It is 1974, it is Chicago, we’re on Gerry Ford’s watch and we stand in front of 6135 North Broadway, a five-story brick warehouse, craning our necks up at it, drunk on the squat industrial splendor of our new home. Windows on only the street-facing side, the second floor newly christened as Café Bombay. No Café, nothing even remotely Bombayish, simply named Café Bombay for no apparent reason other than it is fun to say. Still is.  [ read more ]