Just Walk Away, Rene

I almost interviewed Rene Camargo of DevCorp North at 12:00 noon today. But he overslept. No wait, he was waiting for me to confirm the interview. But he was in bed at noon. Or so he says. But Rene Camargo says a lot of things.
Camargo’s current employer, DevCorp North, is a company that is notorious for its reluctance to communicate.Oh sure, they talk a lot. They put out a newsletter or two. So let me clarify: DevCorp North communicates, but they hold back vital information, put out half truths and data that has nothing to do with them directly. And, yes, the occasional lie.
That’s not a good thing for a non-profit that works with the City of Chicago to improve the business climate of Rogers Park.DevCorp and its employees, of course, will tell anyone who listens that they are “transparent.” How ironically accurate that statement is. Yes, DevCorp, we see right through you.DevCorp employees are hard to get an audience with. Try phoning DevCorp and asking a serious question. You’re likely to get a line of bull, or wait forever for a return call.
Rene Camargo is one of the very few DevCorp employees who actually comes around to Morse Avenue. The only time I’ve ever seen DevCorp chief Kimberly Bares was last summer, when she proclaimed to a crowd of 18 or so that Morse Avenue was burgeoning and now offers all the services and goods we’ve ever dreamed of. Ye gods, what a load of crap. Haven’t seen her since then. Never see her in the clubs or restaurants. Anybody ever see Kimberly shopping at the Family Dollar Store? Perhaps she’ll frequent the new palm reader’s shop that opened recently, which provides a vital service to the neighborhood.
Last summer, The Bench broke the story about the Morse Avenue CTA overpass mural being done by artists who live outside of Rogers Park. The mural was promoted to the neighborhood as something that would bring us all together, promote Rogers Park, and kumbayah. I ran into the artists while they were working on it. They themselves told me that they live in “the Bronzeville-Hyde Park area,” not Rogers Park. The very next day, Rene Camargo and I were looking at the mural on Morse Avenue at Glenwood. I asked Rene why outside artists were brought in.“Oh,” he said, doey eyes all sincere, his voice as touching as a caring father’s, “oh they are local artists.”
“Uhm, Rene, they told me they live in Bronzeville.”
“No, they are Rogers Park artists,” he begged me to believe.
“Rene, are you trying to convince me that those people don’t know which neighborhood they live in? Or perhaps they’re lying to me about not living here?” That exchange is typical Rene Camargo. It is classic DevCorp Speak. Tell a bald faced lie and see if it flies. Much more about all this in the days and weeks to come. Let’s get back to Senor Camargo.
I have run into Rene Camargo many times over the past 18 months. Our exchanges have always been cordial. He’s a born schmoozer, a touchy feely kind of guy who most people find likable. I’m one of those people, and have had pleasant conversations and friendly arguments with him over drinks at Morseland. Rene love to talk a lot when he drinks, but I can’t say anymore because I promised him I’d not repeat all the things he has said about Joe Moore and David Fagus. So I won’t. I keep my word.
For the better part of a year, I’ve been asking Rene to let me do a video interview of him. Last October, he promised that he would do it, provided Kimberley Bares would allow him to. Several times since then, I asked Rene when the interview would happen. Finally, this past week, I ran into Rene at Common Cup. I asked him again. Again he said he’d ask Kimberly. To my amazement, he phoned me within the hour to say that she had approved it.“Great,” I said, “that’s great. Where?”
“At DevCorp offices,” Rene said.
“Cool,” I said, “or would you be more comfortable doing it at a coffee shop?”
“No, you come to the office and I give you a little tour,” he said.
We set the time for 12:00 noon today, Saturday, February 16.I biked up to DevCorp’s decrepit offices on decrepit Howard Street at 11:50 a.m. today. Door locked, lights out, but I was early. So I thought I’d grab a cup of coffee and come right back. After walking all the way to the Howard CTA station, I realized that I had never before noticed that there is virtually no coffee shop on Howard Street. Ah, I thought, the Dunkin’ Donuts just around the corner from the station, near the Gateway Centre shopping mall.No dice. Most of the shops there are closed, vacant, gone. A tattered sign hangs over the CTA overpass nearby that lies, “Business Open During Construction.” Sure, the ones that have managed to survive through the construction.
So, without coffee, I rode back to DevCorp’s office, past vacant storefronts, empty lots, and a sparkling new multimillion dollar government community center that won’t do a thing for local businesses. To listen to DevCorp and Rene Camargo, though, you might think Howard Street is the freeking Rodeo Drive of the Midwest.
At 12:01, still locked and dark, there was no sign of Rene Camargo. He drives a big SUV of some kind, a real gas guzzler, and it was nowhere in sight.So I took photos and chatted with folks as they passed by. One woman struggled to step over a mound of icy snow between the curb and the sidewalk.“Geez, you’d think DevCorp would shovel that, wouldn’t you?” I said cheerfully.
“Damn DevCorp don’t do shit,” she said back. The word “shit” came out forcefully.
“No, ma’am, you have a nice day.” I said.
At 12:20 I decided I had been stood up. When there are assholes in your life, my credo goes, make tripe soup. So I rode to the beach and took photos for about an hour. Beautiful day; photos will be posted tomorrow.I stopped at Ennui at 1:45 to warm up and grabbed a coffee. Drank it, then rode through the park again, over to Pratt Avenue, and photographed the drama in the handicapped parking zone (see related story).
At 3:55 p.m., I walked into Common Cup at Morse and Greenview. I drink a lot of coffee. Rene Carmargo was sitting in an easy chair in the corner. We looked at each other. I was at once relieved to see that he had not been killed in fiery car accident, and rather annoyed that he hadn’t called me.“Where were you?” I said.“I was here,” he said.
“You’ve been here for four hours?”
“I thought you were going to confirm, I didn’t know where we were going to meet.”
“That’s crap,” I said, and chuckles erupted behind me. “You said noon at the DevCorp office and you weren’t there. I waited twenty minutes.”
“Oh,” he said, in that warm, slippery tone. “Tom, I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s kind of the whole point,” the sympathetic barista muttered under her breath. I made a mental note of that and tucked it away. “That the whole point,” I said. He rose from his chair and approached me, in his patented I’m-going-embrace-you-now-because-I-yam-so-very-sorry-and-I-yam-your-best-friend-please-don’t-be-upset-with-me style.
Arms about to enfold me in a bear hug, I put my hand up and said, “Rene, get the fuck away from me. Don’t touch me.”
Fortunately, I don’t have to say that to other men very often. I paid for my coffee and left.Ten minutes later I was home. My phone rang. It was Rene.
I answered the phone with, “Where were you at noon?”
“I was in bed,” he said.
“You said you were at Common Cup! Now you say you were in bed?”
“Tom, you must trust me,” he said. It was getting creepy.
“I can’t trust you, Rene.”
“Why not?”
“You work for DevCorp.”
“But we are friends,” he pleaded.
“We’ve been friendly. We’re not friends. You’ve lied to me repeatedly in the past. It’s over.”I hung up. Moments later, he called again, but I just let it ring.
by T. Mannis Posted 2/16/2008