The Rooming House Gallery: Two men struggle individually and as a couple to turn an old rooming house into a community art center. The result is heartwarming for the community and themselves.

The Rooming House Gallery: Literary Fiction/ LGBTQ

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BLURB: The Rooming House Gallery

Josh and Andres unexpectedly inherit an old rooming house in Chicago. Each discovers they have a long and deep history with the place. Thrilled to have a home of their own, plus a place for Andres to make and sell his art, the two are challenged to turn the place into a community art center. The challenge becomes more personal as each deals with their own backgrounds, family issues and differing personal interests. Tough decisions are made about their new/old home, relationship with their fathers, and their conflict over starting a family. The neighboring family and new friends play a key role as they bring the art center to fruition, move into a new personal home, and begin a non-DNA family.

EXCERPT: The Rooming House Gallery

The front doorbell rang and Andres dashed to open it.

Well,thought Josh, I didn’t warn Andres about Denny.

Built like the short, stocky, college wrestler he once was, and still wearing a flat-top, Denny rushed in, glanced at the piles of papers, ledgers and photos on the dining room table, sat down at the kitchen table and began pulling papers and notes out of his briefcase, along with a laptop. “You’re supposed to have coffee ready,” he barked. “Sit down. No, I don’t want that instant crap and don’t start brewing some now; I have another meeting near Midway.”

Josh grabbed a notepad and pen and sat down next to Andres who looked startled.

“Okay, I have lots to tell ya, so pay attention. One, your idea of turning this place into an art gallery with studios is wonderful, even if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Josh winked at Andres.

“Two,” Denny raised his hand, making circles with two fingers. “I’ve been looking the place over while you’ve been at work—here’s your key back—and this place is well built. You could probably put two more stories on it, but you don’t want to, and I’ll tell you why. Either of you know anything about historical buildings or the National Register of Historic Places?” He watched them shake their heads. “Didn’t think so. Know the old Goldblatt Brothers Department Store building at Ashland and Forty-Seventh? That’s on the list. Up on Pershing Road is the Central Manufacturing District. Cornell Square and Davis Square are too. So is the Old Stone Gate at the Union Stockyards.”

He paused as they looked at him in confusion. Jumping up, he pulled a glass out of the cupboard and filled it from the kitchen faucet, took a long drink and refilled it. “Coffee would have been better.” He sat down. “Okay, where was I?” He checked his notes. “Oh, yeah. Next, have you two got out into the community yet? Met any movers and shakers? People who know what the heck is going on around here?” He watched them shake their heads. “Didn’t think so. Well…”

Andres interrupted, “I kinda see why we might want to meet some community people, but what’s the historic register stuff got to do with us?”

“Maybe a lot, maybe nothing, it’s something we’re going to talk about. First, I’m getting back to you two meeting people around here. Andres, I’m sure you know some artists and struggling galleries close by, but you two have an opportunity to be part of a bigger picture.”

He spent the next fifteen minutes telling them about community development and the ups and downs of the Back of the Yards neighborhood. After that, he talked for fifteen minutes about the idea of being on the National Register, the attention it brought, the possible restrictions to rehabbing that could be part of their efforts. He asked them about their ideas for financing the art gallery. “I asked ya in my email. Did you do anything yet?”

“For cripes sake, we’re still trying to figure out the place and neighborhood,” Josh snapped, feeling a bit defensive.

Denny ignored his tone. “See, I’m a visionary. I think if you formed a nonprofit, got this place listed, and worked with the community leaders, you would have a marvelous opportunity to be a part of this community as it tries to revitalize itself. That synergy will result in opportunities you may not have considered yet. Like public and private grants, even tax credits. Plus, I know of no other old rooming houses on the register in the Chicago area.” He paused and pointed his stubby finger at each of them. His voice softened and his pace slowed. “I honestly mean this. I think you two are the ones to pull this off and you will be a tremendous asset in this neighborhood.” He stood up and began pacing. “This is about more than showing off the art of you and some of your derelict artist friends, as good as they are, and providing space for studios.” He smiled. “This is about offering art lessons to kids and families and seniors. This is about having your exhibitions and other ones for people from this community. This is about getting local people involved with painting murals in the underpasses and public spaces, part of the work you love to do. Am I correct, Andres?”

Andres nodded.

To Josh, his face looked perplexed, as if wondering how Denny knew so much about him. They never met or spoke in person.

Denny marched into the dining room and began poking around at the ledgers and photos Josh moved from the buffet to the table. “What the hell is this stuff? Where did you find it, and what are you going to do with it?”

Josh and Andres scurried across to stand next to him. Josh answered, “Those are everything we found in the buffet. There’re diaries in those ledgers. We just finished reading the one written by my great-great-grandfather who built the place and here’s the butcher paper he and my great-great-grandmother sketched the plans on.”

Denny pulled a chair out and sat down heavily. He inhaled deeply and let out a whistle. “Good grief. Do you know what you might have here?”

“A lot of history, we’re thinking,” said Josh. “Do you want me to tell you about how the building was built, with a back addition added on shortly after the front foundation was set?”

“I already figured that out.” He tapped his foot several times. “I think you have something of historical importance here and maybe you should consider a historical component to the gallery. Now that would be bloody unique; an art gallery, a community art center, plus with the history of the building. My God, what a concept. You two better get your asses out and start meeting people. I’ll be back Monday, same time. Damnit, have some coffee ready, at least. Maybe even a sandwich. You two get your heads out of your butts and start thinking big. This ain’t going to be some flea-bitten, half-assed grubby gallery run by a bunch of nitwits. Nope, this is going to be great.” He jumped up, stuffed his papers away, grabbed his cases and tore off. “My God, what an opportunity.” he cried as he slammed the door. He reopened it. “Track down Mona Smith and Enrique Salzmon. Try the community development office, they’ll know how to find them. Don’t wait.” The door slammed again.

Andres pulled two beers out of the ancient fridge. They sat down at the kitchen table and took long swallows. Andres exhaled a deep breath. “My God. He is intense. Does he act that way around everyone?”

Josh nodded and took another long draft.

“Did you get all that? Did he really think we wanted to run a flea-bitten gallery for a bunch of nitwits?” He scratched his armpit and chuckled. “God, that almost hurt. He did get me thinking. Just how firm were our ideas? How were we going to accomplish them? You know,” he paused to consider his words. “Isn’t it your supervisor who always says, ‘failure to plan is planning to fail.’? How realistic were our plans? Had we thought this big? This guy thinks big and seems to plan well.”

Josh shook his head. Something made him feel uncomfortable. “No, I hadn’t thought much about the needs of the community. I was still excited over inheriting this place, having a place to call our own home, to display your work, plus the work of other young artists. How we were going to do that, I wasn’t sure. I first wanted to make sure the building was solid, which we now know it is. Yet,” he paused, trying to identify what was niggling at the back of his mind. “I think some of my dreams, and yours, for the place still fit. Don’t you?”

Website URL: http://www.billmathiswriteretc.com

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LINKS

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