Straight Outta Skokie: Al Krockey’s Wild 1968 Journey Through Chicago’s Counterculture, Hustle, and Rock ‘n’ Roll

Straight Outta Skokie: Al Krockey’s Wild 1968 Journey Through Chicago’s Counterculture, Hustle, and Rock ‘n’ Roll

Here’s a story you don’t embellish—you just light a cigar, pour a whiskey, and let it ride. In 1968, Al Krockey was 18 years old, coming of age at the exact moment America seemed to crack open—politically, culturally, and musically. It was a year of upheaval and possibility, and for a kid raised in the tight-knit suburbs of Skokie, it felt like the whole world was suddenly within reach. But Krockey’s story doesn’t start with rebellion—it starts with survival. Born in 1950 and raised in a working-class Jewish family, he grew up in a Skokie shaped by Holocaust survivors, immigrant grit, and the lingering shadows of World War II. Neighbors carried trauma you could hear through open windows on hot summer nights. His father, a medic during the Battle of the Bulge, later treated survivors from Buchenwald concentration camp and Dachau concentration camp—experiences that quietly etched themselves into the family’s DNA. Krockey absorbed it all. And then he ran toward something louder. By his teens, he was already working angles—selling souvenirs outside Wrigley Field, hustling odd jobs, and dabbling in the kind of small-time rebellion that defined the era. But the real pull was music. Chicago in the late ’60s wasn’t just a city—it was a sound. And nowhere did it hit harder than the Kinetic Playground, the legendary nightclub where psychedelic rock, blues, and raw youth energy collided. For Krockey, nights there weren’t just entertainment—they were education. What followed was a blur of cross-country road trips, pop festivals, and characters that felt ripped from a film reel. It was freedom with consequences, risk with no safety net—a life lived wide open before adulthood had a chance to close in. By 20, Krockey had already turned passion into profession, opening his record store, The Record Shack. The 1970s saw him dive deeper—running a shop, launching a label, producing music—before pivoting, like so many hustlers do, into something steadier. By the early ’80s, he stepped away from the music business and built a successful second act in insurance consulting, eventually rising to vice president of a national firm. But the hustle never left. At 68, he made the final table of a World Poker Tour event. At 75, he found a new table altogether: the writing desk. His debut memoir, Straight Outta Skokie: The Krockey Chronicles: 1968, is the first in a planned trilogy that captures not just a life, but a moment—when suburban America collided with counterculture, when kids chased music like religion, and when identity was forged somewhere between tradition and rebellion. The book doesn’t just chronicle Krockey’s story—it captures a community. A version of Skokie before it became nationally known for the Skokie Nazi march controversy, when its streets were lined with survivors, strivers, and second chances. Now 76 and living in Scottsdale, Krockey writes with the clarity of distance and the memory of someone who never really left 1968 behind. What started as a pandemic project became something deeper—a routine, a reckoning, a return. Because some stories don’t fade. They just wait for the right time to be told. For more Stories From The 78, follow @tombarnas78 [https://instagram.com/tombarnas78] on Instagram and @storiesfromthe78 [https://www.tiktok.com/@storiesfromthe78?lang=en] on TikTok.

Paul Natkin: The Chicago Lens That Captured Rock ‘n’ Roll Immortality

he kind that starts under the dim lights of Chicago Stadium—where a kid tagging along with his father realizes the perks of photography aren’t just free parking and great seats… they’re front-row access to history. The kind that ends—if it ever really ends at all—in a quiet Avondale home, where decades later, the shutter is still clicking, still chasing that same electric moment. Because for Natkin, the story never stopped. It just got louder. In 1971, photography wasn’t the plan—it was the pivot. Natkin’s father, a seasoned photographer turned contractor, got pulled back into the business when the building trade collapsed. A phone call later, he was shooting for the Chicago Bulls. One game was all it took. The access. The energy. The proximity to something bigger. That was it. Natkin was hooked. FROM BULLS GAMES TO BACKSTAGE PASSES DISCOVERING THE SOUNDTRACK OF A LIFETIME By 1975, the lens had shifted—from hardwood to amplifiers. His first concert? Bonnie Raitt at Northwestern University. That moment cracked something open. What followed wasn’t easy—no roadmap, no guarantees—but Natkin carved his way in the old-school way: hustle, access, relationships, and an instinct for being exactly where the moment would explode. Soon, his work was everywhere: * Rolling Stone * Creem Magazine * Hit Parader * Circus Magazine And beyond music: * Newsweek * Time * Playboy * Ebony This wasn’t just a career—it was infiltration. THE MONTH THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING June 1984. A stretch of days that reads like rock folklore: Prince’s birthday party in Minneapolis The launch of the Jackson 5 Victory Tour The opening of Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. tour And somewhere in there? Natkin, camera in hand, capturing moments that would become permanent fixtures in music history—including the filming of “Dancing in the Dark.” A year later, one of those shots landed on the cover of Newsweek. Game over. FROM PRINCE TO OPRAH That single image didn’t just elevate his career—it detonated it. Natkin’s photos from that era circled the globe, especially from that night with Prince. The exposure led to a five-year run as staff photographer for The The Oprah Winfrey Show. Yes—that Oprah. Because in Natkin’s world, music, culture, and media weren’t separate lanes—they were one long highway. Then came the call that every rock photographer dreams about. A conversation. A connection. A door opens. Suddenly, Natkin is on the road with Keith Richards and the X-Pensive Winos. Then it escalates. The big one: Three and a half months embedded with The Rolling Stones on the Steel Wheels tour. Not watching from the pit. Not shooting from the press line. Living it. Breathing it. Documenting it from the inside. He’d return again: * Voodoo Lounge Tour (1994) * Bridges to Babylon Tour (1997) Because once you’re in that circle—you don’t really leave. Natkin’s work didn’t just live in magazines—it became part of the music itself. His lens helped define the visual identity of artists like: * Ozzy Osbourne * Alanis Morissette * Buddy Guy * Johnny Winter These weren’t just photos. They were artifacts. ON THE ROAD WITH ROCK ROYALTYALBUM COVERS, ICONS, AND IMMORTALITYSTILL SHOOTING. STILL CHASING THE MOMENT Today, back in Chicago’s Avondale neighborhood, Natkin is still working. Still chasing light. Still pressing the shutter at exactly the right moment. Because that’s the thing about guys like Paul Natkin—they don’t retire from the story. They are the story. And if you think you’ve heard it all? Buckle up. This one’s still being written. For more Stories From The 78, follow @tombarnas78 [https://instagram.com/tombarnas78] on Instagram and @storiesfromthe78 [https://www.tiktok.com/@storiesfromthe78?lang=en] on TikTok.

Doorways of Chicago: A Photographer’s Intimate Journey Through the City’s Hidden Entrances

There’s a certain magic to Chicago—a city where history doesn’t just live in museums, but quietly lingers in the details: carved stone archways, weathered brass handles, and hand-painted signage that has outlived generations. For local photographer Ronnie Frey, those details became an obsession—and ultimately, a love letter to the city itself. Over the past six years, Frey has wandered through more than 40 neighborhoods—from the cultural richness of Bronzeville to the historic streets of Uptown, the tree-lined charm of Lincoln Park, and the stately elegance of Gold Coast—capturing the city one doorway at a time. The result is Doorways of Chicago, a striking collection of 100 color photographs that transforms everyday entrances into works of art. But this isn’t just a photography book—it’s a curated journey through Chicago’s architectural soul. Frey’s lens doesn’t stop at doors. Each image invites you to linger on the intricate details that define the city’s visual identity: ornate cornices, sweeping arches, textured façades, and vintage signage that whisper stories of another era. In a fast-moving city, his work encourages something rare—pause. And that’s exactly what makes Doorways of Chicago feel less like a book and more like a walking tour you can hold in your hands. Beyond the imagery, Frey layers in the stories behind ten of the city’s most iconic entrances, offering readers a deeper connection to the spaces they might otherwise pass by. It’s this blend of visual storytelling and urban exploration that has propelled his passion into a full-fledged creative career—spanning gallery exhibitions, publishing, and a growing digital presence. In a time when travel often means going far, Doorways of Chicago reminds us that discovery can begin right where we are. Every block holds a story. Every entrance is an invitation. All you have to do is look up—or, in this case, look a little closer. Book Launch and Signing! [https://www.eventbrite.com/e/doorways-of-chicago-book-launch-tickets-1987957753154] Fine Arts Building Studio C (3rd floor)  410 S Michigan Ave  – Chicago 6pm – 7pm Free And Open To Public Moderated by Chase Vondran @explorewithchase [https://www.instagram.com/explorewithchase/] Hosted by Trope Publishing [https://www.instagram.com/tropereader/] and Exile In Bookville [https://www.instagram.com/exileinbookville/]

How Night of the Living Dead Shaped a Life: Daniel Kraus on Trauma, Horror, and the Art of Survival

There are films we admire, films we revisit—and then there are films that rearrange us. For Daniel Kraus, Night of the Living Dead was never just a movie. It was a language, a mirror, and, at times, a lifeline. In his haunting and deeply introspective new book, Partially Devoured: How Night of the Living Dead Saved My Life and Changed the World, Kraus delivers something far more expansive than film criticism. What unfolds is a kaleidoscopic meditation on art and survival—where the grainy black-and-white terror of George A. Romero’s 1968 horror landmark collides with the author’s own childhood marked by isolation and violence. Kraus first encountered the film at five years old. For most, that might be an anecdote. For him, it became a lifelong obsession—one he estimates has spanned over 300 viewings. But repetition, in this case, wasn’t about fandom alone. It was excavation. Each revisit unearthed deeper emotional truths, linking the film’s stark, apocalyptic imagery to the private fears and traumas of his upbringing. The result is a book that refuses easy categorization. Moving frame-by-frame through Night of the Living Dead, Kraus threads together cultural history, psychological inquiry, and memoir with an urgency that feels almost confessional. It’s a narrative that oscillates—sometimes violently—between screaming humor and profound grief. Early praise suggests the book lands with force. Booklist has already called it “storytelling at its finest,” invoking the emotional precision of The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. Meanwhile, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner Colson Whitehead describes Kraus as “a sly, sympathetic, and funny tour guide,” praising the book as both a tribute to guerrilla filmmaking and a meditation on the fragile miracle of artistic creation. That duality—between grit and grace—is where Kraus thrives. Already a literary force, Kraus has built a career navigating the porous boundaries between horror and humanity. His novel Whalefall earned a front-cover review in The New York Times Book Review and widespread acclaim, while his collaborations with Guillermo del Toro—including The Shape of Water and Trollhunters—have bridged literary storytelling with cinematic spectacle. He also co-wrote The Living Dead and Pay the Piper with Romero, cementing a creative lineage that now finds its most personal expression in Partially Devoured. But this latest work feels different—rawer, riskier. It asks a deceptively simple question: What happens when a piece of art doesn’t just influence you—but helps you survive? In tracing the cultural aftershocks of Night of the Living Dead—a film that redefined horror, race, and independent cinema—Kraus also maps the quieter, more intimate terrain of memory. The monsters on screen may be fictional, but the emotional truths they unlock are anything but. And in that uneasy space between fear and recognition, Partially Devoured finds its power. For more Stories From The 78, follow @tombarnas78 [https://instagram.com/tombarnas78] on Instagram and @storiesfromthe78 [https://www.tiktok.com/@storiesfromthe78?lang=en] on TikTok.

Unlocking the Secrets of Chicago's Architectural Heritage: A Deep Dive into Residential Design

In a place famous for its skyline showdowns and architectural swagger, a quieter story unfolds at street level—inside the homes that truly define Chicago. This episode dives into “Chicago Homes,” a richly illustrated guide that unpacks the residential DNA of the city, from stoops to cornices, bungalows to greystones. Hosted by Tom Barnas, this conversation with historic preservation experts Carla and Phil is part time capsule, part field guide. Together, they trace how Chicago’s identity was etched not just in steel and glass, but in brick, limestone, and the narrow footprints of its neighborhoods. You’ll hear how a simple surveying tool—the Gunter’s Chain—helped script the city’s grid, shaping lot sizes that still dictate how homes are built today. You’ll discover why Chicago’s famously long, skinny lots forced classic American styles to reinvent themselves, giving rise to distinctly local versions of the bungalow and Foursquare. And you’ll wander (sonically, at least) through the city’s beloved alleys—those behind-the-scenes corridors that quietly became communal lifelines. The conversation also turns to the seismic moments that reshaped the city’s architectural story—especially the Great Chicago Fire. Entire styles like Greek Revival and Second Empire were largely erased, making the rare surviving pre-fire homes feel like architectural fossils. And while many assume wood-frame construction vanished overnight, the shift toward masonry was more of a slow burn—guided by policy, economics, and a city figuring itself out in real time. Carla and Phil also explore the evolution of Chicago’s iconic courtyard apartment buildings, tracing a path from the bold experiment of Mecca Flats to the reform-driven housing movement led by Jane Addams. It’s a story of design meeting social change—where architecture wasn’t just about buildings, but about better living. And if you’re ready to take the conversation beyond your headphones, the episode doubles as a neighborhood treasure map. From mid-century ranch homes in Calumet Heights to the tucked-away charm of Marycove/Mary Nook, and from the workers’ cottages of Bridgeport to the character-rich streets of McKinley Park—these are the places where Chicago’s architectural soul still hums. Whether you’re a lifelong Chicagoan, an architecture enthusiast, or just someone who’s ever wondered why the city looks the way it does, this episode offers a fresh lens on the places people actually live. Because in Chicago, the skyline may grab the spotlight—but the homes tell the story.