Few can argue with Bob Bailey’s dedication to Bolingbrook. He served on the Board of Trustees since Bolingbrook’s founding in 1965. To date, he is the only resident to serve two nonconsecutive terms as mayor. While critics called his expansion of Remington Blvd a “Road to nowhere,” it helped spur industrial development in Southern Bolingbrook. The current Bolingbrook Town Center is named in his honor. Some say that if you listen very carefully, you can hear his ghostly footsteps as he wonders the hallways.

In the late 1970s, Bailey had a love-hate relationship with the Babbler throughout his career. He would call Babbler reporters “a bunch of liars” at board meetings, yet most of what we now know about Clow UFO base came from his leaks to the Babbler. Sources say he summoned the ghosts of journalists to create The Phantom Press.  Bailey wanted a publication to compete with the Babbler, he allegedly told his supporters. Yet, when those supporters urged him to have the Babbler removed from Old Chicago, he refused. Circulation of the Babbler at Old Chicago saved the Babbler from almost certain bankruptcy.

Though Bailey gave many insightful interviews with the Babbler, his first interview as mayor was marred by the Disco Fever Epidemic of 1978. 

(Content notice 2017: Depiction of sexual harassment by the reporter.  Would not be tolerated today by any staff member.)

Mayor Bob Bailey goes disco!

By Reporter Quepasa

The phone rang at an ungodly hour.

“Why are you calling me at 1 PM. That’s wicked!”

“Keep cool, man. I’ve got a really hot tip, you know. So I had to wake you up, you know.”

“It had better be good, and not bogus.”

“There’s a VIP disco tonight at Old Chicago! Everyone who’s anyone in Bolingbrook is going to be there. They’ve set aside a special joint for the occasion!”

“Like no way!”

“Like way! It’s not open to the public, but I got tickets for you. If you wear your best threads they’ll let you in. Catch my drift?”

“I can dig it!”

After spending most of the afternoon enjoying the buzz from my primo coffee, I cleaned up and put on my best threads. I hopped into my car and pointed my car towards the dome.

By the time I got through the traffic on 53, it was nighttime. My source met me in the parking lot.

“The joint’s in the back.” He said as he handed me the tickets. “Be cool, and they’ll let you in.”

“This better not be bunk.” I told him.

“No way, man. This ticket is cool, you know.”

“I know.”

I walked through the front door, and made my way back through the Kitschy shops. Who knew that back in the olden times Chicago had indoor streets? As I strolled pass the Chicago Loop, I had to pause. I don’t care what the so-called scientists said, they were using alien technology to keep passengers in those seats! Someday I would figure it out. But not tonight!

Once I snapped out of it, I made my way to the unassuming door marked, “Chemicals! Keep out!” I knocked. The door opened, and large man looked at me.

“What’s the password?”

“Pathways!”

“Not so loud!”

“Sorry man.”

“You can come in. Nice threads.”

I walked up the dimly lit stairs, towards the flickering lights above. When I reached the top, I saw the movers and shakers of Bolingbrook. All twenty of them. The trustees, the editors, the business leaders, and those who wanted to be around them. It was a trip! What brought these people together? I thought I knew.

I sat down and tugged on a waitress. I asked her for coffee.

“Large or small?”

“I don’t want a drink. I want COFFEE!”

“Large or small?”

“I WANT COFFEE!”

“Oh! We’re not into that here. You’d have to go to a Chicago joint for that.”

I cursed my squeaky clean village and its boring farmers. I order a stiff drink, and slapped her on the butt. What was bringing all these powerful people here?

I got the lowdown soon enough. The dance floor lit up. The lights started to spin. The DJ spun the turntable, and the infectious groove creeped into my brain. The pull was too much. I, along with the trustees and their spouses, were pulled onto the dance floor. My brain started telling my body how to get down. I couldn’t help myself, and I didn’t want this groove to end. I started going solo, but then a cute groupie chick joined me. I should have been taking photos with my hidden camera, but my mouth just wanted to talk jive to the cutie in front of me.

“Evacuate the dance floor!” Came a cry.

Four men in blue pounced onto the floor, and then formed a large square. I thought I was on a high when I saw the four insanely FBI types start to do some synchronized moves on the dance floor.

Into the square, Mayor Bob Bailey and his wife swirled in.  Her flowing dress, and his stunning white suit, made me feel like I was having a flashback.

“Everyone feel the funk!” Exclaimed Bailey.

The music came over me even harder. My feet moved against my will, yet I couldn’t take my eye off of Bob Bailey. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Until he looked straight at me.

“I know you!”

My horror almost overwhelmed my desire to dance.

“Hustle on over here!” Exclaimed Bailey.

My legs danced to Bob before I could think about it.

He looked at his wife. “This man is with the Babbler.”

She greeted me before spinning on the floor.

“You’re here to watch us get down?” Asked Bailey.

My sense of duty came back to me. “Yeah! Can we talk while we get down?”

“Sure.” Said Bailey. “Your talking can’t stop the music. Nobody can stop the music!”

“Is it true that you’re trying to summon ghosts?”

“No comment.” Bailey said with an evil grin.

“Why?”

“Why would I summon the ghosts of reporters? You figure it out.”

The boogie overtook us for a few seconds. Then it became clear that this soul train of thought was going nowhere. That’s when I decided to go for it.

“Why do you want to build a road to nowhere?”

“Who says it’s a road to nowhere?”

“But there’s nothing there.”

“Nothing that you can see.”

“What does that mean?”

Bailey shook his head. “You’re with the Babbler. Think about it. I tell the world that I want factories there. I tell you there’s something there.”

Though I really needed my coffee, I could figure this out.

“There are invisible factories there?”

Bailey smiled. “There are cloaked factory ships there. We need to build the road so that we can get their products to market faster.”

“But won’t it look odd to have a four-lane road with no buildings?”

“You’re thinking small, man. We’ll put visible factories there to replace the cloaked ships. It will be cool.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, man. That sounds like you’re trying to bring more people into Bolingbrook. Won’t that upset The Man?”

Bailey threw a cool dance move. “What’s The Man going to do? Get me involved in a bad deal, and then have the charges thrown out on appeal? Don’t worry. We’re cool with the powers that be.

“But I–”

Bailey started moving his arms. “I can’t hear you right now. This is the extended dance mix!”

Suddenly, Steve Dahl rushed to the dance floor wearing stereo headphones.

“Disco is evil!” He screamed. “Look at what it’s doing to our sense of dignity and fashion!”

Before the Men in Blue could grab him, he flashed a penlight at Bailey and me. The boogie left my soul, and my head felt like it was coming down after a long night of drinking coffee.

As the Men in Blue dragged Dahl away, it looked like Bailey was having the same sensation I was.

“Why am I wearing this ugly outfit? Why am I dancing to this music? Why are my guards dancing?”

Bailey snapped his fingers and the Men in Blue stood at attention.

“Don’t harm Steve,” Bailey said into the air. “I have a special mission for him.”

Bailey and his entourage marched off the dance floor.

I felt the need to go home and reconsider my life. Maybe even reconsider my coffee usage.

As I started towards the exit, I heard a man talking to his date, or maybe his wife.

“It is unacceptable that I have to go out of town to buy a fine polyester leisure suit.” He said. “I should be able to buy everything I need without leaving the village.”

“Maybe you should run for office.” Said the woman.

“It’s too expensive to run for office.  I would need to raise at least a thousand dollars to stand a chance.  Plus, the moment I say we need to replace cornfields with strip-malls, I’ll be labeled a foe of Bolingbrook.  Who wants to go through that?”

History says that a year later, Steve Dahl ended the disco epidemic with Disco Demolition Night. Though dance music came back in the 1990s, artists and producers worked to ensure that their music would never be as infectious as disco was.

We may never know if Dahl was acting under Bailey’s orders. If so, then perhaps we should be thankful that Bailey helped save the world from the disco apocalypse.

(2017: Though to be fair, some of the motivation behind the backlash against disco was homophobic and racist.)

As for Reporter Quepasa, he left the Babbler later in 1978 to find himself. When we last heard from him in 2006, he said he now had a personal relationship with the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  He wanted to inspire young people to become pirates and to “Not make the same mistakes I made when I was young.”

Tomorrow:  They said that as sure as disco would live forever, Jimmy Carter would free the hostages, and Edward Rosenthal would never be mayor of Bolingbrook.  Find out what happened after he defied the odds.

In 1975, Bolingbrook celebrated its 10th birthday. Now it was officially the second largest municipality in Will County, and some predicted that Bolingbrook would soon reach 100,000 residents by 1985. If you were young and starting a family, Bolingbrook was the happening Chicago suburb. Old Chicago would open later that year, along with the Fountaindale Library. The future seemed bright.

The Babbler’s future, at the time, seemed uncertain. Following the loss of paper of record status, publisher John Olson was forced to make cuts. The page count was cut in half, and the number of enhanced photos per issues was reduced. Many believers feared that Chicagoland’s voice of truth could be silenced.

Though the Babbler was down, it was certainly wasn’t out, as our first interview with newly elected mayor Nora Wipfler clearly showed.

Mayor Wipfler speaks: Romeoville won’t eat us!

After avoiding the Babbler during the campaign, new Village President Nora Wipfler finally agreed to an interview! While obviously the powers that be prevented her from telling the whole truth about her plans for Bolingbrook, we found her relative openness to be quite refreshing.

Reporter: Thank you for the interview, madam president.

Wipfler: You can call me mayor. Everyone else does.

Reporter: OK. Well Mayor Wipfler, thank you for this interview.

Wipfler: Oh don’t thank me. I just want to be able to go to sleep and not worry about a three AM call from your reporters.

Reporter: Fair enough.

Wipfler: But don’t think that means I’ll put up with any sexist questions.

Reporter: (Tears several pages out of his notebook.) In that case, my first question is, how do you enjoy being the most important mayor in the galaxy?

Wipfler: Galaxy? Oh, that’s right. It feels just like being the mayor of a large village in Illinois. I enjoy it.

Reporter: Tell us about your first meeting with a space alien.

Wipfler: Now come on. You know that would be classified. I could tell you, but then a man in purple would have to slap you.

Reporter: Not a man in blue?

Wipfler: I meant a man in blue. Now, how about some questions that I can answer.

Reporter: OK. Our sources tell us that Old Chicago is being built over the Indian burial ground of ancient astronauts. Are you concerned that Bolingbrook could come under attack from a curse, the alien’s decedents, or both?

Wipfler: No.

Reporter: Do you care to elaborate?

Wipfler: Old Chicago isn’t being built on an ancient nuclear waste disposal site. The developer isn’t an alien. The communists aren’t ordering me to harass the developer. It’s just as ordinary as a shopping mall with an indoor amusement park can be ordinary.

Reporter: Are you concerned about the possibility of Old Chicago coming under psychic attack?

Wipfler: I’m sure the men in lavender, er purple, er whatever color they are, will handle any such attack…Though it sounds like a good plot for a disaster movie. You should pitch it to Hollywood.

Reporter: Oh no! We’re a serious publication.

Wipfler: Sure. Next question.

Reporter: With Old Chicago opening this year and the proposed widening of Route 53, are you concerned that with more people coming into Bolingbrook, Clow’s cover will be blown?

Wipfler: Clow’s cover?

Reporter: You know. Clow’s cover story.

Wipfler: Oh, the whole UFO base silliness.

Reporter: I’ve seen the evidence!

Wipfler: Calm down. I’ll give you a quote. Old Chicago is to the South of Clow air- er, UFO base. Since everyone will be looking South, they won’t notice the UFO’s flying into Clow. That way, when someone claims there’s a UFO base in Bolingbrook, we can say, “If there were a base in Bolingbrook, how come no one has seen it?”

Reporter: Because we’ve distracted them with Old Chicago.

Wipfler: And since everyone is indoors–

Reporter: That’s brilliant!

Wipfler: That’s why I won the election.

Reporter: You know, when John–

(Wipfler clears her throat)

Reporter: OK. Next question. You are urging residents to buy in Bolingbrook. Yet Bolingbrook relies on Interstellar tourism and trade. If the aliens followed your advice, wouldn’t that devastate our economy?

Wipfler: How so?

Reporter: If they did all their shopping on their homeworlds, then they wouldn’t shop in Bolingbrook. Since we rely on their tourist dollars, should we really be suggesting that they spend their money at home?

Wipfler: Well, if they’re shopping in Bolingbrook, that means they can’t get what they’re looking for on their home planets. So, I find it unlikely that our campaign would encourage them to shop elsewhere. So, if we encourage our residents to shop in Bolingbrook, and aliens to shop in Bolingbrook as well, together they’ll help boost our economy.

Reporter: I see.

Wipfler: Now we’re getting silly. What’s the next question?

Reporter: Some people say that the Bolingbrook/Romeoville joint planning commission is part of a plot to merge Bolingbrook into Romeoville.

Wipfler: Absolutely not. Romeoville is not going to eat Bolingbrook. It is just a group dedicated to coordinating the growth of our two communities.

Reporter: Kind of like the Twin Cities.

Wipfler: In a way, yes.

Reporter: I have a friend in the Twin Cities. He tells me that he knows an unusually large number of people there who practice polygamy or are in so-called open relationships. Aren’t you afraid that if Bolingbrook and Romeoville act like the Twin Cities, more residents will take up these so-called “alternative lifestyles?”

Wipfler: I… I really don’t know how to answer that question.

Reporter: You’re not afraid that forcing Bolingbrook into a twin city relationship with Romeoville will endanger traditional family values in Bolingbrook?

Wipfler: I’m not sure what I think of your hypothesis.

Reporter: Some people say that this commission is oppressive to the residents of Bolingbrook, and could lead to a civil war.

Wipfler: Is some people named John Olson?

Reporter: Maybe. How do you respond?

Wipfler: I think our alien ambassadors would be able to broker a peace deal before any violence. Besides, we are suburbanites. We don’t resort to violence. We resort to filing lawsuits against each other. That’s the civilized way.

Reporter: But don’t you think?

Wipfler: I think you have enough material. You don’t have as many pages as you used to.

Reporter: True, but I do have one more.

Staffer: (Walks into the room.) Excuse me. That man sent another letter to you. He says that our ordinances regarding gas station signs are too restrictive, and that we shouldn’t be fining stations whose signs violate the rules.

Wipfler: So, he thinks a gas station should be able to post signs advertising their food and non-automotive products?

Staffer: Yes.

Wipfler: Well then. Maybe we should let all the gas stations put up as many signs as they want, and if the marketplace allows Bolingbrook to be covered in signs, then who are we to argue?

(Long pause and both women burst out laughing.)

Wipfler: That’s a good one.

Tomorrow:  Mayor Robert “Bob” Bailey catches Disco Fever.

The second half of 1974 saw the opening of Bolingbrook High School. The first class of students also included 10 alien “observers.”, thus making Valley View the first school district in the free world to openly admit both human and extraterrestrial students.

James Johnston also became mayor in 1974, and would not run for reelection in 1975. Though he didn’t have the shortest term in the history of Bolingbrook, he does have the honor of having the shortest published interview in the Babbler.

Village President calls Romeoville’s annexation threat ‘nonsense’

Tensions between Bolingbrook and Romeoville escalated after Village President James Johnston abruptly ended an interview with the Babbler.

The complete transcript of the Interview is below:

Johnston: Sorry for the delay. I had to finish writing a letter to a young man who’s trying to tell me how to run the village. He says I need to fix the divided village board.

Reporter: No problem.

Johnston: So let’s get this over with. I guess it’s a rite of passage for the village president to be interviewed by the Babbler.

Reporter: OK. Given the fact that Bolingbrook violated their agreement with Romeoville by annexing land south of I-55 in order to build Old Chicago, Romeoville has talked about annexing land north of I-55. My question is this: If Romeoville tries to annex Clow UFO base, will you consider this an act of war, requiring the federal government to invade Romeoville, and if the Pleiades Confederation, as required by the treaty of Bolingbrook, assists militarily, how many causalities will you consider acceptable, how will you handle the antiwar protests, how will you stop the war from spreading to other suburbs, or will you just send in the Men in Blue to assassinate the Romeoville Village Board?

Johnston: (pauses) I don’t have time for this nonsense. (Hangs up the phone.)

Mark J Lindquist, an alien affairs analyst and advisor to the Babbler, called Johnston’s remarks irresponsible.

“I don’t think the deaths of thousands of innocent lives is nonsense.” He said. “Look at what happened at Kent State. Sure, Nixon was following orders from an alien overmind, but that didn’t make it right. Now imagine it on a larger scale. We’ll be the most hated suburb in the world!”

A spokesperson for Romeoville, who asked not to be named, also replied to Johnston’s remarks.

“We certainly do not consider the proud history of Romeoville to be nonsense. We’re named after a famous Shakespeare character! Bolingbrook is named after an obscure Shakespeare character, and can’t even keep a village president in office for longer than one term. You know what, I’ll bet you in a few years the demoralized Bolingbrook board will approach the joint planning commission and beg Romeoville to annex them. Your village is nothing more than a passing fad, like Southwest Airlines! We are as immortal as PanAm!”

Tomorrow:  Nora Wipfler becomes the second female mayor/village president of Bolingbrook, and she’s ready to fight back against the Babbler! 

In the early 1970s, the second wave of the feminist movement was in full swing. Many of the protections and rights women now take for granted were won during this time. Ideas once considered radical, like women should have equal opportunities, finally gained acceptance during this period.

During the middle of this time of transformation, the Bolingbrook trustees elected Patricia McDowell as the first female village president. Though to date, her presidency was the shortest tenure of all of Bolingbrook’s mayors, history will always remember her as a pioneer for all of Bolingbrook’s female political leaders.

Unfortunately, the Babbler at the time didn’t share the country’s growing acceptance of feminism. Publisher John Olson led the charge to have McDowell removed. His campaign reached a low point with the Babbler’s first and last interview with her. 

(2017: Content notice for the casual sexism of our former publisher. Sentiment NOT shared by current publisher.)

Did Village President McDowell punish the Babbler because it was that time of the month?

By John Olson
Publisher of the Bolingbrook Babbler

Village president Patricia McDowell invited me to her office after weeks of asking her for an interview. I graciously accepted the opportunity to explain to Mrs. McDowell why she was a bad example for the young ladies of Bolingbrook. She, like Betty Ford, is no lady, but I hoped to persuade her to reconsider her reckless fantasy that men would actually take orders from her.

As I stepped into her sparse office, I longed to see a women’s touch. She seemed out of place in a room once occupied by such manly men as Robert Schanks. Instead, there stood, this petite thing. She motioned for me to sit. I refused to sit until she sat. She sighed and then sat down.

McDowell: Let’s get this over with. I don’t appreciate going to Jewel and seeing my face on the cover of your tabloid. I really don’t like it when you insinuate that I’m cheating on my husband with an alien.

Olson: I have sources!

McDowell: What have I ever done to you? Why do you hate me?

Olson: I should be asking the questions. I’m the man in the room.

McDowell: And I’m the one in charge of the police department. Which by the way, I’ve noticed that our officers have been very forgiving whenever they see one of your reporters poking around Clow.

Olson: You don’t intimidate me.

McDowell: I’m not even trying to.

Olson: But I will answer your questions. I don’t hate you. I hate the fact that you are bringing your radical feminist baby killing man-hating ideas into village hall with the goal of corrupting our fine democracy and turning our village into a cesspool of communism and vegetarian feminism!

McDowell: Oh really?

Olson: Yes, and you’re a weak leader! You’ve already backed down against a sinister conspiracy to brainwash our citizens and turn us into slaves of the Octurian Alliance!

McDowell: I don’t follow you.

Olson: The signs, Mrs. McDowell! They’re putting messages in the signs, along with the communists, and you’re too nice to stop them from taking over.

McDowell: Oh, you’re upset that we didn’t enact the 90-day moratorium on new business signs. I told you at the meeting that you were welcome to do your own study–

Olson: We have done our own study. The messages are everywhere and you won’t stop them because you’re too weak. Schanks was right. Women don’t know which roles aren’t suited for them!

McDowell: And you don’t think I’m suited to be village president?

Olson: Of course not! You are the most important village president in the world! You control interstellar trade with Chicago. Yet you would rather advance an agenda that would force all housewives to get jobs, throw our children into orphanages, and cut off the testicles of all male residents. Now I think women should have some rights, like the right to decide how to clean their homes, but you want to push men into slavery! You want to force all residents to have surgery to remove all traces of gender. Just like the aliens of Zardos. You want to violate the universal foundation of every alien civilization which requires that all women submit to their males.

McDowell: It’s funny how all the aliens in your stories seem to share your beliefs.

Olson: What are you trying to say?

McDowell: I’m just saying it strikes me as funny that all of your aliens seem to reflect your beliefs.

Olson: My aliens? Oh, I get it. But then again you’re a woman so you wouldn’t understand. Just like my wife doesn’t understand, but she supports me, unlike you.

McDowell: Why would I support you? You’ve been nothing but condescending towards me ever since I first ran for trustee.

Olson: You know what I meant! No, I take that back. You don’t know what I meant. Because you are a woman! Your role is to have babies and support your husband. All women have a role to play, and business to attend to. You and all other women have no business being village president of Bolingbrook! You, and other young women like you, are the reason that God will smite Bolingbrook.

McDowell: And yet God always postpones his smiting for another week. I read the Babbler too, you know.

Olson: That’s good. So why don’t you resign, and spend more time trying to understand the Babbler? Then you’ll know why it’s important to support families.

McDowell: Mr. Olson. A young man sent me letter the other day. He said that he has a vision for Bolingbrook. In his vision, he sees village trustees, female, male, white, black and Hispanic all voting as one for the greater good of Bolingbrook. He sees a village where experience and education are valued over biology. Then I read your vision of Bolingbrook, and I feel sad. No, I just feel sorry for you.

Olson: Sorry for me? How dare you feel sorry for me. I am the voice of Bolingbrook. I created Bolingbrook’s first and only true tabloid.

McDowell: Except The Beacon was the first newspaper.

Olson: It was a newsletter then, and today it is just an oversized newsletter. I publish the truth! I know that the truth is unbelievable, and I still publish it! Because I am a man, and men must do what men do! I will do this! I will stand up to you.

McDowell: So you really don’t think I should be the village president.

Olson: I didn’t say that. Stop putting words in my mouth! I said is that you shouldn’t be out of the home at all. Big difference. And I will fight to have you taken away from your prison and put back in your home, where you belong.

McDowell: (pauses) You are welcome to say that. After all, it is in the First Amendment. However, the village doesn’t have to pay for your right to speak out against me.

Olson: What are you saying?

McDowell: The other villages presidents have been very lenient with their definition of what a paper of record is. After this conversation, it’s clear to me, and to the other board members, that the Babbler doesn’t qualify as a paper of record. It’s more like a work of fiction by a bitter man.

Olson: You wouldn’t dare! I’ll tell your husband on you. He’ll make you back down. No, I don’t have to do that. No one in the village hall will do what you say. The Babbler is a Bolingbrook institution! You can’t have Bolingbrook without the Babbler!

McDowell: We’ll find out if that’s true. (Presses a button on her phone.) Cancel all official announcements in the Babbler until further notice.

Voice: Yes?.

McDowell: Please stop buying space in the Babbler until further notice. We will post official announcements elsewhere. Now, Mr. Olson, I may not be able to physically intimidate anyone, but thanks to my ability to work with others, you are now out of a major source of income.

Olson: Oh you may be acting tough, but I’ll write up this interview and the world will know what kind of person you are! The Babbler will always be the paper of record, no matter what you say!

McDowell: I think its time for you to leave.

Olson (pauses): Out of respect for your husband, I will leave!

Just like an emotional woman at that time of the month, the Babbler is being victimized! Rest assured, the Babbler will work hard to put a man back in charge of Bolingbrook and restore The American Way to our community!

McDowell had to resign a few months later due to her husband accepting a job in Denver, CO. Though a man cut short her carrier as mayor, her legacy lives on. Today Sara Langston is the editor of the Babbler, and we publish stories from both male and female reporters. We and the village of Bolingbrook have come a long way, baby.

Tomorrow:  Village President James Johnston feels the heat from the Babbler.