by Julian Roberts  December 13, 1998

My father, Clyde Roberts, had gone ahead of us to start his new position as a designer for Argonne National Laboratories. He had located a home for us, but warned my mother, Alice, that construction was still in progress. He said it might be a few months before we were able to move in.

Flying up on the twin-engine DC-3 in about June of 1948 was an adventure for my brother, Nick, and me, but I don't recall mother and my sister, Judy, being quite as excited about it. We stayed in hotels in Chicago and a motel in Gary, Indiana. Each week my father would check on progress, but our home was still unfinished. The family moved into Chicago Heights in order to start school. I recall seeing a movie titled "Bill and Coo" which was acted entirely by parakeets, and a miraculous device in a store window called a "Television Set."

Finally our home at 2701 Western Avenue was ready! We were the end row-house of the second quadrangle to be finished. I think the house was brick. As the end house, we had an entry facing Western Avenue, directly into the living room. To the right, as you entered, was a dining room and through that a door into the kitchen. Crossing the living room, you would ascend a flight of stairs with a dog-leg right at the halfway point, which led to the three bedrooms and single bath upstairs. From the kitchen, a flight of stairs led down into the basement. I recall a monstrous coal furnace that dominated the room and a sink for a laundry area. To my mother's dismay, that sink became the repository for a number of amphibians and reptiles I brought home from the nearby Sauk forest.

Tommy Klutznick and I rapidly became friends. The third member of this unholy trinity was named Allen, I believe. We used to play "sock ball" in the mall between the quadrangles whenever we could get enough kids together. I also recall exploring the Sauk Forest (Sauk Trail Woods) on our bicycles. Sometimes we would be drafted by the neighborhood girls to participate in miniature playlets performed on the lawns for the benefit of the community.
Other than that, communal activities were sparse. Most tenants were strangers to the area and quite dissimilar in background. We did have an occasional ice cream party with the traditional "one kid-power" ice cream maker. Tommy Klutznick had a horse at a nearby stable. We used to go there and ride together. One day the herd decided to leave the stables and Tommy and I tried to get them to return. After about two hours of inexpert guidance, the horses found their own way home, and I learned just how sore muscles can get from riding!

Something in my memory insists that Western Avenue was unpaved that first winter. I recall standing in snow waiting for the bus to come and pick us up for the trip into Chicago Heights for school. On occasion the weather would be so bad the mothers would band together and take us in by car. My parents would have an occasional party, and my mother soon became active in the neighborhood. When Chicago Heights decided to recognize the budding community, mother became the reporter of Park Forest activities for the Chicago Heights newspaper, complete with byline. She still has clippings from the period. I became a carrier for the same newspaper. My memories include trying to find my way through ten-foot drifts to get a (often soggy) newspaper to the porch.

The addition of children from Park Forest overburdened the Chicago Heights school system and we attended several schools. On one class transfer, our teacher wanted to impress on us that we were guests at the new school, and needed to behave as perfect ladies and gentlemen. Her concept of "perfect ladies and gentlemen" was that we would remain in the classroom during recess and learn to knit and crochet. Mother would frequently give me a small sum of money for lunch. I recall buying a strawberry tart from a small bakery on the main street of Chicago Heights nearly every day. I still regard a strawberry tart as food fit for the gods.

In about January of 1950, I became ill with acute nephritis. Recovery required several months in the Bob Roberts Children's Hospital. Although I did start seventh grade, my father was advised that my chances for continued survival would be much better if we returned to the milder Southern climates.
We left Park Forest in December of 1950. My father continued to work with nuclear projects and finally retired from Union Carbide in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. He died in 1980. My sister, Judy, died of leukemia in 1959. Mother, Nick and I live in the San Francisco Bay area. Nick is a retired stockbroker and I have become an attorney practicing in Sunnyvale, California (http://www.julianslaw.com).

After I stumbled across Park Forest's Historical Society on the internet, sent an e-mail message, and received a very nice email from Elaine Brownlee, I went into the map function of AltaVista and printed out a map of Park Forest. You have certainly grown! Our house was about at the intersection of Elm Street with Western Avenue, across the street. I gather from the blank space on the map that the forest remains, and I hope children still play and ride their bikes through the area. Certainly there is still winter skating on Sauk Pond!

Congratulations on your anniversary and best wishes for your continued prosperity. I thank you for having such excellent representation in the Park Forest Historical Society. Your web page has led me into many pleasant memories.

Warmest regards, Julian Roberts
(Julian writes from the San Francisco Bay Area)