In its heyday, East Chicago had it all -- especially on Friday night when it was payday at the steel mills and the ore boats docked in the harbor.
There was money, lots of money.
And booze. Oh, how it flowed.
And there were, well, you get the picture.
And if you were hungry, East Chicago was home to the two best dives in Northwest Indiana -- Hot Dog John's and Taco Joe's.
Jobs were abundant and paid the kind of money that a young guy had never seen before. It was almost obscene.
There wasn't such a thing as foreign steel back then. At least no one talked about it.
Steel mills were cash cows. And they didn't mind sharing. Any kid who walked out of a high school graduation ceremony could get a job in one of the mills on Monday morning. And he probably bought a brand new car on Tuesday.
Life was good.
No one worried about pollution from the mills. That grit in the sky meant the furnaces were running strong.
Jobs and money. Jobs and money. Life was good.
And one of the finest high school basketball programs in the country was operating at E.C. Washington -- the place many called Harbor High. Johnnie Baratto was the legendary coach. Everyone wanted to be an E.C. Washington Senator. "Hail, Noble Washington."
I suspect that because there was so much money in the city, crime wasn't the problem it is today. Everyone who wanted a job had one. There was no need to steal. There were no gangs and few thugs.
Blacks, Hispanics and those from countries across Western and Eastern Europe lived in harmony.
We're talking the 1960s into the 1970s.
East Chicago also was the envy of virtually every politician in the county -- and much of Indiana for that matter.
The city was an awesome political force. Some say it was the last strong Democratic machine in the nation.
No candidate in his right mind filed for office in Lake County without first genuflecting in East Chicago.
It didn't even matter if East Chicago wasn't part of the office for which you were running. It just demonstrated the length and muscle of the East Chicago political arm.
And anyone running for countywide office had little chance if he didn't have the backing of the East Chicago precinct organization, which walked in lockstep with whomever was mayor because the committeemen or their relatives had jobs with the city.
If you were endorsed in East Chicago, you could count on the vast majority of the votes because residents followed the advice of the committeemen.
And most importantly, the votes were virtually all Democratic. Republican wasn't spoken there.
And for half a decade, someone from East Chicago was the county Democratic chairman, further ensuring the city's place in county politics.
And any Democrat worth his salt came to seek East Chicago's blessing before announcing his candidacy for governor. I sometimes thought it was a little more special to be mayor of East Chicago than governor of Indiana.
The city had a long, strong run.
But suddenly Friday nights weren't quite as much fun.
There were fewer steelworkers cashing pay checks and hitting the streets.
The property taxes from the residents and the steel mills began to dwindle.
Foreign steel suddenly became a fact of life and East Chicago felt the pinch.
People started fleeing to the suburbs, although some came back to the homeland to vote.
Jay Given, the brightest political mind in the city, was murdered in the vestibule of the Jockey Club while politicians partied upstairs. The landmark building, known as the Elks Club, is gone.
Harbor High was razed, sucking some of the spirit out of the city. E.C. Roosevelt came down at the same time. East Chicago lost part of its identity with the passing of those two schools.
While the city remained a political force, people were getting restless.
As Mayor Robert Pastrick was seeking an eighth term in 1999, Stephen Stiglich -- a political force of his own -- took him on for the second time. And he lost again.
That campaign led to the making of "The King of Steeltown" -- a documentary by Chris Sautter -- a native Hoosier living in Washington, D.C.
It also was the campaign dominated by $20 million in sidewalks that led to the unraveling of the East Chicago most people knew. A way of life had ended.
Suddenly, East Chicago wasn't a place you wanted to be on Friday night. It no longer was fun or safe.
The political unrest mounted as Pastrick narrowly won a ninth term in 2003 over George Pabey.
Because of allegations of widespread vote fraud, the Indiana Supreme Court ordered a new election. In October 2004 Pabey beat Pastrick by almost a 2-1 vote.
With Hispanics constituting a majority of the population, people expected Pabey to put the fire back into Friday night.
It never happened. Too much of the city already was gone.
They still make a lot of steel in East Chicago, but it's different. On Friday nights, the steelworkers head home to Highland and Hobart and Hebron for a shot and a beer.
There are those who say the conviction of Mayor George Pabey a week ago may have been the final curtain for the city that fell hard from on high.
It's hard to get up off the mat time and again, no matter how proud or powerful you once might have been.