Lincoln Square’s Hidden Legends: The Famous (and Infamous) Residents Who Shaped a Neighborhood

If you walk Lincoln Square’s leafy streets with your eyes open, you’ll find the ghosts and legends tucked between the bakeries and bookstores. This isn’t the Gold Coast, where celebrity is worn like a badge, or Wicker Park, where fame is a performance. Lincoln Square does things differently. Here, the famous—and the infamous—tend to blend in, their stories woven into the neighborhood’s quieter, quirkier fabric.

Let’s start with Steve Albini. If you know music, you know Albini: the man behind the boards for Nirvana’s “In Utero,” the Pixies’ “Surfer Rosa,” and PJ Harvey’s “Rid of Me.” Albini’s Electrical Audio studio, just a stone’s throw from the square, became a pilgrimage site for bands who wanted the real Chicago sound—raw, unvarnished, and honest to the bone. Albini himself, with his trademark bluntness and workmanlike approach, fit right in here. He was the kind of guy you’d spot at the local hardware store or riding his bike down Western, looking for all the world like just another neighborhood regular. That’s Lincoln Square: a place where legends prefer to keep it low-key.

But music is just one riff in the neighborhood’s score. Lincoln Square has always been a landing pad for the city’s restless and ambitious. In the early 20th century, the Budlong brothers set up their commercial pickling operation here, turning the area into the “celery capital of America.” Their legacy lingers in street names and in the briny tang of local lore—proof that sometimes, fame comes in a jar.

Then there’s the architecture. The Krause Music Store, Louis Sullivan’s last commission, sits at the edge of the square like a time capsule. It’s a reminder that the neighborhood has always had an eye for beauty, even if it’s hidden behind a music shop’s unassuming facade. Sullivan’s signature ornamentation draws architecture pilgrims from around the world, but most days, it’s just another backdrop for the local dog walkers.

Of course, Lincoln Square has had its brushes with political notoriety, none more visible - or, frankly, more surreal - than Rod Blagojevich, Illinois’ impeached and pardoned former governor. Blagojevich, or “Blago” as Chicagoans call him, is as much a part of the neighborhood’s scenery as the corner tavern. Residents swap stories about dodging him as he jogs - sometimes right down the middle of the street, his shock of hair bouncing, as if he’s running from scandal or toward redemption, depending on who’s telling the story. He’s been spotted jogging during everything from impeachment votes to ordinary Tuesday mornings, a living meme whose presence is both comic relief and cautionary tale.

The neighborhood’s creative pulse beats quietly but persistently. Indie bookstores like The Book Cellar have hosted readings by local and national authors. Music venues and festivals - Square Roots, Apple Fest - have given stages to artists who might one day be household names. If you listen closely, you’ll catch the echoes of writers, musicians, and chefs who started here before the world caught on.

You won’t find red carpets or paparazzi here. What you will find is a neighborhood that attracts - and keeps - people who shape the city’s culture from the inside out. Lincoln Square’s real claim to fame is its ability to nurture talent, ambition, and eccentricity, all while keeping things neighborly. In a city that never stops reinventing itself, that’s a legacy worth celebrating.