Sponsored content by Maria Schreiber
On Monday, June 3, 1974, Tania and Dan began selling cartons of yogurt from a canopied, yellow bicycle cart on the southeast corner of Michigan Avenue and Erie Street in Chicago.
At 11:30 a.m. two weeks later, Michael Chappelle looked out the window of his third-floor office at the Michigan Avenue Retail Business Association. He lowered his gaze to the street below and caught sight of Tania and Dan at their usual spot on Erie Street. He called out to his secretary.
“Virginia, could you come here for a moment?”
She complied. Chappelle pointed at Tania, Dan and the cart.
“Who are they, and what the hell is that?”
“It’s a yogurt cart; they sell yogurt. They started about the time you went to Provincetown. She doesn’t wear a bra; the men love it. And the women call him Dreamy Dan, the Yogurt Man. Some guys from the other side of the bridge called to see if it was true.”
“If what was true?”
“That we had models selling yogurt at lunchtime.”
About fifteen minutes later, Tania and Dan held up a placard that read YOGURT–WHAT IS IT, AND WHY IS IT GOOD FOR YOU? Passersby stopped and gathered. The couple leaned the sign against the cart, and each held up a carton of yogurt.
“It’s nutritious,” said Dan.
“It’s delicious,” said Tania. She opened her container, scooped out some yogurt with her fingers and rubbed it into Dan’s scalp.
“It makes your hair thick and healthy.”
Dan took some yogurt from his carton and applied it to Tania’s face.
“It makes your skin smooth and silky.”
Tania smiled.
“And it fights wrinkles,” said Dan.
Tania put her hands on her hips.
“I don’t have wrinkles.”
“And you won’t if you keep putting yogurt on your face.”
Tania rubbed her tummy.
“It’s good for digestion,” she said.
Dan picked her up, tossed her onto his shoulders fireman-style and then asserted, “. . . and a good source of protein.”
Tania raised her head and made a peace sign with her fingers.
“Here’s to peace, love and yogurt.”
The crowd applauded, except for a policeman with MULROONEY written on his nameplate. Dan set down Tania, and they toweled off their faces and hair. A line formed to buy yogurt, and the cop moved in on the couple. He addressed Dan and took a side glance at Tania’s tits.
“Can I see your peddler’s licenses?”
Dan and Tania showed him the gold-colored metal medallions they had pinned to their shorts.
“Well, you can’t peddle here.”
“But we’re on the south side of Erie, not the north,” said Dan.
“Well, you can’t park here.”
“Why?”
“There’s been a complaint; you’ve gotta move along.”
Tania pursed her lips; tears streamed down her cheeks. Someone in the crowd yelled out.
“Leave ’em alone.”
The rest of the crowd took up the call.
“Yeah, leave ’em alone. Leave ’em alone.”
“Who complained?” asked Dan.
Mulrooney looked up to the third-floor windows of the Michigan Avenue Retail Business Association. Dan, Tania and the crowd looked up too. Michael Chappelle jerked back from his office window and closed the blinds.
On Wednesday, June 19, at 1:45 p.m., Michael Chappelle’s secretary, Virginia, put a caller on hold; she rang her boss on another line.
“Tim Murphy from the mayor’s office is on the phone for you.”
Chappelle leaned back in his Knoll Saarinen rolling executive chair. Well, well, well. Look who’s calling me, he thought.
“Put him through,” said Chappelle.
“Are you the guy?” asked Tim Murphy. Murphy covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and called out, “Hey, Mary, what’s that shit they sell?”
His secretary got up from her desk and walked into his office.
“Yogurt,” she answered.
Murphy took away his hand. “Are you the guy that got rid of the yogurt cart on Erie?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“Listen to me, you dumbass motherfucker; it’s a long walk from here to there, and I don’t like being disappointed. I want that girl without the bra back at her spot, and I want her there tomorrow.”
“And the boyfriend, too,” whispered Mary.
“. . . and the boyfriend, too. You got that, asshole?” Murphy thrust the phone receiver into its cradle and, for a flash, saw himself driving the yogurt cart with Tania on the banana seat, pressing her nipples into his back.
At 2:30 p.m. that same day, Tania and Dan were at their parking spot on Ontario, holding up the placard that read YOGURT–WHAT IS IT, AND WHY IS IT GOOD FOR YOU?
At 3:25, the couple started packing up. They had sold twenty-one cartons of yogurt and all but two bags of cherries; they still had four bags of raisins and nuts.
“Better than yesterday, but not as good as before,” said Dan.
Tania got on the bike, and Dan slid his butt onto the banana seat. She headed west. At the intersection of Ontario and Michigan, Officer Mulrooney blew his traffic whistle once, then signaled for them to stop and pull over to the curb.
“Now what?” muttered Dan.
Oh shit, thought Tania.
Mulrooney took the whistle out of his mouth.
“They want you back at your parking spot on Erie tomorrow; I’ll make sure it’s open.”
“Who’s they?” said Dan.
Mulrooney turned away. He headed back to the intersection and stood sideways to the cart. He pointed his finger at the couple and gave two short blasts on his whistle. Then he flipped up his palm and swung his arm past his chin. The whistle dropped from his mouth.
“Move along,” he shouted. “Move along.”
For more of TAXI GIRL
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