By Christine Rice
Tony Bowers’s short story collection On The Nine vividly depicts the desperation, loves, failures, and triumphs of a diverse cast of characters living in Chicago’s Greater Grand Crossing neighborhood. A few of the stories feel like gritty parables. Others follow the trajectory of lives gone wrong. Still others focus on nuanced lives of good people surviving against a backdrop of poverty, drugs, and despair. Bowers gives voice to the guy selling cigarettes on the corner, a businessman opening up his newsstand in the grey morning light, the young man who finds himself gang banging, the kid admiring the neighborhood drunk’s beautiful baseball swing, the teacher trying to make a difference, the mother fiercely protecting her child, the grandfather taking his grandsons to a Cubs game.
I caught up with Tony to talk Grand Crossing, small press publishing, and how a group of stories becomes a collection.
CHRISTINE RICE: Hi, Mr. Bowers.
TONY BOWERS: Hey now, Mrs. Rice. What’s good lady?
CR: Just enjoying the Chicago weather.
I’ve known and admired your writing for a few years now and was delighted to see On The Nine on my bookshelf. I remember a few of these characters from your time at Columbia College Chicago. Can you tell me about the genesis of this collection?
TB: Wow… I feel like I’ve known you forever. We actually go back to 2006, of course at Columbia. You sat at the head of two semi-circles while I was there getting my MFA. So you do know some of these characters well. These characters have been floating around in my head for years. Rip, Jimmy, and Jonas all appeared in Hair Trigger (Columbia’s award-winning student anthology). Even though I have told the stories, published the collection, none of the characters want to leave. I guess they have more stories they want me to tell.
The idea to do a collection came about in 2012 or so. I had written eight or nine stories and was fortunate to have them published in various places. One day it struck me that the neighborhood was the same in each story. That’s when it jumped out at me that I needed to put them all in one book.
CR: The hopeful but desperate tone in “Something Like Baseball” extends throughout this collection. In it, the young narrator watches as the neighborhood drunk – who used to be a high school baseball star – crashes the narrator’s pick-up baseball game.
Watching Fats swing, the narrator says:
“That was tight, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was a good swing, but so what?”
“What you mean ‘so what’! That looked just like Sandberg, man.”
“Yeah, well it ain’t. Sandberg is a Wrigley, getting ready to get paid for swinging the bat. That fool gonna go throw up behind the dumpster in the alley.”
Chris’ face balled up as a lump formed in his throat. “That’s mean, man,” he said.
That’s such a poignant moment. These kids are surrounded by drugs, crime, gangs, unemployment, systematic racism. They are also surrounded by just as many hard-working people, people very much committed to their family, their faith, their community.
TB: That’s it Chris! You got it! That is the message that I wanted to convey. In the midst of all of those detracting forces, people still strive to live lives of dignity, integrity and honor, with love and kindness unbound. Who doesn’t want those things? It doesn’t matter what hood you’re from or the circumstances, we all want to be our most beautiful selves. The cover art of the book is a graphic manifestation of that message. Notice the rough interior of that room…broken glass, garbage, graffiti etc. But hanging from the ceiling is a perfect and wonderful Tiffany lamp, complete and whole, untouched by the ugliness surrounding it. I didn’t design the cover. I didn’t even give any notes on it. The designer read a few stories and it just clicked for him. He got it as well. I guess I did my job huh? You just made me happy with your observation and insight. Thank you.
CR: In another story, “Rites of Passage,” a teacher who has returned to the neighborhood to teach tries to reason with one of his students “posted against the schoolyard fence”:
Richard shook his head. “How come you didn’t come to class, young blood?”
“I was at the studio,” Rashard answered. “I ain’t miss nothing no way.”
“Yeah that’s what you think. You can’t be a rap mogul and a seventh grade dropout, Rashard. You gotta get your education too. You can do both.”
The boy lowered his head and giggled. The neighborhood referred to him as Rashard the Legend and Richard liked him. He was smart and had a keen sense of the world. He would smile broadly and shake his head whenever he sniffed bullshit. And most things in life were bullshit to him. Richard thought it was sad for someone so young to be so cynical, but he tried not to judge too much. He understood that life on The Nine wasn’t easy.
“I gotta get this in, Mr. T. I mean, I’m about to blow up. These streets be begging for this here.” He waved his hands over his body as if he was a product on display.
“There’s time, Rashard. You just gotta slow down.”
“I can’t. I gotta blaze this here. I don’t know when my time is gonna come. You know how it is. You from around here. I gotta get my piece of the pie now.”
For a twelve- or thirteen-year-old kid to feel that way…
This story lays out the obstacles parents and kids and educators face in many Chicago neighborhoods, in many neighborhoods around the country. Rashard is a victim of the times. In that story, you write:
Even the days of crack couldn’t compare to what the youngsters of Rashard’s generation had to deal with.
What has changed in that neighborhood from when you were a kid?
TB: The more things change the more they stay the same. I am careful to not portray my time in the ’80s/’90s as some golden era and things just downgraded from there. The shit these kids face are the same things I faced when I was a kid…but it does seem ramped up.
So someone hates on someone else on social media and reaction spreads at hyper-speed. People get amped up and unfortunately their first thought is physical violence. Social media has had an impact on interpersonal relationships and communication. That is a huge change through the years. Now that’s directly related to the kids. But most of this crap they have no control over. Like the educational system. This top-down, corporate mentality that puts numbers and data over the intrinsic value of education is very deflating to many youngsters. They see the bullshit. Kids are adept at that. They have it figured out that the system is not really designed for their benefit. I had a seventh grader at the time back in my middle-school-teacher years that said that he saw that the adults needed high test scores from the kids in order to keep their jobs. He looked at me and said we (adults) were using the kids and that the overall system didn’t really care about them. That broke my heart because he was presented with such a harsh truth at thirteen years old. If a kid is in an uninspired school where do they get the fuel for their dreams? How do they learn to set goals and craft visions? Where does the motivation come from? That’s a change.
There are so many other things that they face that my generation faced but damn, it seems so much more extreme.
CR: These stories crystallize a time and a place but they feel timeless too. I write about my hometown…so I’m curious: what were the advantages (or challenges) of setting the stories in the neighborhood where you grew up, the Greater Grand Crossing neighborhood? Of setting them in a place you knew/know intimately?
TB: What’s so funny is that I was not really setting out to write twelve stories about Grand Crossing. Eric May told me once to write what I know. So every story dealt with that neighborhood and the folks who live there. It’s a tough place, but when you wake up there every day it doesn’t seem so bad. It’s only when you look at the news or read crime stats that it jumps out at you.
I really only see advantages of writing about a place you know intimately. You and I are students of the Story Workshop approach. It’s all about seeing in the mind…yes….so it was easy to go back to the old hood, to see, to smell, to taste and feel…because I walked those streets. I know people like those in the stories. My experiences in Grand Crossing were really important to my ability to make the place come alive.
CR: Are things better or worse in the old neighborhood?
TB: I think that Grand Crossing is like a lot of neighborhoods throughout the city. There have always been challenges regarding lack of opportunity, crime and violence. It’s not just a South or West side thing. However, I do believe that things have gotten worse over the years. Things that have a negative impact generally do. If there is a sickness in the body, if it’s not treated, it will only get worse. Obviously the key is to act before too much pain and eventual death takes place. I think the recent protest of the shooting death of Laquan McDonald can be the medicine we need to lead to some real sustained healing.
You know…in a real sense…I never left Grand Crossing. I am a South Side boy. I drive through Grand Crossing, I shop there, visit friends and family there. I am a part of the place and it is a part of me.
CR: “RIP” is one of my favorite stories in the collection. There’s this sense of someone telling this orally to a small group. You’ve contrasted Old Fred – a retired judge – to the narrator’s father who was the judge’s polar opposite.
Were there people in your family who told stories like this? Where great storytellers?
TB: Ha…yeah my dear old pappy is a master storyteller. He does voices and faces and gestures, just to get the story across. He’s funny as hell. It’s like he opens up some vortex and on the other side is an alternate universe where the story is really happening. His stories were real life. People he knew, situations, sometimes, dicey or even dangerous situations he had been in. I noticed he focused a lot on human nature and how people can change based on the level of consequence in any experience. I stole that from him, I always ask my characters, “What’s at stake for you here?”
CR: Can you talk about how that story evolved? In the Q&A in the back of the book, you mentioned that you were working out your “daddy issues” in this collection.
TB: Yeah, I was. “RIP” is based on my dad. I heard stories that he was homeless for a time. That shook me up because he was so bold and cocky when I was a kid. When the story came to me, I saw a character, like my dad, but as a much older man, who had been on the street for quite a while. I wondered what this guy’s story was. I tried it as third person and it didn’t really click. First person was a disaster, just not a broad enough perspective. So I tried the direct address approach. Then it just came alive. The narrator could be talking to any one of us. Laughing, joking and pulling on shared memories. It was so special to write that story. I had a great time.
I think through the writing of that piece, although it is not one hundred percent my dad it was close enough that I did come to understand him a bit more. That helped me deal with our stormy past just a bit better.
CR: Will we see more about Rip in a novel? In other short stories?
TB: I never thought about that. That’s really interesting. I say yes. I would love to meet Rip as a kid, teen years and adulthood. Maybe he even stages a comeback after the homelessness. That would be something. We’ll see.
CR: I hope so.
The right indie publisher can be hard to find. Tell me how you connected to Vital Narrative Press?
TB: That was nothing but God’s grace. I had set a goal that I would find a publisher for the collection by January 2015 or I would self-publish. I was really chomping at the bit. It was August 2014 and my great friend Sheree Greer (one of the best writers I know) sent me a link through Facebook about Vital Narrative Press seeking its first writer. What impressed me was that VNP was all about telling stories about urban people of color. Not hood books. But real authentic stories. They seemed to have a mission to start a revolution in black literature that champions the writer and honors their stories. I submitted and three months later I was signed. Before my January 2015 goal. It was a very proud moment. I love the press because we are a team and we are building the press together. I am able to give input that is honored and the business aspect is very “pro-writer.” VNP forever!
CR: These stories come out of the past but are in the present moment as well. Things change…but not so much. You mentioned that you wrote “Bo Peep’s Jab” (about a black man selling cigarettes on the corner), six years ago. It must have struck you when Eric Garner was murdered on the street corner for selling cigarettes. Can you talk about how these stories keep resonating?
TB: Right. I wish I could say I am a prophet, I’m not. But I am good at seeing patterns. Like I said earlier, the more things change the more they stay the same. Police all over this nation have a very dysfunctional relationship with black and brown people, especially men. There is a real fear and distrust there. So it doesn’t matter if it’s a damn loose cigarette or if the brother didn’t signal a turn, every interaction can be a fatal one. The shit is real. I had a conversation with a brother selling squares and he told me that cops were cracking down on the selling, really? So I knew it was only a matter of time before that fear and negative conditioning boiled over. Unfortunately Brother Garner is dead. Not over the square but because of the fear police have of the people they are supposed to serve and protect.
CR: You have a family and you work full time. When do you write? How do you carve out that time in your life to make stories?
TB: I generally sacrifice sleep. My mind and body have gotten used to five hours of sleep. “So night time is the right time to be with the one you love,” (crooning in my best Ray Charles voice) LOL. I love writing so I do it with no complaints. I do that until my body says enough. Then I take a break to catch up on some ZZZ’s. After a few days, I’m recharged. Then I’m back at it. I know it’s not the healthiest thing. I am trying to shift around some other responsibilities to have a saner schedule, but until that time, I am up writing until my eyes cross.
Tony Bowers is a native Chicagoan and graduate of Columbia College Chicago, with an MFA in Creative Writing. He also has a MAT from National Lewis University. Tony is the author of On the Nine, a collection of short stories from Vital Narrative Press. He is the 2006 recipient of the Follett Fellowship in creative writing. His work has appeared in several anthologies such as Hair Trigger, the Story Week Reader, Expressions from Englewood and The Essential Summer Reader.
Tony began his teaching career working as a middle school teacher of English Language Arts for Chicago Public Schools. After four years he transitioned to City Colleges as an Adjunct instructor of composition and developmental writing. He currently is a tenure track assistant professor at the College of DuPage.
“I am living my best life right now. Writing and teaching writing. It doesn’t get any better.”
Christine Maul Rice’s award-winning novel, Swarm Theory, was called “a gripping work of Midwest Gothic” by Michigan Public Radio and earned an Independent Publisher Book Award, a National Indie Excellence Award, a Chicago Writers Association Book of the Year award (finalist), and was included in PANK’s Best Books of 2016 and Powell’s Books Midyear Roundup: The Best Books of 2016 So Far. In 2019, Christine was included in New City’s Lit 50: Who Really Books in Chicago and named One of 30 Writers to Watch by Chicago’s Guild Complex. Most recently, her short stories, essays, and interviews have appeared in Allium, 2020: The Year of the Asterisk*, Make Literary Magazine, The Rumpus, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Millions, Roanoke Review, The Literary Review, among others. Christine is the founder and editor of the literary nonprofit Hypertext Magazine & Studio and is an Assistant Professor of English at Valparaiso University.