On Saturday nights in Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood during the mid-1970s, you could generally count on a seeing a congregation of Latin Kings at Winthrop and Ainslie. On this evening, the group looked nervous. I think they were getting ready to ride, but no one said anything around me. I felt something unspoken in the air.
In the background you can see a vacant lot. Today, a red-brick apartment building stands there.