In the parking lot of a grocery store in Beverly, I heard the most Chicago sentence ever spoken.
Then came the immigrants, who adopted Inland North and added elements from their native tongues. Few languages other than English include the “th” sound. That’s how “Throop” became “T’roop,” and why “dese, dem, and dose guy” is a term for a salt-of-the-earth white ethnic Chicagoan, usually from the south side or an inner-ring suburb. The Irish “youse,” a kludge for English’s lack of a second-person plural, can still be heard in Bridgeport and Beverly.
It’s now rare to hear a classic Chicago accent from anyone under 50. Even if your grandfather and father had one, you probably don’t. When I was a regular at Sportsman’s Park in Cicero, my racetrack buddy Johnny used to congratulate me on winning bets by shouting “Dayt’s awesome!” Mancow Muller’s radio stooge Turd (who’s also a south-side bartender) spoke perfect Chicagoese, but he’s off the air. Richard M. Daley is out of office after 22 years as mayor of “Chi-caw-go,” replaced by a smooth-talking wonk from Wilmette who runs “Chi-cah-go.” As Chicago has reinvented itself as a consulting and cultural capital, attracting college graduates who speak neutral American English, Chicagoese is regarded as an ethnic, blue-collar accent. It always was. WASP Hugh Hefner and Yalie Gene Siskel never talked about dat great new restaurant over dere in West Lawn. It’s disappearing because Chicago isn’t as ethnic or blue-collar as it used to be. v
