[Congressional Record Volume 144, Number 111 (Friday, August 7, 1998)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1605-E1606]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                        BUSY BEE TO BUZZ NO MORE

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. PETER HOEKSTRA

                              of michigan

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, August 6, 1998

  Mr. HOEKSTRA. Mr. Speaker, the Busy Bee Restaurant closes for good on 
Sunday night. It marks the end of an incredible 33-year run for the 
Polish-American diner nestled like a robin's egg under the L tracks at 
1546 N. Damen.
  The Busy Bee always held the promise of spring for old men from the 
Elm Park and Viceroy hotels. The Busy Bee was for the late Abbie 
Hoffman, who recommended its affordable menu for anti-war 
demonstrators; it was also for Mayor Harold Washington, who loved the 
diner's oxtail stew.
  The Busy Bee was for one-armed piano player Eddie Balchowsky, a 
friend of two-fisted running partner Nelson Algren. The Busy Bee was 
for Shakespeare District cops, particularly Officer William Jaconetti, 
who wrote the prose for the framed, weatherproof plaque that police and 
community members installed Thursday outside the restaurant.
  The Busy Bee was for everyone.
  The loss stings.
  Jaconetti became a Chicago cop in 1968, the year all the Busy Bee's 
windows were broken in West Side riots. In part, the plaque reads: 
``The American Dream was fulfilled by many who came to the Wicker Park; 
Bucktown neighborhood for over 100 years. Arriving in the neighborhood 
in 1965 was Sophie Madej who purchased the Busy Bee Restaurant in 1972. 
Sophie, a married lady with four children, had come from Poland in 
1951, worked at a Chicago packing house for 10 years, saved her money 
and bought the restaurant . . .''
  For 33 years, Sophie served her customers pierogis, homemade spinach 
soup, meatloaf and stuffed green peppers, all seasoned with love and 
understanding.
  ``Sophie is the pioneer of this neighborhood,'' Jaconetti said. 
``They talk about community policing? It starts at a multicultural 
place like this. We will miss her. At tough times, she was always here 
for the police. For every Bulls victory, for every demonstration, for 
the Rolling Stones concert (at the nearby Double Door) she stayed open 
so the police would have somewhere to go. We're all friends with these 
people. This didn't happen because it was a business. She did something 
special. She opened the doors to everyone.''
  Sophie had put the restaurant on the market before. This time it made 
sense. Sophie turns 70 on July 5. She wants to retire and visit her 
homeland. In 1943, Sophie was moved to Germany under the Nazis' forced-
labor laws. She met her husband, Henry, in 1946 (they divorced in 1985) 
in Germany, where they remained until 1951, when Catholic Charities 
gave the young couple $100 to sponsor their voyage to America. They 
arrived in the United States with the cash, two children and two 
suitcases.
  The new owner, Mitch Gerson, will close the Busy Bee, remodel it and 
upscale the 16 apartments above the restaurant. Sophie whispered, ``He 
has to do it that way. There's no way he can compete with this.''
  There's no way Gerson's grand opening can compete with the Busy Bee's 
closing. Sunday will be just another day and nothing special will 
happen at 6 p.m. when Sophie closes the doors for the last time.
  The Busy Bee has been buzzing with adoration for the Madej family 
over the last two weeks. Sophie and three of her children, Elizabeth, 
50, Hank, 47, and Bob, 46, have been working around the clock at the 
crowded diner, where in recent days there has been a half-hour wait to 
be seated. (Her fourth child, Chester, 44, works for the National 
Oceanographic and Atmospheric Agency in Boulder, Colo.)
  By noon on Thursday, the restaurant had run out of pierogis. Cops, 
friends and neighbors arrived, most of them taking pictures so they 
could hold onto the sense of community. Other people brought Sophie 
bouquets and flowers.
  ``I never knew people cared like this,'' Sophie said. ``Never. The 
first time I walked into the restaurant after I bought it, I asked 
myself and God if I could make it for a year or two. That was my 
biggest question. And this became my home. We've had all our family 
gatherings in the restaurant. But it's time to let go and move on.''
  John Schacht sat across the counter from Sophie, listening to her 
talk like a doting son. Schacht, a painter-photographer, lives in a 
trailer in the woods of southwest Iowa. He took a train to Chicago so 
he could have one last meal at the Busy Bee. Schacht, 60, is a third-
generation customer. When Sophie bought the restaurant, it was already 
called the Busy Bee--renamed from the Oak Room, its name when it was 
built in 1913.
  ``My dad would come before his shift as a bouncer at the Bucket O' 
Blood Saloon on North Avenue,'' Schacht said. ``The first time I came 
in here was 1946. The neighborhood has changed. Around 1972, I was 
walking home from Sophie's and walked right into crossfire with two 
street gangs. . . . I'm sad to see Sophie go, but I'm glad to see her 
retiring. She's been working for all the years I've known her.''

[[Page E1606]]

  Sophie has seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. The 
hardest question to ask is why the restaurant couldn't stay in the 
family.
  ``That is tough,'' Bob Madej said. ``It's not an easy business. 
You're here 16 hours a day, seven days a week. I've been part of this 
since I was in high school, mopping floors with my brother.
  ``Maybe something could have been worked out a few years ago where 
one of the sons could have taken it over. But it didn't happen. And 
it's best now. There's no strings attached. We're all set. And Mom's 
happy. Now she'll have time to spend with the grandchildren and great-
grandchildren. And that's important''
  Bob, a district manager for Superior Coffee, paused and looked across 
the counter. ``I met my wife (Teresa) here,'' Bob said. ``I was working 
behind the counter when she walked in. Her sister was working in the 
kitchen. Maybe it won't be as emotional for my mom . . . But I have a 
lot of memories here, too.''
  It's important for future Wicker Park residents to understand the 
memories within the walls of the restaurant. That is the purpose of the 
commemorative plaque. On Thursday, through an old white bullhorn, 
Jaconetti read the plaque honoring the Busy Bee. Sophie watched, her 
head bowed in humility. She cradled her 1-year-old great-grandson 
Anthony, who someday will hear stories about his grandmother's great 
restaurant.
  Her hard thumbs fidgeted nervously as Jaconetti reached the last 
sentence on the plaque. ``. . . She may be gone from the Busy Bee, but 
not from our memories and hearts.'' And honey-soaked tears fell from 
the eyes of a city's queen bee.

                          ____________________