Don De Grazia, author of “American Skin” and lecturer at Columbia College Chicago, dies at the age of 56

It was the late 1980s and early 1990s, and Don De Grazia was living in a YMCA, taking creative writing classes at Columbia College Chicago, working as a bouncer at Metro, and writing a novel.

At the Metro, he had a particular talent for scanning the bustling dance floor for metalheads and punks who might be thinking of jumping on stage, as he himself had been one of them as a teenager.

Starting at age 16, he and a group of friends from the northwest suburbs would travel to the North Side Club to see punk bands like Naked Raygun, Dead Kennedys, and FEAR.

Mr. De Grazia, who died on June 13 at age 56 from complications of a health problem he contracted during a 16-inch softball game, was a keen observer of and befriended the various groups and factions present at hardcore punk concerts. Among them: skinheads, a group whose views ranged from straightforward anti-establishment to racism.

De Grazia used these experiences as material for his first novel, American Skin, which describes the odyssey of a young runaway who ends up in Chicago and joins a multi-ethnic group of anti-Nazi skinheads.

After failing to get American publishers to accept him, at age 28 he spent his last $75 to send a copy to Jonathan Cape, a London publisher known for publishing dark fiction.

One day, a few weeks later, Mr. De Grazia received an early morning call from an excited woman with an English accent who brought him good news: his book was going to be published.

The book hit European bookstores in 1998 to great acclaim. It was published in the United States in 2000.

A Washington Post reviewer wrote, “‘American Skin’ is for those who read to discover craftsmanship and imagination.”

Donald G. Evans, founding director of the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame, called it a “masterpiece.”

The book paved the way to a full-time teaching position at Columbia University, where Mr. De Grazia mentored young writers trying to find their own voice.

Toya Wolfe was one of them. She used her childhood in public housing on the South Side to write “Last Summer on State Street,” which won last year’s $25,000 Pattis Family Foundation Chicago Book Award from the Newberry Library.

“He was a champion of me and my work,” Wolfe said in a message sent to him by De Grazia’s longtime friend and publicist Sheryl Johnston. “He took me from baby writer to pro.”

Tyler Pasciak LaRiviere/Sun-Times

Mr. De Grazia was born on January 3, 1968. He grew up in a working-class home in a wooded area of ​​suburban Wadsworth and attended Warren Township High School in Gurnee. Before class, he would sit in the library, read newspapers and immerse himself in the work of his favorite columnist, Mike Royko. He also wrestled and edited the school newspaper.

One of his stories was a detailed account of the lives and coexistence of the athletes, nerds and burnouts at the school. Ian Vasquez, a long-time friend of the school, got him into trouble with the school administration and caused a stir in the various social groups.

Mr. De Grazia also ran for president of the Student Union and won, despite not believing in the organization, which he considered frivolous and full of complacent people.

“To prove his point, his campaign was based on no ideas,” Vasquez said. “All he did was hang photocopies of a picture of himself at the high school holding a gun to a cute dog’s head and saying, ‘Vote for me or the dog will get it.’ Ironic, because he loved dogs.”

“The school asked him to take down the posters, but his classmates found it hilarious and voted for him overwhelmingly. As president, he never attended any of the student council meetings. This was his way of making his point clear.”

Mr. De Grazia dropped out of high school during his senior year and ran away from home, living with a friend before joining the National Guard and completing a four-month boot camp in Georgia.

“He wanted to be independent, which he achieved, but he always said he admired and loved his parents and his sister,” Vasquez said.

Later, Mr. De Grazia graduated from high school, took a job at a coffee shop in Evanston, and shared an apartment with Vazquez and other friends who attended Northwestern University. He became the unofficial leader of the group he called the “Rogues Scholars.”

“We felt like we were well-read, articulate, intellectually competent and able to challenge each other, whether our views were left or right. We could argue with facts and push the boundaries a little on things we considered absurd, but never in an offensive or hurtful way,” Vazquez said.

Mr. De Grazia later carried this mentality into the classroom and encouraged his students to challenge themselves.

In addition, he became part of the city’s literary landscape and helped organize Columbia’s Story Week, an annual gathering of famous authors that took place until a few years ago.

In the early 2000s, Mr De Grazia suggested inviting Irvine Welsh, the Scottish author of Train Spotting. Welsh agreed. They met at the event in 2002 and became friends.

“We were kind of inseparable mates, actually,” Welsh said. “He was my best friend and introduced me to every aspect of the city. We both have that kind of working-class ethos, and we both liked the writing and the culture that came out of that place.”

Welsh lived in Chicago for about seven years starting in 2009 and had an apartment around the corner from Mr. De Grazia’s apartment on the North Side.

“He was one of those people that you went on some adventures with and that changed your life and made you see and look at life in a completely different way,” Welsh said.

The two once attended a Cubs and White Sox game on the same day and “got into all sorts of trouble” but were rescued by De Grazia, who was well prepared for drinking and fights, who helped them out, Welsh said.

The couple co-wrote “The Creatives,” a play that won “Best Musical” at the Edinburgh Fringe Fest.

“He loved to write, but he wasn’t necessarily interested in selling books,” Welsh said. “He much preferred being a teacher. He touched so many people’s lives and inspired them through his teaching.”

Social media posts about his death drew dozens of comments from former students.

“The guy was always my favorite and always encouraged me to keep writing and working on my craft,” wrote a former student.

“He was, I think, a driving force at Columbia and in the city’s literary scene,” said Randy Albers, a former head of the fiction department at Columbia who recalls his time teaching Mr. De Grazia at Columbia. “He was very skeptical when he came into my class. But when he realized that we were focusing on what worked and not criticizing everything to the point of insanity, he gave it his all and things took off. That was a turning point for him.”

“And once you get to know him and get along well, you get along with him for life. His death is a great loss for Columbia Chicago and everyone whose lives he touched.”

Mr. De Grazia was married to Siera Cerny, a writer, actress and improviser. The couple had a 17-month-old daughter, Daisy.

Mr. De Grazia died shortly after experiencing signs of exhaustion during a championship softball game at Hamlin Park.

He was the manager and pitcher of a co-ed team whose mascot, Li’l Stucky, was based on the rodent that left the famous rat hole imprint on a sidewalk in Roscoe Village, not far from where Mr. De Grazia lived.

“Being a father and a husband meant everything to him,” said his sister Lisa Jackson. “I’d never seen him so happy – the love he had for Daisy and Siera, the pride he had. Being a father changed him. It was a beautiful part of his life.”

Church services were held.