Just in case you don't know, the Chicago Defender is about to move its offices from downtown (200 S. Michigan Ave.) back to the community - to "the hood" - where we will once again have a strong community presence and be accessible to our loyal and faithful readers and clients.
For many, many years up - up until January of 2006 - the Chicago Defender was located at 2400 S. Michigan Ave.; before that the Defender had offices at 34th and Indiana. And to this day, some of our readers and others in the community still think we are at 24th and Michigan, unaware that we had moved to the Loop over three years ago.
Our new address in about a week from now will be 4455 S. King Dr., just a building north of the famed Parkway Ballroom, which sits on the northeast corner of 45th and King Dr. The Chicago Defender will be housed in what was once the Metropolitan Funeral Home. Already our sign is on the building.
In preparation of the move, we all are busy - packing files, books, awards, papers and other keepsakes and memorabilia and discarding useless "stuff" that we will not be taking with us. In particular, I am indeed a "pack rat," keeping papers and other "stuff" that I should have discarded months and months ago.
I find myself browsing and reading as I pack. Today I came across an April 12, 2004 "Teesee's Town" column written just after I learned of the death of a former favorite co-worker and colleague, and I am pleased to share it with you.
Condolences - to the family of dear Chester Commodore, 89, the Chicago Defender's brilliant award-winning editorial cartoonist, who died from a heart attack on Saturday in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where he had made his home since his retirement for some years with his lovely wife, Marcia.
I first encountered the humor and wit of Chester Commodore many, many moons ago when I first began working for the Chicago Defender as assistant woman's editor. I was called by Lee Blackwell, managing editor, to come in for Marion Campfield, the woman's editor, who had been hospitalized (and later died).
Those first couple of weeks I was awfully nervous, awfully shaky and awfully scared, but Chester, whose desk was just across the aisle from mine, continually reassured me. "You're going to be alright, little miss! Just relax! Relax! We're all in your corner, and we're all going to look out for you!"
Chester's cohort in the newsroom was Al Monroe, our sports editor, whose desk was way on the other side of the room, and believe me, he was equally as witty. Those two jokesters kept the newsroom laughing and in stitches all of the time - from morning to night.
At the time, I was a member of Olivet Baptist Church at 31st and King Dr. and Chester and Marcia were living in a high rise in the Lake Meadows residential complex. Chester had a clear view of Olivet's parking lot.
Every Sunday, after I drove into the lot and parked my car, I would look up at the Commodores' window. Chester would faithfully signal me with his flashlight and I would wave back in acknowledgement. It was his way of letting me know that he was still "looking out for me."
Since my return to the Defender in March 2000, I have talked long-distance to Chester on a couple of occasions, and it was just like it was back in the days of the early 60s. His humor was the same - topical and timely!
God bless you, dear Chester Commodore. You are definitely missed! However, from your new vantage point, I am assured that you are still "looking out for me." I really feel your watchful eye and your presence!
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