Albany Park

There is something satisfying about riding a train to the end of the line. During the first weekend of April my husband and I took the Kimball brown line L train to the last stop, Kimball, in Albany Park. It was a Saturday with mild weather.

I purposely didn’t research much about the area before we left. Ever since my visit to East Garfield Park I’ve been wary about reading potentially biased information online, which might change how I experience the neighborhood.

When we exited the train station we walked into the middle of chanting protesters holding signs. I figured we must have arrived at the hub of activity for the neighborhood. Protesters tend to congregate where the most people will see them. We glanced up and down Lawrence Ave., the main business street. We saw a bunch of stores off to the left, so we decided to walk west from the train station.

I’d just read about the recently defeated Alderman complaining the area was being overrun by hipsters and yuppies. Looking around my husband commented that the hipsters must not have gotten the memo. If anything, the street looked like the Land That Time Forgot, circa 1980. It was a preserved street of pre-gentrification gritty inner city.

I was reminded of New York City, when Times Square was still full of peep shows and questionable electronics stores. It made me strangely nostalgic for the NYC I remembered as an art student at Pratt in the late 1980s.

West of the train station Lawrence was lined with an abundance of quaint businesses, like lots of travel agencies, shoddy imported foreign goods, and even a photo store. I haven’t seen a business specifically for processing photographs in years. I was also reminded of why modern efficient corporations, such as Walmart, are popular instead of some of the seedier retailers. It’s easy to be too nostalgic for the old days.

As we walked farther we noticed a restored theater. Across the façade was a quotation about freedom. As we got closer we could read the attribution… Larry Flynt, the famous pornographer. Later we would find out that the Admiral, and surrounding businesses, were a magnate for travelers going through O’Hare airport. However, the adult theater had recently won a good neighbor award for its exemplary civic participation.

If we had wanted to find the changing parts of the neighborhood, with the hipsters and yuppies, we should have gone east and south from the train station. That area was filling with trendy ethnic restaurants and coffee shops.

At one time Albany Park was Chicago’s Koreatown. There were still a number of signs lettered in Korean, although I saw a lot of vacant store fronts. The area is one of the most ethnically diverse in the country. I sensed an uneasy truce among the different nationalities. I was amazed at how many “we call police” and home security signs we saw in front of residences.

Along Lawrence were a wide range of hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I’m not picky, but none tempted us. Finally, we decided to seek out a well rated spot for thin crust pizza. To reach the dining room we first walked through the take out package liquor store, past the length of the bar, to the dimly lit back.

Like most of the other businesses, it was a throwback to an earlier time. The décor was red vinyl booths, floor length mirrors on wood paneling, with accent rock walls. The menu boasted the last time it was remodeled was the late 1970s. The only recent update I could find was an electronic jukebox, which could be accessed through a mobile app and took credit cards. The thin crust pizza was good, although we prefer options in the South Loop.

So far the restaurant is the only place in the north where I’ve seen White Sox games broadcast instead of the Cubs. We had the dining room to ourselves. Only bar flies sat in front along the stools. The waitress said their regular diners were out with their families for Easter weekend. Our own daughter was away on a trip to Germany, so I was fine with skipping the family-oriented celebrations.

After lunch we walked mostly in the North Mayfair district of historic brick bungalows. We were surprised to find ourselves at the southern edge of a large forest preserve, which continues north and into the suburbs. As we strolled I noticed a section of the bungalows had unique stain glass windows. None appeared to be standard. They changed from house to house.

When we started getting tired of walking I thought I’d found a trail back to the edge of the forest preserve, where we could catch a bus to the train station. When we arrived it turned out to be a section of abandoned elevated train tracks instead. I wondered if it would be turned into a multi-use trail in the future, like the 606. Seems like Albany Park is one more area of the city headed for changes.