a word of it.
It was a short walk from the site of Fort Dearborn to the Chicago Tribune Building and I crossed the river on one of the many bridges that could be raised to allow tall shipping to pass into Lake Michigan. On St Patrick’s Day, they dye the river green in recognition of Chicago’s large Irish community. But the dye wasn’t really necessary, as the river had a weird green tint to it all year round. Walking over the bridge, I again had reason to doubt the origins of Chicago’s nickname. The city might have more than its fair share of gasbag politicians and boastful locals, but that morning it didn’t seem that way. My hair was the clue: a horizontal haircut. Try telling me that Chicago wasn’t windswept.
Approaching the Chicago Tribune Building, the first thing you notice is the vertical stripes, which makes it seem much taller than its 462 feet. But move closer and it looks more like a Gothic King Arthur’s Castle. This combination might sound incongruous, but it works brilliantly. It’s a most attractive building, built as a result of a competition held in 1922 to design the most beautiful office building in the world. The architects won a $100,000 prize and the commission to build the tower. If they held the same competition today, I think the same architects would win again. They would certainly get my vote. I love it. I know some breathtaking buildings are being constructed, especially in Spain, but I don’t think any of them compare with the Chicago Tribune Building. To me, it’s a thing of absolute beauty. But there’s more to the building than just the original design, as brilliant