WWII vet holds tight to his freedom, even if it means begging to get by

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Eugene Twardy shows off a photo of himself as a young man in his apartment in Chicago’s Marquette Park neighborhood. The 85-year-old World War II vet begs on the streets at the end of the month when money gets tight. | Matt Marton~Sun-Times Media

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Updated: February 20, 2012 8:47AM

Perhaps you’ve seen him, working the busy intersection of 63rd Street and Pulaski Road in Chicago.

He wears a tattered parka and carries a cardboard sign displaying his Veterans Administration ID card. He uses a cane to compensate for a bum leg, and sometimes he isn’t wearing any gloves despite the cold.

But he always has a smile, even for the drivers who read his hand-written request for help and then tell him to go to a veterans hospital or ask, “Don’t you get a pension?”

“I don’t blame them. I’m ashamed that I beg,” he said.

But there also are those who hand him a few coins or even a dollar and say, “Thanks for your service.”

Eugene Twardy has seen a lot of life in his 85 years. He’s been on top and he’s been at the bottom. But there’s one thing this World War II veteran knows for sure: He wants to be free. Even if that means he must rely on the generosity of strangers to make up the typical $200 gap between his Social Security check and his monthly obligations.

He says he could put his name on a list to go to a veterans home but he wants to stay in his Marquette Park neighborhood, where he likes his neighbors and knows the bus routes and can take his clothes to the laundry around the corner.

“My brain is fine,” he says. “Doctors say my brain is genius.”

It’s just that after he pays the rent and the electric and phone bills, he’s sometimes forced to choose between medications and food.

Not according to plan

These are not the golden years one might have imagined for this former real estate broker, husband and Army sergeant.

“I was among the top 10 students in my graduating class at Kelly High School,” he said, proudly.

He also was real estate salesperson of the year for a local broker, once selling five homes in the Evergreen Park/Oak Lawn area in seven days.

So what happened? What happened to this man who sent half of his income home to Mom while he served in the South Pacific and who says he helped build St. Catherine of Alexandria Church in Oak Lawn?

“That’s the second half of my story,” Twardy explained over lunch one day. “I had a poor life, I had a rich life. Now I’m someplace else but I’m happy.”

A reversal

“People ask, ‘Gene, what happened to all your money?’ ” he said.

The downfall began when he was just 40. He started having episodes. His heart would race, panic would set in. On several occasions, he thought he was having a heart attack but emergency room personnel said otherwise.

“I had a nervous breakdown,” he said.

Growing up, he thought he would escape the fate that crippled his mother, brother and sister. Twardy’s came on late, but fast and fierce. He was hospitalized, placed in the psychiatric ward for 45 days — a decision that still brings tears to his eyes.

“I was not crazy,” he said, wiping his cheek. “There was never anything wrong with my brain.”

After a series of shock treatments, he left the hospital and headed home, where he stayed, unable to leave for a year, trapped by his anxiety.

He lost his business and his confidence and started peeling through his savings.

He said the support group Recovery International saved his life. He attended the twice-weekly meetings at local churches for 18 years.

He eventually found work as part of a cleaning crew at an Oak Lawn Jewel food store.

“I worked part-time for years,” Twardy said.

He never caught up.

Today he rents a small room, with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. His furniture is old and the walls are decorated with taped pictures and a handmade cross that he covets dearly.

“It’s great,” he said. “I don’t need things. I’ve had things. I built my own house in Oak Lawn. Once, I had a brand-new 1955 Buick. All the guys were jealous. But now I don’t need things.”

When he comes up short on cash, he takes the bus from 67th Street and Kedzie Avenue to 63rd Street and Pulaski Road and shakes a can.

“The intersection is well-lighted and there’s a store where they let me come in and warm up,” he said.

It can take two to three days to make the $200 he usually needs to stay in the black. He begs as long as his leg holds out.

A new friend

The first time Edward Sajdak saw Twardy was last fall when he was driving his mother to a church function.

“Here was this man walking through traffic. I was afraid he’d get hit by a car,” said Sajdak, a Cook County sheriff’s deputy.

“I saw him and thought, ‘Oh, my God, there’s Grandpa’s face,’ ” he said. “There goes my heart.”

He opened his car window and handed Twardy a $10 bill.

“He thanked me and then he kissed me,” Sajdak said.

A few weeks later, on a cold November day, Sajdak saw Twardy again, panhandling through the intersection. This time, he pulled over.

Sajdak and Twardy since have become friends. Sajdak has taken him to the grocery store for canned pears, sliced turkey and ginger ale, which helps settle Twardy’s stomach. He’s also taken him shopping at Kmart for flannel shirts and gloves.

“He’s my Santa Claus,” Twardy said. “This man has been so good to me. I’m so stocked right now I won’t have to beg in January or maybe even February.”

Twardy has a free CTA pass, which gets him to a nearby senior center where he can get a free lunch. He also gets a meal once a week from Meals on Wheels.

His kids help him out, as well.

“They’re good to me. They send me money on my birthday and at Christmas. My son got me a new TV,” he said. “They don’t know I beg. I’m too ashamed to tell them.”

Sajdak said, “Like so many seniors, he wants to maintain his independence. This is what keeps him vibrant.”

Twardy admits he’s an optimist at heart.

“I can make it on my own,” he said. “But sometimes I need some help, you know?

“I don’t look for self-pity,” he added. “I look for understanding.”