THE CHICAGO HISTORY JOURNAL: On Chicago: Isaac Woolf and his Thanksgiving Day Guests

To the adult American citizen Thanksgiving day means a festival memorial of our early fathers, and their courageous battle against the hardships of a new country.

To the Chicago newsboy it means just one thing—Isaac Woolf's turkey dinner, where every one of the thousands of "newsies" can eat his fill, and carry a drum stick away as a souvenir. Isaac Woolf has earned his own immortality. He will live as long as a Chicago newsboy is alive to tell, in future years, his children and grandchildren of that great yearly feast, prepared by the kindhearted philanthropist, to which every hungry ragged little urchin yelling papers was most cordially invited. And many of these newsboys will tell this story about their own wide hearths in their own homes of stone or brick, to children enjoying all the luxuries of wealth and high station. For very often it happens that the right material is in these little street arabs for the making of men, — men the nation is more than proud to claim.

Isaac Woolf, millionaire merchant prince of Chicago, whose pleasure it is every Thanksgiving day to invite all the Chicago newsboys to dine with him, was once a London newsboy, harking his papers morning and night, in good and bad weather, selling to gentlemen and coachmen, to ladies and servant girls, quick to see the prospective customer, quick to reach him first, that the pennies he should carry home might be sufficient to keep hunger and cold from his two younger brothers. A poor little cold, wet, homeless, uncared for child, making his way in the world in the only way he knew, trying his best to keep alive, governed by that sense of self preservation which controls even the motherless babes. Little did he dream of the future his energy was to earn for him.

He early showed a desire to better his condition. When still a small child he came to America, and took up his old business—the only one he knew, the selling of papers.

He was a cheery little chap, but there were times when he looked wistfully toward the comfortable side of life and wished with the wistful longing of childhood, for some of life's joys. Thanksgiving Day he felt most forlorn,—when every one feasted and was merry. He watched the people shopping.he saw wagon loads of turkeys carted to homes, and sometimes he peeped in at windows and saw happy families sitting about heavily laden tables, and oh, how he did want some of the turkey and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie! Only a boy can do full justice to a real old fashioned Thanksgiving dinner, and this boy had never had one in his life.

Year followed year, and finally he went to Chicago. Here he quit the newspaper business and went into a largeclothing store. From that day he entered the store, it was a steady climb, promotion following promotion, until he came to be considered the most valuable employee in the house. The firm branched out and opened up astore on the West side of the city with Isaac Woolf as manager. Here he became so popular and his individuality was such a potent factor in the firm's success that he decided a share in the business was due him. His request, however, was met with flat refusal. And then it was that Isaac Woolf showed of what kind of material he was made. He withdrew from the concern to which he had given such valuable service and opened up a store of his own across the street. His customers of years, who had known him but not his employers, now flocked to the new store, and in a short time he had all the trade, putting the other store completely out of business. He started on borrowed capital buthis fine management, and his personal popularity brought him such rapid returns that he soon owned the entire store, without i cent of debt. From this beginning his rise to wealth and high position among Chicago's most substantial business men, was a matter of rapid growth, of which the opening of his present large store on State street was the climax.

When the sun of prosperity began to shine on Isaac Woolf, he did not forget that there was a world upon which the same sun did not shine in any noticeable degree. He celebrated his first real Thanksgiving day by inviting one hundred and twenty little west side newsboys to dine with him.

He has kept up the practice each year, until now, the guests number 10,000, but if there were 50,000 it would be all the same to Isaac Woolf.

There is used at one of these annual feasts: 520 turkeys, 10 barrels of mashed potatoes, 25 barrels of apples, 4 barrels of cranberry sauce, 1,500 gallons of milk, 2,000 loaves of bread, 50 boxes of grapes, 250 bunches of bananas, 25 boxes of oranges, 20,000 cakes, 1,800 pies.

Isaac Woolf deserves every penny he possesses. His liberality is not confined merely to newsboys. Every employee, every business man who has dealings with him, is ready to pronounce him the most genial, liberal, kind hearted, just and generous of men, as totally unsecured by hardship and denial, as he is unspoiled by wealth and position.