Life Itself Page #3

They were either gold diggers,

opportunists, or psychos.

Yeah, I met Roger one time

with a woman

that looked like

a young Linda Ronstadt,

and when she was gone

from the table briefly,

I said, "Who is that?"

And he said,

"She's a hired lady."

And I said, "A hooker?"

And he said, "Now you

take care of her when I leave."

And he left town.

And anyway...

Roger, he used to hang from

the lamppost at the end of the bar.

When he got going,

Roger was one of

the finest storytellers

that I have ever come across.

He would hold court,

and it's not like everyone

was invited to join in

and have a colloquy with him.

Since he bought drinks

for everybody

when he had the money,

who's not to listen?

His great friend

was John McHugh.

And I remember

a famous argument

over who was the more cosmopolitan

of the two.

And Ebert was saying,

"John, I travel the world.

I go to every country in Europe.

I go to Cannes.

I'm a cosmopolitan person."

John said, "Ebert, you don't

even speak a foreign language."

And Ebert said,

"I speak enough to be able

to order two Johnny Walker Blacks

anywhere in the world."

Any sober human being

looking at the two of them

would have decided neither was

actually a cosmopolitan figure.

I discovered there was

nothing like drinking

with a crowd

to make you a member.

I copied the idealism

and cynicism of the reporters.

I spoke like they did.

Laughed at the same things.

Felt that I belonged.

Studs wasn't a Chicagoan.

Nelson Algren wasn't born here.

Saul Bellow wasn't born here.

But there's a certain kind

of Chicago character

that Roger really came

to believe that he was.

Roger was not just

the chief character

and star of the movie

that was his life.

He was also the director,

and he brought in the cast,

and the scenario,

and he orchestrated it.

He loved it!

Those characters, what they did.

John the garbage man.

Hank the communist.

I remember the night that Jim Touley

punched J. Robert Nash,

knocked him down

to the bar room floor,

and Nash looked up and he said,

"Nice punch, Jimmy!"

When O'Rourke's closed he would

go down to the Ale House,

because that was a four o'clock bar.

The mood got

rougher and rougher

as people got

drunker and drunker.

Roger was good at dishing,

but he also could take it.

"I'm a fat guy, I'm gonna have to

learn how to take fat stuff."

Roger could hold his own

with all of them.

Everybody kind of says that

deep down he's a nice guy.

He is a nice guy,

but he's not that nice.

He's not that nice.

The last week

he was drinking,

I even realized that there was

a serious problem going on.

Watching him

when he pulled out that night

in front of O'Rourke's,

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