COLLEGE OF COMPLEXES HONORS CALL TO LEARN FROM SUBLIME, ABSURD
By Liam Ford
Tribune Staff Writer
January 08, 2001The anarchists, World Federalists, Libertarians, beatniks, Greens, socialists, atheists, children, artists and musicians all got up to speak.
But not all at once, for at the College of Complexes, if they have a primary rule, it is this: One fool at a time.
The banquet hall at North Center's Lincoln Restaurant sported black and white flags and black and white balloons Saturday night. The waitresses cursed softly as latecomers to the college's 50th anniversary dinner crowded the doorways, scooted the red leatherette-covered chairs closer together and waved laminated menus for attention.
The college originated as a liquor-lubricated forum for freethinkersÑor any type of thinkersÑsponsored by the late Wobbly (International Workers of the World) labor organizer, building painter and tavern owner Slim Brundage. It has attracted luminaries and lowbrows, from Carl Sandburg to illiterate bums, in its 2,485 meetings.
Participants usually hear one speaker each Saturday night; psychic powers, secret societies and school vouchers are scheduled topics this month. They then ask questions and finally respond in a free-form rebuttal period. The format, set early in the group's history, varies on rare occasions such as this weekend's meeting.
After former Socialist Party presidential candidate J. Quinn Brisben spoke on the history and purpose of the group, it seemed as though most of the 150 or so people who packed the banquet hall took advantage of a special open podium.
"This is a college in the oldest sense of the word: an organized society of persons performing certain common functions and possessing certain rights and privileges," Brisben told the assembled. "We are unashamed to learn from the eccentric, and unafraid to learn from the mad."
The college started out as Brundage's own tavern near Wells and Eugenie Streets in 1951 and moved to near Chicago Avenue and State Street a few years later. Its physical incarnation closed in 1961 after the IRS and Chicago's local spy team, the Red Squad, took umbrage at speakers' frequent calls for an end to the Cold War.
Brundage described himself as an "ex-convict, ex-college president, ex-husband, ex-bootlegger, ex-painter, ex-bartender, ex-janitor, ex-lover, almost extinct," said Bill Wendt, reading from the founder's card.
After Brundage retired and left Chicago for Mexico and then California, faithful attendeesÑmembership is a term loathed by the groupÑcontinued the tradition at various venues until it landed at the Lincoln in the mid-1990s.
Longtime participants and youngsters alike said they keep coming back because the group lives up to its motto as "the playground for people who think."
Joseph Soper III, 15, and his sister, Denise, 13, both took the podium Saturday. Joseph, whose father denies he coaches his children, responded to a speaker who rattled off statistics on the suffering of children worldwide, then proposed children run the world.
Reminding his audience that children can be divided into bullies and those who are bullied, Joseph speculated that "if some little kid says I don't like your country," the result could be nuclear war.
"I like the fact that I get to learn stuff and speak my mind," Denise said after the celebration.
"I like to come hear people make total fools of themselves," Joseph said.
Meta Toerber, 77, who started at the college 35 years ago and helps organize the group's speakers, said she never received a real college education but has expanded her horizons at the College of Complexes.
"It's for people who want to open their heads regardless of their education," said Toerber, whoÑalong with all speakersÑreceived a "diploma" Saturday night.
Toerber said Brundage would be pleased with the college's survival.
"He's looking down from heaven right now, saying how wonderful that the college is still going," she said.
One speaker who rented a car and drove from Madison, Wis., proposed a cheer, and wished the group a long life.
"College of Complexes, eh? Well, you're a college. There's no doubting that this is a college. And a college needs a cheer. Sexes, plexus, even nexus, we're the college of complexes. Go Team! Smash state!" musician Wally Friedrich told the group.
"The impressive thing about this place. There ain't one person in this place who ain't goofy. Every one of you is goofy. Every one of me is goofy," Friedrich said. "And somebody came up and said something about Hebrews 13:2. Well I got another one for the College of Complexes. Hebrews 13:8. Jesus Christ! The same yesterday, today and forever."
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