Shopping for homes in Chicago’s suburbs with a very small budget, I became quickly acquainted with the most common foreclosure scenario: broken pipes, water damage from above and below, mushy floors, foundation damage and neighbors who may or may not have been on the police department’s list of usual suspects.
Dozens of previews later, I found myself in Al Capone’s old stomping ground: Cicero. Cicero lies within Chicago’s so-called “Bungalow Belt”, an aptly named spiral of stalwart brick homes dispersed through several close-lying suburbs. Cicero is a town infamous for its gang activity both of old and of late and it may be said that Cicero’s Finest are some of the hardest working police officers in the near suburbs of Chicago – but more about them later.
These once-grand but now dying bungalows began to blend together and, on one particular day, when my family accompanied me and my unshakable Realtor (a friend from church) on a seemingly endless series of showings, it began to look as if the sea of bungalows would fail to yield up anything remotely inhabitable. That was the day we happened upon the Honeycomb House.
The house featured a stunning three-sided facade of golden brick, each brick half textured and half smooth, lending the house a checkerboard- or honeycomb-like appearance. Stained glass roses adorned the three angled tiers of front-facing windows and the roof line promised a bright and spacious attic. As we approached, however, it soon became clear that something was amiss. The side door had been kicked in and gang graffiti were visible inside.
Within a few short minutes of our 911 call, two police cars careened down the block and stopped in front of the house. From one police car emerged a jocular blond giant with massive tattoos and from the other car stepped a swarthy and sober officer easily one and a half feet shorter. They listened to our description of the situation and, within three minutes or so, determined that the house was vacant and safe for us to enter.
(To be continued)
