Photograph by Kevin A. Roberts
First, there were the dogs.
When Galen Gondolfi arrived on Cherokee Street, he was one of three people on the block. There were heroin dealers on the corner, and his building was broken into twice in the first 48 hours. “On the third night,” he says, “I got two dogs from Stray Rescue. One—Lilly—is still with me. We boarded up the door and slept near there.”
Then came the friends: Mike Schuh, Dave Early, and Bevin Fahey-Vornberg. It was Fahey-Vornberg who photographed Gondolfi’s piles of cardigan sweaters and rows and rows of rotating fans, then put up an art show. The first plan at 3151 Cherokee had been to open a dog rescue; now it was a gallery, Fort Gondo Compound for the Arts. (Yes, there’s a dog pun in there.) Then it became “a wall-art–free zone—focusing on performance,” Gondolfi says. He spent four hours in a dog crate (and spilled his water) for the first show in 2002. He hung on a cross; there was a breakfast cereal-eating event. Gondolfi donned a giant bunny head and sat in the middle of Cherokee Street. “I was ultimately punched in the face by a driver passing by,” he remembers. “Most recently, I jammed out in an orange Dumpster with fellow members of Airport Elementary School”—he’s the drummer—“during the Rustbelt to Artist Belt conference.”
Gondolfi says he considers St. Louis the promised land. He grew up in what he describes as the “agrarian hamlet” of Marseilles, Ill.; he got his graduate degree in urban and regional planning and moved to Boston. But in 1998, he spent nine months in St. Louis, helping with his nephew Elliot’s home-school program, and fell in love with St. Louis. So in 2000, he and his brother Glenn packed up a car, and drove here to start new lives, and even crafted a St. Louis 2000 brochure as part of the process. “As we crossed the Mississippi that June, the swamp-like humidity chased Glenn back to Milwaukee,” he says. “ I’ve always reflected on how life here may have been different had there been two Gondos.”
For all that happened with just one, it does make you wonder; in 2002, when Gondolfi told Wm. Stage of the Riverfront Times that he wanted to start an artists’ commune on the corner of Cherokee Street and Compton Avenue, it sounded like a pipe dream. Ten years later, the street is spilling over with galleries, restaurants, and small businesses all the way from Gravois Avenue down past Jefferson Avenue. In March, Temporary Art Review, a national arts blog, published “The Godfather of Cherokee St.,” a tribute to Gondo’s role in making that happen, with quotes from artists all over the city. David Wolk of the late Cranky Yellow noted Gondolfi “set off a spur of unique community-driven creativity. His vision brought art into an already diverse neighborhood and consequently aided in shifting perception of the area. The result is still visible today as Cherokee continues to be further defined as a creative hub in the city.” Others reminisced about the long-gone spaces that once existed as part of the Gondo empire, including Art Parts (housed in an old auto-parts store); Beverly (an all-women gallery, named after Gondolfi’s mother); Radio Cherokee (a music venue curated by David Early); and Typo (a cybercafé filled with manual typewriters). All of these went on to house new businesses, including All Along Press, Peridot, and STL-Style. (Snowflake gallery, across the street, run by David and Bevin Early—née Fahey-Vornberg—is still there.)
The “Godfather” article was written on the event of Fort Gondo’s 10th birthday. Gondolfi was supremely flattered by the piece, though the “Godfather” title makes him chuckle. “I’m always having to truncate my Italian surname,” he says. “People want to call me Gondolfini, which is even more mobster-like than Gondolfi. I’ve spent my whole life, possibly, explaining to people that I relate more to Michelangelo and Galileo than I do The Sopranos.”
He himself is recognizing that birthday with “Identity Crisis: ten years of fort gondo,” a series of 10 shows “that commemorate, celebrate, and exploit a decade of diverse programming,” as well as what Gondolfi describes as Gondo’s “happy entropy.”
“There always has, and has not been, a game plan and a blueprint… The way that things work at Fort Gondo, no one’s quite sure who’s in charge, or if anyone’s in charge,” he says. “It’s so quintessentially do-it-yourself that the postcard that the artists put out for the February show said that it was truly, definitively celebrating 10 years of Fort Gondo. And I’m like, ‘Oh OK!’” he says, laughing. “I love when that happens, when I’m not in control. So I guess the anniversary show already happened.”
Still, he says, he wanted to do a performance for the occasion at some point, so this month, he’s teaming up with artist Bridget Kraft (who Gondolfi describes as a Gondo stalwart) for a rug show called “Walk on Me.” The subtext, Gondolfi says, includes women’s rug circles in developing countries, which speaks to things dear to his heart, including microfinance and peer lending—his day job is as chief communications officer for microlending nonprofit Justine Petersen, whose CEO, Rob Boyle, helped secure much of the early financing for the acquisition of properties in the Cherokee neighborhood.
“She’s going to have these rag rugs hung,” he says, “And I am going to do a performance piece called ‘Welcome Mat.’ She’s going to fashion a welcome mat that will go around my midsection, and I’m going to lie down in the doorway of Fort Gondo and let everybody essentially cross me. Actually, I prefer they walk on me. And that’s not insulting… One, I want to say we welcome all. That said, over the years, every once in a while, if you’re going to welcome the world into your house, no less”—Gondolfi and his wife, poet Jessica Baran, live above the gallery—“every once in a while there’s going to be a foot in your face, or your torso will be crushed. And I’m ready for it! I may wear a hockey mask. I’m just hoping people don’t take advantage of the fact that I’m vulnerable.”
For the fall, artists Peter Pranschke, Kevin Harris, and Dave Burnett are on the docket, as is Mike Schmidt, the blacksmith at Faust Park, who’s recently moved to the neighborhood, who’ll show his work in November. The other big news is that Fort Gondo is applying for 501(c)(3) status, effectively ending its run as what Gondolfi calls “a pro–debt-incurring organization.” That, of course, requires a little more ossification—and maybe that’s not a big deal, now that all of the kinesis originating from the storefront has spread up and down the street.
“My whole goal was to create a node of activity and energy, and make sure it was a form and platform for all,” Gondolfi says, “People say, ‘Are you a developer?’ And I say no. I was interested in community redevelopment from an energy perspective. That is, emphasizing human capital over financial capital… As much as it may sound overly dramatic, and almost pathetic, it’s really a celebration of humanity.”
Shout-Outs
Fort Gondo, being a cultural commons and the exact opposite of a dictatorship, hums along thanks to the contributions of many creatures, both human and four-legged; these are the ones Gondolfi wanted to recognize in particular.
Girls
“My sis Gaylene; my wife Jessica; Bevin Early (Bevin once told me that she’d be the funeral director for my wake in the Fort Gondo picture window, so I guess that’ll be the final show); friends Gina Alvarez, Andrea Plaut, Wendy McPherson, Erin Kuechler, Nicole Northway, and Amy Broadway.” Another influence was Jane Byrne, Chicago’s first woman mayor: “I was just a kid when I would see the Chicago news talk night after night on television about Jane Byrne moving into Cabrini–Green,” he says. “It’s always been some sort of subtext for me on Cherokee, and it fueled my ultimate interest in urban planning for graduate school, my interest in community organizing, and perhaps my professional life, where I view community economic development from the lens of microfinance.”
Boys
“My nephew Elliot; Dave Early; Matt Gehlert; Mike Schuh; Michael Noll; Jack Lane; Matt Chandler; Rob Boyle; and Tom O’Guinn, a professor friend at the University of Illinois. His house, his actual residence, was a forum for expression. He allowed pretty much anyone to do anything—whether he was home or out of the country. I considered this high-concept. Accordingly, there are over 100 keys in circulation to the Gondo front door. Now that I think about, I don’t think Tom even locked his door.” Gondolfi also mentions the influence of Iggy Pop, who “has never been much of a commercial success. I can relate, and I relish that. He also allowed his physical antics to usurp higher cognitive activity. I can relate to that also. When the sun sets on Cherokee, I’ll be most remembered—if at all—for my visceral contributions, be they rickshaw rides or hanging from a cross.”
Dogs
Hank, Lester, Lilly, Colby, Benny, Tiger, Calf, Yoda, Fox, and Punk
Cats
Boko, Skyler, and Phil
For more information, visit fortgondo.com.
