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Dispatch: Chicago
The Midwest Myth
By Renee Rosen
Published: Dec 01, 2007
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DEL.ICIO.US
YAHOOAfter a visit from some flashy New York friends, I realized Chicago is in dire need of a public relations makeover. “This is such a beautiful city!” they said in disbelief. They arrived in their Dolce & Gabbana, expecting to step around the cow dung on Michigan Avenue – they never dreamed that Chicago could pack a sophisticated punch that included Manet and the Sea at The Art Institute, a posh dinner at Kevin, followed by after dinner drinks at NoMI. I was out to prove there was more to Chicago than deep-dish pizza and sports bars. To the outside urbanite, Chicago is regarded as a mere stop between New York and L.A. We suffer from the Midwest Farmer’s Daughter syndrome, which connotes frumpiness, naïveté and a slew of other adjectives I’d prefer not to be associated with.
So this brings me to the first assignment for Chicago’s new P.R. crew: re-spin the whole Midwest concept. Take any map of The United States, fold it in half and see where Chicago lands. So what would you accurately call us? The Far East? The Middle East? We had something going for a while there with The Second City, but now that we rank third in size, we need a new handle. Someone coined us The Third Coast, but unfortunately that never really caught on. Why isn’t anyone out there promoting our attributes? Having once lived in New York, I can tell you, I prefer my news at 10 o’clock instead of 11. And okay, so we have brutal weather, but you’ll never see it deter us from our plans, and unlike my New York friends, you’ll never see a Chicagoan braving a snowstorm with an umbrella.
Maybe what we need is a big, glitzy ad campaign along the lines of “I Love New York," complete with a snappy jingle. I can see it now — we open on Oprah, jogging through the architectural wonders of Louis Sullivan and Frank Lloyd Wright. Cut to: the Cusacks, Joan and John, peppered among the world’s finest collection of Impressionist art at The Art Institute. Then a slow pan of Bonnie Hunt, David Schwimmer, Gary Sinise, and all those Second City-turned-Saturday-Night-Live stars on The Mag Mile, followed by the big finish where the whole ensemble sings about our streets (short of the garbage strike) smelling better than Willy Wonka’s Factory thanks to Blommer’s Chocolates. Fade to black…
On second thought, Chicago is a great place to call home. Maybe we should keep its virtues a secret before everyone else moves here and transforms our Third Coast into just another American city.
Renee Rosen is the author of the novel, Every Crooked Pot, published by St. Martin's Press. She is also a freelance writer whose work has appeared in Chicago Magazine, The Chicago Tribune, Publisher’s Weekly and some other (sad to say) now defunct publications. She lives in Chicago and is currently working on her second novel.
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