Kicked Out of Chicago

It’s summer of 1966. My wife-to- be and I are enjoying the peak of our pre-nuptial romance spending every free moment, week-ends and just about every evening, together. We’ll be married that year in December but it’s only June. It’s a Sunday morning. With no particular plans, other then to be together on a clear sunny day, we make a spur-of-the-moment decision to take the 90 mile drive from our home(s) in rural Milwaukee to Chicago.

The trip itself is uneventful with the two of us singing along with the radio and just enjoying each other’s company.

We’re cruising along on West Lake Shore Drive. It’s deserted.

We decide to see more of the city and move into the left turn lane and wait, and wait, and wait for that left turn lane signal to turn green.

With patience exhausted, I said “to hell with this” and made the turn with the traffic light still red.

Bad idea!

Almost immediately, the squad car’s red lights are flashing and siren’s screaming.

The officer is very professional, but thorough. He explains the violation and hands me the citation.

I immediately, and vehemently protested. “That traffic light was dysfunctional. The other 3 corners were working fine, but our light never turned green. I wasn’t going to sit there all day!”

Given the apparent equipment malfunction, I believe I had adequately justified my conduct. The officer took umbrage or, you might just say, he was P.O’d.

So, off we go, following the officer to his precinct station where he turns us over to the desk officer. Fortunately. this guy was not interested in taking our “violation” any further. He changed it to a “warning” with one contingency: “Don’t ever come back to Chicago!”

I still wonder to this day, how would my banishment be enforced. “Wanted Posters”? If I disguised my appearance (grew a beard, colored my hair), how would Chicago traffic cops know that I had been cast out of the Windy city in 1966?

Knowing full well how irrational it seems, I hope to avoid ever driving a car in Chicago