The election of Chicago native Robert Prevost as Pope Leo XIV in May unleashed a tsunami of old-school Chicago jokes about “Da Pope,” many of which leaned heavily on the tropes of Chicagoans as no-nonsense, sleeves-rolled-up types who don’t suffer pretentious fools. (As a wise colleague observed years ago, “The only thing Chicagoans get pretentious about is their lack of pretension.”)

Lee Kirk’s Ashland Avenue , now in a world premiere kicking off the Goodman’s centennial season (staged by artistic director Susan V. Booth), feels tailor-made for those sensibilities, right down to its title. Ashland isn’t a beautiful street, but by god, it’s a major artery, carrying the lifeblood of businesses large and small, north side and south side.

The one in the spotlight in Kirk’s play is Pete’

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