The Stuff of Nightmares

Halloween is almost here so I thought it appropriate to post something that would give my readers a little shiver.

If women's votes aridify
The town that's briefly known as "Chi,"
I can't begin to tell to you
The funny things that we shall view.
By "funny" I'd not have you think
That humor lies in lack of drink:
A desert to the human race,
Has never been a comic place.
By "funny," then, I merely mean
Odd, queer, strange - things we've never seen;
A few of which as they appear,
May briefly be considered here.


First, you are prompted to inquire
What's to become of Bill McGuire,
Who now compounds with skill and grace,
The cup that cheers in "George's Place,"
Or, serving in a humbler sphere,
Draws the plebeian pail of beer.
If women put that dry stuff through,
What's Bill the Barkeep going to do ?
The next best thing. Bill needs no mourner.
He'll still be working on a corner,
Mixing, with old-time skill and grace,
Drinks in a soda-water place.

Next, you are prompted to inquire
What entertainment for the "buyer"
The local merchant can supply
If women make the city dry.
How take him out to see the sights
When vanished are the great white lights ?
What will replace, I hear you say,
The little toot of yesterday ?
Why, he will cut the primrose route,
And tackle the Art Institooi,
Or take his customer to see
Th' Historical Society.

If "Chi" goes dry 'twill sound the doom
Of the far-famed Pompeian Room.
Lo, all its "Pomp," should you inquire
"Is one with Nineveh and Tyre."
Gone is the Saturnalian din,
The crowd that watched the New Year in,
The soggy jest, the arid chaff,
The brimming bowl, the empty laugh.
The lion and the lizard keep
The courts where Folly guzzled deep,
And placidly the fountain flows
Where drunks fell in and spoiled their clo'es.



Letting our fancy freely range,
We visualize another change:
"The College Inn" in other days
Given to blatant cabarets,
Whose academic atmosphere,
Was made of whiskey, wine and beer,
Where gathered noisily at night
Folks who could barely read or write -
Is now a place of fair renown,
Which caters to the cap and gown.
Good fellows here, good fellows hail,
In steins of foaming ginger ale.

The "Poor Man's Club," whose daily dues
Are what the members spend for booze,
Unwept, unsung will pass away
If there are no more dues to pay.
Emancipated from the tub,
The home will be the Poor Man's Club,
Wherein he will devote the dues
To flour and beans and children's shoes.
And here the so-called son of toil,
Recouping from the daily moil,
Far from the gang's ignoble strife,
Will lead the desiccated life.

Will "Chi" go dry? Then in that case
Across "the desert's dusty face"
I see a line of pilgrims winding,
The toil of travel never minding,
Plodding with worn but eager feet
Through winter cold and summer heat,
Trekking across the sandy places
Toward that greenest of oases,
"Famous" Milwaukee, home of Beer!
Last spot upon a drying sphere
To lose its moisture! Till that be
Mecca were but a type of thee!


If "Chi" goes dry, as dry as Mars
What of its seven thousand bars?

They'll still be there,but let us hope
The bar will be a bar of soap.
Freed from the well-known demon, Rum,
The joint a laundry will become;
For if the world from drink were free
No washerwomen there would be,
With worthless husbands to support,
And fines to pay in Monday's court.
Gone is the place where father drank,
Changed to a corner savings-bank.

This humorous cautionary verse, written and illustrated by two of our favorite old Chicagoans, was originally published in The Metropolitan in 1914. Both John T. McCutcheon and Bert Leston Taylor worked for the Chicago Tribune. You can see the original article here. And people wonder why Chicago got a little testy during Prohibition!

Recommended reading:
Prohibition in the United States (Wikipedia)
Prohibition: Its Affects on Chicagoans and Organized Crime
Prohibition and Temperance (Encyclopedia of Chicago)