We lived on Arlington Place, in a one-bedroom apartment with a Pullman kitchen—i.e., down-sized appliances arrayed in a line that could be hidden when the louvered doors were pulled across and shut. On the first floor of the building was an Italian restaurant called Salvatore’s.
We had moved there after she graduated from Purdue. We were young, broke, and didn’t care. She had a job at one of the exchanges as a runner. I obtained employment at Northwestern University School of Law as…