Signs That You Might Be Abe Froman

When you go to the grocery store to buy sausage — whether at Dominick’s at West Division Street or the Jewel Food Store on North Pulaski — your face is on most of the labels in the sausage section.

After a Chicago Bulls game during 1992’s Eastern Conference finals against the Cleveland Cavaliers, you hung around outside the old Chicago Stadium on West Madison Street and asked Michael Jordan to autograph your Jordan jersey. When he asked you what your name was, you said “Abe Froman.”

Your wife Sarah likes her friends to refer to her as the “Sausage Queen of Chicago.”

When you were a bartender at Butch McGuire’s, your name tag said “Abe” and you were famous for putting sausages in your Bloody Marys. And your mimosas. And your cosmopolitans. And your margaritas. In fact, you were a bit melancholy when the Sausage Margarita didn’t catch on.

You frequently ask Governor Bruce Rauner to officially change the State Nickname from “Land of Lincoln” to “Eat More Sausage”

When Chicago native Scott Turow wrote a legal thriller loosely based on that time you got kidnapped, he called it “The Sausage King Disappears.”

When you deliver sausage to Ed Debevic’s restaurant, Mr. Debevic greets you by saying “Hello, Abe.”

You applied for a job to be a stock boy at Marshall Field’s one summer while you were a student at Northwestern and on your job application you wrote “Abe Froman” under “Name” and in the space where it asked for your “Work experience” you wrote “Sausage King.”

Bob Fosse consulted with you when he was choreographing “Chicago.” You suggested that he call his signature move — involving the performer extending her hands with palms toward the audience and fingers splayed and waving exuberantly — “sausage fingers.” He did not take your suggestion but you and Bob Fosse became fast friends nonetheless.

You once had a fling with Deborah Calhoun, the Peppers and Onions Queen of Chicago.

When Oprah was doing her show on “Sausage Kings from Around the World” she invited you to represent Chicago.

When you got the high score on the video trivia machine at the Navy Pier Beer Garden and the machine asked for your name, you wrote “Abe Froman.”

Your Illinois license plate reads “SAUSAGE.”

On Wednesday June 5, 1985 you went to have lunch at “Chez Quis” and your reservation had been snatched by three high school kids led by a young man named Ferris.