Update!    Update #2     Update #3

The Picture, not yet hung.

Next time you’re in the Gold Coast area of downtown Chicago, please stop in at The Pump Room and see if my picture is still on the wall. I’d really appreciate it, because now I’m afraid to go back…

Almost two years ago my Uncle Hank and I and our respective spouses stayed at the Ambassador East Hotel in Chicago’s Gold Coast district. Aunt Katie took a picture of Hank and me, and we’ve been trying all this time for one of us to get our picture hung on the Pump Room wall, along with those of hundreds of celebrities who have visited this famed restaurant and bar. You can read the full story below, but since it may seem like a semi-boring travelogue to you, let me get to the quick: After all this time, our picture was finally on the wall!

Is it still there after nearly two months? Or did it fall off, or get removed by an alert bartender? Are the police waiting for me to show up for a look, like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime?

I need to know! So if you’re in the neighborhood, stop in at The Ambassador East on State Parkway. To the left of the lobby is the Pump Room. Climb the stairway filled with pictures, go around the bar, and head for the alcove straight ahead. If we’re still there, Uncle Hank and I are bottom row center on the west wall. It is a fitting location…we’re right next to Bozo The Clown.

     Entering the Pump Room (not the alcove)                              The alcove afterwards.

THE FULL STORY

A group of us journeyed to Chicago to watch the 1^st Bears-Packers game of the 2004 season. We didn’t have tickets, but we had the next best thing: a private room at Mike Ditka’s Restaurant, with a big-screen TV and our own bartender. (This is a story unto itself, but for now, it must remain classified). As a Chicago native, I enjoyed watching the game with other transplants like Jimmy Barnes, Ted Skora, and Uncle Hank, especially since the Bears won and noted Packer fan John Van Horn had to pay me $5.

Uncle Hank and I were staying at The Ambassador East, in Chicago’s Gold Coast district, two blocks from Rush Street. Later that night we met downstairs at The Pump Room, an establishment noted for attracting celebrities since the late 1930’s. The Frank Sinatra booth is cordoned off, but on a slow night you can sit at Booth #1 and feel like a star. The walls are lined with black and white photographs of famous actors, actresses, athletes, and politicians who visited The Pump Room throughout the decades. (Just for fun, go to The Pump Room website and read the history at www.pumproom.com, especially about a young drummer/singer who was denied entry because he didn’t have a dinner jacket. He later named an album after the incident: ‘No Jacket Required’).

We didn’t spot any celebrities that night, but we did have a few martinis while ensconced in an alcove tucked behind the small stage that featured a 3-piece band and a marvelous singer. It was after another martini or two that Aunt Katie took a picture of Uncle Hank and me, dressed like dapper gents. I think it was Uncle Hank who said with the last sip of his martini, "Our picture should be on this wall!"

And thus the Secret Plan was formed!

Upon returning home, I changed the picture to B&W, printed it out on glossy photo paper, and bought a frame that matched as closely as I remembered to the original Pump Room frames—black with gold inlay. Uncle Hank and I autographed the photo, and then we waited…

Almost a year went by. Then Uncle Hank and Aunt Katie journeyed to Chicago to stay at the Ambassador East, bringing the picture along. A phone call would be made when the picture was on the wall. Alas, Uncle Hank returned with picture in hand. In a weird coincidental foo-fah, The Pump Room had been booked for a wedding reception. It was filled with Texans, and no outsiders were allowed in. "They were wearing ten-gallon hats and big cowboy boots, and probably six-shooters!" explained Uncle Hank. "I had to take a pass on the Secret Mission." This was Thwart # 1 to our plan

Mrs. Scoop and I then planned a February Secret Mission, but we were thwarted again when illness intervened. So it was not until mid-September that we had another shot at the clandestine caper…

About to go in for a concert and my annual ‘culture’ treatment (see details below at The Concert and King Tut), I booked a room at the Ambassador East. Checking in early, we waited in The Pump Room for our room to be readied. A good sign awaited me: as I casually meandered about, I saw that there was now a perfect open wall-spot in the alcove. But I wasn’t prepared; the picture was still in our luggage. Perhaps tonight…

After the concert, The Pump Room was full, and I stayed the mission until tomorrow. Plus, this was no dive where you nonchalantly planted a picture with no repercussions. Everything was ultra-elegant, with fluted glasses and signature china, staff all in crisp fashionable uniforms. Besides, a well-dressed couple was in the alcove. I was relieved…

See, I had about lost my nerve. Talk is cheap when you’re 150 miles away, and you brag you will complete the Mission. But here I was, and the plastic shopping bag holding the picture was getting a bit wet from my sweating hand.

I had experimented with various methods of hanging the picture. I certainly didn’t want to do any damage to the elegant, historical Pump Room walls, and had finally settled on 3M Command Mini-Hooks, with adhesive backing that can be safely removed without tearing off wall panel coating. This was important, and I had experimented at home on various textures. But this was for real.

That night I used a Mini-Hook to adhere the picture to the closet wall in our suite, also practicing my hanging technique. The Secret Mission would have to be done quickly and accurately, as I suspected there would be no time for fumbling or bumbling in The Pump Room. After two attempts, I was satisfied with the hanging procedure I would use. The frame stuck tight, and it was still there two hours later. I took it down to make sure I could peel the adhesive tape off, and then went to bed after some excellent room service, albeit expensive ($20 burger plus I had to give Mrs. Scoop $100 shopping money).

Next day was the ‘culture’ day, which I did indeed enjoy. Afterwards, we hit some saloons, with our goal to cruise the Blues clubs. It was the Guinness and Miller Lites that done us in. We heard some good piano, but were too worn out for any clubs. Back at the suite, tired, we forced ourselves to get prepared for the Pump Room. Picture frame ready, we headed down…

DISCLAIMER!!! OK, Mrs. Scoop didn’t want to go, so I made her go. It was 9:45 PM, and the Pump Room closes at 10 during the week, so it was a scurry. The staff was gracious, but all the stuff we had seen on the elevator menu was not currently available for late-comers. We declined the dinner offer and left, but not before I took one more look at the alcove. It was empty and inviting, but I would be too conspicuous.

Now it was the day to check out of The Ambassador East; the Pump Room would be out of reach for at least another six months. So I made the move…

With baggage ready for the valet, I reclaimed the suitcase momentarily and got the picture. Mrs. Scoop and I snooped about the Pump Room, saw a moment, and asked the bartender if we could take some pictures. Of course, she said, and I’m sure it’s a common question. Even so, we glanced carefully before heading to the alcove.

It took two tries to get the hook right, and I leaned casually against the wall for almost a minute to make sure the hook held. Mrs. Scoop is not a noted photographer, but she did well for the brief moment we had. Then we headed back.

Once home, I phoned Uncle Hank and Aunt Katie to report success. I then sent them pictures via email, and got this response from Aunt Katie: "Scoop, you are the man!!!  It looks faaabulous, Darling.  I think it's most appropriate that you two are side by side with BOZO.  Can't wait to hear all the details!"

Yes, Uncle Hank and I are right next to Bozo The Clown on the wall. And it is indeed apropos. So thank you, Aunt Katie, but here’s the rub: I am a worry-wart. What if the picture fell and shattered just as a red-headed Irish Dancing Gal took another shot of Tequila and slipped off her spiked heels to do a jig? Or a portly politician was about to delve into a thick steak and the force of a behind-the-head falling picture lodged a large portion of Porterhouse into his proboscis, fork included?

So you can see I am worried. Then again, perhaps it is a cruel trick by the Pump Room: leaving that one spot open for the next fool who wants to be famous.

Only you can help me. Go to the Pump Room and find out.

But don’t tell them why…please!

THE CONCERT

It was a trade-off: Mrs. Scoop and I go to Chicago and we get to have fun, but I must also get some ‘culture’. For my pleading, I got to go see Jeff Beck at the Chicago Theater. Yes, for you younger dudes, he is 62. And he is not ‘Beck’. Nor, as young Guy asked: "Is that the comedian guy?"

If you know who he is and care to read on, please do so. If you don’t and do, check out www.jeffbeck.com. All I can say is that the concert was special. The Chicago Theater is a small, intimate theater, and even though we were at the back, the sound was great. There was no opening group, just Jeff Beck for more than two hours and two encores. Beth Hart was fantastic, a singer compared to Janis Joplin in some reviews. Weird Note: I was hoping to hear some particular songs, but since Jeff Beck doesn’t sing, I figured it was a long-odds deal. Maybe Rod Stewart would show up impromptu and do a couple of oldies with him from the old band days. Of course, that would never happen. And that morning, before we drove down, I was humming ‘Somewhere (Over The Rainbow)’ in the shower. Don’t know why that song came into my head…

So Beth comes out for a song here and there, and then belts out ‘Ain’t Superstitious’, the song I figured I wouldn’t get to hear, and I’m in heaven. She sang some more oldies and some new JB material. In between were solos so sweet that even Mrs. Scoop said later: "How did he do that guitar stuff? I felt it all over, and that one song brought tears to my eyes."

Jeff Beck came out for an encore, and then we headed out to beat the crowd. Mrs. Scoop and I were just outside the theater door when we heard more applause. We came back in time to hear Jeff Beck and his piano player doing a very sweet duet of ‘Somewhere (Over The Rainbow)’. A very strange choice for an encore, and an utterly eerie one to me.

Eric Clapton played in Chicago the next night, at a much larger venue. Who’s better? Don’t know, but I’m glad I got to see Jeff Beck up close.

KING TUT

This is what Mrs. Scoop had wanted to see the last time, when we had to cancel. The Field Museum is always impressive, and I also wanted to see Sue, the largest intact T-Rex skeleton. 

The Tut exhibit was fascinating, although The Boy King was not officially there to greet us. Somebody said he was up in Nova Scotia on a tour, but we did get to see a lot of his stuff, plus some real hieroglyphics. Everything is just like you see in the movies, and I had to constantly remind myself that this was all from 1325 BC. He was pretty rich, judging from the gold headdresses and amulets, and his furniture beats the heck out of most of what I’ve got at home now, 3331 years later. There were also X-rays of King Tut. Apparently he had a big head and long, sharp teeth. Here's a picture...

        Wait--that's Sue the T-Rex!

THANKS TO THE AMBASSADOR EAST!

After the Pump Room picture-hanging, and lunch in Chinatown, we headed home happy. I would also like to thank the Ambassador East, now under new management. Mrs. Scoop is the Queen of Hotel Upgrades, especially in Vegas, but this was special. I made the reservations, but since I have been known to seriously screw up on these types of matters, Mrs. Scoop called back to inform the front desk that we were coming in for our 22^nd wedding anniversary. Now, technically, it’s not until December, and this was September, but the real date (12/30) gets hectic with Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and the welcome arrival of Scoop Jr., the California Kid. So, it was just a little white lie, right?

Anyway, I had requested a room with a view. What we got was a master suite with a great view, and shortly after we set the luggage in place we were greeted with a serious cheese tray and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket. We still have the wine, and it will be opened on December 30^th, with a salute to the Ambassador East.

THE CIRCLE OF CLOWNS

A few weeks ago I ran into Mike Davids, a publisher near Chicago who loves to camp. He gets around, so I mentioned the Pump Room picture, wondering if he might be near it soon. He said he would check it out. I mentioned it was right next to Bozo, and that’s when the conversation got into ‘The Twilight Zone’, sort of…

"I knew Bozo," Mike said, referring to Bob Bell. "At first (through a magazine he publishes) a customer introduced me to Cookie the Clown. I went to some of Cookie’s parties and had a great time. But you have to realize that Cookie, while a big part of The Bozo Show, was in a lower ‘clown’ circle than Bozo himself. The clown circles didn’t often intersect. It was a clown-status thing. But then I did get invited to a Bozo party, and for a brief moment I was inside the uppermost clown circle."

I didn’t ask what ‘proper attire’ would be for one of these parties.

Ha! Success and Fame await! Or maybe not...see for yourself:

     In mid-September of 2006 I hung the infamous picture of Uncle Hank and me on the Pump Room wall in the alcove. I used 3M tape with a picture-hanging hook. I figured the photo would drop or get knocked off eventually. But in my daydreams, I envisioned a well-meaning maintenance worker coming along, seeing the dropped or even just-loose photo, and conscientiously fastening it permanently to the wall. Yes, a pipe-dream indeed...

     No NewsHounds ventured to The Pump Room to investigate and let me know the fate of the photo. But on Saturday, 12/9/06, Uncle Hank and Aunt Katie went to Chicago, Katie with camera in hand. She was there for another reason, in that, in a major coincidence, the Chicago chapter of The League of American Pen Women was meeting at the Pump Room for a luncheon. Katie is an esteemed member, and knows a good story when she sees it...which I hoped was the picture still on the wall! The League was formed in 1897 in Washington DC when three women journalists were refused membership in the all-male Press Club. And thus history was made, and even more so when Katie Witek hit the Pump Room. Now, in her own spy-like words, she tells what occurred:

     "After the luncheon I tried to secretly check out the alcove, but I couldn't get too close. I hung back with my friend Maureen and sipped some wine. I mosied into the alcove again, but the bartender was milling about, eyeing us, since there were plenty of better tables available elsewhere. We had to be discreet and not call attention to ourselves. I felt like a moll with a gat in her glove, but this time it was a camera ready to chew up the scenery if necessary."

     OK, Professor Katherine Witek did not actually say that last line. But the Pump Room evokes that era of pomp and Tommy-guns. It makes you talk that way, especially after some of their fine wine, or a couple of smooth martinis. So what Katie did was have Maureen 'stand guard' while Katie, as she put it, "slunk in to see if the picture was still there."

     Uncle Hank had promised he would call as soon as he knew, but no call came. And I didn't want to call him because I feared the answer. I was headed back to work after lunch Sunday when I saw his van in the rearview mirror. He was about fifty feet away when he stopped at his driveway to get his mail and saw me waiting. I gestured "what?!" And then Uncle Hank raised his hands in a victory pose. "It's still there!" he yelled. "And Katie says it looks like it's screwed into the wall!"

     I had to get back to work pronto, so it was left at that. Uncle Hank wouldn't straight-up lie to me, but he's a prankster, so the worm of doubt was in my head. I held out for an hour and then called him. In his most serious tone he said, "I'm not lying. The picture is on the wall, Katie says it's flat against the wall, like it's screwed in, and, get this--there's only one other autographed picture in the alcove, and that's of one of the Presidents--Carter, I think. I'll print off copies of the pictures Katie took."

     I had them in my hands a short time later, and here they are. Uncle Hank did some computer stuff to get the sunray from the window off Picture #1, but in Picture #2 it sure looks like screws holding the picture to the wall. God Bless that maintenance person!

     Picture #1...there we are, for now and forever...we hope.

      Picture #2...with what we hope are screws!

     Uncle Hank is headed back to the Pump Room New Year's Eve day. He'll watch the Bears/Packers game at Ditka's, but then journey over to get another picture, one with a date-stamp on it. Stay tuned!

     Almost-Discouraging Note: Uncle Hank called me today, just about a week later, and said he had another Update. I stopped up and what he told me was at first saddening. My cousin 'D' was at an office party at the Pump Room Friday night, and called Hank because she had heard about the picture but couldn't find it. Uncle Hank tried to direct her via cell phone, telling her we were by Bozo, but apparently there is another picture of Bozo, which completely confused her. He then told her it was by the window in the alcove, at which point she said there were no pictures by the window area. This means either the Pump Room is undergoing extensive remodeling, or 'D' had too many Gin Fizzes and was lost in the main dining area, which has windows but no pictures. Uncle Hank and I think it's the latter. Office parties make you get that way...     

       UPDATE #2

     Well, it's now way after New Year's Eve, and still no further confirmation on our Pump Room photo. Blame it on NBC. See, the entire expedition was based on the Bears/Packers game. Noted Packer-Backer John Van Horn had a large group with game tickets in hand. Uncle Hank and his desperadoes, ticket-less, would watch the game at Ditka's. Uncle Hank couldn't get the same private room as he had the time the picture was hung, but he did have a table for ten reserved for noon. Both bands of fans would rendezvous later, and sometime before, or maybe the next day, Hank would taxi over to the Pump Room for more evidence.

     That was before NBC in all its infinite greed changed the game time from noon to 7:15. They can do this one time, per the NFL agreement, and this was it. Obviously NBC figured it could pump up the advertising revenue by making it an evening game, not only because of the notorious Bears/Packers rivalry, but also because the Packers had one chance in hell of making it to the Playoffs. This involved a convoluted set of factors, with certain teams winning and other teams losing during the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday games, and the Sunday noon game. One other slim factor was the Packers beating the Bears.

     The game-time change hit the news Tuesday am, the day after Christmas. A bunch of fans from both ticket and non-ticket holders met later that day to see 'Rocky Balboa', a guys' afternoon out. They then hit a saloon HQ to confer with more from both camps. I was there, and it was a sad and angry meeting. First, the game day was New Year's Eve. A game time of noon would give the lucky ticket-holders time to regroup and get ready for the evening festivities. But now they would be lucky to just get out of Soldier Field by midnight, especially since most of the Chicago partying and fireworks would be right there along Lake Shore Drive. Secondly, repeated attempts by Uncle Hank to change his table time at Ditka's to 7pm were unsuccessful. The people at Ditka's tried their best and were very apologetic, but Ditka's tables for the evening of New Year's Eve had been booked solid for months. They even confided to Uncle Hank that those with evening reserved seating would probably be given a time-frame for dining--no staying at the dinner table for the entire game. To add to Ditka's nightmare, they would have to contend with the usual overflow bar crowd of late-night partiers plus the New Year's Eve incomers plus before-and-after diners wanting to see the game.    

     The end result was that those from the planned expedition with tickets sold their tickets, and Uncle Hank was forced to cancel his Ditka's reservations. Everyone stayed home.

     Lo and Behold, the Packers won the game, but it didn't hurt the Bears, as they had already clinched home field advantage and a Playoff berth. As for the Packers, they had already lost any chance at getting into the Playoffs by Saturday am. NBC had screwed with a whole lot of people's plans for naught. We all hope they got screwed in the advertising-revenue department, then, and forever!

     So still we wait for another confirmed sighting of our Pump Room picture. Won't you please help?

     It's been more than two years since Uncle Hank and I planned The Pump Room Photo caper. For the hoi polloi who don't get over to The Ambassador East Hotel in Chicago's Gold Coast, near infamous Rush Street, The Pump Room has been a hangout for martini-swigging stars since 1938. It's the home of Booth #1 and the Frank Sinatra booth (check out the interesting Pump Room history at www.pumproom.com ). Photos of visiting movie and TV stars and other celebrities adorn the dark-paneled walls. It was in the small alcove behind the piano stage that I hung the black and white photo of Uncle Hank and I that Professor Aunt Katie had taken six months before in the same spot. At that time the wall seemed full, but when I returned six months later, there was a perfect blank spot just waiting for me, and I used special 3M picture-hanging tape so as not to damage the revered wall. I didn't notice then that I had put Uncle Hank and me right next to Bozo the Clown. As Aunt Katie later said, it was 'apropos'.

     I couldn't get back for quite a while to see if the photo remained. My niece Donna called Uncle Hank on her cell phone to report that there were no pictures anywhere on any wall at the Pump Room, but it was an office party, so we dismissed that potential sighting. Aunt Katie finally made it there, and we were thrilled to find that Uncle Hank and I were still on the wall, this time apparently screwed tight. Scoop Jr. was in Chicago last July, and for exercise rode a friend's bicycle ten miles to verify. Yes, we were still there! Noted insurance executive Steve Wright and his beautiful wife Cindy, Realtor Extraordinaire, also made an attempt, but according to Steve's phone message from The Pump Room, the photos on the walls were "too martini and too much black & white" for them to find us. So now I had to see for myself...

     Mrs. Scoop and I came in for the John Fogerty concert Wednesday, 11/29, and stayed at the Ambassador East (see my Rants & Raves below). We checked in, I had a nervous cocktail in the room, and then we checked out The Pump Room. Alas, as soon as we passed the bar I could tell Uncle Hank and I were gone. Bozo no longer had us for a photo buddy. Instead, we had been replaced by another center picture, and another row of photos below that. We had been thrown out of the alcove.

Replaced! (middle, 2nd row up, left of Bozo)

     Mrs. Scoop patted my arm gently, and then suggested we look around. "Maybe they moved it," she said, the optimistic, caring lady that she is. We scanned the rest of the alcove in vain and stepped on out. Walls of photos laughed at me...no Scoop, no Uncle Hank. And then, despondent, ready to drown my sorrows with glass upon glass of martinis filled with very sharp plastic toothpicks that would blind me well before the gin, Mrs. Scoop grabbed my sleeve. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Look, Scoop...that picture...it's...it's...Tony Danza!" 

     OK, I lied for dramatic effect. There was our photo, on the adjoining alcove partition, hung way up high. Only a maintenance person with a ladder could have put it there. True, some damage had occurred: the glass had fallen out of the frame, and now a corner of the photo had curled up, probably from hot air caused by cigars and politicians. Two days later, before leaving the Ambassador East, I took photos of the evidence that our parking meter o' fame had not expired.

                   Movin' on up! (2nd up on left)                              Left, 2nd from top

     I emailed the new pix to Uncle Hank and Aunt Katie. Again, I had not really looked closely at the surroundings, since I had, using the guise of a gawking tourist, surreptitiously asked the bar manager for permission to take pictures. It was Aunt Katie's email reply that put it in perspective: "Scoop, the photo has been moved to a more prominent location, easier to see, right? Not only that, but you two have ditched Bozo and now have top billing over Fred MacMurray and June Haver!! Next, who knows, you could move right on up until you'll be topping Frank Sinatra or maybe even Marilyn Monroe..."

     We'll see. Meanwhile, still at the Ambassador East, Mrs. Scoop decided one of us should nonchalantly inform Upper Management that one of The Pump Room photos needed repair. But fearful of losing this new high-profile location, we let it go. Upon further review, Uncle Hank is convinced that the photo glass will be replaced and our picture will remain safe. "After all," he said, "that maintenance guy (or gal) isn't going to climb that ladder more than he/she has to. Just unscrew one picture, replace the glass while you're on the ladder, and screw it back in."

     We are sure we will remain semi-famous. But just in case, will you check it out for us? Email me at scoop@scoopjackson.net. And just in case you're like Steve Wright and the photos all seem to blend together, here is a secret map...

PS: Remember, there are two Bozo pictures in The Pump Room!

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