Today’s Wisch List column from the Kankakee Daily Journal …

Where’s Marla Collins? Well, she’s right here

The WISCH LIST

Aug. 29, 2009

Right now, Cubs fans everywhere are in hiding. But few of them – save, perhaps, Steve Bartman – can likely steer clear of the spotlight as well as the one woman who during the mid-1980s had it shining on her every afternoon thanks to the WGN-TV cameras at Wrigley Field.

Say, hello – or, even better, “Holy Cow” – to former Chicago Cubs ballgirl Marla Collins, who after all these years remains a fan of the Lovable Losers.

Even this season.

“Oh, yes,” Collins said with a grin, “I still like the Cubs.”

It’s now been 23 years since July 1986 when Collins, then 28 years old and the apple of many a Cubs fan’s eye, famously shed her pinstriped shorts and jersey to pose nude for Playboy magazine, only to be fired for breaking the “family-oriented spirit” of the Cubs organization.

Until this past Saturday, when she sat down with me during a breast cancer awareness fundraiser in Crystal Lake, Collins hadn’t done a newspaper interview in 10 years.

But, with the Tribune Co. (finally) finalizing a deal to sell the Cubs after 28 years of ownership, Collins took time to dish on her days as Major League Baseball’s first ballgirl and revisit her dismissal, still considered one of the most sensational management decisions made during the Tribune Co.’s colorful tenure.

While with the Cubs from 1982-86, Collins – and her short shorts – became so iconic among Chicagoans that, without even trying, she remains on the minds of many of them even today.

“Just a couple weeks ago, actually, my friends started calling me and saying, ‘Marla, you’re on the radio,’ ” said Collins, now 51. “They said that on Eric & Kathy (the WTMX 101.9 FM morning show), they were talking about me asking, ‘Where’s Marla? Where’s Marla?’ ”

Well, Marla is in Barrington, where she’s now the divorced mother of two daughters, ages 20 and 17. She works in downtown Chicago, conducting infant echocardiograms for a private doctor’s office. And, just like many Cubs fans’ memories of her, Collins’ own recollections of the Cubs remain as vivid as ever.

A native of Oak Lawn, many might not know that Collins actually began her baseball-related career at Comiskey Park, where the White Sox astutely recognized that men enjoy the combination of baseball, beer and pretty girls.

“I had a beer concession at Sox Park. I was the only girl who had a stand and so all the guys came there,” Collins recalled. “For some reason, during one game there were Cubs people at Sox Park and they met me and asked if I’d be interested in becoming a ballgirl at Wrigley Field when the Sox were out of town.”

Collins accepted the gig, which paid $150 a game but boosted her profile immeasurably, as Harry Caray & Co. gave her as much screen time as the ivy.

And it wasn’t only the fans that noticed her.

“After the first season, the Cubs moved me over next to the visitors’ dugout,” Collins said. “So every game, I’d have the ball boy coming up and handing me notes from players, asking me out. I’d look in the dugout, and there the guys would be waving at me.”

In addition to going out on dates with a handful of Cubs and once with broadcaster Steve Stone, Collins’ All-Star lineup of beaus in the ’80s included Keith Hernandez of the Mets, Steve Sax of the Dodgers and George Brett of the Royals, who actually visited Collins at her beer stand inside Comiskey just to ask her out.

Not long after joining the Cubs in ’82, Collins said she was approached by Playboy, but turned down several offers before finally accepting in 1985.

“I knew I wasn’t going to be a ballgirl forever,” Collins explained. “I actually was getting married and was going to leave the team after the 1986 season anyway. I knew the Cubs probably wouldn’t like the pictures, but they were tasteful. And the magazine was the September issue, which was towards the end of the season. But then, an early version came out on the West Coast in July.”

Cubs brass got wind of it, and even though Collins said her direct boss gave her permission to work with Playboy, she was summoned to Wrigley on July 22 and informed of her dismissal.

Apparently, the sex symbol the Cubs had created had become too sexy, prompting legendary Tribune columnist Mike Royko to write, “Of course it’s hypocritical. But hypocrisy is the very backbone of our sexual moral standards. Many of our outstanding bluenoses are secret lechers.”

Collins, for her part, said she wasn’t angry, but still feels the firing was unfair.

“I wasn’t mad. I accepted it,” she said. “But the Cubs knew what they were doing when they put me out there. They were the ones who wanted my shorts shorter.”

As for the media furor that ensued following her firing, Collins says, “I don’t know what I thought, but I didn’t expect that. I can’t imagine, though, what it would be like today. It would be crazy. It’s a whole different world with the Internet and everything.”

And, as for regrets, Collins says she has none. Well, maybe, that’s not entirely true.

She still hasn’t seen the Cubs win a World Series, after all.

“It’s going to happen,” Collins said. “It better, at least.”

For more on Marla, check out this CBS Channel 2 news story from 1984 when the Cubs were rolling into the National League playoffs. The video itself is interesting enough, but wait until the very end when you hear the line that Walter Jacobson drops.

Oh, Walter, how much we’ve learned in the 25 years since.

Today’s Wisch List column from the Kankakee Daily Journal …

(Area) Code-Breaking in Chicago

The WISCH LIST

Aug. 22, 2009

Drag a finger across the screen of my iPhone and you’ll find its phone book crawling with 815s and 217s.

Keep on scrolling and you’ll come across 630s, 708s and 847s, along with a slew of big numbers from out-of-state that resemble Kevin Gregg’s August ERA as much as they do area codes.

Yet, just like the Cubs’ erstwhile closer, these digits belong to Chicagoans.

(Unfortunately, in the case of Gregg.)

Last week, the front page of newspapers in Chicago screamed with the story that the City of Big Shoulders has gotten too big for its britches in regards to phone numbers.

As a result, come Nov. 1, the North American Numbering Plan Administration (imagine working there) will bestow upon Chicago a third area code (872) to accompany its already existing prefixes of 312 and 773.

Now, while getting the 411 about 872 was interesting, the new code’s impending arrival isn’t nearly as newsworthy as when 773 went into service for Chicago’s northern, western and southern neighborhoods 13 years ago.

That’s because, these days, as anyone who lives in the Windy City knows, the relevance of Chicago area codes has been cracked by the popularity of cell phones.

Use myself as an example. Since 2005, when I moved to Chicago, I’ve technically been living in the 773 code. Yet, my cell phone has steadfastly remained an 815.

That’s the area code of Ottawa, where I was living in north central Illinois when I purchased my first cell phone back in 1999. And, of course, it’s the area code for Bourbonnais, where I’m proud to say I grew up.

In fact, except for a four-year stint in Champaign during college when I was a 217, I’ve been an 815 since the day I was born. I’ve never felt the need to change, no matter what the address on my driver’s license says.

And in Chicago, I’m far from the only one to take part in this, the biggest trend in codes since DaVinci.

“Area codes are becoming more about where you’re from – or where you went to college at – than where you live,” observed my younger brother, John, a fellow Chicagoan who also continues to represent 815 in the 773.

Like ATM cards, e-mail and reality television, cell phones have become a staple of our 21st century society. So much so, in fact, that I can’t think of even five Chicago friends in their 20s or 30s who still have a landline phone at their apartment or condo.

You either call their cell, or you don’t call at all.

That’s a far cry from 1947, when 86 Numbering Plan Areas (NPAs) were first assigned throughout the United States and Canada, providing area codes with their origin.

Back then, 34 states — including, Florida, Georgia, Maryland and Kentucky — had just one area code. Today, only 13 states still have a single code.

Illinois originally was assigned four area codes: 312 (Chicago and suburbs), 815 (Rockford, Kankakee, Quad Cities), 217 (Springfield, East St. Louis) and 618 (southern Illinois, not including East St. Louis).

Now, with the addition of 872, the area codes in northeast Illinois alone number 10: 312, 773, 872, 708, 630, 815, 847, 224, 779 and 331.

Yet, ironically, the more area codes we get, the less they matter.

According to the wireless industry group CTIA, at the end of 1996 – just after 773 was established in Chicago – there were 44 million total wireless subscribers in the U.S. By the end of last year, that number had swelled to 270 million.

As more college grads move to Chicago – and wherever else – with established cell numbers already in tow, I get the sense that in the future the importance of area codes will be something that can, well, just be phoned in.

I’d say the No. 1 reason behind the demise of area codes in Chicago is convenience (cell phone users don’t want the hassle of alerting friends to a new number), followed closely by ignorance.

Think about it. If you primarily use a cell phone to make calls, odds are you have very few numbers memorized any more. You simply locate a name in your cell’s phone book and press “dial.”

Myself, I can still rattle off the home numbers of my childhood friends. But, if I had to dial any of my buddies in Chicago off the top of my head, I’d be more clueless than the Cubs in October.

Because of those reasons, my friend Pat — a fellow 815er, who has lived in Chicago since 2005 — said he has no plans to ever go to the trouble of acquiring a new cell phone number, even if he moved to, say, Mars.

“Nah, that’s so much work,” Pat said. “And it doesn’t really matter. No one uses (cell) phones where you have to dial the area code anymore.

“And if they do … I don’t want to talk to them anyway.”

He was joking.

I think.

For seven years, I lived and worked in Ottawa, Ill., writing about its people, places and things. And, hey, I love the town. But it’s, um, not perfect. Although, as the local Visitors Center  says in its silly slogan and these clever O-Towners say in their hilarious spoof of it, Ottawa is Serious Fun. Serious.

The Cubs can’t seem to drive baseballs very well these days, but they’re doing a heck of a job driving nails.

And even though it’s still August, I’d say that the coffin the North Siders are building for their 2009 season is already almost complete.

Perhaps the Ricketts family should just turn Wrigley Field into a carpentry shop when they take over. Sammy Sosa could even come back to Chicago to work.

Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me an e-mail saying that this bunch of Cubs might be even more disappointing than the 2004 crew that maddeningly squandered a Wild Card lead in the final week of the season.

I argued to my buddy that the ‘04 squad — which actually won more games than its famed 2003 counterpart — still ranks ahead of 2009 in my ever-so-lengthy list of Cubs-related frustrations.

And since I’m in such a nostalgic mood today (that’s sarcasm you hear dripping), I figured I’d share with you a column that appears in my book “Northern IlliNOISE: Tales of a Territory”. It was written five years ago when I vented my, ahem, considerable frustrations as the 2004 Cubs completed their tailspin while working as a columnist for The Daily Times in Ottawa, Ill.

So, you know, enjoy it. Or something.

Now entering Cubdumb

The WISCH LIST

Sept. 30, 2004

The (Ottawa, Ill.) Daily Times

Bought a new T-shirt last week.

Front of it reads, “CUBS. Always at the top …

“Or near it.”

Well, truer words were never spoken. Or, I suppose, printed.

Because, after Wednesday’s latest meltdown against the Cincinnati Reds at Wrigley Field, the Chicago Cubs — they of the easy final-week schedule … right? … right? — are no longer at the top of the National League Wild Card race.

But, oh, they’re near it.

Just near enough that they’ll probably continue to tease and torture their legions fans with the possibility of postseason baseball right through Sunday afternoon — before they blow it all in final inning of the final game of the regular season.

Either that, or they’ll just fall flat on their face and lose the next four.

Both ways would be, of course, typical Cubs — the only group of guys who break more hearts than “The Bachelor.”

Lovesick sucker that I am, I was at Wrigley Field Wednesday afternoon and watched the Cubs in all their gory as LaTroy Hawkins — perhaps the worst ninth-inning, two-out, two-strike pitcher in the history of baseball — turn another must-win into a mushed win.

Having lost 4-3 in 12 innings to Cincy, and with Houston knocking off the listless Cardinals (thanks a lot, St. Louis), the Cubs, along with San Francisco, are now a half-game behind the Astros — a team that has merely won 15 in a row at home and hosts the lowly Colorado Rockies for the final three games of the season.

Better put a stop on those Cubs-Braves National League Division Series tickets.

No, it’s not over yet — and I’m hoping beyond hope that the Cubs can somehow pull this thing out — but after watching the Cubs self-immolate with four losses in five games against the Mets and the Reds (the Mets and the Reds!), who can be optimistic at this point?

Certainly not a friend of mine in Chicago, who sent me an e-mail yesterday afternoon with the subject line: “I’m now a D.C. fan.”

There were plenty of other people searching for some kind, any kind of solace outside of Wrigley following Wednesday’s gut-wrenching loss. I felt bad when one poor guy at the crowded intersection of Clark and Waveland was forced to snap out of his misery-induced funk for a moment and hustle across the street as a bus bore down on him.

“I’ve already been run over by a loss,” he said to no one in particular. “I don’t need to get run over again.”

Trampled was the prevailing feeling in Wrigleyville on this brisk, it’s-almost-October afternoon as half its denizens walked in a daze, while the other half shouted into their cell phones, colorfully complaining about the Cubs’ ongoing collapse.

We’ve still got four more days of this stuff?

So caught up in the throes of agony is Chicago these days that on my drive up to Wrigley Field on Wednesday, one borderline hysterical guy called in to a radio station just to bemoan his life as a Cubs fan.

A hip-hop radio station.

All’s not lost, though. If the Cubs don’t make the playoffs, then, hey, at least our October calendars will be cleared up, and we’ll have more time to concentrate on other things.

Like, you know, the Bears.

Heaven help us.

All season long, I’ve stuck by and supported the Cubs — heck, I’ve seen them play in four different states since April — but right now I feel like Julius Caesar with a knife sticking out from between my shoulder blades.

Et tu, Dusty?

Come Friday, the Cubs play the Braves in yet another do-or-die contest. It’s a game that no person with any respect for their mental health and emotional well-being would ever think of attending. It’s a game suited only for masochists and complete gluttons for punishment.

It’s a game that I’ll be at.

Hey, what can I say?

I’m a Cubs fan.

Mad Men is back. And so is Don Draper. Here’s Don’s Guide to Picking Up Women in just four easy steps. Or so.

Today’s Wisch List column from the Kankakee Daily Journal …

Bueller, Bueller … Anyone know the way to Shermer, Ill.?

The WISCH LIST

Aug. 15, 2009

Scour a roadmap of the Land of Lincoln, and you won’t find it anywhere. Plug the town’s name into Mapquest and you’ll get bupkiss. And if you ask a Chicagoan for directions?

Well, whatever you receive in return, it’ll be wrong.

That’s because the town of Shermer, Ill., doesn’t exist.

Although, I hardly let that stop me from setting off in search of the place this past Sunday afternoon. And, as it turned out, I actually found Shermer to be all across Chicago’s North Shore.

There were bits of it here in Highland Park and pieces of it there in Winnetka. I found stretches of Shermer in Northbrook and in Evanston and in Kenilworth.

The town may be mythical. But that doesn’t mean it’s entirely fictional, too.

Just ask Ferris Bueller.

After all, he calls the place home.

On Aug. 6, legendary filmmaker John Hughes, who directed such iconic ‘80s teen comedies as “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” and created the 1990 smash hit “Home Alone,” died of a heart attack at 59 while visiting family in Manhattan.

Hughes grew up along the North Shore and turned it into the backdrop of adolescence for an entire generation. And this week he was remembered at an invitation-only memorial service in Lake Forest attended by the likes of Vince Vaughn, Ben Stein and Matthew Broderick.

Since my invitation must have, you know, gotten lost in the mail, I decided to instead stage my own memorial service for Hughes by seeking out Shermer through a local tour of famous movie locations that can hold its own with anything the hills of Hollywood can offer.

Meant to loosely represent Hughes’ hometown of Northbrook – which once was named Shermerville – Shermer served as the setting for 16 John Hughes movies, including “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” “Sixteen Candles,” “The Breakfast Club,” “National Lampoon’s Vacation,” “Pretty in Pink,” “Weird Science,” “Uncle Buck,” and “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”

And my personal adventure through this imaginary suburb began with me driving north out of Chicago to Evanston, where leafy neighborhood streets look as if they come directly from central casting.

At 2602 Lincoln Street, I puttered – without my car backfiring – past the house where John Candy as “Uncle Buck” babysat his brother’s kids. And less than a mile away, at 3022 Payne Street, sits Samantha Baker’s home from “Sixteen Candles,” where a girl (who wasn’t Molly Ringwald) came out to get the mail as I traveled by.

Leaving Evanston, I then weaved my way north to 230 Oxford Road in Kenilworth, where Steve Martin’s character arrived – finally – for Thanksgiving dinner with his family at the end of “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”

And next up was Winnetka, where I made a quick jaunt past the real estate office at 583 Chestnut Street that employed Katie Bueller (Ferris’ loving mother) before arriving at 671 Lincoln Avenue, where Macaulay Culkin was so famously left “Home Alone.”

Tooling west, I then headed to 2300 Shermer Road in Northbrook, site of the football field at Glenbrook North High School that Judd Nelson’s character marched defiantly across in the closing scene of “The Breakfast Club.”

After driving up Shermer Road – and seeing Northbrook’s water tower appear on the horizon (the “SAVE FERRIS” message on it is long gone) – I popped in at the Northbrook Historical Society and was greeted by the board president …

“Judy Hughes,” she said, much to my amusement, before adding, “No relation. But I get that all the time … And my son’s name is John Hughes, so he got a lot of kidding in high school.”

Hughes – Judy, that is – said that the filmmaker’s passing was the talk of the Northbrook Days festival held in town last weekend.

“It’s sad,” added Liz Green, a lifetime resident who appeared as an extra in “Uncle Buck” when she was 14. “Everyone has a John Hughes story growing up in Northbrook. I still remember kids at (Glenbrook North) wearing T-shirts that said: ‘If it’s good enough for Ferris, it’s good enough for me.’ ”

After bidding Northbrook adieu, I headed into Highland Park and rolled past 1407 Waverly Road, where heartthrob Jake Ryan hosted the wild party in “Sixteen Candles,” before making my final – and favorite stop – on my tour:

The house at 370 Beech Street where Ferris Bueller’s pal, Cameron, sent his father’s Ferrari flying out of the garage and into the wooded ravine below.

I think I could still hear the glass shattering.

So, while Shermer, Ill., exists only in the movies, its homes are firmly planted in reality. And they’re all there just north of Chicago for you to see.

Although, if you do, remember to respect them as private residences.

Otherwise, I’ll send Dean Rooney to look for you.

… Well, gone tanning in South Florida is actually more like it.

In any case, the Wisch List is taking the week off.

But, I’ll be back with a  new column next week. See ya then.

Today’s Wisch List newspaper column from the Kankakee Daily Journal …

 

Bored of Trustees, Chief Illiniwek stirs

 

The WISCH LIST

Aug. 1, 2009

The Chief is dead.

 

Or, is it long live the Chief?

 

“Chief Illiniwek is not dead,” said Steve Raquel, who portrayed the University of Illinois’ beloved – and vilified – symbol as a student in Champaign during the early 1990s. “The university just isn’t recognizing him due to NCAA restrictions.

 

“But, we have a Chief on campus. We have an assistant Chief on campus. We have a Chief outfit. And we have opportunities to dance.”

 

And now, perhaps, new life.

 

Ignored thus far in the swirl of the high-profile admissions scandal that continues to engulf the state’s flagship school – and now threatens to swallow its administration whole – is the saga’s potential impact on the future of the embattled Chief Illiniwek who, you might be surprised to learn, is still battlin’.

 

“We find it all interesting,” Raquel, of Naperville, said on behalf of the Council of Chiefs, a group comprised of Illiniwek’s former portrayers. “Very interesting.”

 

On Tuesday, University of Illinois trustee Lawrence Eppley – who chaired the school’s Board of Trustees in 2006 when it made the controversial decision to retire Chief Illiniwek as the university’s symbol – became the first casualty of the admissions scandal when he stepped down and urged his fellow board members to follow suit.

 

“The public’s confidence in the University must be restored,” Eppley wrote in his letter of resignation to Gov. Pat Quinn, “and one way to begin to restore that confidence is to make a clean start.”

 

Eppley’s acknowledgment of responsibility in the secretive admissions process that, according to the Chicago Tribune, saw more than 800 politically connected applicants gain preferential treatment since 2004, was a far cry from his claim two weeks ago when before the Illinois Admissions Review Commission he said of his role, “It seemed benign back then.”

 

As a U of I alum who wasn’t politicked into school and a longtime defender of all things Chief, I almost choked on the irony of Eppley’s apparent worldview:

 

Clout, benign. Chief Illiniwek, anything but.

 

But, if anything, we know all too well in this state that politics plays a role in most everything. And that includes college, as the Tribune has reported that, in 2003, Eppley was handpicked by Gov. Rod Blagojevich’s inner circle to serve as chairman of the U of I Board of Trustees, allowing him to leapfrog more veteran trustees and then serve in the powerful role for six years rather than the customary two.

 

In recent years, it’s been the opinion of many Illinois alumni, including myself, that politics have seeped far too deep into the university’s decision-making.

 

That’s coming to light now through the admissions scandal, but it was just as apparent when Chief Illiniwek was eliminated in spite of enormous popularity throughout the state.

 

Raquel said that at the time of Illinwek’s ouster, the Council of Chiefs didn’t feel that the university did enough to find a compromise and “Because of political reasons and to keep people’s jobs, they bowed to pressure.”

 

You don’t say.

 

On Wednesday, Tom Livingston, a member of the alumni association’s board of directors and a former Chief Illiniwek, told the Illinois Admissions Review Commission that his group would like to have a bigger role in recommending trustee candidates to the governor. Currently, the governor appoints all nine trustees but a push is on to fill at least six of those positions through election.

 

“If the selection process for trustees goes back to a vote of the Alumni Board, it’s at least feasible for the board to be open to revisiting the issue of the Chief,” Raquel said. “In the past, we’ve felt it was very politicized.”

 

In his July newsletter, Honor the Chief Society co-founder Roger Huddleston wrote about the admissions scandal, “The players that seem to be in the hottest water are those that were most responsible for the attempted elimination of Chief Illiniwek. It gives me no joy that these individuals seem to be reaping what they have sown, not only with the Chief but with other unethical actions.

 

“I do believe the greatness of our traditions as a wonderful university committed to excellence will prevail.”

 

Many hope that those traditions might again one day include Chief Illiniwek, as the symbol remains as revered as ever.

 

“You won’t believe how many people ask about the Chief dancing at their weddings,” said Raquel, who explained that all such requests are politely declined, including that of former Illini quarterback Kurt Kittner who earlier this summer married ex-Illinois tennis player Leila Cehajic.

 

A week ago, in an editorial for the Champaign News-Gazette, Urbana native and U of I alum Roger Ebert called Chief Illiniwek “the “world’s greatest sports symbol.” And last fall, thousands packed Assembly Hall to watch the Chief perform at an event staged by the Students for Chief Illiniwek organization.

 

On Oct. 10, thousands likely will again when current Chief Logan Ponce reprises the role at the Hall following Illinois’ homecoming football game.

 

The Chief Illiniwek situation features multiple complications, including the NCAA’s current ban of Native American imagery and the lack of a true remaining Illini tribe for the university to approach for support, as Florida State University did with the Seminoles.

 

The recent events at U of I, however, have given hope that a potential regime change in Champaign could return Illiniwek from the underground.

 

“We are keeping the tradition alive,” Raquel said. “And hoping the Chief might still return.”