Welcome to the Working Week

In late August 55 years ago, I finished my first 8 hours-a-day, 5 days-a-week job. This led me to think about how much has changed about the nature of work and our metropolitan area since then.

Because of an early interest in becoming a lawyer, I asked my father to help me find a summer job at a downtown law firm after my junior year in high school in 1966. I took the train downtown to talk to Irving Goldberg, the head of his company’s law firm, only to be told at the end of the discussion that it didn’t hire office boys (as they were known back then). I liked the experience; my mother was none too happy he wasted my time.

Two years earlier, my father left his CPA firm, whose largest client was Pick Hotels, for private industry. He kept contact with various people from his accounting days, one of whom was Alan Altheimer, head of the law firm that represented Pick Hotels. This trip downtown was successful, and I was hired as one of two office boys at Altheimer, Gray, Naiburg, Strasburger & Lawton. My salary: $60 a week ($505 in 2021 dollars).

Chicago and North Western Hubbard Woods Station

We were living at the time in the North Shore suburbs, so I made the round-trip commute on the pre-Metra Chicago and North Western train from the Hubbard Woods station to what we simply called the North Western station. A monthly pass was a little more than $30 (about $250 in today’s dollars). Upon arriving downtown (the passengers were mostly men, almost all clad in jackets/suits and ties), I walked through 2 North Riverside Plaza (formerly the Daily News Building) out to W. Madison Street for a 5-block, 10-minute walk to the 18^th-floor offices in the 1 North LaSalle Building. Walking back to the station after work, I’d pass the iconic Cohasset Punch (actually Ladner Brothers) at W. Madison and S. Wells streets before buying the Chicago Daily News (7 cents a copy, I believe) to read on the train home.

2 N. Riverside Plaza

The law firm, founded in 1914 by Louis Altheimer, Alan’s father, had only about 20 attorneys on staff at the time. My duties included photocopying (the Xerox machine had curved glass), making deliveries and pick-ups around the Loop, filing documents at the Civic (now Daley) Center (then the city’s tallest building, recently surpassing the Prudential and Board of Trade) and taking care of mail (the postage meter had a crank). Ironically, 15 years later, in my first job in public relations, the low-rent agency still had a curved-glass Xerox machine and postage meter with a crank, as well as a plug-in switchboard and crappy Smith-Corona typewrites that punched holes in the paper when typing periods.

Daley (formerly Civic) Center

The office had very few amenities, even for the attorneys. During my first few weeks, the office manager installed a coffee machine; despite that, the lawyers still went downstairs for coffee breaks because they didn’t like the instant coffee. Lunch was almost always in a brown paper bag my mother prepared. Occasionally, I’d meet my father at Bolling’s or perhaps Harding’s, where my mother claimed dad learned how to carve by watching the guys behind the counter.

I had a few notable experiences that summer. One morning I had a delivery to the brokerage Paine Webber Jackson & Curtis at 208 S. LaSalle St. Upon alighting from the escalator, I viewed the vast second-floor trading department that covered the entire floor. Seated at the very first desk in the near corner: Gale Sayers, who as a Chicago Bears running back was voted 1965 NFL Rookie of the Year by three wire services. In those days, even the superstars had off-season jobs.

A lunchtime meeting with my friend and neighbor Richard Friedman educated me on “The Chicago Way.” Richard was working at the Civic Center, and I asked what he was doing. “I’m on hour one of my two-hour lunch break,” he replied. In talking about his work (he actually did), Richard related that on his first day his supervisor showed him the time clock. The man added, “See these guys here? They’re punched in to 5 o’clock but don’t expect to find them after noon.”

With my newfound riches, my father opened a savings account at his bank, Lake Shore National at 605 N. Michigan Ave. I stayed with the bank and its four successors until early this year, after Chase announced a $35 a month checking account fee; the bank later changed it to $15 a month but free if you had direct deposits (too late, we had already opened a new account).

Lake Shore National (now Chase) Bank

I returned to Altheimer Gray (it later shortened the name to Altheimer & Gray) the following summer, with a raise to $65 a week. Duties were the same, and I don’t remember anything notable at work. I was downtown for the unveiling of the controversial Picasso sculpture on August 15, 1967. Back in those days, young Black boys with shoeshine boxes fanned out over the Loop. From them I learned about a Spit Shine (I thought he’d said “Smith Shine”). I’d get a 25-cent shine every so often, which was much cheaper than in a shoeshine parlor. Because dignitaries from around the world were attending the ceremony, the Chicago Police took it upon themselves to run the shoeshine boys out of the area. Heaven forbid our city’s great international image should be tarnished by youngsters hustling to make some legitimate cash. Of course, in a little more than a year, the Chicago Police would do their best to tarnish that image big time.

Picasso sculpture

I would return to downtown commuting in 1969 after working the previous summer at my father’s envelope factory. Our family moved back into the city in 1970, and I never moved to the suburbs. Until going into business for myself in 2000, my commute generally involved CTA buses. One of these days, I’ll take the train up to the North Shore, just to re-live those summer days. And I can spot several buildings taller than the Daley Center just by looking out our windows.