Funny ... how a photo can trigger time travel.
In this case the photo was over a headline and a news item that opened a faucet for memories.
I was jerked back to the ’70s, more than 45 years ago. There I was, sitting in “my” chair, the designated spot for the press.
I was a reporter for The Joliet Herald-News. City Hall was my beat.
The two-man press table was at the end of a raised, curved stage for the city councilmen. We had a good spot to see and hear, and it was my job to record what happened.
I don’t want to say it was often boring but there’s a reason those meetings did not draw a big crowd. Let’s just say it was often routine.
Of course, a hot item on the agenda could fill the room. Zoning, for example, could be a hot item.
The agenda clearly determined who was in the audience. And how many stories I’d have to write that night for the next day’s newspaper.
I admit I might have moaned a bit when the council chambers filled up. That meant something controversial was on the agenda and many people would have something to say. And I’d be taking lots of notes.
But this also meant I’d be writing about something people cared about. Before social media, reporters tended to wonder how much the general public cared about their government and how it spent their money.
At least that’s how it seemed. Citizens didn’t pay close attention to the workings of government, until it affected their back yard. Or their kids or their job.
And it was never dull watching the council face off a crowd of determined and sometimes angry citizens. Sad that it felt like they were not on the same side.
Often, however, I’d lean back in my chair and methodically record votes on routine business. Occasionally a councilman would comment on votes taken, and I’d have to capture some quotes.
The agenda was a clue of what was to come, but not always. But we learned to read the crowd. When I say we, I include the WJOL reporter who sat next to me.
We had our own take on what was coming. Our own private jokes and sly comments. (No — this did not show up in our news reports.)
Which is why I’m thinking we might have joked a little when we saw a woman we knew in the audience.
One of us saying, “Gee, I wonder what she is doing here?”
Then we’d chuckle because we knew exactly why she was there. She’d been there before. More than once.
And I knew I’d be putting a new lede on a familiar story. A story I’d already written a few times.
And ... it’s this woman who pulled me back to the ’70s.
Back to that press table where this young reporter (full of himself) recorded the doings of city government and imagined himself as the champion of the people.
Now, so many years later, I can see the real champion was that woman. And I was there to see it all begin.
This is the woman whose picture jumped out at me, with her wide, genuine smile.
That photo ... over a headline telling me that Billie Limacher of Joliet had passed.
A day later her obit oversimplified her impact, stating in part:
“While raising four children, she continued her passion for being involved and became active in many organizations and charities in Joliet.
“In the early seventies, Billie was the guiding force for building the Will Joliet Bicentennial Park, later renamed the Billie Limacher Bicentennial Park in May of 2000.”
It’s easier now to celebrate Billie. Her accomplishments are visible. But let me tell you what I see.
I see a woman, standing alone in front of the city’s leaders, pushing for something she passionately believed in. She would be heard, that was clear. She was not going away, that was clear.
She was not complaining about pot holes, or lousy snow removal or the rundown house in her neighborhood.
She was trying to do something for her community. I admit, this young reporter wondered if her dream was a fantasy.
No doubt, she had support. Friends and family and more. Support that grew over time, because she won.
But when she put that idea on the table it was her voice, time and time again, that I reported.
And I need to say she was not the only one to turn her voice into a drum beat.
Dorothy Mavrich, who passed in 2015, was a major player in keeping the Rialto Square Theatre in downtown Joliet.
Dorothy and Billie were regulars at the council meetings.
These ladies now are monuments in Joliet, and there’s an important lesson for all of us in their stories.
In every community there are such voices that could turn into a chorus.
It starts with an individual. Individuals who step up, often standing alone.
And — this seems important — they do not give up.
LONNY CAIN is the retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa and was a reporter for The Herald-News in the 1970s. Email to lonnyjcain@gmail.com or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.