| | Alexis and have a routine. We pick up the granddaughter on Saturday mornings, take her to the Mascot Hall of Fame in Whiting, then go to lunch at El Taco Real on Hoffman in Hammond. We get the little one tuckered out and full of food, then drop her home just in time for a nap. Then we go home and nap too. A nap is pretty easy on a day like today. It's hot and humid out but cool inside and the US Open is on TV. Per usual, I watched about 10 minutes of it before falling |
asleep. I played golf twice this week, hitting the ball as badly as I have in 30 or 40 years. The last time I played golf this bad I was as what they called a "rock piler" at Woodmar Country Club in the early 1970s. Jim Romar was the golf instructor.
This brings up the topic of Woodmar Country Club in Hammond and how it relates to the Mascot Hall of Fame in Whiting. Woodmar was an old as hell workingman's club right off the Borman Expressway. It was, as far as clubs go, pretty inexpensive to join. They had an old golf course with a lot of trees, a swimming pool and a men's grill where women couldn't go. I lost and made a decent amount of money in card games in the Men's grill. I also got a hole in one on number 16 there and won 1200 bucks from the hole in one club. The tradition was that if you got a hole in one, you had to buy everyone in the men's grill a drink that day. The day I got my hole in one, there happened to be a huge meeting. I won 1200 and it cost me 1150 to buy everyone a drink. With tip, I lost money.
The golf course was nice, but I really don't go out golfing in a foursome with three other dudes and spend half the day. I prefer to play at dawn or dusk with one club and two balls. It's called JED golf. I played it a thousand times at Woodmar. That's why I joined - so I could drive a few blocks, get out of my car, pull out a seven iron, play nine holes, and be back home within an hour.
Alexis would also take the kids to the pool there, which for some odd reason, few other people did. Our children were often the only ones at the pool for hours, especially near the end of summer. There was a cook in the grill, a lifeguard sitting in an elevated chair, and a manager there to manage. There would be three or more people working and just one family. It was as if we had our own Olympic-sized swimming pool right next to 150,000 vehicles a day going down 80-94. You couldn't really hear the person next to you with all the truck noise, but at least you could swim without being bothered.
By the way, from what I understand, the vehicle number on 80-94 is over 200,000 a day now.
Every once in a while I would join Alexis and the kids at the pool. "This is great, Alexis. But how can this last?" I'd say to her. "How does this club sustain itself so that we can sit out here with so few other people? It's great, but how long can it last?"
By 2004, I got my answer. The club was forced to sell to Cabela's, which sits there today alongside Walmart. Money talks and families that swim walk. Another Region institution down the drain.
Fast forward to the Mascot Hall of Fame. In 2018, the city of Whiting and a whole bunch of Region luminaries opened the 12-million dollar or so facility to great fanfare. The MHOF was gonna be the focal point for mascots around the world. And for a while, it was. It's a massive three-story glass and steel structure right on Lake Michigan between train tracks and one the largest refineries in the world - BP. There's huge statues out front of Reggie, the MHOF's own mascot, the Phillie Fanatic and other mascots. Inside, there's places to kick balls and climb through obstacle courses and shoot fake tee shirt launchers. That's only on the first floor.
On the second floor, you can go in one of two theaters and dance around while movies about mascots play. There's a table where you can make your own Reggie doll and a studio where you can dress up like a mascot, make a film, and email it to yourself. On the third floor there's a banquet hall with a great view of the Lake and the city of Chicago.
A year or so ago, Alexis and I started bringing the granddaughter there on Saturday mornings. We would arrive at 9:50, hang out with the massive mascot monuments in the parking lot, marvel at BP flames bursting in the air, watch waves hit the beach, and walk in the Mascot Hall of Fame right as it opened. We were often the only people there, at least for the first hour. Sometimes, like during the holidays, they'd have a band play and there would be people there for that. Or one time it was Reggie's birthday, complete with a balloon drop and a bunch of mascot "friends" from around the Chicago area. There were mascots from the DePaul Blue Demons, Chicago Bulls, the Cubs and more. They came out to wish Reggie a happy birthday. Our granddaughter loved it. I have video of the balloon drop. It was awesome.
Today, we arrived at 9:50 like always, walked in at 10:00, and had a massive playground to ourselves for an hour. I felt like we were back at the Woodmar pool. There were a couple people there to check us in, a woman cleaning all of the glass in the whole building, a teenager sitting at the table where you make Reggie dolls, a woman in the gift shop... and us. For an hour.
Now these are all great people that we've gotten to know on our regular visits. I feel horrible for them. As of September 14th, they're probably not gonna have a job, at least not a job in the Mascot Hall of Fame. After six years, they're closing it down. From what I understand, BP may buy this prime real estate, knock down the MHOF building, and build office buildings. No more kicking around a soccer ball, dunking on a six-foot basket, crawling through an obstacle course, or dancing with Reggie on his birthday. That's just on the first floor.
Our granddaughter prefers the second floor. There's a children's play area amongst all of the exhibits. You can play cars on a track, stack doughnuts on a spindle, and walk in and out of a Pla-school treehouse. All told, it's two floors of the greatest playground you ever even heard of.
And we had it all to ourselves today... just like Woodmar pool. It's sad, both of them. Woodmar Country Club closed in 2004. It was an awful fight that I was a part of. There are people to this day who wouldn't stop to spit on me if I was laying by the sidewalk on fire. I tried to save Woodmar. It didn't work.
I'm not gonna do anything of the sort for the Mascot Hall of Fame... besides take my granddaughter there as often as I can until it closes. (We bought a yearly pass). I'll probably send a news crew out when the bulldozer comes by to knock it down, and callers to my show will no doubt have a field day. There's already been a few. They bemoan it as a poor way to spend 10 million dollars plus.
I get all that. It's out of my scope. As with Woodmar, I often sat at the MHOF watching kids run around, realizing that there were sometimes more people working there than attendees.
"I can't figure out why more people don't bring their kids here," I said 20 years ago at Woodmar and I said a few months ago at the Mascot Hall of Fame. "This can't go on. Let's just make the best of it while it's here."
Then I jumped into the pool with my kids (danced with Reggie with my granddaughter), threw them up in the air watched them splash (tossed my granddaughter through the chutes of the obstacle course) and left all tired and full and ready for a nap.
"Another Region institution fading away," I said this morning as we pulled out of the MHOF parking lot. It's the same thing I said on the last day we went swimming at Woodmar pool in 2004.
The golf course was nice, but I really don't go out golfing in a foursome with three other dudes and spend half the day. I prefer to play at dawn or dusk with one club and two balls. It's called JED golf. I played it a thousand times at Woodmar. That's why I joined - so I could drive a few blocks, get out of my car, pull out a seven iron, play nine holes, and be back home within an hour.
Alexis would also take the kids to the pool there, which for some odd reason, few other people did. Our children were often the only ones at the pool for hours, especially near the end of summer. There was a cook in the grill, a lifeguard sitting in an elevated chair, and a manager there to manage. There would be three or more people working and just one family. It was as if we had our own Olympic-sized swimming pool right next to 150,000 vehicles a day going down 80-94. You couldn't really hear the person next to you with all the truck noise, but at least you could swim without being bothered.
By the way, from what I understand, the vehicle number on 80-94 is over 200,000 a day now.
Every once in a while I would join Alexis and the kids at the pool. "This is great, Alexis. But how can this last?" I'd say to her. "How does this club sustain itself so that we can sit out here with so few other people? It's great, but how long can it last?"
By 2004, I got my answer. The club was forced to sell to Cabela's, which sits there today alongside Walmart. Money talks and families that swim walk. Another Region institution down the drain.
Fast forward to the Mascot Hall of Fame. In 2018, the city of Whiting and a whole bunch of Region luminaries opened the 12-million dollar or so facility to great fanfare. The MHOF was gonna be the focal point for mascots around the world. And for a while, it was. It's a massive three-story glass and steel structure right on Lake Michigan between train tracks and one the largest refineries in the world - BP. There's huge statues out front of Reggie, the MHOF's own mascot, the Phillie Fanatic and other mascots. Inside, there's places to kick balls and climb through obstacle courses and shoot fake tee shirt launchers. That's only on the first floor.
On the second floor, you can go in one of two theaters and dance around while movies about mascots play. There's a table where you can make your own Reggie doll and a studio where you can dress up like a mascot, make a film, and email it to yourself. On the third floor there's a banquet hall with a great view of the Lake and the city of Chicago.
A year or so ago, Alexis and I started bringing the granddaughter there on Saturday mornings. We would arrive at 9:50, hang out with the massive mascot monuments in the parking lot, marvel at BP flames bursting in the air, watch waves hit the beach, and walk in the Mascot Hall of Fame right as it opened. We were often the only people there, at least for the first hour. Sometimes, like during the holidays, they'd have a band play and there would be people there for that. Or one time it was Reggie's birthday, complete with a balloon drop and a bunch of mascot "friends" from around the Chicago area. There were mascots from the DePaul Blue Demons, Chicago Bulls, the Cubs and more. They came out to wish Reggie a happy birthday. Our granddaughter loved it. I have video of the balloon drop. It was awesome.
Today, we arrived at 9:50 like always, walked in at 10:00, and had a massive playground to ourselves for an hour. I felt like we were back at the Woodmar pool. There were a couple people there to check us in, a woman cleaning all of the glass in the whole building, a teenager sitting at the table where you make Reggie dolls, a woman in the gift shop... and us. For an hour.
Now these are all great people that we've gotten to know on our regular visits. I feel horrible for them. As of September 14th, they're probably not gonna have a job, at least not a job in the Mascot Hall of Fame. After six years, they're closing it down. From what I understand, BP may buy this prime real estate, knock down the MHOF building, and build office buildings. No more kicking around a soccer ball, dunking on a six-foot basket, crawling through an obstacle course, or dancing with Reggie on his birthday. That's just on the first floor.
Our granddaughter prefers the second floor. There's a children's play area amongst all of the exhibits. You can play cars on a track, stack doughnuts on a spindle, and walk in and out of a Pla-school treehouse. All told, it's two floors of the greatest playground you ever even heard of.
And we had it all to ourselves today... just like Woodmar pool. It's sad, both of them. Woodmar Country Club closed in 2004. It was an awful fight that I was a part of. There are people to this day who wouldn't stop to spit on me if I was laying by the sidewalk on fire. I tried to save Woodmar. It didn't work.
I'm not gonna do anything of the sort for the Mascot Hall of Fame... besides take my granddaughter there as often as I can until it closes. (We bought a yearly pass). I'll probably send a news crew out when the bulldozer comes by to knock it down, and callers to my show will no doubt have a field day. There's already been a few. They bemoan it as a poor way to spend 10 million dollars plus.
I get all that. It's out of my scope. As with Woodmar, I often sat at the MHOF watching kids run around, realizing that there were sometimes more people working there than attendees.
"I can't figure out why more people don't bring their kids here," I said 20 years ago at Woodmar and I said a few months ago at the Mascot Hall of Fame. "This can't go on. Let's just make the best of it while it's here."
Then I jumped into the pool with my kids (danced with Reggie with my granddaughter), threw them up in the air watched them splash (tossed my granddaughter through the chutes of the obstacle course) and left all tired and full and ready for a nap.
"Another Region institution fading away," I said this morning as we pulled out of the MHOF parking lot. It's the same thing I said on the last day we went swimming at Woodmar pool in 2004.
| | This is a 360-degree view of the first floor of the Mascot Hall of Fame in Whiting this morning, Saturday, June 15, 2024, at 10:45 am. |
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