Steinberg: Riverwalk — promenade, jogging path, penal colony ramp

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The Chicago Riverwalk | Neil Steinberg/Sun-Times

Follow @neilsteinbergSure, Rich Daley wrecked the finances of the city and left behind a ruined economic shell. But Millennium Park, man that’s something. And the Bean! I just love the Bean.

And yes, our current mayor, Rahm Emanuel, doesn’t have a clue what to do about the violence convulsing our city. But he did build the Riverwalk, and it’s nice.

Not too long ago, the Riverwalk opened its latest stretch from the Franklin Bridge to Lake Street and that, coupled with the February warm weather seemed to demand an in-depth journalistic investigation.

One afternoon last week, I crossed the river on the Orleans Bridge, turned right, strode down the concrete ramp, took a hard left, walking to the base of the Lake Street Bridge. I paused, fired up a Rocky Patel, and started to stroll, err, probe.

I would like to report that the new ramp is a cleverly designed modernistic fantasy of concrete and metalwork. But it’s not. It looks like the entrance chute to a penal colony on Mars, a spew of naked concrete and chain-link fence. That’s the bad news; the good news is, it may not be finished yet, at least according to the an architect’s rendition I noticed in city materials. I phoned the mayor’s press office and asked if it were done, and they said the $108 million project had “arrived at substantial completion” in October so it’s anybody’s guess.

Pass under Orleans and you’re at floating gardens tethered to stout stainless steel poles. Each “district” has a subtle theme. Beyond Wells, the subtle theme seems to be, “Don’t stop here,” with a low black stone wall with water cascading down, a fountain — at least I hope it’s a fountain; maybe there’s a water main broken somewhere. Let’s put it this way: Buckingham Fountain’s reputation is secure.

OPINION

Follow @neilsteinbergMy favorite part of the Riverwalk is the block of stairs between LaSalle and Clark. They incorporate a ramp, cut through the steps, a reminder of the cleverness that isn’t on display elsewhere. They’re very steep, and invite lolling.

Across from Marina Towers are bleached wooden benches. A place to sit and consider that, when the corncobs were constructed, we were going to live in pie-shaped cells in self-contained cities so we never had to go outside, except for a few carefree bachelors who owned boats in the marina.

Which leads to Trump Tower. A beautiful building, except of course for the name. Almost directly across the river from “The McCormick Bridgehouse and Chicago River Museum.” On the plus side, a cool little museum built within the southwest Michigan Avenue bridge tower. On the downside, a sobering reminder that, 60 years after his death, a rich xenophobe can still have his name emblazoned in the heart of Chicago. I hope to live to see those enormous letters pried from the building and paraded through the streets in tumbrils. But not anytime soon. Volgograd was called “Stalingrad” for 36 years.

The Chicago Vietnam War memorial isn’t new but fits in well. Past Michigan, the Riverwalk starts to go all Jimmy Buffett, with tiki bar shacks cobbled together from plywood and two-by-fours and painted pink. I went all the way — 1.6 miles — to the Chicago Marine Safety Station, paused to finish my cigar, then headed back.

Under Lake Shore Drive, I paused to listen to a musician, Sean Black. He played “The One,” a song inspired by an old girlfriend. Black lives in Calumet Park.

“I really enjoy it here,” he said. “There’s a lot of artistic spirit down here.”

Chicagoans of all stripes are using the walk. Bikers, joggers, dog walkers. A pair of kayakers — the guys who run a concession, drumming up interest — handed out cards to those on shore. And up ahead, a gentleman whose head looked very familiar, even from the back. I hurried to catch up.

“Well hello,” rumbled Bill Kurtis, the legendary TV news anchor, taking the air with his longtime squeeze, Donna LaPietra. We talked about a variety of subjects, particularly bees — they’re endangered and Bill raises them — and the startling tendency of people in Chicago to seem younger than they ought to.

Somehow, running into Bill seemed an apt end to the adventure.

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