Now and then something is so strange it must be a hallucination—but it isn’t. When I heard about the Chicago Reader “time machine,” it evoked the Flying Dutchman, the spectral ship that haunted mariners as both a symbol of vanished grandeur and a portent of doom.
But by whom? And how? And why? Was this an inscrutable piece of installation art by someone unknown who wanted its weirdness to speak for itself? Was it a tribute or a howl of despair? If equanimity reigned at the Reader, the box might have amused us as a mere oddity concocted by a quirky mind lying low. But equanimity doesn’t reign. The Reader faces new owners, new offices, a scarce budget, a triumphant history but an uncertain future. The “time machine” touched deep and troubled feelings.
Someone restocked the @Chicago_Reader time machine. pic.twitter.com/7rVoRtOpiX
— Mike Sula (@MikeSula) August 7, 2017
Now that we knew his e-mail, editor Jake Malooley asked if I would try to find out more. I’ve formally retired; but like any old sailor home from the sea, I live on the coast and am always available to put an oar in. I dropped Crusken a note. He wrote back hinting that what he’d said already might not be entirely true.
Why? “Maybe the reason I didn’t take the Irish exit is that it still galls me that someone would buy a newspaper, a central alternative newsweekly, and have no better ideas for 35 years of newspapers than calling a junk company. Maybe I wanted to give a few bundles their due.”
New drop in the @Chicago_Reader time machine. Covers by @InaJaffeNPR Grant Pick @nealpollack. On top a 1973 profile of @IAmDickGregory (RIP) pic.twitter.com/89N8RW2Gq7
— Mike Sula (@MikeSula) August 21, 2017
