A kid named Otto

I made my first trip to Chicago in the early 1980's. I worked for Wolverine Toy, located in my hometown, and I had been sent to work a trade show in that city. On one taxi ride from my hotel to the show, the driver was a young man of Polish derivation. I do not remember his last name, but his first name was Otto, and I very likely owe him my life. I was half snoozing in the back seat as we were at a stoplight, and all of a sudden he started yelling, "Lock the doors; lock the doors!" As looked around, a couple of young Latinos started to get into the cab, one on each side. Their intention was obvious, and their eyes had a somewhat glazed look. Otto jumped out of the cab and started screaming at them, warning them off. His aggressive response seemed to startle them into indecision. He pointed down the street, saying, "See, there's a cop. Do you want me to call him?" They backed off and Otto jumped into the cab and we took off. Welcome to Chicago, Mark.