June 28, 2010

Guts and Glory: The Last Great Aerial Tournament


By
Gerry Souter

A crash of artillery fire reverberated off the skyscrapers that faced Lake Michigan. Startled pigeons rose, beating their wings in the air above the gun smoke. As the tenth and final cannon shot echoed off the lakefront, another sound chattered overhead and thousands of spectators began to cheer. A hundred feet above their heads, a Herring-Curtiss biplane flew toward the water, bucking a 25 mph wind. Sitting in front of the boxy-looking airplane’s laboring motor sat the pilot, native Chicagoan 19-year-old Jimmie Ward (photo above; also spelled "Jimmy"). He represented youth, adventure, and daring to the thousands who cheered him. His appearance also raised the curtain on the largest air show ever held, the 1911 Chicago International Aviation Meet [August 12-20].

In those early days of flight, Chicago also had an aviation champion. Harold F. McCormick, a member of the family that owed their fortunes to Cyrus McCormick, inventor of the mechanical reaper that revolutionized agriculture, was obsessed by anything having to do with flight. [Harold was Cyrus' youngest son] It was his money and personal support that were the driving forcesbehind the event. For nine days, beginning that August 12th, 33 aviators – amateurs and professionals – crowded into Chicago’s Grant Park competing for thousands of dollars in prizes. Among that adventurous group stood a select gathering of “aeroplanists” who flew under the most famous banner in the world – the Wright Exhibition Team. They watched with professional detachment as Jimmy Ward flew his showy figure-eights above the gawking crowd. A nice amateur performance for a kid who had just joined the Curtiss Exhibition Team, but some of the talented independents were the real competition.

And, of course, the boss watched with a critical eye. Orville Wright, who had lawsuits filed against Glenn Curtiss for patent infringement, didn’t like playing second fiddle to a Curtiss-designed airplane. Curtiss flaunted the Wrights’ demands to pay royalties for use of their wing warping control system. Wilbur Wright’s job had mutated from flying demonstrations in Europe to that of zealous patent cop and now seemed to spend more time in court than in the air. The Wrights were confident, however, that their former students had the skills to bring home prize money to pay those pesky lawyers.

Another Wright-equipped pilot observed Jimmy Ward’s curtain raiser with off-hand amusement. Calbraith Perry Rodgers had money, time and a daring spirit. He migrated from auto racing to flying after a quick trip to the Wright School at Simms Station, Ohio. This school had grown from a 100 acre pasture owned by the Huffman family. Often, student pilots had to herd meandering cows and shift cow patties from the paths of landing airplanes. For most pilots, at $25 a lesson, learning to fly took at least a couple of weeks. For Cal Rodgers, the job took 90 minutes.

On the first day of competition, five accidents caused damage. Frank Coffyn, a Wright Team member, landed with a passenger aboard and ran his Flyer into Rene Simon’s Bleriot monoplane. Another pilot whacked a pylon on the race track. A Grahame-White biplane ran up the side of a fence and Arthur Welsh, another Wright Team aeronaut, failed to stop his Model B Flyer and rolled into the field’s drainage lagoon, “…to the delight of the audience,” according to the Chicago Tribune.

After all, this was Chicago, with pretensions to gentility, but still tough around the edges. Gang boss Big Jim Colosimo owned city hall and the police department. He owned a café popular with the upper crust and a string of brothels along the Levee just south of downtown. Chicagoans were used to sweeping up bodies on Sunday mornings before church. When it came to entertainment, they wanted excitement. The crowd at the Aviation Meet was no different. After watching the opening day events featuring as many as 25 planes in the sky going up and down and flying in circles, ladies in their picture hats and gents in straw boaters wanted more action. They were not disappointed.

So, with egos and investments on the line, the International Aviation Meet plunged ahead. Problem was, in 1911 airplanes broke apart with frightening regularity. A gust of wind at the wrong time and the plane flopped onto its back. If all the insect life and grit had not been properly filtered from the stove gasoline bought at a hardware store, the fuel line plugged up. Metal fragments from an exploding engine became lethal shrapnel. Airplanes had no brakes. Six or eight strong men held the plane while its engine revved until the pilot signaled them to let go. Any wind over 20 miles an hour became a threat. Wings folded under stress. Wires poinged loose at inconvenient times. Wheels fell away on takeoff and landing gear collapsed when the plane returned to earth.

A list of equipment worth over $80,000, required by the Moisant Team for their seven pilots included:

· Eight Moisant monoplanes
· Two biplanes
· Eight extra frames and parts
· 14 extra wings
· 5 extra tails
· 10 pair of landing wheels
· 20 propellers

In addition, the teams had to pay their pilots. According to pilot Frank Coffyn, Orville and Wilbur kept a tight hand on the purse strings. The Wright Exhibition Team was the poorest paid group on the field. Each pilot received a weekly salary of $20. When he performed in an exhibition, he got $50 a day. Every independent pilot who flew a Wright plane during an exhibition paid $100 a day royalty to the Wright Company and often event organizers paid a portion of the total purse to the Wrights just for showing up. All prize money went to the Wright Company. Glenn Curtiss split the prize money with his pilots and, of course, the independent fliers pocketed the whole check.

Coffyn was content with flying for the Wrights, but Walter Brookins, one of the Wrights’ first students, quit the team in Chicago and went “free-lance.”

Brookins had won a $10,000 prize at their last meet in July and got the usual $50 a day for his trouble. Now, he had a chance at some serious cash and wanted a bigger slice. He shifted his ride to a Wright Flyer owned by Andrew Drew.

Unfortunately, Brookins only pocketed $816 in prize money without the Wright organization behind him. Following the Chicago meet, he applied to fly with the Pioneer Aeroplane and Exhibition Company of St. Louis. When the Wrights heard this they made their position clear, sending a note to his prospective employer:

“We call your attention to the fact that Mr. Brookins is bound to fly for The Wright Company if he flies at all, and that if he attempts to fly for others, without first obtaining our consent, we will have him enjoined.”

Wilbur and Orville had definite ideas about “stunting” for the crowd. Wilbur wrote in a letter to the team before a show on September 10, 1910,

“I am very much in earnest when I say that I want no stunts and spectacular frills put on the flights there. If each of you can make a plain flight of ten or fifteen minutes each day keeping always within the inner fence wall away from the grandstand and never more than three hundred feet high it will be just what we want. Under no circumstances make more than one flight each day apiece. Anything beyond plain flying will be chalked up as a fault and not a credit.”

Wright pilots were also forbidden to fly on the Sabbath and no women were permitted in Wright Team “aeroplanes.”

However, it wasn’t long before the crowds’ demands had pilots stunting all over the sky. Planes banked sharply around the pylons, dipped up and down along the race track, zoomed, stalled and “volplaned” (glided) down to dead stick landings. Right away, two men died. William Badger, flying a Baldwin biplane, attempted to pull out of a dive too close to the ground and the wings collapsed. His body was smashed under the plane’s engine. St. Croix Johnstone, a local lad, whizzed out over the lake in his Moisant monoplane, the engine blew and when he hit the water the wreckage pinned him into the cockpit where he drowned in forty feet of water. Rene Simon – who had been rammed by a Wright plane earlier – blew his engine over the lake and crashed. Into the air flew a Curtiss “Hydroaeroplane” and landed near him. Simon clung to the plane’s pontoon until a boat from the Coast Guard Cutter Tuscarora came along side. That, very likely, was the world’s first air-sea rescue.

These unfortunate accidents didn’t slow the meet down one bit. The Aviation Committee decided the crashes were the result of “pilot error.” After they towed the wreckage away, the show went on. Lincoln Beachey, the country’s foremost stunt flyer, took a spin down Michigan Avenue in his Curtiss biplane, tapping automobile roofs with his wheels.

The committee did take umbrage to another flier. Harry Atwood, a Wright pilot from the Simms Station School, had begun a distance run from St. Louis to New York City and offered to stop at Chicago during the meet. He wanted to breeze in, do some figure-eights over the city, circle a few skyscrapers and then land to great applause. The Chicago Aviation Association was aghast. Carving up the sky over Grant Park or the lake was one thing, but letting one of those rickety kites stunt above downtown commerce was forbidden. Grousing, Atwood agreed to come in, land to a great tumult of approbation, and then leave the next day, circle the field four times trailing American flags, and head for his next stop on the way to New York City – all for only $1,000. They agreed, he arrived, and got his tumult.

The next day, an overzealous official gave Atwood an ultimatum that he leave town before 3:30 PM or stay the night. Atwood went livid. He only had $500 – the amount every pilot received as appearance money – of his thousand and this flunky was giving him a hard time. Atwood demanded the rest of the money and then sulked in his cockpit until the check had been certified. He circled the field once, not four times, and sped east toward Toledo. The next day, after the two men were killed and the meet continued, he sent a telegram to the association calling them a bunch of savages.


While aeroplanes were digging up Grant Park and being towed from the lake, world records fell every day. On the second day, while as many as eleven “sky craft” at a time cluttered the sky down low, a tiny speck high above the city mesmerized the spectators. Wright pilot Oscar Brindley hung for hours at an altitude that reached 4,442 feet. As dusk settled over the city, officials touched off a cannon, signaling him to come down. He was too high to hear it. Five “power torches” were lit and down he came in sweeping spirals, arriving at 7:30 PM after a chilly two-hour flight.

Every day, the pilots climbed into their machines and every day, the crowds came, finally totaling three million spectators. The two hot pilots, Cal Rodgers and Lincoln Beachey, competed for the two largest money prizes: duration and altitude. Rodgers piloted his Wright Model B, accumulating more and more air time with every takeoff. And each day, Lincoln Beachey climbed higher until he reached the freezing heights where no man had gone before. He deliberately piloted his plane to a world record 11,642 feet above Lake Michigan, climbing until his gas ran out. With fingers and feet numb with cold, Beachey nosed over and glided down, swooping, spiraling, floating down on the Curtiss biplane’s huge wings. He won more than a dollar for every foot of altitude, a total of $11,667.

Cal Rodgers had to wait until the last day of the meet to collect his prize. Rodgers had logged a total of 27 hours flying time during the nine days and pocketed $11, 285, a terrific advertisement for the Wright Company even if he hadn’t been a part of their team. Later, flying a Wright Flyer EX -- named the Vin Fiz -- he became the first pilot to fly across the country from New York to California. He crashed so often, he completed the run with crutches strapped to the fuselage.

When the 1911 Chicago International Aviation Meet began, virtually every major world record belonged to a European. When it ended, those records were held by Americans. Testing the limits of flight had become expensive. Worldwide, almost 100 pilots had died by the end of August, 1911. The Wright Team brought $16,000 in prize money back to Dayton, but two months later Wilbur and Orville quit the exhibition business and disbanded the team to concentrate on aircraft development. They’d had enough excitement.


Of the Wright team members who flew that August, Phil Parmelee, Arthur Welsh, Clifford Turpin, and Howard Gill had crashed to their deaths by the end of 1913. Cal Rodgers struck a seagull in April, 1912 and crashed for the last time. Lincoln Beachey, having taken one chance too many, crashed and drowned in 1915.

Remember Jimmy Ward, the precocious pride of Chicago? Three days after he landed his plane, the cops frog marched him off to the Harrison Street Police Station, charged with abandonment by his first wife who had read his name in the newspaper.

The Chicago International Aviation Meet ended the big air shows.(see souvenirs of the event here) Despite the huge crowds, it lost money. Wright pilots Frank Coffyn and Walter Brookins lived to old age, remembering the battles to stay in the air flying those big, unstable kites, and pushing aviation ahead every time they left the ground.

The authors , Gerry and Janet Souter’s background includes over 30 years involvement with aviation, having flown in every type of aircraft from balloons to jet fighters. He has written articles on general aviation, third level airlines, Canadian bush pilots, servicing oilrigs in the Gulf of Mexico, and has spent many years flying over parts of the world as a corporate aerial photographer and photojournalist. Janet has shared his love of flight and accompanied him on many high-flying assignments in helicopters and World War II combat aircraft. Their mutual pursuit of flight stories had included all eras of aircraft development history.Their latest book, The Chicago Air & Water Show: A History of Wings Above the Waves (History Press) is due out this week.

Sources and Recommended reading:

Chicago Tribune, microfilm files, August 12 – 20, 1911, Arlington Heights Memorial Library, Arlington Heights, IL
Wilbur and Orville, Fred Howard, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1987
Glenn Curtiss: Pioneer of Flight, C. R. Roseberry, Doubleday & Company, Inc., Garden City, NY, 1972
Fill the Heavens With Commerce – Chicago Aviation 1855-1926, David Young and Neal Calahan, Chicago Review Press, 1981
Skylark – The Life, Lies and Inventions of Harry Atwood, Howard Mansfield, University Press of New England, Hanover and London, 1999
The Early Birds of Aviation (Web site)
Photographs of the Chicago Daily News – 1902-1933, Chicago Historical Society, Clark Street at North Avenue Chicago, Illinois 60614-6071
Aerofiles (Web site)
Caroll Gray Collection,
1911 Chicago International Aviation Meet (Web site)

Photo Credits: Library of Congress (see more photos of the Exhibition)
Poster: earlyaeroplanes.com
Renee Simon's Plane in Lake: DN-0009304, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum.

June 25, 2010

Charles Tyson Yerkes: The American Street Railway King


The British always seem to have a somewhat different view of things. Take for example this 1901 biographical sketch of Charles Yerkes, written four years before his death. The author gushes with admiration for the "modern American man of business, but keep in mind that upon his death, Yerkes left no real record of his life; no letters or papers. In short - no evidence. For a more objective view of Chicago's "father of the "L" and developer of the "Loop," I recommend: Charles Tyson Yerkes: Philadelphia-born Robber Baron. Multiple sources is a good thing.

IN Charles Tyson Yerkes we have a very typical example of the modern American man of business. He is not a financier in the strict sense of the word, and yet he has had the handling of great enterprises in which large amounts of money have been involved. He is not connected with any special industry, still, he has been the means of rendering valuable aid to the development of his country's industrial affairs. Carrying the negative style of argument still further, it might be said that he is not to-day engaged in several other capacities which he at one time or another has endeavoured to fill. He is simply a speculator in and controller of street railways, and has probably done more than any other man to bring about the present effective condition of street tramways transportation in the leading cities of America, which are, it has to be confessed, as far ahead of our own cities in this respect as the latter are in advance of the former in general cleanliness and good paving. Chicago, where Mr. Yerkes has his headquarters, is one of the worst-paved cities to be found anywhere, yet for twenty years or more it has enjoyed a system of tramway service which has represented the latest developments of tramway transit and been of great advantage to the extension of the city—the linking together of town and suburb.

The London Maze.

This being so, Mr. Yerkes may well have been surprised on visiting London to observe how the streets are crowded and rendered almost impassable with omnibuses of a lumbering, antique type, moving at such a funereal pace as would not be tolerated in any ten-year old town of the United States. The sight of this inextricable maze of vehicular traffic must have been in the highest degree bewildering and irritating to him, unless it engendered immediate dreams of gigantic schemes for rescuing London from its vehicular bondage. With the consciousness of what he had accomplished in America strong upon him, he naturally began to study the problem of street passenger traffic as it was here presented to him, and it was not long before he arrived at certain definite conclusions as to what ought to be done. The conditions were different from the conditions in Chicago or Philadelphia. In the American streets the thoroughfares are uniformly wide and mostly straight, permitting of a double line of tram-rails being put down without serious detriment to the passing and re-passing of the vehicles of commerce and pleasure; but no such solution of the difficulty was possible in London, where even the main arteries are comparatively narrow. It had to be either by overhead or underground relief-ways that the thing had to be worked out, and London had not become so utterly utilitarian as to be willing, even for the sake of having the means of ingress and egress appreciably increased, to have its thoroughfares disfigured with elevated roads. So, although such underground railways as already existed were continually being denounced by Londoners, it was only by additional underground systems that there seemed to be any prospect of ready relief. It was not Mr. Yerkes who was the first to tackle this great work, but it was the opening of the " Twopenny Tube"—an American idea carried out on American lines almost throughout—that showed the direction in which the question of rapid transit in and around London was destined to be ultimately worked out. Underground ways, electricity as the motive power, and a train-equipment like that of the American elevated railways, were the necessities, and the success of the first enterprise of the kind was so marked that there were immediate calls for other similar undertakings.

Then it was that Mr. Yerkes took his place in the transformation scene, and how many of the successive developments he is destined to witness or assist in is more than he himself could predict at the present time. But his appearance means business, and profit, and rapid results, if he can obtain anything like as free a hand as he had in America. His associations with England, however, are now sufficiently strong to make his personality a matter of interest to the British public, and a glance at his career will show how well he has acquitted himself in the double task of fortune-building and ministering to the traffic requirements of the time.

Early Success.

Before Mr. Yerkes allied himself with British electric railway schemes he was well enough known in the English financial world, and Englishmen who had travelled in America knew something of him by repute, but to the people at large his name carried with it no significance or meaning at all, which shows that, close as is our touch with the land of the Stars and Stripes on many points, it is still possible for a man of business to work himself up from obscurity to fame and competence in America—even to become a multi-millionaire, and to have under his control some of his country's most profitable undertakings—without any of his glory being reflected upon the British people.

Reared In The Quaker City.

Mr. Yerkes was not brought up to any profession or industrial calling, but, having the money-making instincts strongly developed, he was able while a very young man to make his way into channels where profit was to be made. He was born in Philadelphia, nearly sixty years ago, and it was there that he received his education and made his first business ventures. Although Mr. Yerkes would have "got on" anywhere, Philadelphia was in his youthful days the next best place for a business mind to ripen and gather experience in to New York. In these days the Quaker City is voted slow by the more high-pressure cities of the Union, but when young Yerkes was casting about for enterprises of profit, Philadelphia was quite abreast with the times and up-to-date in every way. Native Philadelphians insist that it is so to-day.

A Smart Idea.

When Charles Yerkes was a boy of twelve he initiated himself into the art of bargain-making. Usually, at such an age, a boy is too much occupied with fun and frolic to think of watching the course of business, and the spending of money is more to his taste than the making of it. Young Yerkes, however, was as exceptionable as a boy as he afterwards proved to be exceptionable as a man; and he used to regard it as an agreeable pastime to attend certain Saturday auction sales in a local auction-room. It was the best of excitement to him to stand among the crowd and watch the buying and selling of the miscellaneous wares and commodities that were put up, and he often amused himself by mentally calculating the probable profit a man would realise from his purchase. He was not at first able to speculate himself, much as he longed to do, for the reason that his pocket-money was not ample enough to admit of such indulgences. But presently a day of terrible temptation came. Walking into the auction room one Saturday some time before the opening of the sale, and taking stock of the goods set out in readiness for offering, he observed a number of boxes of soap of a brand that was familiar to him because it happened to be the same as that which he was in the habit of purchasing for his mother at a corner grocery store. Surely, he argued with himself, there was something to be done here. After reflecting for a little while, an idea occurred to him, and he walked over to the family grocer and asked him what the particular brand of soap was worth per box. The affable grocer, knowing the boy and imagining that he had been sent to make a large purchase, quoted eleven cents a pound as the price for a quantity. Young Yerkes had always been accustomed to pay twelve cents a pound. " Eleven cents a pound!" cried the boy. " Oh, that's too much." Then the grocer assured his youthful questioner that really there was very little profit made out of the soap, and to emphasise this view he remarked that he would be glad to give nine cents a pound for any quantity. This was all the information young Yerkes desired, so, making some plausible excuse, he left the grocery store and went back to the auction-room on business intent, counting his little stock of pocket-money — which he had been steadily saving up for a time—on the way. The soap was put up for sale soon after his return, and he made bold to start it on the run himself by making a bid of six cents a pound. His shrill, juvenile voice caused every one in the room to look round, but, nothing daunted, he stuck to his post, and bid for and bought one box after another until he had fifteen boxes knocked down to him at six cents per pound. After that he took five more at five and a half cents. Then, proud of his bargain, he hurried across to the family grocer again and told him that he had twenty-five boxes of the soap for him at the price he had named, nine cents a pound. Though hardly prepared for this, the grocer could not very well go back on his word, so he took the soap and paid for it, and the juvenile Yerkes marched delightfully homeward, the richer by sundry dollars. From that day he resolved that he would become a man of business.

From Flour To Stockbroker.

When his schooldays were over, Mr. Yerkes obtained a position as clerk in a flour and grain establishment, but without salary, though at the end of his first year's service his employers were so satisfied with him that they made him a present of £10. In this situation Mr. Yerkes picked up some valuable knowledge of business routine, being always diligent, energetic, and painstaking; but his ambition soared far higher than a clerkship in the flour and grain trade, so, in 1858, at the age of twenty-one, he launched out on his own account, and started business as a stockbroker. This was not a difficult matter to accomplish. That is, as far as the initial stage was concerned, for the business of finance was not then so fenced round with restrictions and conditions in America as such a business was (and is) in England. If a man wanted to embark on such a career, the course was open to him; all he had to think about was the getting of clients; and this Mr. Yerkes contrived to accomplish with more than average readiness, his manners and methods being such as to inspire investors with confidence. It was not long before he was able to number several wealthy citizens among his patrons, and in the course of three years he found himself in command of sufficient means to encourage him to branch out into the regular banking business. Charles Tyson Yerkes became one of Philadelphia's bankers.

A "special" Banker.

There are bankers and bankers, however, and Mr. Yerkes decided upon being one of a rather special kind. The period was that of the Civil War, when everything in connection with financial affairs was strained. It was a time of extraordinary risks and extraordinary opportunities. There was much reckless speculation indulged in, the mark of the gambler was set upon all classes of securities, and the fluctuations in stocks were so irregular and inexplicable that it took a cool head to keep any sort of track of them. Mr. Yerkes, however, was for a time quite equal to the occasion, and kept cleverly in the running, to the advantage of his clients and himself. It was not with ordinary stocks that he pushed his way ahead. They were dangerous to handle, and he let them alone. Government, State, and city bonds were steadier, and offered a better field to one who understood them, and of this line of securities Mr. Yerkes became a specialty, and did so well with them that he became quite prosperous—almost wealthy—and began to look the future in the face with a good deal of confidence, certainly without misgiving. Moreover, he was able to do the city a good turn by his ingenious way of dealing. The city bonds made but small realisations owing to the fact of the high premiums put upon gold, the interest being payable in currency. In this difficulty Mr. Yerkes hit upon a scheme whereby the price could be advanced from 85 cents to par, which was a great boon to the city, enabling the municipal authorities to raise money enough to pay bounties to the soldiers as well as to provide funds for the establishing of public parks which were at that time much agitated for. According to the terms of its charter, the city could not sell its bonds at less than par, consequently when the price fell below that figure the municipality was practically without funds for either war bounties or improvements. The scheme which Mr. Yerkes brought forward removed the harassing restrictions, and the young banker began to make money more rapidly than ever. His connection with the city was of considerable advantage to him. It stamped him as a substantial and trustworthy man, and was the means of attracting much good business to him. Success upon success resulted, and his fortune seemed made.

A Financial Panic.

Thus matters went on, with apparent assurance of continued prosperity, until the sudden depression of the financial panic which followed close on the heels of the Chicago fire. [Panic of 1873] Every banker and broker in the country was affected. Hundreds failed. The strongest firms were shaken. All over the Union the story was the same, and, substantial as Mr. Yerkes was, cautious as he had been, and resourceful as he was, he found himself with an enormous load of securities on his hands, and before he could realise them he was forced to surrender. One day he had seemed in the full flush of prosperity, the next he was bankrupt. To add to his embarrassment, he was indebted to the city authorities in heavy sums for bonds sold on their account. They demanded an immediate settlement, and thus forced him to the wall, for rather than give them an undue preference over his other creditors, he decided on making an assignment in which all would share equally. This action, although it ultimately made him many attached friends and gained him the general respect of the community, brought down upon him the wrath of the city fathers, who pressed matters so harshly that for a time he suffered imprisonment at their suit. Still he preferred that to an unfair distribution of his assets. It was a terrible ordeal for the young banker to have to undergo, but he bore it resolutely and manfully, and when he was at liberty to enter again into the financial strife he was not without friends and supporters. His mishap had been one of pure misfortune, and as no imputation rested upon him, he was able to make a fresh start with little difficulty.

The Street Railway Idea.

The subject of street railways had engaged Mr. Yerkes's mind even before his failure, an interest of his in a Philadelphia tram-line being among the things that were realised for the benefit of his creditors. But now that he was free to take stock of things, and without the worry of daily venturings on the exchanges, he turned almost instinctively to this new sphere of action, it being clearly demonstrated to him that it afforded him the best opening for the restoration of his shattered fortunes. Having this end always in view, he resumed operations in stocks and shares, but in a quiet and exceedingly cautious way, running few risks and handling only high-class securities. He was soon putting by money again, and when the Jay-Cooke failure of 1873 occurred, he was able to turn that staggering event to profitable account by a daring course of action that few men could have adopted with equal success. He was quick to foresee that Mr. Cooke's collapse would mean a serious decline in stocks of all descriptions, and he prepared for this, and by selling heavily before purchasing made large and speedy profits, with the result that he reestablished himself on a sound enough monetary basis to permit of his obtaining a valuable interest in the Continental Passenger Railway of Philadelphia.

A Turning-point.

This was one of the chief turning-points of his life. It had the effect of putting him in direct touch with the class of enterprise that more than any other he longed to be connected with. It drew his mind from the riskier speculations of the money market, and gave him work to do and plans to evolve and problems to solve that exactly suited his mental equipment. In a short time he was in practical control of the undertaking, and so admirably did he manage the affairs of the company that the stock, which was at about £$ per share when he took office, advanced steadily until it reached the value of £20 per share or more.

This was a great achievement. His success decided his future. He gave up all other work and speculation and devoted himself to tramways alone; and he was wise in this, for he could think ahead in these matters and make money out of them where many failed. He had discovered his metier. And how energetically he laboured ! He was at his office before six o'clock of a morning, and did not leave until late at night—Sundays as well as week-days. The result of all this effort was that he accumulated a considerable amount of capital for himself, made high dividends for the shareholders, and set the organisation on a thoroughly sound footing. Then, like Alexander, he longed for other worlds to conquer, and, unlike the Greek general, found a few left for him to battle with.

Westward Ho!

There was nothing further to tempt him in Philadelphia, so he journeyed west, and in 1880 paid a visit of inspection to Chicago. At first he was inclined to enter upon street railway schemes in that city, having a good amount of capital at his disposal at that time, what with his own accumulations from the settling out of his interests in Philadelphia, and the amounts that his friends were ready to venture with him in any promising enterprise. But he felt a little uncertain about Chicago. Not that he doubted its continued expansion, but because of the difficulty of determining just then which particular point of the West was destined to become the chief money centre. Things in the West were in a state of transition. Chicago offered fine prospects for tramway developments, it is true; but perhaps some other Western city might be still more favourable. In this frame of mind he resolved upon a further journey of exploration, and directed his steps towards the great territory of the North-West, visiting St. Paul, Minneapolis, Duluth, and other cities scattered about the banks of the lakes and rivers of the far-stretching wheat and ore States. None of these places, however, fully satisfied his requirements, so he proceeded still further west, taking the route of the Northern Pacific.

Wonderful Stories.

At Fargo his progress was interrupted by a blinding snowstorm that compelled him to remain at the hotel there for many days. He made himself as comfortable as he could, however, and entered freely into conversation with the rough-and-ready guests of the house, who sat in characteristic postures over the great stove and related wonderful stories of the development going on in the different parts of the country they came from. They sounded very much like fairy tales, but by degrees he began to sort them out and to put questions to the narrators, and came to the conclusion that beneath the general surface of exaggeration there was a sufficient substratum of fact to give a wandering capitalist food for thought. He became particularly interested in the tales about North Dakota, and began to have dreams of new cities, new streets, new railways, new banks, and other newnesses in that much-lauded region. According to the stories he heard, North Dakota was a veritable El Dorado. The crops had been good and prices were high, it was said, and everything pointed to a great " boom " in that State in the immediate future. Mr. Yerkes was no dreamer, however, but was in all things intensely practical. The tales he had heard simply influenced him to the extent of engendering a strong desire to visit North Dakota. Nothing more. He would take no action on any fancy pictures, no matter by whom they were drawn, and had just as strong a dislike to trusting his own imagination. He must have solid fact to work upon.

Starts For Dakota.

So when the snow died down sufficiently to admit of his continuing his journey, he set out in the direction of North Dakota, and when he arrived there and had had time to look about him he was so satisfied with the prospect that he organised a syndicate—partly composed of his Philadelphia friends—with the express object of obtaining concessions and embarking upon projects connected with the development of North Dakota. Then followed a few months of what may be called reconnoitring or prospecting, during which Mr. Yerkes was carefully taking the measure of things out there, and the next spring, when the land looked bright and smiling and productive, he invited his Eastern associates out to that State, and in a very short time afterwards they had entered upon vast schemes, involving the building of spacious new streets, vast building blocks, factories, and what not, while they laid out great tracts of land into building lots, and the usual Western mushroom process of throwing up new cities and establishing new and populous communities was proceeded with under the direct superintendence of Mr. Yerkes. The influence that he exerted was astounding. His object was to create prosperous settlements, and as far as his aims extended he succeeded. The first fair or exhibition in North Dakota was organised by Mr. Yerkes, and was of great service to the farmers, the display of agricultural machinery being of a very complete kind.

North Dakota, for all that, was not to the mind of Mr. Yerkes exactly. Things didn't move rapidly enough there for a man of his spirit and activity. He missed the pace of the great cities. Waiting for harvests to grow and settlers to settle strained his patience. Indeed, the agricultural interests did not appeal to him strongly, and certainly North Dakota was not populous enough to afford him any of those great opportunities of street-development upon which he had set his heart. So, after a year or so of busy and not unenjoyable existence among the vacant places of the North-West, he sold out most of his holdings there, and in the autumn of 1881 removed to Chicago, resolving to throw in his luck with the pork metropolis, and try to advance his fortunes there. To begin with, he opened a bank, in conjunction with one that he still retained an interest in in Philadelphia, for it was as a banker only that he was known in Chicago for the next few years.

Sticks To The Tramway.

But Mr. Yerkes had his eye on tramway development all the time. He never lost sight of it, never relinquished the idea of taking it up. He simply bided his time, watching all that was going on, and studying the matter in every aspect, prepared when the proper moment arrived to step forward and declare himself. At length, in 1886, after waiting five years, the anxiously looked for opportunity presented itself. This was in connection with the Chicago North Side Railway, an enterprise which was not doing much for its shareholders, and which fell far short of fulfilling the requirements of the district it traversed. Mr. Yerkes saw the defects of the system, and acquainted himself with their causes, after which he was in a position to negotiate with the company, and made them an offer. Before making the proposal, however, he had broached the project to certain Chicago capitalists, as well as to a few of his old friends in Philadelphia, and having made sure of their backing, he put himself in communication with the old directors. The result was the purchase by Mr. Yerkes and his associates of the entire undertaking. Then Mr. Yerkes got to work in his old energetic way. He formulated a new scheme, including extensions and improvements, obtained new and highly valuable concessions from the city authorities, and, with a freshly organised company, of which he became president, he entered upon his remarkably successful career of Chicago tramway management, throwing his whole soul into the work, and introducing a marvellous change in street-railway traffic. One of the first things he did was to supersede the old horse propelled cars by the underground cable system. He quickened the pace of things altogether, and by giving the public better facilities of transit, greatly increased the number of passengers, and correspondingly enhanced the profits of the undertaking.

Prosperous Ventures. Two years later Mr. Yerkes was able to get hold of the Chicago West Division tramway system. After buying the greater part of the stock, and thus becoming master of the position, he set about reorganising the company, as he had done with the old North Side company, and in a short time he was in main command of the Northern and Western systems, and had won the confidence both of the public and the capitalists who were associated with him in the two ventures. He was supreme, and for a number of years he and his party continued to operate Chicago street railways with splendid success, extending and extending, until they came to have over 500 miles of tramways under their control.

Health-promoting Ventures.

Mr. Yerkes also conceived the idea of organising other lines extending out into the prairies, to connect with the two original lines. A number of companies were organised, and three lines were built. It was impossible, however, for them to enter the heart of the city, and they were obliged to stop at some distance therefrom. To remedy this, Mr. Yerkes planned a loop-line, which would connect with these different roads, and run into the densely settled part of the town. [Thus was born "The Loop"]

He also organised the North-Western Elevated Railroad, to carry passengers north. The three original elevated roads were unsuccessful until the loop-line was built, and after they had undergone a reorganisation, the company was leased to the elevated roads, the four roads using the loop-line together.

In this way a perfect system of street railroad travel was formed, extending from the north, north-west, west, and south. Mr. Yerkes's plan was to consolidate all of these lines, and also the surface roads. The effect of all this was that passengers could be carried long distances for a single fare of five cents, and thereby the tenement house was eliminated from the residence districts of Chicago. The labouring classes were enabled to have homes out on the prairies, the only disadvantage being in the difference of time which it would take for them to go from their residences to their places of business.

This revolutionising of the street traffic has had much to do with the improvement of the health of the people of Chicago, and has tended to keep the death-rate at a very low percentage.

When Fortune Came.

Those were prosperous and busy years for Mr. Yerkes. The reward was commensurate. He and his fellow-capitalists became multi-millionaires, and Mr. Yerkes built himself a lordly mansion in New York—the paradise of American millionaires—where he appeared and shone from time to time, though he never threw Chicago over, but has all along kept up his residence there, passing more time perhaps in the Western city than in the capital, for although Mr. Yerkes is now one of the money peers of America, and has a fine picture-gallery, and entertains somewhat, he has little sympathy with society displays and the ceremonies and shows of fashion, and still regards Chicago as his principal home, and Chicago men as his closest friends.

Within the last year or two, however, Mr. Yerkes has been compelled to relinquish a good part of his hold on the Chicago street railway systems, for on the expiration of the leases there was no obtaining a renewal of them on the old terms. A strong spirit of opposition was aroused against the re-granting of the original concessions. The people were told that the road privileges were being given away, instead of being made to contribute to the funds of the city and the lessening of taxation, and the agitation became so strong that the capitalists had in the end to confess themselves beaten. Since then the holdings of Mr. Yerkes in Chicago street railways have dwindled considerably, though he is still a ruling spirit, as he ought to be; for even allowing that the terms of the first concessions were of such a character as gave him the means of enriching himself, it must be admitted that in return he provided the city with a new, quick, and efficient service which was well worth paying for.

It remains to be stated, that when fortune came to Mr. Yerkes he did not forget his obligations to his old creditors of the days of his misfortune in Philadelphia. Paying a secret visit to that city, he invited them all to a dinner at the leading hotel, and when the repast was over presented each guest with a cheque for the amount of his original claim, with compound interest at 6 per cent.

Mr. Yerkes, besides being an art connoisseur, takes much interest in scientific and educational matters, and has given to the University of Chicago a telescope, said to be the largest and finest in the world, at a cost of £100,000. The object glass of this gigantic refractor by Alvan Clark is forty inches in diameter, being four inches more than the great " Lick" instrument.

In regard to street railways, Mr. Yerkes is acknowledged to be one of the greatest living authorities, and in bringing his great ability to bear upon the London traffic problem he may have even a wider field for developments than he discovered in Chicago. He may not be able to secure such favourable concessions as were given to him by the Chicago municipality, but, for all that, the opportunities will be great and the reward handsome, doubtless, and he will make many friends.

From: Millionaires and Kings of Enterprise: the Marvellous Careers of some Americans who by pluck, foresight, and energy have made themselves masters in the fields of industry and finance by James Burnley (London, 1901)

Recommended reading:

Robber Baron: The Life of Charles Tyson Yerkes by John Franch
Charles Tyson Yerkes: Railway Tycoon by Tim Sherwood


Railroads and the "L" (Chicago History Online; Internet links)

Photo credits:
Charles Tyson Yerkes (London Reconnections: "The Man Who Painted London Red")
Central London Tube Railway poster (Wikipedia; public domain)
Cartoon: Portion of a Chicago Tribune cartoon dated October 18, 1896

June 23, 2010

Freedom of the Press-ure: Col. McCormick and the The First Great Case

Newspapers’ freedom to publish, though embraced in 1789, wasn’t enforced until a Chicago publisher stepped in nearly a century and a half later

By Joe Mathewson

How did a loathsome, convicted publisher of a scandalous Minneapolis weekly newspaper come to be represented by a distinguished Chicago lawyer who persuaded the United States Supreme Court to recognize for the very first time the freedom of the press?

It was the handiwork of another prominent Chicagoan, also a newspaper publisher, but a haughty aristocrat who inhabited the opposite end of the economic, professional and social spectrum from the obscure Minnesotan.

The defendant: Jay M. Near, of The Saturday Press.

The lawyer: Weymouth Kirkland, of mighty Kirkland & Ellis.

The ringmaster: Colonel Robert R. McCormick, of the Chicago Tribune.

The cause: Near v. Minnesota, the “first great press case.”

The year: 1931.

Weymouth Kirkland and Robert “Bertie” McCormick had worked together before, seeking court acknowledgement of the freedom of the press guaranteed by the First Amendment. Surprisingly, in today’s rear-view mirror, it wasn’t easy. In earlier cases the Supreme Court had upheld contempt-of-court convictions of a Colorado publisher (indeed, a former United States senator!) and an Ohio editor for publishing criticisms of judges, and in a series of sedition prosecutions that grew out of verbal dissent during World War I, the justices affirmed the convictions, giving short shrift to the First Amendment.

Nevertheless, the feisty McCormick, who would later become a prominent opponent of the New Deal and of U.S. entry into World War II, was zealous in defense of freedom of the press. The skillful Kirkland was an apt ally. He had risen to the top of the law firm co-founded two decades earlier by McCormick himself (after law studies at Northwestern University) before he followed his famous grandfather Joseph Medill and his uncle Robert W. Patterson Jr. into running the Tribune.

Weymouth Kirkland artfully defended the newspaper in high-profile libel cases brought by none other than Henry Ford (he won, but was awarded only six cents in damages) and idiosyncratic Chicago Mayor William “Big Bill” Thompson (he lost).

Thus when McCormick, so prominently devoted to freedom of the press, received an appeal for financial and legal help from the impecunious Jay M. Near of Minneapolis, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore it. Near’s cantankerous weekly had been shut down and he was convicted of violating a Minnesota statute that empowered local officials to close any “malicious, scandalous and defamatory” publication. The paper had alleged repeatedly that a Jewish gangster was in control of gambling, bootlegging and racketeering in Minneapolis, and that he operated with impunity by bribing the police chief and with the acquiescence of the mayor and the county prosecutor. Shutting the paper down, Near protested, constituted a prior restraint of publication, a form of censorship clearly targeted by the drafters of the First Amendment.

Near, however, was not a sympathetic personality on which to build an important test of freedom of the press. Like McCormick, he was anti-Communist, but he was also, in the words of Fred W. Friendly, former CBS news president who wrote a book about the case in 1981 (see link below) , “anti-Catholic, anti-Semitic, antiblack and antilabor.” Nevertheless, McCormick embraced his cause.

Inconveniently, Kirkland was preoccupied with other matters, so his partner, Howard Ellis, argued Near’s appeal before the Minnesota Supreme Court. He lost, causing Near to send McCormick an angry letter, quoted by Friendly, protesting that if the Colonel intended Ellis to take the case to the U.S. Supreme Court, “there isn’t one bit of use spending your money or tapping my slim stock of patience going higher... ”

Undaunted, McCormick pressed on. He rounded up near-unanimous support from his fellow publishers, members of the American Newspaper Publishers Association, though they offered no financial backing. They left that responsibility to McCormick.

This time, before the U.S. Supreme Court, Near’s case was argued by Weymouth Kirkland. He won, but by a single vote, 5-4. Curiously, the Court paid little attention to the First Amendment, but acknowledged a “liberty of the press” protected by the due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, interpreting it as making the guarantees of the Bill of Rights applicable to the states as well as to the federal government. The Minnesota statute and thus the actions of the Minnesota officials, the Court declared, were unconstitutional.

Though a narrow victory, it was a watershed ruling. Anthony Lewis of The New York Times, in a later book, called it the Court’s “first great press case.” Four decades after the decision it was cited by the Supreme Court as the precedent for its historic ruling in the electrifying Pentagon Papers case, Nixon v. New York Times Co., which all but prohibited governmental prior restraint of publication.

The irascible McCormick is remembered now as anti-British, anti-United Nations, sometimes openly bigoted himself, a rigid conservative who immodestly labeled the Tribune “The American Paper for Americans” and “The World’s Greatest Newspaper.” Unfortunately, it’s forgotten that he also was a hero of freedom of the press.

Joe Mathewson teaches journalism at Northwestern University’s Medill School. He previously covered the U.S. Supreme Court for The Wall Street Journal and practiced law in Chicago. This article is adapted from his book, The Supreme Court and the Press: The Indispensable Conflict, to be published in winter 2011 by the Northwestern University Press in the Medill School’s “Visions of the American Press” series edited by David Abrahamson.

Recommended reading:

Near v. Minnesota (1931) Supreme Court ruling
Near v. Minnesota (Wikipedia) Good background of the case
Minnesota Rag: Corruption, Yellow Journalism, and the Case That Saved Freedom of the Press by Fred W. Friendly


Photo credits:
Weymouth Kirkland (Illinois Institute of Technology)

June 15, 2010

Gold Coast Archaeological Dig


Have you always wanted to participate in an archaeological dig, but traveling to Syria was just too far? Stay in Chicago and experience some of the excitement Agatha Christie felt while traveling with her archaeologist husband, Max Mallowan (no murders, but maybe some bones). Take a walking tour of unusual Gold Coast sites (and the old City Cemetery). Visit the excavation of the Potter Palmer Castle's disposal site, under the direction of Rebecca Graff and her crew from the University of Chicago. The walking tour takes place on June 30 from 10 Am to Noon.

For reservations contact Sally Kalmbach, Chicago Historian and author of The Jewel of the Gold Coast: Mrs. Potter Palmer's Chicago
sskalmbach@yahoo.com or 773 868 9096
$28 per person

June 11, 2010

Women & Children First Bookstore to Host A Parisienne in Chicago Translator


Andersonville's Women & Children First, will feature translator Mary Beth Raycraft on June 16th at 7:30 PM reading from her recently released A Parisienne in Chicago: Impressions of the World's Columbian Exposition by Madame Léon Grandin.

Madame Léon Grandin was a Parisian writer and the wife of a prominent sculptor commissioned to work on the World's Columbian Exhibition fountain. Mary Beth Raycraft is a senior lecturer in French in the Department of French and Italian at Vanderbilt University

Women & Children First, established in 1979, is one of the largest feminist bookstore in the country. The store boasts more than 30,000 books by and about women, children's books for all ages, and the best of lesbian and gay fiction and non-fiction. For more information about the store and the June 16th Parisienne in Chicago event:

Women & Children First
5233 N. Clark St. Chicago, IL 60640
Tel: 773.769.9299 Fax: 773.769.6729
wcfbooks@gmail.com

Recommended reading: Exploring Madame Grandin’s Chicago

June 6, 2010

A Fiery Passion


I like people of passion, particularly when it is manifested in a study of Chicago's history. I am passionate about what I do on my sites; I make no money from them, accept no advertising and no one is making me do it. The only other explanation is that I'm nuts! When I stumbled on a Facebook page dedicated to a novel about the Great Chicago Fire and written by a first time author and self proclaimed "dork," I had to know why. (The author sounded like someone I should know.) At the present time the book is only available as an ebook (Kindle; Nook, etc.)and that added more fuel to my curiosity (ya, I'm going to say it) fire. Since I do not own an ebook reader I really can't comment on the book's merits, but that really isn't what this post is about. We are talking about enthusiasm, ardor, and zeal for a topic. It takes a lot of work to write a book, dedication, and perseverance. We are talking passion.

Why the Chicago Fire Still Matters To Me

By Peter J. Spalding

I get a lot of questions about my book, 1871: A Novel of the Great Chicago Fire, and the most common one is why I wrote it in the first place. After all, there are already a lot of books about the Great Chicago Fire, so there wouldn't seem to be much left to say about it. And writing a book is such a huge commitment-- of all the things I could do, why should I spend so much time and energy on this?

My honest answer to that question is that I can't help myself. The fire is such a key moment in history, and it's so chock-full full of human drama, that it's catnip for a writer like me. And it's such a rich subject that there are still plenty of new things to say about it.

On the surface, the fire is one of those iconic events that everybody seems to know. We've all seen the pictures of the city in flames, and we've all heard the stories that have sprung up around it. (For the record, Mrs. O'Leary's cow didn't start the fire; that story was debunked while the ashes were still hot, but the legend has lived on ever since.)

Beyond that, though, very few people know much about the fire. In fact, it has been so mythologized that's easy to forget that it really happened. The city rarely commemorates it, and aside from the Water Tower, there are few visible signs of it left. But beneath the surface, its influence is all over Chicago; for better or worse, it turned the city into what it is today.

Most histories of the fire are pretty simplistic. Some people see it as a cautionary tale of carelessness, hubris, and ambition run amok. To others, it's an inspirational story of how Americans can overcome the odds, make a good situation of a horrible disaster, and generally triumph in the face of adversity. There's some truth to both points of view, but the reality is much more complicated. The fire did show humanity at its most foolish, but it also showed humanity at its most courageous. It taught America lessons in both what to do, and what not to do, in the face of disaster.

The fire's most important lesson was that catastrophes do happen. That may sound obvious today, but it wasn't obvious to people at the time. In fact, in those days the U.S. had never seen such a thing. Its biggest natural disasters up to that point had been the New Madrid Earthquakes, which had struck beyond the frontier and affected only a handful of people. The most destructive fires in memory were the so-called Great New York Fire of 1835, and the Civil War burnings of Atlanta and Richmond. The Great Chicago Fire dwarfed them all.

Since then, of course, we've seen plenty of other disasters-- most notably the Galveston Hurricane, the San Francisco Earthquake, and Hurricane Katrina-- so our perspective is very different. But 1871 Chicago was a product of its time. The city was built quickly and cheaply because its people thought that was the smart thing to do. In the Victorian era, Americans saw "progress" as inevitable, so they tended to look on the bright side of things and ignore naysayers. Hindsight is 20/20 of course, so it's easy for us to wag our fingers and call them foolhardy. But if we'd been in their shoes, we'd probably have done the same thing.

Having said that, Chicago's recovery was nothing short of incredible. To this day, it's the only U.S. city that has bounced back from disaster so well. Most of its rebuilding was finished within two years (in contrast to New Orleans, which is still struggling nearly five years post-Katrina). A decade after the fire, Chicago was booming even more wildly than before. In 1893, the city was chosen to represent America to the world by hosting the World's Columbian Exposition. Chicago has been the Midwest's biggest and most important city ever since. Compare that to Galveston, which lay crippled after its hurricane and never regained its former glory. Even San Francisco has its share of scars; it used to be the biggest and most important city on the West Coast, but after its earthquake, it took a back seat to Los Angeles and has stayed there ever since.

Chicago's rebuilding was certainly no picnic. The city's boomers and boosters tried to put a good face on things, and they pretended that the city was rising from its ashes like a phoenix. But that was a whitewash of the truth, and it didn't do justice to the fire's hundreds of fatalities, thousands of buildings leveled, and tens of thousands of families left homeless. The fire also bankrupted dozens of insurance companies; in the days before financial regulations, their collapses left most of their customers penniless.

To me, that made the survivors that much more courageous. There's no denying the energy, chutzpah, and downright heroism they showed in the weeks and months that followed. Chicago's leaders had grown up in pioneer days, so they were famously self-reliant; their generation had built much of the country from the ground up, prospected for gold out West, abolished slavery, and developed the first coast-to-coast railroads and telegraphs, among many other things. They were arguably the generation that turned the U.S. into a world power. Chicago was at the center of all that activity, so when the fire struck, it unleashed untold quantities of drive and ambition. W.D. Kerfoot set up the first temporary building within hours, and Chicagoans started planning the rebuilding while the ground was still hot.

All this happened with very little government help. There was no FEMA in those days, nor any real form of public assistance. The government just wasn't involved in its citizens' daily lives, aside from mail delivery and a handful of other services. So when disaster struck, Chicagoans didn’t assume that the authorities would bail them out. Instead, they collected private donations and distributed them through the nonprofit Relief and Aid Society. The government provided security through soldiers and police, but that was essentially it. That reinforced the survivors' determination, because it forced them to take their destinies into their own hands.

The results of all that can still be seen today. The Water Tower is just the tip of the iceberg; in fact, most of modern Chicago owes its existence to the blaze.

The city's architecture is the most obvious example. The rebuilding effort attracted groundbreaking architects like Louis Sullivan, who started experimenting with steel, concrete, and other new materials. Real estate prices soared in the burnt district, so businesses had to make do with small parcels of land. The result was a new building style, the skyscraper, which debuted with the Home Insurance Building. And neither Chicago's skyline, nor that of any other modern metropolis, would ever be the same.

The Chicago Tribune was also forged by the fire. The city's biggest paper used to be the Times; the Tribune was one of several smaller ones that are now mostly forgotten. The fire destroyed every newspaper office in town, but Tribune publisher Joseph Medill sought out temporary quarters right away. He had the Tribune back in business within forty-eight hours, long before any of his competitors. The Tribune became the only media outlet in a city starved for news, so it quickly became the city's paper of record. Medill became so powerful that he won the next election to become the city's mayor. His arch rival, the Times, struggled to regroup and eventually went out of business. (It bears no relation to the modern Sun-Times.)

A lesser-known fact is that the city's lakeshore also came out of this. Before the fire, Chicago was an industrial city without any major parks. The site of Lincoln Park was littered with graves, having recently served as a cemetery. The site of Grant Park was mostly underwater; the lakeshore ran along Michigan Avenue, and the Illinois and Michigan Railroad ran along a trestle offshore. After the fire, the city dumped its rubble into the water, which extended the shoreline outward. Many people wanted to develop that land for profit, but Montgomery Ward insisted that it be kept open for public use-- and the rest, as they say, is history.

The fire also left its imprint on the city's sporting life. Among other things, it destroyed the White Stockings' baseball field along with many of its players' homes. To rebuild, the team had to reorganize into a more professional outfit. That led to the founding of the National League and the birth of pro sports as we know it. The White Stockings later changed their name to the Cubs, and the White Sox were named in their honor.

The fire's biggest effect, though, was on the city's psyche. Chicagoans knew the magnitude of the ordeal they'd lived through, so they felt they could overcome anything. That can-do spirit had existed since the city's founding, but the fire hardened it like a piece of clay in a kiln. And the city was not shy about it; Easterners soon dubbed Chicago "the Windy City" because of its citizens' bragging and boasting.

So just think: anytime you stroll through Grant Park, take in a Cubs game, hear a Chicago politician bluster, or just look at the skyline, you're seeing the results of the fire. Other events have certainly shaped the city-- most notably Prohibition and the reigns of both Richard Daleys-- but they still pale in comparison. Chicagoans worked so hard and accomplished so much that we can never lose sight of their legacy.

So, getting back to the original question: I don't know of any juicier, more important, more dramatic, or a just plain more exciting subject to write about. If you know of anything, by all means let me know!

Visit 1871: A Novel of the Great Chicago Fire on Facebook.

June 4, 2010

A 1930 Carey Orr Cartoon for our Times



Chicago Tribune, October 18, 1930