Sweltering warmth didn’t cease crowds from gathering in Edison Park final week as Mike Kaage closed his newsstand for the final time. Rain or shine, the native landmark was open day by day since 1943.
Kaage’s newsstand shuttered June 29 — what would have been his grandfather’s 126th birthday.
“It’s a bittersweet day,” mentioned Kaage, 68, who began working at his household’s stall when he was 5.
Below a blazing solar, clients, enterprise house owners, neighbors and relations — from toddlers to nonagenarians — stopped by to say goodbye.
A tv crew arrived. Vehicles honked. Drivers supplied greenback payments to Kaage by means of their automobile home windows. Prospects hugged him after shopping for their Solar-Instances, Tribunes and different newspapers.
After I wrote about Kaage’s retirement announcement final month, I used to be struck by how this unassuming kiosk had witnessed a lot historical past by means of the numerous newspapers it bought.
Gross sales spiked after 9/11 and when the Cubs received the World Collection in 2016, Kaage recalled. One can solely think about what number of newspapers bought after watershed moments like the tip of World Warfare II or the assassination of President John Kennedy.
The tiny newsstand was a touchstone with an outsize influence. It was actually at a crossroads the place folks paused to purchase a paper, speak to Kaage and bear in mind their humanity for a second.
On this digital age, information is fleeting. Bodily manifestations — whether or not a newspaper or newsstand — are quick disappearing like a once-ubiquitous endangered species. That made Kaage’s final hurrah all of the extra valuable.
As Kaage’s older brother Irvin III famous, the newsstand “isn’t just a spot to purchase a newspaper. It’s a cornerstone of the neighborhood.”
After I stopped by final week, I spoke to well-wishers who shared a kaleidoscope of reminiscences. John Jaros, who grew up close by, recalled when his father despatched him to the newsstand to purchase the paper within the Nineteen Sixties and Nineteen Seventies.
“Even after I was younger, this place was previous,” mentioned Jaros, who lives in Aurora. “It’s actually an establishment.”
Males of their 60s and 50s who labored on the newsstand as boys additionally got here to pay tribute to Kaage and reminisce about promoting papers in subfreezing temperatures.
Frank Chambers, 63, began working as a Kaage newsboy when he was 9. He made 75 cents an hour to hawk newspapers, promote horse racing kinds and assemble once-massive Sunday editions. “After church let loose, everybody would sprint for the Sunday paper,” mentioned Chambers, now dwelling close to Schaumburg.
Former newsboy Sean Wolford, 55, made the journey from Florida. He recalled the recognition of the Polish newspaper when it first got here out, in addition to promoting horse racing kinds to “high-roller guys with fancy vehicles.”
Each morning, Kaage or his father Irvin Jr. had been on the newsstand earlier than 5 a.m., mentioned Maria Dalmazio, the longtime proprietor of Tony’s Deli across the nook. If she wanted change, they all the time helped.
Sue Rose, who used to personal the close by espresso store Morning Grind, mentioned the Kaages had been there if doughnuts wanted to be dropped off predawn, earlier than her cafe opened.
Ed Sturm lives a block away and took images of Kaage together with his 13-year-old son. Sturm purchased a newspaper day by day on his approach to the practice simply to speak to Kaage.
“It was extra in regards to the individual than the paper,” mentioned Sturm, who just isn’t concerned about residence supply.
Kaage is “a staple of the neighborhood,” mentioned Dennis Gancarz, proprietor of Edison Park Inn, who has bought newspapers for the bar because the Eighties. However with the newsstand closing, “That is in all probability the final day we get a paper,” he admitted.
Since 1987, neighbor Tom Needham purchased a Sunday paper from the newsstand. “It feels extra private. It’s a part of the small city really feel of this neighborhood,” he mentioned.
Kaage’s fixed presence may simply be taken as a right.
“Folks actually underestimate companies and the way arduous they work,” Needham mentioned.
Maureen Carney was a buyer for roughly 40 years. When she went on trip, the Kaages saved her two weeks’ value of newspapers. “I suppose I can’t go on trip anymore,” she mentioned.
Through the years, the newsstand had survived a fireplace, a automobile crash and rowdy adolescent antics. Marty Furlong, sheepishly admitted he vandalized the newsstand many years in the past. However Furlong, now about 50, glowed when he recalled how Kaage’s father kindly greeted him once they noticed one another round 2003 — regardless that their final assembly was on the police station.
Pat Iaconetti, a buyer because the mid-Nineties, underscored Kaage’s empathy and human connection.
“He’s one of the best of us,” mentioned Iaconetti.
Because the newsstand’s 10:30 a.m closing time neared, the group swelled. A Chicago police officer ready a balloon-festooned reward bag for Kaage.
Earlier than closing, Kaage addressed the group and paid tribute to his mother and father’ legacy: “Thanks to the neighborhood and clients. It’s been a pleasure. I’ll miss everybody,” he mentioned.
Kaage then invited the group to the Firewater Saloon throughout the road and supplied to purchase the primary spherical. After that, they had been on their very own, he joked. “I’m on a set revenue.”
Now Kaage not has to open the newsstand at 4 a.m., however he guessed he would nonetheless get up at 3 a.m.
“I’m in all probability going to try this for a very long time,” Kaage mentioned of his every day workday ritual. “I’m going to overlook it.”
The Edison Park neighborhood and others will miss him, too.
Amy Yee is a enterprise and economic system reporter for the Solar-Instances.
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