Alex Chilton wasn't a rock star and I'm not a rock critic and maybe that's why I was able to extract some stuff from him in the several conversations we had since his 1988 release of "High Priest."
Or maybe he was just in some good moods.
Chilton eschewed publicity and enjoyed blending into the rhythm of New Orleans where he relocated in 1982, quit drinking and worked for a while washing dishes and chopping down trees.
Chilton died March 17 of a heart attack in a New Orleans hospital. He was 59. He was slated to appear in a Big Star reunion at the South By Southwest Music Conference, and check out Jim DeRogatis' tender tribute from Austin, Tx.

Pre-Fergie Spring Training

SCOTTSDALE, Az.---A couple weeks before spring training the generous Don Carson, owner of Don & Charlie's Steakhouse opened his restaurant for lunch so I could talk baseball with Cubs Hall of Famer Fergie Jenkins. The place was empty. We could have sat anywhere.
We were seated in front of a hand-painted mural of the 1969 Cubs.
Ouch.
That team is mostly responsible for my personality.

I was 14 years old and already going to a few games at Wrigley Field when the '69 Cubs faded down the stretch. At such a young, tender age, that team taught me that life won't always play out as you think. Your heart will be broken. You may become cynical. I kept scrapbooks of that season. Why? Even two of the newspapers I clipped (Daily News and Chicago American) are gone.
And there they were, all staring at me: the sad eyes of center fielder Don Young. The quiet dignity of Billy Williams. The heartbreak of should-be Hall of Famer Ron Santo. The coast-to-coast smile of Ernie Banks. I was in a rewind Alcatraz, they were the hope washed ashore........

I'm looking out my 9th floor window in the Features Department of the Sun-Times.
No, I'm not going to jump.
The eastern view is similar to the scene of 25 years ago when I filed my first downtown story for the newspaper. The Sun-Times always rises in the east. (My 25th anniversary was Feb. 19, thanks to Thomas Conner for the Merle Haggard milepost).
I don't remember the story I filed in February, 1985, but I'm fairly sure it was about some crazy nightlife spot. I sat at an open desk near the cluttered offices of film critic Roger Ebert and theater critic Glenna Syse.
I was jaked in February, 1985........