In America, beautiful and ugly, grotesque and tragic, good and evil, each has its place.
— Nelson Algren
Chicago novelist Nelson Algren takes the El to Monroe and walks a block to the Palmer House, where he meets fellow novelist Simone de Beauvoir in a cocktail lounge named Le Petit Café.
He buys her a drink and they try to hold a conversation, but it's tough: he speaks no French and her English is limited.
"I’m the only serious writer in this city," Algren boasts, and offers to show de Beauvoir, visiting from Paris, the "real" town.
He takes the famous Existentialist to a tiny dance club filled with down-and-out customers; old winos, ruined whores, and a crazy spastic misfit who dances alone on the empty stage. Algren used to be a hobo, himself, a member of Chicago's lowlife.
"He’s here every day," Algren says, pointing to the spastic man.
"He's beautiful," Beauvoir replied. "They're all beautiful."
"In America, beautiful and ugly, grotesque and tragic, good and evil—each has its place" Algren says. "We don't like to think these extremes can mingle.”
We still don't.
