The Windy City’s Good Samaritan

As good deeds go, it doesn’t rank with the Good Samaritan’s compassion for the battered traveler on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, or Sir Walter Raleigh’s famous cloak-in-the-mud-puddle gambit for a queen.

But a good deed it was — and aimed at me. I was recipient of genuine kindness.

As background, remember the Good Samaritan story from Luke’s Gospel?

The parable, told by Jesus, is the story of a Samaritan (he was indeed “Good!”) who, while traveling the winding road down to Jericho, sees a man of a different race naked and prostrate who’s been robbed of everything and beaten to within an inch of his life.

The Samaritan tends to the man’s wounds, puts him on his donkey, takes him to an inn to recover, and pays his expenses. More than just a good deed, the Good Samaritan presents an object lesson for the ages.

In a less significant, though well-known deed, Sir Walter Raleigh displayed courtly manners. In what is most certainly an apocryphal tale, Sir Walter is reputed to have put his cloak in a puddle, allowing Queen Elizabeth I to avoid muddying her shoes. True or not, it sends a gallant message to men of all cultures.

A good deed was accorded me in the city of Chicago.

It was 1 p.m. April 9 at Chicago’s Wrigley Field — and the 1985 National League season was about to get under way. The Cubbies vs. the Pittsburgh Pirates. I was there among 34,551 fans.

The Cubs beat the Pirates, 2-1, in a cold, three-hour game.

But it was wonderful.

It was so early in the season that the famous ivy had not yet leafed on Wrigley’s brick outfield walls. And the wind was blowing a gale. It’d snowed a couple of days earlier. I sat about 20 rows behind the first-base dugout.

Though a Dodgers fan, I was in heaven. I’d long wanted to visit Wrigley. The huge, iconic scoreboard in centerfield loomed over me.

I was in Chicago for a weeklong conference at the Hilton, across from Grant Park and Lake Michigan.

I arrived on Saturday evening and checked in. While reading the paper the next morning, I realized that the Cubs were opening the National League season at Wrigley on a Tuesday.

Hmm. Would I love to go? You bet! But, could I secure a ticket? Surely the game was sold out.

Sometime that day I spoke with the hotel concierge, a young woman of 26 or 27, in the lobby.

“What can I do for you, sir,” she smiled as I approached her counter.

“I’d love to attend the Cubs’ game Tuesday,” I responded. “Is there any chance I could get a ticket? I’m happy to pay a courtesy fee. It would mean a great deal to me to go to Wrigley.”

“Just a single ticket, sir?” she asked. I nodded. “I think I can do that for you. Check with me tomorrow morning, and I’ll let you know.”

She had a ticket waiting for me Monday — at a very reasonable price — and gave me directions for taking Chicago’s L (elevated train) directly to Wrigley. The distance is about eight miles but, without a rental car, navigating it can be tricky.

“Now, make sure you take a heavy coat,” she advised. “It’ll be windy and cold.”

I blanched.

“I don’t have a heavy coat.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I’m from California. We don’t wear heavy coats,” I paused. “Maybe I can find a cheap coat in a shop on Michigan Avenue.”

She laughed.

“My husband has a heavy coat,” she countered matter-of-factly. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“You would do that?” I was shocked.

She brought the coat the next day, and I was bundled to the earlobes for Cubbie baseball. How generous of that young woman to exhibit such kindness to a total stranger.

I thanked her profusely Wednesday when I returned the coat.

She didn’t have to do what she did. It was way beyond the call of duty.

But, because of her, I have a warm lifetime memory.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.