Forget all that politically correct “bowling center” and “recreation center” stuff you’ve had crammed down your throat by the bowling industry’s corporate spinmeisters. The correct term is bowling alley.
Hesterman Bowl in Glen Ellyn is a bowling alley, thank you, a sturdy, no-frills, mom-and-pop bowling alley with 24 lanes, four video games, a twinkly-eyed codger called Bob who doles out shoes and score sheets, and regulars who smoke unfiltered Lucky Strikes and answer to “Butch” and “Fran.”
John Brales? He runs the 300 Club Restaurant Lounge to the left of the front desk. That’s Brales coming in now; he’s the dapper gent with the tired eyes and Old World manners. Brales, of Lombard, nods gravely to Suzi Henderson of Warrenville, who’s talking to her boyfriend, Sal Piro, while finishing up her Saturday morning shift behind the main counter. She’ll be out the door soon, waving goodbye to her father, Hesterman co-owner Don Carlson, who doesn’t seem terribly comfortable discussing the latest turn of events with his family business.
Hesterman Bowl is closing in May.
Hinsdale Bank bought the property at Main Street and Roosevelt Road. Blame it on economics.
“I can’t compete anymore,” explains Carlson, of Glen Ellyn, also a full-time teacher and coordinator of the College of DuPage Heating, Air Conditioning, Ventilation and Refrigeration Program. “Twenty-four lanes aren’t enough, and upgrades are too expensive. We don’t have automatic scoring. We don’t have laser lights. Hesterman Bowl probably wouldn’t have lasted this long if we didn’t do all our own maintenance.”
Carlson and his brother Jim purchased the bowling alley from Lee and John Hesterman in 1985. Old-timers may recall Hesterman Motors occupying the corner until 1958: the Hestermans first operated a Hudson agency and later sold Packards and Studebakers before converting the facility to bowling. Hesterman Bowl was at first 16 lanes. In 1964 the final eight were added (look closely today at the hardwood and you’ll notice a difference in patina; the older lanes are a shade darker). And, by the way, each lane is oiled daily with a machine that creeps up and down, silently dropping a fine film of lane conditioner.
“Bowling balls roll on top of the oil,” Carlson explains. “Better bowlers understand this and adjust their games according to the lane conditions. We also give the lanes a sanding once a year. Several of the older ones are down about as far as they can go.”
It’s about noon now, a gray Saturday in late December, and a father bowls with his two daughters on Lane 22. Otherwise the house is empty and the lights are low as Bob Kortum relieves Henderson at the desk. Kortum, of Wheaton, is one of those cool old guys who actually looks okay wearing a Ban-Lon King Louie bowling shirt. (He could be anywhere from 55 to 85; your guess is as good as any.) Skinny as 6 o’clock, edgy, this guy has the look of a bowling alley counter man sent over by Central Casting. It’s the Chicago accent. He spars with his regulars who stop for Lotto tickets and coffee.
A guy named Wade throws a look: “We gotta put up with this guy?”
Kortum fires back: “Hey, we put up with you!”
A woman named Shirley strolls in a few minutes later and says: “How are you doing, you old goat?’
Kortum doesn’t miss a beat: “Better without you!”
But Kortum also has his serious moments. Hesterman Bowl has been a part of his life for 19 years. His wife, Donna, was a youth league instructor at Hesterman’s, and both still compete in the Sunday morning nine-pin league. (Their son, Bob Jr., has rolled 15 perfect games over the years at Hesterman’s.)
“It’s been a decent job,” he says. “Hesterman’s is a family place. We’re all friends here. When Suzi started working as a kid, I had her out cleaning the parking lot. You remember?”
Henderson rolls her eyes.
Kortum goes on: “I get along pretty good with the kids. I think that’s a big reason I like it so much. Every once in a while you get one who’s ornery, but I can get ornery myself. They heave (rather than roll) the eight-pound balls down the alley. I have to talk to them. It’s no big deal.”
Brales enters. The food and beverage manager is . . . solemn? He’s thinking of his regular customers in the 300 Club. What’ll happen to them once Hesterman’s closes?
“We don’t know where we’re going,” admits Brales. “I’m afraid a lot of people will be hurt, because there’s nothing like this place in Glen Ellyn. It’s sad. It’s tough. But things gotta end sometime and you go on to some other friendly place. Nothing as cozy as this. You can’t find this anymore.”
Point well taken.
Where do you find a quiet joint around Glen Ellyn or Wheaton for a quick beer and no hassles? A place where nobody cares that you still drive a 1981 Country Squire wagon and wear a Teamsters jacket?
A neighborhood bar . . . is that too much to ask? A place to sit over drinks with your friends and solve the world’s problems?
Brales says the 300 Club is “a different experience, a homey feeling. This bar is a lot like Cheers (of TV fame).”
That’s it!
Hesterman Bowl regulars — bowlers and lounge patrons — have a comfy, almost familial relationship with Kortum, Brales and the Carlsons. They’re nice working men and women who have sincere affection for one another and for Hesterman Bowl.
And come May they’ll need a new hangout. Kortum says he has a job offer from Lombard Lanes, but he’s “not sure yet. I want something, I want to keep working. But I’m not sure. I don’t want to leave here yet.”
Sunday morning. It’s 11 o’clock and the nine-pin league is rolling a few practice frames. Bob and Donna Kortum kick around the idea of continuing the nine-pin group after May at either Wheaton Bowl or Fox Bowl, also in Wheaton. But several members are older and not exactly thrilled with the idea of driving so far.
Tony D’Andrea, 86, has bowled at Hesterman’s since the day it opened. A southpaw who still comes in low with a sweet fingertip hook, D’Andrea, of Glen Ellyn, carries a 165-170 average and bowls three times a week. “I don’t like to drive far at night,” he says out of the side of his mouth as he lights his pipe. “I guess I’ll have to give up bowling.”
Loud objections. None of these people is going to let D’Andrea give up bowling.
Kortum looks off to the far end of the alley and scratches his jaw: “Why do they need so much space?” he asks, referring to Hinsdale Bank. “I hear they’re planning a three-story building here. Why can’t they just knock down lanes 16 to 24 and leave us with the rest?”
Laughs all around.
Donna Kortum worries about the youth leagues, where they’ll go. Hesterman’s has about 48-50 kids ages 6 through high school rolling in leagues Bantam through Junior. Kortum taught junior bowling for 26 years and knows they’ll all land on teams at Brunswick in Glendale Heights or Wheaton Bowl.
“We look forward to the camaraderie here with the kids and with the adults,” she says. “We used to fill the whole house with the youth leagues, but they have fallen off.”
Important point: None of the Hesterman regulars is angry with Don Carlson for selling the property. Nobody holds a grudge. He’s not seen as the villain who closed their bowling alley. Everyone seems to understand that Carlson was simply caught in the economic switches with aging equipment, worn-out lanes and not enough business to warrant installing automatic scorekeepers and laser light shows. Carlson tried the bumper bowling to attract kids birthday parties. The disco balls spin after 9:30 on Saturday nights; the music comes up, the lights go down and the young people have a blast.
But it’s not enough.
Carlson stands in the 300 Club pointing to old photos and mementos hung by the Hestermans. They’ll go with him before the wrecking ball swings. Henderson says, “What I’ll miss are the people. I love the people who come in and say, `I haven’t been here in 20 years, and it’s exactly the same.’ Or I’ll be at the library or the grocery store or church and someone says to me, `Where do I know you from?’ I tell ’em Hesterman’s and they always have an I-remember-when story.”
All those memories.
Time’s running out. Better get over to Hesterman’s and roll a few lines before it’s too late. You’ll kick yourself if you don’t.
IT’S SHOWTIME
How did Carmen Salvino ever get by without Cosmic Bowling?
Imagine the Pro Bowlers Tour legend going against moody old Don Glover in one of those 1960s tourneys on ABC. Chris Schenkel and Billy Welu whisper at the mike. Welu, as always, voices concern that Salvino isn’t “getting enough loft, Chris. Not enough fingers.” It’s the deciding frame, the bowlers are knotted at 236 apiece.
Salvino rolls a sweet one, and the fog machine kicks in?
Glover, back from the grave, jerks away with his gunslinger sneer.
Maybe it’s those weird lights? The pounding funk? The dancing?
The cute candy-colored bowling balls?
Easy guys, you’re in the Brunswick Zone.
You’ve warped ahead to 1999, a time when the human attention span equals that of a ringneck pheasant. Love of the game isn’t enough to keep bowlers on edge anymore, and forget about competition. Your 5th grader requires stimuli between frames. Video games and black lights, pins that glow in the dark and large-screen TV. Pizza Hut serving in one corner, birthday parties at full tilt across the way. Add bumper bowling for the kiddies. Does that paint a picture for you?
Don’t blame Brunswick for this circus. The Lake Forest-based company’s Zone facilities in Glendale Heights, Palatine and Algonquin are but a reflection of society. If Dad can’t keep his mitts off the TV remote for 90 seconds, then why should junior sit and cool his jets when his friends take their turns bowling?
In all fairness to Brunswick, these Zone locations are exactly what the people want, i.e. clean, well-lit, family-friendly operations. (And it is rather cool when the lights go down for Cosmic Bowling. No question there.) Brunswick is betting heavily on its Zone concept to pull younger bowlers and families back into a sport often seen as stagnant.
But what about veterans like Salvino?
How does the old pro and Schaumburg resident feel about this new deal?
“It’s a different world out there,” he says. “If you look at sports, they’ve all changed. To survive they had to change. It’s fine and dandy to change. Only don’t lose the professionalism. Don’t lose the legends. I tell people bowling has a lot of legends but not many heroes. Bowling never got behind the Dick Webers and Don Carters to make them household names. It’s a sad commentary.
“I also think that somehow they lost sight of teaching and competition in this rush for recreation. There’s no follow-up instruction after bumper bowling. There’s no emphasis on developing great bowlers, and in that regard I think we lost something when bowling people stopped owning bowling centers.
“But you have to keep an open mind. You have to be willing to change.”
Maybe 4-year-old Brittany Hazec of Schaumburg and her father, Andre, have the right idea. Brittany rolls her six-pound ball with gusto. She’s there for the Zone’s official grand opening — free bowling for everyone! Baseball’s Billy Williams is tossing a few frames on the next lane with Glendale Heights Mayor Ben Fajardo, and Brittany couldn’t care less.
“I like bowling because it’s fun,” she explains so seriously.
–Jim Mueller
