CHICAGO _ After days of speeches and anticipation, about 150 protesters took over Lake Shore Drive near Belmont Avenue on Thursday for an anti-violence demonstration designed to disrupt the evening rush hour. Chicago police shut down both the northbound and southbound lanes of the drive for a time, although northbound traffic resumed within an hour of the march's start.
Protesters shouting "Shut it down! Shut it down!" walked from the grassy area west of the drive onto the southbound lanes about 4:15 p.m. as dozens of police officers looked on.
Protest organizers are calling for the resignations of Mayor Rahm Emanuel and Chicago police Superintendent Eddie Johnson. "There are too many killings in Chicago, there are too many police-involved killings in Chicago," said one of the demonstration's organizers, Tio Hardiman. "It's time to change the narrative in Chicago."
Demonstrators wrote messages in chalk onto the asphalt of Lake Shore Drive.
City snowplows blocked traffic on the drive in the vicinity of the protest. Traffic was at a standstill as motorists were forced to exit the roadway. Curious onlookers and media members also converged on the scene.
By 5 p.m., the drive was reopened to traffic. After protesting on the lanes of Lake Shore Drive, the demonstrators were proceeding to Wrigley Field. Eastbound Addison Street between Racine and Clark streets was closed to traffic.
The Chicago Cubs are hosting the San Diego Padres, with the first pitch scheduled for 7:05 p.m. The ballpark gates generally open to fans two hours before the game. The Cubs have assured fans they will be able to safely enter Wrigley Field without disruption. The team has urged fans to avoid Lake Shore Drive on their way to the game.
As the protest neared its start time, the grassy easement leading to the southbound lanes of Lake Shore Drive began to fill with demonstrators, many of whom brought signs condemning police-involved shootings and overall gun violence. Nearby cars continued to zip by as bike cops lingered farther back in silent formation.
Still, there were a number of nearby residents and onlookers who watched as the numbers grew. Julie Swislow, a Lincoln Park resident, arrived to the meeting place because although she didn't plan on participating, she wanted to show her support despite the minor inconvenience for her and her neighbors.
"It's good to be a little uncomfortable. It's one day of discomfort, not a lifetime of discomfort," she said, referring to violence on the South and West sides.
Others weren't as receptive.
A man wearing a Grateful Dead shirt and riding a bike yelled from a distance, "Influence children in a positive way!" After having words with a protester, the cyclist rolled away, saying, "Get out of my face and raise your kids!"
Early arriving demonstrators unfurled a blue-and-white banner with the message, "#ResignRahm: End the Tale of Two Cities. Justice for ALL Chicagoans!"
Other demonstrators protested police brutality.
In the park nearby, Grant Harmon, 35, sat with his 7-month-old daughter Charlotte near where the march was set to launch.
Harmon said protesters have valid concerns, pointing out that he's able to play with his daughter at a park without worrying about his safety. He lives about two blocks from the lakefront green space.
"If I was a parent on the South Side, it's fair to want the same thing," he said.
About two hours before the protest was set to begin, a middle-aged Lakeview man relaxed on a shaded bench at Tescler Playground watching his 4-year-old son play just outside of where protesters began gathering. The man, a Cubs season ticket holder, sold his seats for Thursday's game in anticipation of the protest but said he was supportive of the demonstrators if they remain nonviolent.
"I think it's a great idea," said the man, who declined to give his name because he didn't want to receive hate mail. "You can protest for a decade on the South Side without getting any attention. Come up here, you can reach people untouched by violence.
"You got a lot of rich who're people who, it's not their problem. I guess you can make it their problem."
Protesters, including one man who held a raised fist above his head while carrying a red, black and green Pan-African flag, began arriving about 2 p.m. to the area around Belmont Avenue and the drive. A news conference was planned before the march, which was organized by the Rev. Gregory Livingston, Tio Hardiman and the Rev. Ira Acree.
Livingston has been organizing and speaking at marches, rallies and demonstrations for years. At a May Day rally for laborers in 2005, he elicited encouraging shouts from the crowd during a passionate speech at the memorial to the 1886 Haymarket Riot.
"Don't let nobody tell you what you can have," Livingston said. "And don't let anyone tell you what you be."
In the 13 years since that speech on the Near West Side, Livingston has spoken out about the killing of Florida teen Trayvon Martin, led a march on Michigan Avenue's Magnificent Mile to protest the Laquan McDonald shooting and confronted the mayor at a Roseland news conference about police patrols.
The latest demonstration may be Livingston's most high-profile yet.
"We are going down commercial strips, and if people are upset about us disturbing their entertainment and their cafe life, human life is more important than recreation," Livingston, a pastor at New Hope Baptist Church in West Humboldt Park, said last week. "We all need to recognize that."
The anti-violence protest is the second in less than a month to target the shutdown of a Chicago expressway, a tactic designed to maximize exposure for the message. The previous march on July 7, organized by the Rev. Michael Pfleger, shut down the northbound lanes of the Dan Ryan Expressway for an hour on a Saturday morning. The full closure of one side of the busy highway followed on-site negotiations about logistics between organizers and police. Johnson ended up marching arm in arm with Pfleger and the Rev. Jesse Jackson. No one was arrested.
In bringing this march to the city's North Side and holding it during a weekday rush hour, organizers of the march said they were trying to "redistribute the pain" to more affluent areas and bring attention to crime and poverty in areas where gun violence is not as prevalent.
