Like many Chicagoans, my weekday begins and ends with a journey on the rusted tracks of the Chicago Transit Authority. Each morning, I make the trek to an “L” station, climb the many stairs to the platform, sip coffee with my fellow commuters, and board a train for the 25-minute journey to the Loop.

I board the ‘L’ at the Sheridan Red Line station on the north side of the city. My apartment is just steps from the station, giving me 24 access to the city, as the CTA can virtually take you anywhere. My block is just below the north border of Wrigleyville, the infamous nightlife district and home of Wrigley Field and the Chicago Cubs. Though they may not be the best in the league, that team can draw a crowd. Sheridan is between the Addison station (1 block east of Wrigley) and the

Wilson stop. Wilson interests me; it’s supposedly the one stop on the North Side that you wouldn’t want to be alone at after dark. This is because it’s in the center of Uptown, the final frontier of the North Side’s gentrification. This anomaly of a neighborhood has a slightly higher crime and poverty rate than its neighbors on all sides but east, as Lake Michigan harbors only boats. It’s this subtle difference in culture that fascinates me.

The Red Line train bound towards 95th takes me through several neighborhood variations as we make our way downtown. First, we pass Addison street, with its normally crowded sidewalks and baseball-themed bars. This time of day, though, the pubs look hungover and beleaguered by the morning sun. Next, we’re at Belmont, where one can transfer to a both the Brown Line and the Purple Line Express to Evanston. Many commuters utilize this stop for transfers, but it appears that the only reason to exit here other than residential is Belmont Street’s nightlife. “Fullerton is next. Doors open on the right at Fullerton.” The announcer for all CTA vehicles delivers these statements in a cheery, yet blank cadence. His tone is quite neutral, however his inflection is placed in just the right spots to hint at enthusiasm. Fullerton is perhaps the busiest of the northern Red Line stations. DePaul university encompasses the newly-renovated station. Two island-style platforms cater to 4 tracks- northbound and southbound Red, Brown and Purple line trains all simultaneously spewing and consuming hurried commuters on and from the concrete platforms. The train is twice as full after we pull away from this station and descend from the elevated tracks and into the dark, noisy subway tunnel.

Passengers continue to board the train, and people congregate in the aisles and near the doors as all the seats are occupied. A fleet of young shoppers, bags of new clothes in-hand boards at Chicago & State- the station closest the Magnificent Mile shopping

district. Several men in expensive suits and toting briefcases board at Grand. And as the train pulls in to the State Street Subway at Lake, a great shift begins. This is were the 1st wave of commuters exits. This is the threshold of the Loop- the heart of Downtown Chicago. The nickname comes from the old cable-car loop that once ran under the streets that formed a “loop” around the financial district. Now, however, the name commonly refers to the area constrained by one of the most iconic symbols of the Windy City. The Union Loop train tracks run above Wabash, Lake, VanBuren and Wells streets, and the blocks within are the commercial hub of the city; the beating heart of Chicago.

By the time the train reaches Jackson at the south end of the State Street Subway, nearly all of the passengers have disembarked and began navigate the grid of sidewalks until they find their office, classroom, hotel. One stop past Jackson is Harrison- the closest train station to the majority of Columbia College Chicago’s buildings. I ride the train through one more dark tunnel, and prepare to disembark at Roosevelt. I am one of 3 people on the train car as it pulls into the station. I am the only white person still on the train. I step off onto the Chicago-Flag-themed concrete platform and watch as a northbound train arrives across from me. This train is also full of commuters heading downtown from the South Side. I don‘t see any white passengers on this train either, although it is quite full. Roosevelt station is the “CTA Border”, if you will, between downtown and Chicago’s South Side. I knew of the demographic spread of our city’s population, but I didn’t see it until this. Chicago is a city divided, both by neighborhood and by race. If I were to generalize, I’d say that the north is white and the south is black. This isn’t true in all cases, however demographically, Chicago is virtually two cities. One prone to higher crime rates and higher poverty rates while the other is prone to GLBT parades and skyrocketing property value. Both have their negative aspects, both their positive. Both sides have their own culture, albeit heavily influenced by the culture of similar Americans, but both do have a unique and different social outlook. But there is one common factor that both unites and divides Chicago’s people: our trains. They move all of us from where we are to where we need to be and back. But who rides which train is entirely dependent on geography, on ethnography.

My plan was simple, yet time-consuming. In this writing, I explore and utilize the CTA’s L-System to highlight the both the cultural diversity and the cultural segregation of Chicago. I spent 3 months in 2012 experiencing (safely of course) the different microcosms of culture that exist within the patchy grid of neighborhoods that stretch outwards from the Loop. I rode most of the system’s trains to each one’s terminus, stopping at major landmarks, relevant locations and cultural icons within each zone of the city. I think this is a fantastic way to experience Chicago and illustrate its unsurpassed cultural diversity. But first, here’s some background on what has become one of the most well-known and widely used transit systems in the world.

In order to further my understanding of this incredible public transit system and its fascinating past, I’ve studied a collection of writings about its history, ridership demographics and policies.

My first source focuses on the history of what is now the CTA. Titled Destination Loop: The Story of Rapid Transit Railroading in and around Chicago, the writing focuses on the early days of the elevated railroads sprawling through the city. According to the article, the Chicago & South Side Rapid Transit Company opened in 1892 to coincide with and transport passengers to and from the World’s Columbian Exhibition. Steam locomotives hauled passengers from Congress to 39th Street, along a right-of-way over the alley between State and Wabash. The line was extended to Jackson Park in 1893, and by 1910 branches had been built

to Englewood, Kenwood, and the stockyards. Three other companies constructed elevated lines: the Lake Street Elevated Railway, which went into operation in 1893 from Market Street (now North Wacker Drive) west to California Avenue, reaching suburban Forest Park by 1910; the Metropolitan West Side Elevated Railroad, which began operating electric trains from downtown to Logan Square in 1895, and by 1915 to Forest Park and Cicero, with branches to Garfield Park, Humboldt Park, and Douglas Park; and the Northwestern Elevated Railroad, which opened from downtown to Wilson Avenue in 1900 and reached Wilmette in 1912, with a branch to Ravenswood. By 1898 all elevated lines had converted from steam locomotives to electric power. In 1897 streetcar magnate Charles T. Yerkes, Jr., who owned the Lake Street “L” and the uncompleted Northwestern “L,” completed the Union Elevated Railroad, a downtown loop connecting all four lines. The existing “L”s abandoned their individual downtown terminals and circled the loop. In 1911 the four Elevated companies were brought together under the Chicago Elevated Railways Collateral Trust, and in 1913 the trust finally provided through routing and transfers among the four “L” routes.

Chicago's first subway had opened in 1943 under Clybourn, Division, and State Streets, 80 years after the London Underground and 46 years after the first U.S. subway in Boston. The busy North-South elevated line was rerouted through it, relieving congestion on the loop. And in 1947 the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) took over operation of the rapid transit lines. The CTA revamped the operation of the “L”s and closed stations with low ridership. A second subway under Dearborn Street was completed in 1951, enabling the CTA to abandon part of the Logan Square “L.” In 1969 the CTA opened a nine-mile extension via the Dan Ryan Expressway to the city's far South Side at 95th Street; in 1970 the Dearborn line was extended from Logan Square five miles to Jefferson Park in the median of the Kennedy Expressway, and in 1984, to

O'Hare Airport. An entirely new line to Midway Airport opened in 1993, and the CTA renamed and color-coded itself- the format currently in use.

The theme of my ethnographic research seems to revolve around the cultural differences between the north, south and west sides. I found that the best way to illustrate these differences through research was to research a specific community area from both the north and the south side:

I found a source with a plethora of information on all of Chicago’s 77 community areas called Chicago, City of Neighborhoods: Histories and Tours. I started with the article about Englewood, a once-thriving neighborhood 7 miles south of the Loop. Before 1850, Englewood was a deciduous forest with much swampland. In 1852 several railroad lines crossed at what became known as Junction Grove, stimulating the beginning of what we know today as Englewood. The earliest settlers to Englewood were German and Irish workers. They worked initially on truck farms, the railroads, and later at the Union Stock Yard. By 1865 Junction Grove was annexed to the Town of Lake and then Chicago in 1889. The construction of apartment buildings in the 1910s and 1920s created problems of density and economic segregation. By 1920 the population soared to 86,619 and Englewood's shopping district at Halsted and 63rd was the second busiest in the city. The Great Depression years did not affect the operation of the larger stores, but many smaller ones suffered and several banks in Englewood closed. The 1940s witnessed a decline of real-estate values in Englewood. Buildings were 40 years old, and the expanding Black Belt population from the east resulted in rapid turnover. Materials necessary to redevelop Englewood were scarce owing to World War II, and later practices of redlining and disinvestment sealed Englewood's future as a low-income community with declining housing opportunities. While some economic gains by African Americans gave them the opportunity to purchase some of the larger houses in Englewood, many low-income residents rented in more crowded conditions. In 1940 blacks constituted just 2 percent of the population, but this increased to 11 percent in 1950, 69 percent in 1960, and 96 percent by 1970. In 1960 the population peaked at over 97,000 people, despite the exodus of 50,000 whites. Public works projects such as the Dan Ryan Expressway and patterns of housing abandonment and deterioration led to a massive loss of housing.

Another article from Neighborhoods describes Lakeview, a neighborhood located 4 miles north of the Loop. Over the past century and a half, the name Lake View has referred in turn to the first of Chicago's North Shore suburban developments, an independent township, a city in its own right, and a community area within Chicago. All of the Lake Views have occupied land between two and eight miles north of Chicago's center. As one official incarnation of Lake View gave way to the next, it gradually transformed from a loose agglomeration of large parcels of land occupied by farms and estates into distinct neighborhoods housing many single young adults, childless married couples, and gay men. In 1857, the area presently bounded by Fullerton, Western, Devon, and Lake Michigan was organized into Lake View Township; in 1872 residents built a town hall at Halsted and Addison; and in 1887 Lake View was

incorporated as a city. In 1889, however, despite a controversial vote and the recalcitrance of Lake View officials, the city was annexed to Chicago.

The urbanizing Lake View attracted not only new residents, but also visitors to its commercial and recreational facilities. A baseball park at Clark and Addison later known as Wrigley Field attracted Chicagoans who lived outside Lake View. Southwestern Lake View's working-class residential character merged with that of neighboring North Center, as factory workers sought homes near their jobs. In the mid-twentieth century, high-rise apartments and multiple-unit low-rises, both of which attracted single people and childless couples, were popular solutions to the growing housing problem posed by the constant increase in population. The apparent changes in the family and architectural structures of Lake View alarmed some residents, who organized the Lake View Citizens Council in the 1950s to fight potential blight. LVCC quickly realized that Lake View was too well off for designation as a government conservation area, so it encouraged private redevelopment and rehabilitation instead. Residents and merchants used different strategies to preserve distinctive neighborhoods within Lake View. In the early 1970s, for example, East Lake View became known as New Town for its trendy shops and counterculture denizens. The elegant Alta Vista Terrace attained landmark status. A real-estate frenzy during the early 1980s drove neighborhoods such as Wrigleyville into public view. The physical preservation of Lake View, however, did not reconfigure the area into a family-centered community. While some of the new residents, such as World War II Japanese American refugees from California and the increasing Latino population, did arrive in family units, most of Lake View's new population were single, childless young adults. As early as the 1950s, an identifiable gay male population resided in the Belmont Harbor area. According to the 1990 census, more than 22,000 residents of Lake View were between the ages of 25 and 44 and lived in “nonfamily” households.

I find the contrasting histories of these two neighborhoods particularly interesting. Many of Chicago’s northern neighborhoods share similar stories, as do many of the southern ones. I chose these two specifically because they are two of the most notorious and reflective of the communities existing within their borders. Both of these communities are accessible via train.

I also went directly to the CTA’s website to learn of future plans and ways in which they accommodate for changing times and ridership patterns. Numerous plans have been advanced over the years to reorganize downtown Chicago rapid transit service, originally with the intention of replacing the Loop lines that are elevated with subways. That idea has been largely abandoned as the city seems keen on keeping an elevated/subway mix. But there have been continued calls to improve transit within the city's greatly enlarged central core. At present the 'L' does not provide direct service between the Metra commuter rail terminals in the West Loop and Michigan Avenue, the principal shopping district, nor does it offer convenient access to popular downtown destinations such as Navy Pier, Soldier Field, and McCormick Place. Plans for the Central Area Circulator, a $700 million downtown light rail system meant to remedy this, were shelved in 1995 for lack of funding. An underground line running along the

lakeshore would connect some of the city's major tourist destinations, but this plan has not been widely discussed. Recognizing the cost and difficulty of implementing an all-rail solution, the Chicago Central Area Plan advocated a mix of rail and bus improvements, the centerpiece of which was the West Loop Transportation Center, a multi-level subway to be constructed under Clinton Street from Congress Parkway to Lake Street. The top level would be a pedestrian mezzanine, buses would operate in the second level, rapid transit trains in the third level, and commuter/high-speed intercity trains in the bottom level. I personally find this plan a bit eccentric and a bit like something out of The Jetsons, but it would address the concerns of an overused system. In the meantime, the CTA is currently awaiting an entirely new rolling stock for both the Red and Blue lines, which currently feature trains built between 1970 and 1990. Plans are also in order to revamp the entire south branch of the Red Line. It will be shut down completely for 5 months during the summer of 2013 as the tracks are rebuilt; a potential problem for northbound commuters who already struggle to get downtown quickly.

A 1913 Map of Chicago’s Elevated Rail System

I started my research on the CTA by riding its busiest line from the northern terminus to the southern. It was approximately 9:15 AM on a Wednesday when I boarded a car in the center of the train nearest the platform entrance-- these cars, I’ve noticed, are usually the most crowded. I wanted to get a good interpretation of the people that travel this route. I sat in an aisle-facing seat, so as to gain a clear view of the entire car. A Purple Line train inbound from Evanston had recently dropped off a small group of passengers, who boarded the Red Line train I was on. We waited for a few minutes, the doors remained open until a chime and a “doors closing” announcement were played. The doors closed and the train departed, still largely empty. The train was cold at first, but quickly warmed up as the heat kicked in. The ride is fairly quiet aside from the occasional screeching

of the wheels winding around a curve in the track. Each time the train pulled into a station, I looked out the window at the passengers waiting to board. Most were white, most in professional dress, an equal number of men and women. The train became more crowded at Sheridan and at Addison, the two stations serving the Wrigleyville area, but the largest number of people boarded at Belmont and Fullerton. These are transfer stations serving the Red, Purple and Brown lines. By the time the train descended into the dark tunnel just past Fullerton, all of the seats were occupied and passengers were holding on to vertical railings and the handles atop the seats. I counted 4 people that were not white in my train car: a man looking like he was from India or Southeast Asia, a black man slouched in his seat with his feet propped up on the seat in front of him, an Asian woman in a pencil skirt and toting a briefcase, and black woman wearing a uniform consisting of a black polo shirt and a black visor. The rest of the passengers had fair skin, blonde or brown hair, and all looked like they were on their way to work. The train became gradually more crowded until we reached the Lake station, when many people got off, presumably to go to work or school in The Loop.

The gradual increase in the number of passengers gives me a good idea of where many of these commuters live- Lakeview and Lincoln Park. Though I’m assuming that many passengers transfer from other lines at Belmont and Fullerton. This process is so routine for me and probably for the other passengers. Nobody seems to be too excited about this journey, though a mother did keep trying to quell her child’s enthusiasm so as not to disturb anyone on the train. I wanted to listen to my iPod, or read something rather than look at all these people. I was worried that they’d think I was gawking. I do enjoy people-watching, but I’d prefer it from a distance. I became slightly uncomfortable in two situations: when the train became crowded and my slight claustrophobia came into play, and when I noticed a man looking at me and quickly darting his eyes away every time I noticed. I felt judged and vulnerable when this

happened, but then I thought that he (and the other passengers) might feel the same way about the way I‘m looking around. I’m also concerned about the racial monotony on this train. Chicago is home to so many people of so many ethnicities and backgrounds, so why is everyone on this train white? And it looked like most of the passengers are financially well-off, based on the type of clothes and accessories they had. I felt privileged because this is the train I ride to work/school and these the neighborhoods I call home. They are nice neighborhoods with lots of trees, beautiful old homes and lakefront parks. The train reached Jackson, and the number of passengers was divided in half yet again. This time, however, four or five new people got on board. Most were black, one appeared to be hispanic. The train was nearly empty by the time it pulled into the Harrison station, although I did notice a few young people get off, one wearing Columbia College sweatpants. The lack of passengers removed an element of acoustic insulation, the announcements played with great reverb before we reached Roosevelt station. Several more people climbed aboard, all black. The train screeched its way through the final stretch of the State Street Subway Tunnel and emerged before reaching Chinatown. Only one person got my train car on at this station. Among the 10-or-so passengers, two were not black: me and the hispanic woman sitting on the other end of the car. She got off at Sox-35th. At this point, I was the only white person in the train car. The distance between stations on this side of town is far greater than on the North Side or in the Loop. The train also ran in the median of the Dan Ryan expressway, similar to the northwestern stretch of the Blue Line in the Kennedy Expressway. The passengers on this train all kept to themselves until a man entered the train car from another car asking everyone for spare change. Most ignored him, one gave him a quarter, and one person chastised him. He looked at me, but didn’t ask me for any money, and then went out the door behind me into the next car. Very few people boarded the train past 47th, though a number did exit. By the time we reached 95th, only 3 other people were on board. We disembarked the train into the brisk morning.

This must be what it is like to commute to the loop from this part of town. I’m used to traveling from one destination area to another, not from a side of town that tourists so often avoid. The Loop looks far more impressive when you’re coming from an unattractive and seemingly desolate area of town. The sight of the Willis Tower has rarely felt so welcome. I don’t feel welcome on this side of town, and I felt too unprotected to venture beyond the safety net of the station. I felt a thousand eyes watching me, although I doubt many people cared or were even aware of my presence. I’d like to come back sometime soon, although I’d rather see the South Side as I have in the past: through the window of a car.

I again feel as though my thoughts and feelings about this part of town are racially insensitive and clearly biased. I do not dislike the people I encountered, nor did I feel any direct threat to my safety. But the isolation again overwhelmed me and I felt the need to leave sooner than I had stayed at State & Lake. I don’t want to feel this isolation, I want to feel part of a community like I do on the North Side or downtown. I hope that one day this will be possible, but I do not feel that it is after this visit.

Today was spent making the hour-and-a-half journey on the CTA Blue Line from O’Hare International Airport to Forest Park, Illinois. This was a voyage from and through a wide variety of neighborhoods, districts and urban zones. It begins, for those entering Chicago via air travel, at one of the nation’s busiest airports. The CTA Station is located underneath the airport in a large, concrete room with undulating glass brick panels stretching the 50’ distance from platform-level to cei l ing. This stat ion is one of the most architecturally advanced that I’ve observed so far, dating back to the final days of the brutalist movement at the end of the 1980s. Like everything CTA, this station is covered in signage. There are hundreds of signs guiding passengers from the terminal to the station, all illustrated with both text and graphic icons resembling the front of a train

atop two rails. The signage is as clear as possible, it would be hard not to find the trains underneath the airport. Once on the platform, I noticed even more signage. Each track is labeled with a sign, about 8 feet long by 3 feet tall, capped with blue squares and reading “O’Hare” in large, Helvetica font. It’s very readable for those who can depict germanic characters. Accessibility is clearly the goal with this signage. I boarded the train and headed towards The Loop. A gentle but masculine voice announced each current station, warned passengers of the closing doors, and announced the station that we’d shortly be approaching. His voice was clear and easy to understand, but not at all harsh. Much of the interior of the train had some form signage on it. The most prominent and well lit locations, such as the one above each set of doors, featured CTA system maps. One was of only the Blue Line, the other of the entire system. But both were not geographically accurate. The Blue Line map was just that: a straight line, dotted with evenly-spaced stations. I knew from previously mapping my route that this was inaccurate, the Blue Line snaked its way diagonally through the northwest side to downtown to the west side. But even the other map didn’t really portray this accurately. This is likely because the map wouldn’t fit on the 1’x3‘ if it were geographically accurate. The only purpose is to give passengers a rough idea of where they are in relation to the other stations of the system, it’s hardly a map of Chicago at all, but rather the CTA exclusively. I believe it’s considered more of a schematic diagram than a map.

The overwhelming number of signs seems like it could both be beneficial and frustrating. I imagine my someone coming to Chicago via O’Hare, trying to get downtown on the Blue Line, and quickly becoming confused. Although the signage is as clear as possible, there’s too much of it for someone who is easily overwhelmed. And the map, in its schematic format, looks like it could be very frustrating and confusing to someone unaccustomed to reading diagrams. This, however, is one of my favorite things to do. I love trying to understand how things work, and have wired many

a circuit board and diagramed many a lighting scheme in my life so far. I find the map enjoyable to look at, and I like to imagine what each station is like and what each neighborhood at each station is like. The signs are also incredibly objective and neutral, which I can also see becoming intimidating and unfriendly. But I’d prefer unfriendly signage to biased and inaccurate signage. Personally, I think it would be easy for a non-native person to fly in to Chicago and get downtown without much trouble.

I feel that, because I am accustomed to the overwhelming visuals of urban life, I have an easier time discerning signage from the jumble of colors and lights, and then deciphering that signage to derive meaning. It would probably be more difficult for a flustered traveler to do this. I had a difficult time attempting to view these signs as anything but the ordinary- I see these every day, they have become engrained in my life. Also, I am concerned because paid too little attention to the surroundings and neighborhoods we passed on the way back from the airport, as I was focused entirely on the symbology of the CTA. This may become a problem later when attempting to describe the ethnographic situation of the areas between O’Hare and The Loop, although I have spent a great deal of time in Logan Square, Bucktown and Wicker Park the past few years.

I took a break in the Loop for some coffee, and when I was done, got back on the Blue Line for the 2nd half of my journey to its other terminus at Forrest Park. As I stood at the LaSalle station underneath Congress Parkway and the Chicago Stock Exchange, I noticed a large amount of advertisements opposite the passenger side of the platform. These ads ranged from online dating to animal advocacy ads. Many were for Grub Hub, an online food coupon service. I boarded the train and noticed even more advertising lining the point where the walls curve into the ceiling of the train car. These were even more varied than the ones at the station. One was for a local Christian tax-filing service. Another for United Airlines, and another advertising the Chicago Marathon. There was a wide variety of ads on the train, local and national organizations almost evenly represented. As the train emerged from underground and joined the median of the Eisenhower Expressway, I noticed even more ads. These took the form of billboards, neon signs, the caps on taxis and even ones plastered to the side of semi trucks.

After a while, it became difficult for me not to notice any advertising. I had become trained to notice it and only it. I’ve noticed this in the past when on road trips-- I would often become bored with the landscape and focus on the bright and flashy signs trying so desperately to get my attention. I don’t like advertising like this- I feel invaded and pestered. When I see this many ads in locations that I’m forced into (like public transit, I have no car), I feel almost the same as when a homeless person asks me for money. I have little of my own money, let alone enough to be sharing it when everyone who asks. I don’t see all of these causes as worthy of my dollar. I also wonder if the ads at different stations are designed to appeal to different ethnic and age groups. I noticed that there are fewer Grub Hub and jewelry ads at the stations in areas that are not financially thriving like the north side. I am worried that I will live to see the day when every currently empty surface is covered with an ad.

I feel as if these ads are not only a symbol for the company they are promoting, but a symbol of the capitalist/ free-market society in which we live. Are other “westernized” nations around the world as covered in ads as we are? Are we more product-driven and less value-driven? Do these ads work? Are people buying the goods and services they advertise so fervently?

I sat at the Forrest Park station for about 20 minutes and watched passengers board and disembark trains. Many of the people appeared to be commuting to/from the western suburbs. I watched from the platform as people would find their cars in the large parking lot surrounding the station and drive away. People seldom made eye contact with one another, and if they did, it was followed by a timid smile or a mild-mannered nod. Few voices could be heard, as many people were reading or listening to music on their headphones. The only conversations I observed were between people who appeared to know each other based on their gestures towards one another. I couldn’t find anyone who appeared to be looking for a friend or trying to meet people. I made eye contact with a few individuals, but we both quickly darted our eyes in other directions immediately after rather than locking our gaze. Politeness, self-awareness and introversion dominated this environment.

I can’t help but wonder what each of these people is thinking about. And what backgrounds do they come from? Am I the only one thinking about these things? I doubt it, mostly because I noticed several people looking at me. Perhaps they were gazing at nothing, lost in thought, and I happened to be in their field of view. Or perhaps they were doing the same as me- “people watching”- and trying to analyze or even judge me and what I represent. I felt slightly out of place and criticized, partly because of the looks I was giving and receiving, and partly because I wasn’t actually commuting anywhere; I was just here to observe. People do behave similarly in most public situations, but how often are people forced to stand in one location, waiting for something, and with no intention of interacting with one another? It’s odd. And slightly uncomfortable. But I’ve lived here long enough and taken the train long enough to know how to handle this ritualistic ignorance of my fellow commuters and not let it bother me.

Although the train making its way south on the Green Line tracks was new, clean and an obvious upgrade from the dated cars servicing the other lines, the moral of passengers aboard this route seemed low. There was little conversation. A few of the passengers, some boys about 15 years old, rolled a basketball back and forth across the aisle. An older black woman gazed west out the window, watching the sun set over the grass lots dotting the southeast side. There may have been buildings in these patches once. Some of them have lawn chairs and patio furniture in them. It was a colder day in Chicago, although the sun was still peaking through the thin clouds. Everyone on the train had a coat on. Many of the coats were those puffy ones full of down feathers and featuring a faux-fur lined hood. A man, I assume to be homeless, was wearing several layers camouflage jackets and

staring into his nearly empty change cup. Two men of Asian descent were wearing what looked like kitchen scrubs underneath their outerwear. I was wearing a black peacoat, jeans, and skate shoes. I was also one of two white passengers aboard the train, the other being a woman in her late 20s talking on her cellphone and periodically looking around to provide herself with context aside from her phone conversation.

At this point in my research, I am far more comfortable going to the south side, though I am still reasonably wary of my surroundings and fellow commuters. Being on this train with these somber and reflective faces makes me feel quite contemplative of my own attitude. I assume that these people are hard workers. I consider myself a hard worker, too, but the kind of work I’m doing is completely different. This project, for example, involves direct research but also lots of time spent in my warm apartment with a cup of coffee and some ice cream. Though it is mentally strenuous, my back does not ache nor are my hands callused. This must be apparent to them, the other riders. I know they’re looking at me when I look away. Who do they see? A white boy with a stick up his ass? A rich, spoiled and pretentious person with no business on this side of town? Do they envy me? Do they even acknowledge my presence or put any thought into my background?

I have often felt over-analytical during this process. I am putting massive amounts of thought into the lives of perfect strangers going about their daily business. My questions regarding how others view me seem strenuous. I have a suspicion that continues to grow regarding this. I suspect that my analysis of them is extreme compared to their analysis of me.

This train has more graffiti on its interior than I’ve seen before. It covers both the seat backs and the walls. Much of it is scratched into the metal and plexiglass surfaces inside the train. Unlike some of the banal graffiti on the Red Line, this stuff appears to have meaning. One piece of writing I found particularly interesting was scrawled into the edge of the seat in front of me. It read: “Where did it all go wrong?” Aside from the graffiti, this train seemed fairly typical of the L, although a larger number of hispanics entered and exited at these platforms than those elsewhere.

I have always had a hard time wrapping my head around graffiti. It’s as much a struggle to create as it is to remove, yet both sides seem invested. It’s used to mark gang territory. Sometimes it’s a dramatic rebellion. Sometimes it’s done by a white

17-year-old from the suburbs, clad in a bandana and sunglasses and drenched in paranoia. I’m overwhelmed by graffiti in quantities like this. I’m distracted by this. My notes are limited because of the preoccupation it gave me.

I think my notes are becoming more limited to one or two elements on each trip. I have been living in the city for over a year and a half now, and the wide-eyed novelty of the city has largely worn off. Now that I am so accustomed to my surroundings, it is becoming increasingly difficult to fully acknowledge the subtleties of my environment any more. I didn’t write much because of my fascination with the graffiti and the feeling of the place. Thanksgiving break is coming, and I think it will be much needed and well-served.

A 1933 map produced in conjunction with that year's "Century Of Progress" World's Fair in Chicago. The fair was so successful that it ran through 1934 as

well . . .

I took the Orange Line to Midway Airport and was impressed with the speed at which I was able to move across the vastness of the city. I was excited, but it seemed as if the trip took no time at all. This time, though, was different because I had luggage. I was traveling. People looked at me more than usual, perhaps trying to figure out if I’m a tourist or a visitor or someone leaving for the holidays. People here didn’t have more baggage than a purse or small backpack, it was a Saturday night. I transferred from the Orange Line to security to the taco stand to gate C3 and on to the plane. This is a method of transport I experience far less frequently. The plane landed safely within 2 hours in Denver and I was met at the airport by my parents, who then drove me 2 hours to my hometown.

The day involved an incredible variation in methods of transit. It was flustering, but also exciting. The smoothness of flight is in stark contrast to the squeaky and bumpy rails. The bubbly floating sensation of flight was a welcome change of pace. The car ride home from the airport was more stressful. I was in an accident a few months back, last time I was in Colorado. It was jarring to say the least. Now, I have a hard time riding in cars. Trusting the driver is difficult for me and I keep my eyes on the road, keep constant guard of it. It’s hard for me to believe that earlier that day I was in by bed in Chicago. The view from the Red Line on my way home looks nothing like the distant sparkle of cities on either side of this highway. It’s darkness, then cities, then darkness.

It’s different to travel everywhere in a car. I much prefer the freedom of public transit to the close quarters of a car. The scale and impressive nature of the CTA came more into view when describing it to old friends. They all were surprised when I told them I don’t have a car. And the accessibility of the airport from downtown and vise versa is enough to convince me to appreciate our transit system. It cost $2.50 when a cab would’ve pushed $20.

When I came back to Chicago, I took the Purple line to Evanston. It would’ve been refreshing to see the density of the building dissipate as I traveled northward out of the city. But having just seen civilization fade into forested mountains, I was less amused. The Purple line carried an affluent-looking bunch to an affluent-looking area on the north shore of the lake. The train seemed constant, like it would never stop expanding from the city’s heart and reaching outwards, stoping at every major street until the city turns to country. And just as the suburbs would never stop spilling outwards like the yolk of a freshly cracked egg on a frying pan. Maybe someday the train will stop somewhere. Linden Street isn’t the edge of the universe, but it is the edge of the CTA, of Chicago’s nervous system, and of the territory covered by my train pass. I could take regional trains even farther, but those are another topic for another research project.

Late 1940s/early '50s: The CTA was off and running on their modernization program with booklets like this . . .

When I first moved to Chicago, I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to navigate the transit system and that I’d end up late or somewhere I didn’t want to be. This self-skepticism, however, did not prevent me from eagerly exploring the major landmarks and destinations throughout the city, planning a route online at home before each trip. I was weary of taking the train anywhere at night for many months after I got settled. I heard stories, kids getting mugged, iPhones getting stolen. I pictured myself on an empty train seated beneath a line of those flickering fluorescent lights, nothing outside the windows. I didn’t like the way I looked there, all vulnerable and unarmed. Then I made friends living outside the loop, and each weekend we traveled in flocks out of the concrete jungle and into the brick canyons of the north side and wicker park. We would take the Blue Line or

the Red Line and sometimes sail from stop to stop, friend’s house to friend’s house, party to party. As a group, we felt invincible. How easy it was to get anywhere, anytime. Downtown started to feel like a cage and the outer neighborhoods like an endless forest to which we loved escaping. We now owned the city.

One night a friend of mine called and was audibly upset when I answered. He’d been mugged on the Red Line just past Addison. He was traveling alone, trying to get back downtown, back to the student housing safety cradle. A group of people seated in different parts of the train all stood up at once, approached and hit him in the face. He lost $40 and only ate soft food for a week after. Maybe the trains aren’t safe?

The school year was ending and I was moving my things to a storage unit. I chose a place in Old Town, right between downtown and the north side, where I wanted to live the next year. We didn’t have a place yet, but we had each other and we had unlimited ambition. I moved box after box from my student apartment to the storage unit on the Red Line. I would take an extra hour out of my day for 2 weeks, carrying 2 or 3 boxes at a time. It was a tedious process, but my few friends with cars couldn’t get them from the suburbs on weekdays because of parking expenses. I got a few looks from commuters probably wondering what I had with me. But I didn’t care. I was getting used to looking at people and people looking at me. There are people everywhere in this city, how would it be possible not to? I saved the big items for one weekend when my roommate borrowed his dad’s car and helped me empty my place out completely.

I took the train to Midway Airport and looked at the skyline. It was summer again so the clouds were puffy and the sky was dark blue. I was going to miss this city and these trains to take me around.

I came back at the end of the summer to the same airport and the same Orange Line and the same dark blue sky and the same puffy clouds. But I was 3 months older and a thousand miles of cycling stronger. I was also one car accident more afraid of driving. The train was a relief. This time though, I was’t heading back downtown. I was going to my new apartment in Wrigleyville. The next few months I spent more time on my bike than on my feet, seeing Chicago from beyond the boundaries of “close to the train” for the first time. I now knew the city on a new level and felt even more ownership of my life and unity with my new city. I spent the dredges of the hot summer at the beach in the day and a sweaty back porch party at night. We took the train if we weren’t up to the intensity of weaving through traffic. Then I started school again and starting taking the train again on rainy days. Then it got colder and I started taking the train every day, twice a day. I had all the stops from Roosevelt to Sheridan memorized. I knew the trains better than I ever had before, and I now knew them as a commuter for the first time. The novelty of it began to wear off and the tedium of it began to kick in. But the sense of empowerment it provides hasn’t worn off. I’m not sure it can.

I then began this ethnographic research project and expanded my knowledge and understanding of the transit authority. I now feel as if I know more about it than I ever had anticipated. My friends are interested in the almost trivial knowledge I have of the trains, and are also confused as to why I have it. I believe that I now understand the Chicago Transit Authority in incredible detail and realize that it is what it claims to be: an authority. It is an agency with administrative powers in the field of transportation. And it is an authority in a more promotional sense as well. It is the biggest and the best and there is no competition within the city. It is the king of its court. And as for me, well I feel like an authority myself. I do not govern anything but my own life, nor am I any sort of agency. But now, I have confidence derived from experience. Lots of experience. Through living here and integrating the CTA into my life, and now through the extensive research and observations I have conducted, this confidence is hardened and expanded.

. . .

Although this train system is comparatively new, smaller and less used than its counterparts worldwide, it is an essential element of The Windy City. Without it, residents of this town would be at a loss both in terms of a way to work and an identity. Our ‘L’ tracks and trains are a signature and charismatic symbol of this magnificent city. Our trains, our uniting factor, service everywhere, everyone and everything that is Chicago.

"Chicago Transit Authority | CTA Buses & Trains | 1-888-YOUR-CTA." Chicago Transit Authority | CTA Buses & Trains | 1-888-YOUR-CTA. Chicago Transit Authority, n.d. Web. 13 Nov. 2012. <http://www.transitchicago.com/>.

Cudahy, Brian J. "Destination Loop: The Story of Rapid Transit Railroading in and around Chicago." Encyclopedia of Chicago. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Web. 10 Nov. 2012. <http://http://www.encyclopedia.chicagohistory.org>

(2 Articles) Pacyga, Dominic A., and Ellen Skerrett. Chicago, City of Neighborhoods: Histories & Tours. Chicago: Loyola UP, 1986. Print.

Original graphics and layout by Connor Weitz with additional graphics from Imprint Magazine.