There’s something haunting about the way Justin Townes Earle still lingers in the DNA of American roots music—like a half-finished lyric scribbled on a bar napkin in a dimly lit Chicago dive. On April 16, that spirit returns to center stage at the Old Town School of Folk Music, where musicians, writers, and fans will gather for a night that feels less like a tribute and more like a séance.

This isn’t your typical memorial. It’s a resurrection through story and song.

At the heart of the evening is a conversation between Jonathan Bernstein—the Rolling Stone writer behind What To Do When You’re Lonesome—and Rob Miller, the co-founder of Bloodshot Records, the scrappy Chicago label that helped define Earle’s sound. Together, they’ll trace Earle’s complicated relationship with the city—his artistic refuge, his proving ground, his battleground.

Chicago wasn’t just a stop on Earle’s map—it was part of his mythology.

Then the music kicks in.

Sammy Brue takes the stage with The Journals, a raw, almost eerie collection of songs built from Earle’s unfinished lyrics—fragments and ghosts handed down by Earle’s widow and reimagined into something breathing. It’s not imitation; it’s collaboration across time. Joined by October Crifasi, an Old Town alum and former bandmate during Earle’s Chicago years, the performance promises to blur the line between past and present.

Some tracks are reconstructed from lyric sheets. Others are stitched together from scattered ideas Earle left behind. One, “For Justin,” belongs entirely to Brue—a love letter written in the shadow of a mentor.

It’s messy. It’s reverent. It’s exactly what Earle would’ve wanted.

For fans of Americana, alt-country, and the kind of songwriting that cuts straight to the bone, “Celebrating Justin Townes Earle” isn’t just another event—it’s a reminder that great music doesn’t disappear. It echoes.

And in Chicago, those echoes tend to stick around.

There’s something gloriously unpolished about Easy Honey—and that’s exactly the point.

In a scene oversaturated with algorithm-chasing sameness, the Charleston-bred indie rock band is carving out a lane that feels lived-in, sunburnt, and just a little reckless. In this interview, frontman Selby Austin pulls back the curtain on a band that thrives on spontaneity, from DIY antics—including a rogue traffic jam sign stunt—to recording sessions that feel more like controlled chaos than calculated production.

Born out of late-night college energy at Sewanee—sparked, quite literally, over a cooler of freshman punch—Easy Honey has evolved into a band defined by chemistry. Austin, alongside Darby McGlone, Charlie Holt, and Webster Austin, leans into a creative dynamic that crackles both onstage and in the studio.

That chemistry hits a new high on their upcoming EP Plaid, a five-track burst of indie rock immediacy recorded in just three days at a remote, snow-covered cabin in Marble, Colorado. It’s the kind of setting that forces honesty—and maybe a little madness—into the process. The result? A record that feels urgent, unfiltered, and alive.

Polished by legendary producer Tony Hoffer (whose résumé includes Beck, Phoenix, and M83), Plaid balances grit with gloss. It expands the band’s breezy indie-pop DNA into something more textured—layered with jangly hooks, wistful lyricism, and the kind of melodies that linger long after the last chord fades.

Easy Honey’s sound is a collision of eras and influences: the ghost of classic rock vinyl spinning in a parent’s living room, the off-kilter charm of ’90s alt, and the modern indie instinct for experimentation. Think sun-faded surf rock colliding with road-worn storytelling.

But it’s onstage where the band fully ignites.

Built on relentless touring and a grassroots following of dreamers, drifters, and night owls, Easy Honey delivers a live show that trades perfection for presence. It’s raucous, sentimental, and deeply human—more about connection than polish.

As they roll into Chicago’s Schubas ahead of Plaid’s release, Easy Honey isn’t just playing a show—they’re inviting you into their world. A world of beach bonfires, late-night drives, and the kind of music that feels like a memory you haven’t lived yet.

Chicago’s fall lineup just got a whole lot louder, prouder, and unapologetically extra. The Emmy-winning World of Wonder is bringing its first-ever immersive fan activation, Drag Race: The Experience, to the city—transforming a stretch of Logan Square into a living, breathing episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Opening this November, the limited-run attraction invites fans to step through the looking glass and into the high-glam, high-drama universe built by RuPaul. This isn’t just a photo-op factory—it’s a full-bodied dive into the franchise’s mythology, where charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent aren’t just catchphrases, they’re the price of admission.

Set inside a pop-up space at 2367 W Logan Blvd, the experience recreates the show’s most iconic environments with obsessive detail. Think the Werk Room buzzing with anticipation, the chaotic brilliance of Snatch Game, and the Main Stage runway where dreams are made—or read to filth. There’s a Confessional Room for your inner monologue, a real-life All Stars Hall of Fame, and interactive challenges designed to test whether you can actually back up your lip-sync-in-the-mirror fantasies.

And yes, there’s a twist of tech-fueled camp: the “Dragrulator,” a transformation experience that lets guests leave with a stylized portrait of their most fabulous alter ego.

“We’re untucking and taking you behind the one-way mirror,” said World of Wonder co-founders Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, leaning into the show’s signature wink. Translation: you’re not just watching the illusion—you’re part of it.

Tickets drop in two tiers, including a VIP option that offers flexible entry, a meet-and-greet with a featured Drag Race queen inside the Untucked Lounge, and a discount on exclusive merch that will undoubtedly sell out before you can say “shantay, you stay.” The activation will run weekends only, adding a sense of urgency to what’s already shaping up to be one of the season’s most buzzed-about pop culture events.

Beyond the walkthrough, the space doubles as a hub for screenings, premiere parties, and one-off events tied to the ever-expanding global Drag Race universe. It’s part fan service, part nightlife experiment, and part cultural flex—another reminder that drag isn’t just performance, it’s economy, identity, and community.

For Chicago—a city that’s long nurtured its own fiercely independent drag scene—this glossy, franchise-backed spectacle lands somewhere between validation and disruption. But one thing’s certain: come November, Logan Boulevard won’t just be a street. It’ll be a runway.

There’s a certain kind of confidence you need to remix a Chicago staple. Not arrogance—something closer to instinct. The kind that tells you a pastrami-topped pizza might actually work, especially if you grew up eating both sides of that equation.

Billy Litsogiannis—better known around West Town as Pizza Boy Billy—has spent more than a decade dialing in that instinct at Tortorice’s Pizza. His menu leans familiar at first glance—thin crust, hearty sandwiches, classic sides—but look closer and you’ll find the edges pushed just enough to keep things interesting. A drizzle of hot honey over pepperoni and sausage. A crust that carries more than it should. A willingness to experiment without losing the neighborhood.

His latest swing? A collaboration inspired by Manny’s Cafeteria & Delicatessen—yes, that Manny’s. The result is a pastrami-topped pizza that somehow feels less like a stunt and more like a natural extension of Chicago’s anything-goes food DNA. It’s salty, smoky, indulgent, and just a little bit chaotic—in other words, it works.

And now, Billy’s leaning all the way into the moment.

On March 26, in honor of March Madness, Pizza Boy Billy is giving away free slices all day long at Tortorice’s Pizza (West Town.) No gimmicks, no hoops—just walk in and grab a slice. It’s the kind of old-school neighborhood gesture that feels increasingly rare, and exactly on brand for a guy who’s built his reputation as much on generosity as on flavor.

That generosity isn’t new. During the height of COVID-19, Billy quietly funneled pizzas to hospitals and first responders, keeping kitchens running when the city felt like it might stall out. These days, he’s still showing up—donating meals to local schools, community groups, and Chicagoans who need them most.

For Billy, the pizza is the hook. The community is the point.

There’s a reason regulars keep coming back to Grand Avenue. It’s not just the crust, or the toppings, or even the novelty of a deli-meets-pizzeria mashup. It’s the feeling that this place—like the best Chicago spots—belongs to the people who walk through its doors.

And on March 26, it belongs to anyone who’s hungry.

There are films we admire, films we revisit—and then there are films that rearrange us.

For Daniel Kraus, Night of the Living Dead was never just a movie. It was a language, a mirror, and, at times, a lifeline.

In his haunting and deeply introspective new book, Partially Devoured: How Night of the Living Dead Saved My Life and Changed the World, Kraus delivers something far more expansive than film criticism. What unfolds is a kaleidoscopic meditation on art and survival—where the grainy black-and-white terror of George A. Romero’s 1968 horror landmark collides with the author’s own childhood marked by isolation and violence.

Kraus first encountered the film at five years old. For most, that might be an anecdote. For him, it became a lifelong obsession—one he estimates has spanned over 300 viewings. But repetition, in this case, wasn’t about fandom alone. It was excavation. Each revisit unearthed deeper emotional truths, linking the film’s stark, apocalyptic imagery to the private fears and traumas of his upbringing.

The result is a book that refuses easy categorization. Moving frame-by-frame through Night of the Living Dead, Kraus threads together cultural history, psychological inquiry, and memoir with an urgency that feels almost confessional. It’s a narrative that oscillates—sometimes violently—between screaming humor and profound grief.

Early praise suggests the book lands with force. Booklist has already called it “storytelling at its finest,” invoking the emotional precision of The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. Meanwhile, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner Colson Whitehead describes Kraus as “a sly, sympathetic, and funny tour guide,” praising the book as both a tribute to guerrilla filmmaking and a meditation on the fragile miracle of artistic creation.

That duality—between grit and grace—is where Kraus thrives.

Already a literary force, Kraus has built a career navigating the porous boundaries between horror and humanity. His novel Whalefall earned a front-cover review in The New York Times Book Review and widespread acclaim, while his collaborations with Guillermo del Toro—including The Shape of Water and Trollhunters—have bridged literary storytelling with cinematic spectacle. He also co-wrote The Living Dead and Pay the Piper with Romero, cementing a creative lineage that now finds its most personal expression in Partially Devoured.

But this latest work feels different—rawer, riskier.

It asks a deceptively simple question: What happens when a piece of art doesn’t just influence you—but helps you survive?

In tracing the cultural aftershocks of Night of the Living Dead—a film that redefined horror, race, and independent cinema—Kraus also maps the quieter, more intimate terrain of memory. The monsters on screen may be fictional, but the emotional truths they unlock are anything but.

And in that uneasy space between fear and recognition, Partially Devoured finds its power.

History tends to spotlight giants. But every so often, you find the figure just outside the frame—the one making things happen.

That’s David Davis.

In conversation with Chicago writer Tom Barnas, author Raymond J. McKoski brings Davis into focus in his biography, David Davis, Abraham Lincoln’s Favorite Judge. The book traces how Davis, a close ally of Abraham Lincoln, helped engineer one of the most pivotal moments in American history.

At the 1860 Republican National Convention, Davis worked behind the scenes—cutting deals, counting votes, and outmaneuvering rivals—to secure Lincoln’s presidential nomination. It wasn’t luck. It was strategy. Lincoln rewarded that loyalty with a seat on the Supreme Court of the United States in 1862. But Davis didn’t stay loyal in the way presidents might hope. On the bench, he built a reputation for strict impartiality—even when it meant ruling against Lincoln-era policies during the American Civil War.

That tension is where McKoski’s book thrives.

Davis wasn’t just Lincoln’s ally—he was a counterweight. A trusted insider who could also say no. Behind the scenes, he even served as a quiet backchannel, helping the administration avoid damaging legal missteps without compromising judicial independence.

The result is a portrait of influence without ego—a man who shaped a presidency, then stepped away from it when principle demanded.

Concise, sharp, and deeply researched, McKoski’s work reframes David Davis not as a footnote, but as a force—one whose impact still echoes in how we think about power, politics, and the courts.

In Chicago, few food institutions carry the weight of tradition quite like Manny’s Cafeteria & Delicatessen. Since 1942, the West Loop deli has served as both a neighborhood gathering place and a culinary landmark — where towering sandwiches, steaming trays of comfort food, and generations of loyal customers come together under one roof.

Each March, Manny’s finds itself at the crossroads of two cultural traditions: the city’s famously festive St. Patrick’s Day celebrations and the deeply symbolic Jewish holiday of Passover.

In Chicago, the dyeing of the river green is practically a civic ritual. But inside Manny’s, the celebration comes in the form of brisket — lots of it. On St. Patrick’s Day alone, the deli serves more than 1,000 pounds of corned beef, sliced thick and piled high onto rye bread or served alongside cabbage and potatoes.

Fourth-generation owner Dan Raskin keeps the tradition alive, demonstrating how Manny’s iconic Reuben sandwiches are made — from the perfectly brined corned beef to the sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, and tangy dressing that complete the deli classic.

St. Patrick’s Day at Manny’s: An Ode to Corned Beef It’s a distinctly Chicago moment: an Irish-American holiday celebrated in a Jewish deli that has fed politicians, reporters, construction workers, and neighborhood regulars for more than eight decades.Preparing for Passover: A Celebration of Freedom

As St. Patrick’s Day winds down, Manny’s kitchen begins preparing for another meaningful tradition — Passover, one of the most important holidays in Jewish culture.

Passover commemorates the biblical story of the Israelites’ escape from slavery in Egypt. At the heart of the observance is the Seder, a ceremonial meal that retells the Exodus story through symbolic foods and rituals passed down for generations.

Among the key elements:

• Matzah – Unleavened bread symbolizing the haste with which the Israelites fled Egypt, leaving no time for bread to rise.

• The Seder Plate – Featuring foods like bitter herbs, representing the bitterness of slavery, and charoset, a sweet mixture symbolizing the mortar used by enslaved laborers.

• Dietary Traditions – During Passover, many Jewish families avoid fermented or leavened grains such as wheat, barley, and rye.

  For many families, the Seder is both solemn and joyful — part storytelling, part communal meal, and part reflection on freedom and resilience. Some describe it as an interactive, ritualized gathering similar to Thanksgiving, though centered on the enduring theme of liberation.

  Through it all, Manny’s remains a cornerstone of Chicago’s food culture. What began as a modest cafeteria on the city’s Near West Side has grown into one of Chicago’s most beloved delis.

  Known for its massive corned beef sandwiches, house-made comfort food, and welcoming cafeteria-style dining, Manny’s has remained proudly family-owned for more than 80 years, now led by the fourth generation of the Raskin family.

  In a city that thrives on tradition, Manny’s continues to serve something deeper than sandwiches — a living piece of Chicago history, where cultures, holidays, and communities intersect around the table.

For more Stories From The 78, follow @tombarnas78 on Instagram and @storiesfromthe78 on TikTok.

A Hidden Cabinet of Curiosities in Portage ParkTucked along West Irving Park Road in Chicago’s Portage Park neighborhood, Ecclection feels less like a store and more like a carefully staged fever dream of found objects. The small storefront at 6059 W. Irving Park Road hums with personality, a place where handmade art leans against vintage curiosities and recycled relics wait patiently for their second lives.This behind-the-scenes video tour pulls back the curtain on one of Chicago’s most unusual independent shops, guiding viewers through a space where creativity outweighs polish and discovery beats convenience.Part vintage trove, part neighborhood clubhouse, and part oddities bazaar, Ecclection specializes in affordable finds that begin at just a dollar. Every shelf carries evidence of a previous life, objects rescued, repurposed, or reimagined.Shopping here feels analog in the best possible way. No algorithms steer the experience. No digital carts interrupt the moment. The only navigation tool is curiosity.This video offers a rare behind-the-scenes look at the physical space, revealing the textures and layers that make Ecclection feel alive.Corners are stacked with handmade jewelry, vintage décor, crystals, and small artistic experiments. Nothing feels mass-produced. Items sit close together, like strangers sharing a long train ride.The effect is immersive.You wander instead of browse.You discover instead of search.Some pieces inspire, some puzzle, and some simply make you laugh.Prices remain intentionally accessible, with many items starting at just one dollar, reinforcing the shop’s philosophy that creativity should never be gated by price.One of the most fascinating additions featured in the video comes from the recently closed American Science & Surplus.Known for decades as a wonderland of scientific oddities and experimental materials, the legendary surplus retailer supplied generations of inventors, artists, and curious minds.Now, pieces from that vanished institution have found a second life inside Ecclection.Boxes of unusual components, scientific curiosities, and eccentric tools have been folded into the shop’s rotating inventory, creating a strange historical echo.The artifacts feel like survivors from a lost laboratory.Test-tube ghosts.Mechanical fossils.Fragments of forgotten experiments.Their presence deepens the shop’s atmosphere, turning casual browsing into a kind of archaeological dig.A Store Built on CommunityEcclection operates as more than a retail space.It functions as a neighborhood living room.The shop regularly hosts:Kids craft eventsSchool fundraisersSip-and-shop nightsPlus-size pop-upsCommunity gatheringsThese events reinforce the store’s identity as a place where people linger instead of transact.Conversations matter here.Stories matter.The object you take home often comes with one attached.The Thrill of the FindEcclection thrives on unpredictability.Inventory rotates constantly, ensuring that no two visits are identical. A piece that sits quietly on a shelf today might be gone tomorrow.Visitors come searching for many things:Something vintage.Something handmade.Something strange.Or simply something they didn’t know they needed until they saw it.The shop rewards slow looking.Patience becomes part of the experience.Treasure appears when you least expect it.