The area around the mouth of the Calumet River has fascinated me since I first visited it several years ago. It’s a landscape haunted by the industrial past, where enormous infrastructure and industrial scars collide with and dwarf the modest residences that were once sustained by the many jobs since vanished. This lonely house stands, ambiguously vacant, in the liminal zone where neighborhood fabric gives way to the river. Built in 1878, it has witnessed nearly the entire arc of the area. The neighborhood might be an underdog, but it has too much grit and too rich a history to be written off.