What to name the former Cabrini-Green? To me, there's only one right answer
A recent Chicago Tribune editorial brought something to my attention that made me shake my head.
Cabrini-Green is one part of Chicago that needs no introduction. But the neighborhood hasn't really been like what people imagine for many years. Since the early 2000s, the mid-rise Reds and high-rise Whites ere torn down one by one. The last White was knocked down in 2011. The oldest part of the development, the Frances Cabrini Rowhouses, is in limbo - half of it has been emptied out and blocked off, and word has it that remaining half is going to be made into mixed-income housing.
A mixed-income housing project was built in its place. The idea was to make it 1/3 market-rate, 1/3 affordable housing, and the remaining third would be reserved for the highrises' former public housing residents. Except, as I figured out back in 2008, when I first took interest in the development, the math didn't ad up. Only about a third of people who once lived in the high-rises would be able to come back to the neighborhoods.
The original plan was to leave the rowhouses 100 percent public housing. But now that that promise has been broken, the proportions look even worse.
The Cabrini-Green is across the 'L' tracks from the Gold Coast, one of Chicago's most upscale neighborhood. And once the Reds and Whites started coming down, developers pounced.
According to the Tribune editorial, those developers have been looking for something else to call the area. They've floated "NoCa" - for "North of Chicago Avenue" (which forms the neighborhood's southern border).
To Tribune editorial board's credit, it called out the suggestion for what it is - marketing speak at its blandest. Chicago neighborhood names, the editorial board argued, have character. So the board suggested that the readers come up with alternatives.
I considered suggesting resurrecting Little Sicily - the neighborhood's name from before the first public housing development was built. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that there was only one name that fit.
Cabrini-Green became infamous across the country because of its crime and poverty. But, as I've written before, it wasn't all that Cabrini-Green was. It was a place where families helped each other out, because they knew that couldn't rely on anyone but themselves. It was a place where kids played, went to school and found work. It was a place where parties and barbeques were held during the weekends, and where the pews of the local churches were full every Sunday. There were community gardens and murals. There was pain and death, but there were also joys. Cabrini-Green was a community. A home.
Even after the buildings were torn down, many residents still came to worship in neighborhood churches and tend to community gardens. They still held parties. I know one man who came from as far as Detroit on his beat-up truck.
When the buildings came down, some residents were able to move to other public housing developments. Some were actually able to move to better housing in working-class neighborhoods, or even in the suburbs. But most got Section 8 vouchers, and most wound up in neighborhoods that weren't much safer, or better, than Cabrini-Green.
While the redevelopment was going on, there was a lot of talk about how residents would be included in discussions, that their opinions would be valued. But as I followed the news, I learned my first harsh lesson about how things worked in Chicago. If you don't have influence, or power, you will be ignored. You will be lied to. And nobody would even pretend to be sorry.
During one of my visits to Cabrini-Green, I came across a mural
The mural has since been painted over, but its message remains true. The neighborhood that was Cabrini-Green is gone, but the people who lived in it are still out there, scattered.
It's easy to pretend that they were never here. That Cabrini-Green as never there. That thousands of people didn't live, love and lost, and kept going in spite of overwhelming odds. That their lives didn't matter.
For the people of Carbini-Green... This is Cabrini-Green.
Now and forever.
Cabrini-Green is one part of Chicago that needs no introduction. But the neighborhood hasn't really been like what people imagine for many years. Since the early 2000s, the mid-rise Reds and high-rise Whites ere torn down one by one. The last White was knocked down in 2011. The oldest part of the development, the Frances Cabrini Rowhouses, is in limbo - half of it has been emptied out and blocked off, and word has it that remaining half is going to be made into mixed-income housing.
A mixed-income housing project was built in its place. The idea was to make it 1/3 market-rate, 1/3 affordable housing, and the remaining third would be reserved for the highrises' former public housing residents. Except, as I figured out back in 2008, when I first took interest in the development, the math didn't ad up. Only about a third of people who once lived in the high-rises would be able to come back to the neighborhoods.
The original plan was to leave the rowhouses 100 percent public housing. But now that that promise has been broken, the proportions look even worse.
The Cabrini-Green is across the 'L' tracks from the Gold Coast, one of Chicago's most upscale neighborhood. And once the Reds and Whites started coming down, developers pounced.
According to the Tribune editorial, those developers have been looking for something else to call the area. They've floated "NoCa" - for "North of Chicago Avenue" (which forms the neighborhood's southern border).
To Tribune editorial board's credit, it called out the suggestion for what it is - marketing speak at its blandest. Chicago neighborhood names, the editorial board argued, have character. So the board suggested that the readers come up with alternatives.
I considered suggesting resurrecting Little Sicily - the neighborhood's name from before the first public housing development was built. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that there was only one name that fit.
Cabrini-Green became infamous across the country because of its crime and poverty. But, as I've written before, it wasn't all that Cabrini-Green was. It was a place where families helped each other out, because they knew that couldn't rely on anyone but themselves. It was a place where kids played, went to school and found work. It was a place where parties and barbeques were held during the weekends, and where the pews of the local churches were full every Sunday. There were community gardens and murals. There was pain and death, but there were also joys. Cabrini-Green was a community. A home.
Even after the buildings were torn down, many residents still came to worship in neighborhood churches and tend to community gardens. They still held parties. I know one man who came from as far as Detroit on his beat-up truck.
When the buildings came down, some residents were able to move to other public housing developments. Some were actually able to move to better housing in working-class neighborhoods, or even in the suburbs. But most got Section 8 vouchers, and most wound up in neighborhoods that weren't much safer, or better, than Cabrini-Green.
While the redevelopment was going on, there was a lot of talk about how residents would be included in discussions, that their opinions would be valued. But as I followed the news, I learned my first harsh lesson about how things worked in Chicago. If you don't have influence, or power, you will be ignored. You will be lied to. And nobody would even pretend to be sorry.
During one of my visits to Cabrini-Green, I came across a mural
The mural has since been painted over, but its message remains true. The neighborhood that was Cabrini-Green is gone, but the people who lived in it are still out there, scattered.
It's easy to pretend that they were never here. That Cabrini-Green as never there. That thousands of people didn't live, love and lost, and kept going in spite of overwhelming odds. That their lives didn't matter.
For the people of Carbini-Green... This is Cabrini-Green.
Now and forever.