On 2001-08-30 12:25, Tom wrote – absent numerous snips by me in the interests of brevity:
… I sat down in a bunch of trees and began playing my whistle. I wasn’t playing for money, but I noticed that a lot of people looked interested but seemed afraid to stop and listen.
I’m led to one of three conclusions:
- People on the Chicago waterfront are too busy to stop and listen to music;
Maybe, maybe not. I don’t spend a lot of time in Chicago, but, when I have, at least those driving seem pretty self-absorbed.
- People on the Chicago waterfront are afraid that musicians are going to beat them up and steal their money, or
This could be it. There are places in Chicago where one can get killed just for being there. Also, what you were doing would be considered very odd behavior – especially since you weren’t asking for donations – and odd behavior instantly makes one suspect.
Example: I went to the Art Museum in Chicago with my wife and daughter to see the Amarna Period exhibit when it was there, and got grilled pretty seriously because I had my fife in my hand ( where it always is ). I offered to play it, to demonstrate the truth of my assertion that it was a musical instrument, but that caused even greater consternation. I and my magic wand were eventually allowed in, but it was a near thing. Of course, the fact that I was wearing a grey cowboy hat, leather vest, Levis 501s ( the button-fly kind ), cowboy boots, and a full beard, probably had nothing to do with it … 
- My playing needs a lot more work than I realized. >

Nah. Under favorable conditions I can draw a crowd – that’s smiling, and doesn’t have any tar, feathers, or rails – and if I can you can.
Either way, it seemed a bit sad. Perhaps I missed something, being a small-town person…
The thing about small towns is that everyone knows everyone else, and one of the side effects is trust. That’s what’s missing in The Big City.