On Chicago: Writing

I wholeheartedly concur with today's "On Chicago" quotation. May I never reach the end...

"When one lacks a theme 'upon which to write, he can always fall back on Chicago. Other subjects have a depth which is fathomable; Chicago, like its mud, is bottomless. One can always write about Chicago without wearying himself or his readers. He may write of it as a whole,—a mud-hole,—if he chooses, and never exhaust it. He may deal with it in particulars, and never reach their end."

Franc Bangs Wilkie (1832-1892)
Walks about Chicago, 1871-1881: And Army and Miscellaneous Sketches (1882)

WILKIE, Franc Bangs, journalist, was born in Saratoga County, N. Y., July 2, 1830; took a partial course at Union College, after which he edited papers at Schenectady, N. Y., Elgin, 111., and Davenport and Dubuque, Iowa; also serving, during a part of the Civil War, as the western war correspondent of "The New York Times." In 1863 he became an editorial writer on "The Chicago Times," remaining with that paper, with the exception of a brief interval, until 1888 —a part of the time as its European correspondent. He was the author of a series of sketches over the nom de plume of "Poliuto," and of a volume of reminiscences under the title, "Thirty-five Years of Journalism," published shortly before his death, which took place, April 12, 1892.

From: Historical Encyclopedia of Illinois
By Newton Bateman, Paul Selby, Franices M. Shonkwiler, Henry L Fowkes, David McCulloch (1917)

Photo Credit: The Bohemian Brigade (If you are unfamiliar with the Brigade, do visit the site. I was and have only recenly met Mr. Wilkie.)

(Note: I'm looking for more information Franc Wilkie. Look for him in future posts and at the CHOLibrary soon.)

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Chicago History Caught in the Web

Library History Buff recently noted that the American Library Association will celebrate its Chicago centennial this year and will conduct its yearly meeting at McCormick Place in July. (In 2011, the Association will mark its 135th year.) The ALA has held their conference in Chicago twelve times, the first during the Columbian Exposition in 1893. They were located in the Government Building. For more on the history of the ALA, see "Library History Buff's" The American Library Association: A Selective Illustrated History.

I write, therefore I drink. Watering holes and writers. Does it get any better? Chicago has a rich history of both. Check out Literary Chicago from the Chicago Bar Project.


There's a new blog on the Century of Progress Exhibition, but with a wonderful twist. While "snooping through a closet at my grandmother’s house" about 10 years ago, Kelly Cook found a treasure. It was an almost daily account, written by a family friend, of her then 12-year old grandmother's journey from a small town in South Dakota and her visit to the 1933-34 Chicago World's Fair. The letters are charming and filled with detail. You'll enjoy Chicago 1934: A Trip to the Fair. Love them primary resources!

The mystery of the Montgomery Ward tower at 6 North Michigan Avenue is clarified by Design Slinger in post titled, The Hidden. You can't see it, but it's there...sort of.


Are you thinking spring, Cubs fans? Want something to read while you are waiting for opening day? Gary T. Johnson, President of the Chicago History Museum, reviews The Best Team Ever: A Novel of America, Chicago, and the 1907 Cubs on the Chicago Lawyer Magazine website.


Finally, I want to send out a big thank you to supporter and friend, RetroKimmer. Kimmer designed the "Chicago History" button you see to the right and has been peppering the blogosphere (she has 11 blogs!) with the doodad. I've been running into myself all morning. Anyone who cares to may add it to their blog or website. The HTML code can be found in the left column...courtesy of Kimmer, too. Alas, I'm pathetically inept with technology. Anyway, this was a wonderful surprise gift.

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The White City by Alec Michod: A Book Review

I read a great many books. As you might expect, I primarily read nonfiction pertaining to Chicago. Occasionally, however, I'll look for some lighter reading just to pass the time when concentration is not possible. For some reason, even the fiction I choose has something to do with Chicago. Ya, what a shocker.

While trotting to my gate at O'Hare Airport last week it occurred to me that I had somehow forgotten to bring some reading material for the flight. (This doesn't happen often. I always have a book with me, even in the car.) I stopped at the Field Museum store and noticed a book on the shelf that I thought would be perfect: The White City by Alec Michod. Historical fiction can be fun and when the setting is the Chicago Columbian Exposition, well, I'm a happy camper. After reading the book, however, I'm not so happy.

The plot of The White City is strangely familiar. A serial killer is preying on young boys at the Columbian Exposition and their mutilated bodies are turning up all over the fair grounds. When the son of a noted Chicago architect, who happens to be working with Potter Palmer, is pinched a noted forensic psychologist and sleuth, Dr. Elizabeth Handley, is called in to help catch the evil doer. I'm not going to go into more detail about the plot because you just might want to read the book.

But, here is my main problem. I judge fictional works by some simple criteria - Do I care about the main characters? Is the writing clear? While the plot may not be entirely believable, can I follow it? Unfortunately, this is a case where I have to say, no to all three. Concerning the characters, it's more a case of not knowing them. Michod just doesn't quite sketch them clearly enough. His writing style is a chaotic and awkward to read and I honestly couldn't get a handle on the plot or even care. Not good signs

In all fairness, this was Michod's debut novel published in 2004, and the poor guy must have been devastated to find that Eric Larson's The Devil in the White City was on the shelves and a phenomenal best-seller. Timing is everything - or a big part - of publishing, but I'm afraid it was a bit off the mark this time.

For me, The White City was a dull grey. But, like all works of art, the beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or in this case, reader. Never take a reviewer's word as gospel. So, go. Judge for yourself. Let me know what you think. Who knows; maybe I was just in a bad mood and didn't get it.

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On Chicago: A Visit to Marshall Field's

Julian Leonard Street (left)was an author and playwright with an engaging and witty writing style. If you are unfamiliar with his work this might be a good time to become acquainted. Many of his books are available on Internet Archive. The following excerpt comes from his book Abroad at Home and it documents a visit to America by and American, coast to coast. Street was born in Chicago and the section on his birth city is well worth reading. As an introduction to Street, I offer his notes on his visit to Marshall Field's when he visited his hometown.

Of course we visited Marshall Field's.

The very obliging gentleman who showed us about the inconceivably enormous buildings, rushing from floor to floor, poking in and out through mysterious, baffling doors and passageways, now in the public part of the store where goods are sold, now be hind the scenes where they are made this gentleman seemed to have, the whole place in his head almost as great a feat as knowing the whole world by heart.

"How much time can you spare?" he asked as we set out from the top floor, where he had shown us a huge recreation room, gymnasium, and dining room, all for the use of the employees.

"How long should it take?"

"It can be done in two hours," he said, "if we keep moving all the time."

"All right," I said and we did keep moving. Through great rooms full of trunks, of brass beds, through vast galleries of furniture, through restaurants, grilles, afternoon tea rooms, rooms full of curtains and coverings and cushions and corsets and waists and hats and carpets and rugs and linoleum and lamps and toys and stationery and silver, and Heaven only knows what else, over miles and miles of pleasant, soft, green carpet, I trotted along beside the amazing man who not only knew the way, but seemed even to know the clerks. Part of the time I tried to look about me at the phantasmagoria of things with which civilization has encumbered the human race; part of the time I listened to our cicerone; part of the time I walked blindly, scribbling notes, while my companion guided my steps.

Here are some of the notes:

Ten thousand employees in retail store Choral society, two hundred members, made up of sales-people Twelve baseball teams in retail store; twelve in wholesale; play during season, and, finally, for championship cup, on "Marshall Field Day"

Lectures on various topics, fabrics, etc., for employees, also for outsiders: women's clubs, etc. Employees lunch: soup, meat, vegetables, etc., sixteen cents. Largest retail custom dressmaking business in the country Largest business in ready-made apparel. Largest retail millinery business. Largest retail shoe business. Largest branch of Chicago public library (for employees). Largest postal sub-station in .Largest largest largest!


Now and then when something interested me particularly we would pause and catch our breath. Once we stopped for two or three minutes in a fine schoolroom, where some stock-boys and stock-girls were having a lesson in fractions "to fit them for better positions/ Again we paused in a children's playroom, where mothers left their youngsters while they went to do their shopping, and where certain youngsters, thus deposited, were having a gorgeous time, sliding down things, and running around other things, and crawling over and under still other things. Still again we paused at the telephone switchboard a switchboard large enough to take care of the entire business of a city of the size of Springfield, the capital of Illinois. And still again we paused at the postal sub-station, where fifty to sixty thousand dollars worth of stamps are sold in a year, and which does as great a postal business, in the holiday season, as the whole city of Milwaukee does at the same period.

At one time we would be walking through a great shirt factory, set off in one corner of that endless building, all unknown to the shoppers who never get behind the scenes; then we would pop out again into the dressed-up part of the store, just as one goes from the kitchen and the pantry of a house into the formality of dining room and drawing room. And as we appeared thus, and our guide was recognized as the assistant manager of all that kingdom, with its population often thousand, saleswomen would rise suddenly from seats, little gossiping groups would disperse quickly, and floor men, who had been talking with saleswomen, would begin to occupy themselves with other matters. I remember coming upon a "silence room" for saleswomen a large, dark, quiet chamber, in which was an attendant; also a
saleswoman who was restlessly resting by rocking herself in a chair.

And as we moved through the store we kept taking off our hats as we went behind the scenes, and putting them on as we emerged into the public parts. Never before had I realized how much of a department store is a world unseen by shoppers. At one point, in that hidden world, a vast number of women were sewing upon dresses. I had hardly time to look upon this picture when, rushing through a little door, in pursuit of my active guide, I found myself in a maze of glass, and long-piled carpets, and mahogany, and electric light, and pretty frocks, disposed about on forms. Also disposed about were many "perfect thirty-sixes/ with piles of taffy-colored hair, doing the "debutante slouch" in their trim black costumes, so slinky and alluring.
Here I had a strong impulse to halt, to pause and examine the carpets and woodwork, and one thing and another. But no! Our guardian had a professional pride in getting us through the store within two hours, according to his promise. I would gladly
have allowed him an extra ten minutes if I could have spent it in that place, but on we went my companion and I dragging be hind a little and looking backward at the Lorelei I remember that, because I ran into a man and knocked my hat off.

At last we came to the information bureau, and as there was a particularly attractive young person behind the desk, it occurred to me that this would be a fine time to get a little information.

"I wonder if I can stump that sinuous sibyl," I said.

"Try it," said our conductor.

So I went over to her and asked: "How large is this store, please?"

"You mean the building?"

"Yes."

"There is fifty acres of floor space under this roof," she said. "There are sixteen floors: Thirteen stories rising two hundred and fifty-eight feet above the street, and three basements, extending forty-three and a half feet below. The building takes up one entire block. The new building devoted exclusively to men's goods is just across Washington Street. That building is..."

"Thank you very much," I said. "That's all I want to know about that. Can you tell me the population of Chicago?"

"Two million three hundred and eighty-eight thousand five hundred," she said glibly, showing me her pretty teeth.

Then I racked my brains for a difficult question.

"Now, I said, "will you please tell me where Charles Towne was born?"

"Do you mean Charles A. Towne, the lawyer; Charles Wayland Towne, the author; or Charles Hanson Towne, the poet?" she demanded.

I managed to say that I meant the poet Towne.

"He was born in Louisville, Kentucky," she informed me sweetly. She even gave me the date of his birth, too, but as the poet is a friend of mine, I will suppress that.

"Is that all?" she inquired presently, seeing that I was merely gazing at her.

"Yes, you adorable creature." The first word of that sentence is all that I really uttered. I only thought the rest.

"Very well," she replied, shutting the book in which she had looked up the Townes.

"Thanks very much," I said.

"Don't mention it," said she and went about her business in a way that sent me about mine.

Aside from its vastness and the variety of its activities, two things about Marshall Fields store interested me particularly. One is the attitude maintained by the company with regard to claims made in the advertising of "sales." When there is a
"sale" at Field s comparisons of values are not made. It may be said that certain articles are cheap at the price at which they are being offered, but it is never put in the form: "Was $5. Now 12.50." Fields does not believe in that.

"We take the position," an official explained to me, "that things are worth what they will bring. For instance, if some manufacturer has made too many overcoats, and we are able to get them at a bargain, or there is a mild winter and overcoats do not sell well, we may place on sale a lot of coats which were meant to be sold at $40, but which we are willing to sell at $22.50. In such a case we never advertise Worth $40. We just point out that these are exceptionally good coats for the money.
And, when we say that, it is invariably true. This advertising is not so sensational as it could be made, of course, but we think that in the long run it teaches people to rely upon us."

Another thing which interested me in Fields was the appearance of the saleswomen. They do not look like New York sales women. In the aggregate they look happier, simpler, and more natural. I saw no women behind the counters there who had the haughty, indifferent bearing, the nose-in-the-air, to which the New York shopper is accustomed. Among these women, no less than among the rich, the Chicago spirit seemed to show itself. It is everywhere, that spirit. I admit that, perhaps, it does not go with omnipresent taxicabs. I admit that there are more effete cities than Chicago. The East is full of them. But that any city in the country has more sterling simplicity, greater freedom from sham and affectation among all classes, more vigorous cultivation, or more well-bred wealth, I respectfully beg to doubt.

JULIAN STREET (1879-1947)
From: Abroad at Home (1914)
Reprinted in As Others See Chicago edited by Bessie Louise Pierce (1933)

Photo Credits:
Author Julian Street and artist Wallace Morgan standing at the base of a statue of a lion in front of the Art Institute, located at 111 South Michigan Avenue, in the Loop community area of Chicago, Illinois. DN-0062149, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago Historical Society
Marshall Field's Interior, 1910, Wikipedia

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Happy Valentine's Day, Youze Mugs!

It's Valentine's Day in Chicago - a day filled with memories of gangsters, garages and tommy guns. As you read this, I'm on a plane to Las Vegas, but I couldn't leave without giving my loyal readers some reading material to mark this magic day of mayhem. Visit Mario Gomes' Al Capone Museum for some inside dope. Maybe visit the FBI files on the Massacre (107 pages) just for fun and read "Blood Roses and Valentines" over at American Hauntings. There. That's all you are getting. Wouldn't you really prefer to talk about naturalism and the Chicago Literary Renaissance? Ok, not today. But, that's where my heart is...

Photo courtesy of Mario Gomes, My Al Capone Museum

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On Chicago: I Will

CHICAGO

ERECT, commanding, like a goddess born,
With strength and beauty glowing in her face
And all her stately form attired in grace,
She stands beside her lake to greet the morn.

Behind her, rustling leaves of yellow corn
That whisper richest comfort to the race;
And 'neath her gaze, the waters' purple space
A thousand flashing sails with light adorn.
Still in her sight shine visions of the fair—
Immortal Art illuming human ill,
And far-eyed Science blessing with her care;
While through her soul, in purpose to fulfill
And reach her highest hope beyond compare,
Throbs deep and strong the strenuous cry: "I will."


From: Chicago in Picture and Poetry With One Hundred Illustrations By Horace Spencer Fiske (1903)

Note: If you are unfamiliar with Horace Fiske (1882-1940), you might want to take a little time to read some of his other poems. Fiske was an editor, poet and lecturer at the University of Chicago. His poetry appeared in many magazines of the period including Century and Harper's Weekly.

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Remembering Abraham Lincoln

Recommended reading:
Abraham Lincoln and Chicago from the Lincoln Institute.
Abraham Lincoln; the Tribute of a Century, 1809-1909: Commemorative of the Lincoln Centenary and Containing the Principal Speeches Made in Connection Therewith
By Nathan William MacChesney (1910) The first chapter is a detailed account of the Chicago Commemoration of Lincoln's 100th birthday.
The influence of Illinois in the development of Abraham Lincoln by William E. Barton (1922)
Letter written by Manley Stacy during the days of the Battle of Gettysburg (from Marty Hackl; Marty's Blog)

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Celebrating Black History Month at the Spertus

Julius Rosenwald (1862-1932) was an unusual man. The son of a Jewish immigrant He rose to become one of Chicago's most successful business men and most generous philanthropist. Rosenwald is credited with building Sears, Roebuck and Company into a retail giant, but for millions of African-Americans he is remembered for the establishment of the Rosenwald Fund which has provided millions of dollars to support the education of African Americans, among other worthy causes, and to encourage leadership through the arts. In honor of Black History Month, Chicago's Spertus Museum is featuring a special exhibit: A Force for Change African American Art and the Julius Rosenwald Fund. This is the first exhibit to explore the legacy of the Fund:

From 1928 to 1948, the Fund awarded stipends to hundreds of prominent and emerging African Americans artists, writers, and scholars across such disciplines as history, sociology, literature, and the visual and performing arts. A Force for Change will present the artistic and scholarly products of Julius Rosenwald’s support, and will include more than sixty paintings, sculptures, and works on paper by twenty-two Rosenwald fellows, as well as a selection of documentary and archival materials.

A new set of links to more information on Julius Rosenwald has been added and the CHOLibrary is featuring Carl Sandburg's interview with Rosenwald that was included in Chicago Race Riots, July 1919.

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A Magazine Cover Story

Over at the CHOLibrary today I am featuring a 1906 publication titled Magazines of a Market-metropolis: Being a History of the Literary Periodicals and Literary Interests of Chicago by Herbert Easton Fleming. Chicago's literary history is one of my favorite topics to explore, and I'm sure the recent publication of Neil Harris' book on The Chicagoan has encouraged many others, myself included, to go digging for more early magazines.

While doing a bit of surfing, I stumbled on the cover art of The Echo (pictured above)on the MagazineArt.org website. The cover is dated May 1, 1895 and the site provides the following information:

One of Will H. Bradley's covers for "Chicago's humorous and artistic fortnightly". He did a poster to advertise the magazine, and seven covers (which were also printed as posters).

The source of the cover is shown to be "collector and bibliographer Steven Lamazow" and there is a link to Mr. Lamazow's blog titled Magazine History: A Collector's Blog . Chicago magazines are just a small part of Mr. Lamazow's collection, but you will see covers from Western Monthly (an important pre-fire monthly), Outlook, The Chap-Book, Four O'Clock (featured in the Library) and, of course, The Echo. I was so impressed with his eBooks on Magazine history (check out Literature in Magazines 18th to 20th Century)that I had to pass it along. You can also tour his library and Marty Weil of Ephemera conducted an interview with this extraordinary collector. Go there now. It will blow you away.

Recommended resource:PAL: Perspectives in American Literature - A Research and Reference Guide
An Ongoing Project by Paul P. Reuben Ph.D.

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On Chicago: Old Loopy

How do I hold you, city, in the mind
When my backward memory goes exploring?
An ocean without salt, a gale roaring,
A cruel blackness with a glittering rind.
Luxurious windows along dingy streets,
A rumbling loop of elevated cars,
Forbidding alleys, shadowshining bars.
And every mood from Al Capone to Keats.
Fantastic town, town feminine, town mad,
The town of Panta Rei (or, Everything Goes) ,
Town packed with comedy like bones in shad
Where even the cop a cuckoo-whistle blows
And in the sky an electric whiskey ad:
A seal that spins the world upon his nose.

It is not my wish nor ability to offer a philosophic essay on Chicago. I simply want to tell her I love her. She is one of the few big towns that can be loved as an integer; a subtle unity holds her together, makes her apprehensible. It is partly her essentially provincial spirit; the deep inferiority complex which is so valuable to the artist, goading him to excess, both achievement and despair; and it is partly some underlying vein of rank vitality. The wild onion for which she was named (most Chicagoans have forgotten this) is an accurate symbol. An exquisite garlic of paradox is still discernible in her doings. Garlic is a magnificent savor if leniently used. She appeals to something untamed, young and central in the romantic heart. Most sentimental of towns, she weeps over her defaulting financiers and loads the coffins of gunmen with tons of flowers. She plunders the shrines of the world to adorn the Gothic office building of a newspaper; stones from Westminster Abbey, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, Notre Dame and "Hamlet's Castle at Elsinore" are plummed into the fabric of the beautiful Tribune pile. Is that childish, or is it noble? It's both; it's Chicago.

From: Old Loopy: A Love Letter for Chicago by Christopher Morely (1937)

Recommended reading:
Christopher Morley (1890-1957)
CHRISTOPHER MORLEY KNOTHOLE ASSOCIATION
Christopher Morley Presented by Michael Gilleland

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Dear Father: The Manley Stacey Civil War Letters

September 23, 1862

Camp Douglas Ill
Chicago
Co D 111 Regt

Dear Father

I suppose you would like to hear a little from me, again.

Last Tuesday night we had orders to cook three day rations, during the night. The best of it was, our three Days rations consisted of one ration of Beef & one of Potatoes. At 3,30 wednesday morning we got up & prepared to march, & got the best breakfast we could under the circumstances.

...We left the Camp about 6,30 for Annapolis, there we took the Boat for Baltimore. After a very warm & uncomfortable ride we arrived at Baltimore about 2,30 PM, then after some delay marche’d to the Balt & Harrisburg RR Left Balt at 9 AM, There I made friends with the Fireman, & fired for him 30 or 40 miles, had a good time with him, We arrived at Harrisburg about 6 AM, There we changed Engines & started for Pittsburg [sic]

I enjoyed myself very much on the trip riding on top of the cars, from H to Pittsburg is a very hilly country. the Road runs along the bank of the Susquehanah River. At [Atoona] we changed Engines & staid there one or two hours. Here the Citizens brought us out some sandwiches & Coffee which tasted good to us, after our rations of salt Pork & Crackers. From there we rode all night & arrived at Pittsburg, about 5 AM,

There we marched to a large hall and had our Breakfast, of Coffee Crackers Sausages Cheese, & Pickels [sic], furnished by the Citizens. Then took the Pittsburg Fort Wayne & Chicago RR for Chicago. After we got started, I got another Engine & fired again for a few miles.

At New Brighton the Ladies turned out, en masse, & brought us [pris] cakes, apples & grapes. A little maid brought me a nice Loaf of Bread, already spread with Butter, I left my Card with her, At every little place as soon as the Train stopped, the Ladies Brought us Bread, [Pris] & Apples. One thing is certain we are used better here, than we were even in our own State, Rode all night again, & got on the Engine 54 & fired a while to get an appetite for my Hard Tack, as the Boys call the Crackers,

We arrived at Fort Wayne, about 9 AM. Then I got off, to have a good wash, There I met a young lady, who invited three or four of us over to get Breakfast charging us nothing, left another card, We left Fort Wayne about 12, 30 AM, At Wausau the Ladies turned out again & Brought us some good things, Some of the Young Ladies brought some warm Tea & Coffee, for the Sick, The Boys were all taken sick all to [sic] once, so as to get some tea,


In the afternoon passed over some [ ] We arrived at Chicago about 10,30 last night, then marched up to our present Camp, arriving here about 12 AM. This Camp they say will Accommodate 15000, men it is a splendid place, if it was clean, you can imagine how clean it would be 8000 Rebel Prisoners living here the last week.

...Hoping to hear from you soon, & that you will send me $5.00 & oblige

Manley

Nineteen year old Manley Stacy was a Corporal in the Union Army during the Civil War and served in the 111th New York Volunteer Infantry, Company D. The young man was a prolific writer and "over 200 letters, written between August 13, 1862 and December 17, 1863," were donated to the Historical Society of Oak Park and River Forest by the Hulbert family who had settled in Oak Park in the 1800s. The Stacey family and Hulberts were "kin." The frail letters have survived, but are now being scanned and transcribed to preserve their content.

Advanced technology easily handles the scanning. It is the transcribing, the painstaking word by word record of the letters' content that is the hardest task. Poor spelling, obscure references, often unreadable words make the task herculean and requires the patience of Job. But, history in caring hands will find a way and our good friend Marty Hackl has undertaken the task. You might want to read why.

Marty is posting the letters as they are transcribed at Manley Stacey Civil War Letters. After checking out Marty's site, the new set of Civil War links will provide additional information about Chicago during the Civil War. As always, new resources will be added as they are found.

Photo Credits:
Manley Stacey courtesy of Marty Hackl
Rebel Prisoners: Harper's Weekly, April 5, 1862 (The Civil War; Camp Douglas)

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Holy Name Cathedral Shall Rise Again

"...Chicago has always bounced back from fires and I think we'll bounce back from this," said Cardinal Francis George.

Early this morning a fire broke out in the attic of the the iconic old Chicago landmark, Holy Name Cathedral. The church had been undergoing some major renovations for the last six months and had been closed, finally opening at the end of August. It took Chicago firefighters 2 1/2 hours to battle the blaze, which began at about 5:30 am, but this afternoon it is already being reported that Cleanup Starts After Holy Name Fire.

Holy Name Cathedral is the seat of the Archdiocese. Holy Name Church, as it was called in 1871, was burned during the Great Fire. Bishop Thomas Foley was determined to construct a magnificent replacement and Brooklyn architect Patrick Charles Keely was hired to design the Gothic structure.The cornerstone of the present Holy Name Cathedral was laid on July 19, 1874.

Recommended reading:
Holy Name Cathedral, Chicago (Wikipedia)
Keely Society: Patrick Keely
Holy Name Cathedral: 735 North State Street (Chicago Architecture Info)
Holy Name Cathedral (Chicago Tribune)
Photo Credit: Michael Tercha/Chicago Tribune

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Mr. Cherry, I Presume?

My good friends at The Pen and the Spindle have just posted a fascinating article on an early African explorer that I'm going to bet most of you have never heard of. The article is titled, "The Young Chicagoan Explorer."

The article also got me thinking - Who owns history? Discuss.

Recommended reading:

For those with access to the Chicago Tribune Archives, please see October 3, 1897; October 22, 1900; November 18, 1900

Incline man's family past one for the history books by Bill Casey

"EXPLORER CHERRY IN PARIS.; Young Chicagoan Arrives from His Travels in Africa." New York Times, October 22, 1900 (Full article available)

Photo Credit: Chicago Tribune, Nov. 18, 1900

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The Chicago Gay History Website and Some Thoughts

A few days ago, Gapers Block published an announcement bringing attention to the Chicago Gay History website. Clever girl that I am, it immediately became glaringly apparent that I seemed to have overlooked Chicago's LGBT community in the pages of the CH Journal. I know, 'cuz I looked. My bad?

You see, this is one reason I am but an amateur historian; I have not evolved far enough in my study to think in terms of ethnicity, race and sexual orientation as categories in which people have to be placed in order to evaluate their contribution to the building of Chicago. And I'm not being sarcastic. Chicago had, what, fourteen different nationalities converge to dig its sorry self out of the mud? What would the city have done without the African-Americans who came to find work during the Great Migration? Is there anyone - living or dead - who had a greater social conscientiousness than Jane Addams, now considered to have been a lesbian (and who gives a damn, by the way)?

People, however, are proud of who they are and their history. They should be. We all should be. Chicago was and is a city of neighborhoods often with a long and distinguished heritage. And, I'd like to see me try to overlook the Irish on these pages, or the Germans or the Polish, or, Oh dear! I think I may have a problem. It seems none of those nationalities have been given their own set of links either.

Ok, I'm being a bit of a wise guy today. Chalk it up to finally recovering from pneumonia, or bronchitis, or plague or whatever it was that I had. What I'm really trying to say is that the LGBT community has been instrumental in Chicago's evolution to the great city it is today. Consider Henry Blake Fuller, the father of urban literature or Henry Gerber, or Margaret Anderson. It really is great that the contributions of the gay community in Chicago can be spotlighted on such a well-constructed and informative site. Just sorry I hadn't thought of it first.


A new set of links to Gay Chicago history has been added and will be amended as information is located. For additional reading, see Out and Proud in Chicago: An Overview of the City's Gay Community edited by Tracy Baim and the Chicago History Museum blog post, "Out at CHM".

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Another Lindberg Baby: The Gambler King of Clark Street

Prolific Chicago writer Richard Lindberg is busily adding more arrows to his journalistic quiver. In February Lindberg, along with Carol Carlson, will see Chicago Yesterday & Today hit the shelves. It's described as being lavishly illustrated with photos from, well, yesterday and Chicago today. Duh!

In June, however, Lindberg's The Gambler King of Clark Street: Michael C. McDonald and the Rise of Chicago's Democratic Machine is being released by Southern Illinois University Press:

Twenty-five years before Al Capone’s birth, Michael McDonald was building the foundations of the modern Chicago Democratic machine. By marshaling control and suborning a bewildering maze of precinct workers, ward and county bosses, justices of the peace, police captains, contractors, suppliers, and spoils-men, the undisputed master of the gambling syndicates could elect mayoral candidates, finagle key appointments for political operatives willing to carry out his mandates, and coerce law enforcement and the judiciary. The resulting machine was dedicated to the supremacy of the city’s gambling, vice, and liquor rackets during the waning years of the Gilded Age.

Michael McDonald’s name has long been cited in the published work of city historians, members of academia, and the press as the principal architect of a unified criminal enterprise that reached into the corridors of power in City Hall, Cook County, the state of Illinois...

The "ChicagoBookBabe,"(my nom de blog) predicts it will be a winner.

Recommended reading:
Genesis of Organized Crime in Chicago

Michael Cassius McDonald (1839-1907)

Organized Crime in Chicago (Wikipedia)

Crime and Chicago's Image (Encyclopedia of Chicago)

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