Monday,
September 24,
Obit:
The
ANNOTICO Report
Florence
Scala was kind of a Rosa Parks of the
Italian-American neighborhood, "Gutsy" is a
word friends and family used to describe Scala. It
all came down to the basic philosophy she lived by. "She had a great sense
of compassion, of wanting people to be treated fairly,
She had a vision of the community and city that centered around caring for one
another."
In
February 1961, the city announced plans to build a new campus for the
In
the prologue of StudsTerkel's
book "
======================================================
'Heroine'
led fight against City Hall in '60s
By
Emma
Tribune
staff reporter
August
29, 2007
Florence
Scala earned a place in
Scala lost that battle, but she came to embody the struggle of
regular people trying to preserve their communities.
She
also became a recurring character in the work of Studs Terkel,
who told the city's story through her eyes.
"She
was my heroine," Terkel said on Tuesday.
"She tried with intelligence and courage to save the soul of our city. She
represented to me all that
Scala, 88, died of colon cancer early Tuesday, Aug. 28, in the same
Downstairs
from the apartment was her family's restaurant,
Though
she lived most of her life on the same block, Scala
led a exuberant life and was an essential part of the
city's fabric. She got her start in community activism at the legendary
She
organized boisterous sit-ins at Mayor Richard J. Daley's fifth-floor City Hall
office. Her home was bombed; she survived. She ran for alderman in the
notoriously corrupt old 1st Ward, and lost badly.
"She
was kind of a Rosa Parks of the Italian-American neighborhood, and she was just
filled with joy and spirit," said syndicated columnist Georgie Anne Geyer, a reporter on the civil rights beat at
the Chicago Daily News in the early 1960s. "She awakened that whole
neighborhood."
Born
Florence Giovangelo on Sept. 17, 1918, Scala and two brothers were raised by immigrant parents in
what was for years a predominantly Italian neighborhood.
She
visited Hull House six days a week until her marriage to Charles Scala, a bartender at downtown hotels. It was at Hull House
that she learned about city planning and became committed to preserving her
neighborhood and its culture.
In
February 1961, the city announced plans to build a new campus for the
neighborhood's reaction.
"It
was a bombshell," she told Terkel. "What
shocked us was the amount of land they decided to take. They were out to
demolish our entire community."
Two
days after the city's announcement, Scala organized
more than 150 people in a march on City Hall. It was the beginning of her
campaign as leader of the Harrison-Halsted Community Group, which for months
fought the city at every step.
That
April, about 50 women attended a three-hour sit-in at the late mayor's office.
They pounded desks, threw council journals and hurled insults at Daley,according to a Tribune
account. Scala told the angry crowd that the mayor
was "going to understand what it is like to live in a real
democracy," the Tribune's story said.
Decades
later, Scala reflected on those days.
"We
had no political savvy at all," she said in a 1992 Tribune story. "We
did it mostly by intuition and anger." In the end, that wasn't enough.
More than 800 houses and 200 businesses were razed to make way for the campus.
Among
the victories claimed by Scala and her cohorts was
persuading the university's trustees to preserve the original Hull House
building as a memorial to Jane Addams.
Her
battle also provided a model for future fights by threatened neighborhoods,
Geyer said.
In
October 1962, a bomb went off at Scala's home,
wrecking three floors of porches and shattering bedroom windows. Who did it
remains a mystery. She told the Tribune at the time, "I don't want to quit
the fight, but I'm scared and sick and afraid for other people in the
neighborhood."
In
1964, she ran as a write-in candidate for alderman of the old 1st Ward and got
walloped by the Democratic machine's candidate. She worked as a picture editor
at the Encyclopaedia Britannica and the IllinoisDepartment of Mental Health.
In
1980, Scala opened "
Mayor
Daley said in a statement on Tuesday: "Florence Scala
brought passion to everything she did and was committed to her community in a
way all Chicagoans can emulate. She left her mark on our city."
Scala closed the restaurant in 1990, saying she was tired of
working six days a week. Her husband had died five years earlier.
She
remained a part of the dialogue when neighborhoods were in peril. When the old
chic little street shopping area. It should be just the way it is
-- wild, crummy and gutsy."
"Gutsy"
is a word friends and family used to describe Scala.
It all came down to the basic philosophy she lived by, said nephew Steven Giovangelo, an Episcopal priest in
"She
had a great sense of compassion, of wanting people to be treated fairly,"
he said. "She had a vision of the community and city that centered around caring for one another."
Scala leaves no immediate survivors. Her family is planning a
public memorial service.
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