The steel coaster "Ride of the Century" was never built.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Monday, November 28, 2016
Artist's sketch of the "Ride of the Century" for the 1934 Century of Progress World's Fair in Chicago.
If you notice the bottom right, it says "Beach Midway... 1934". The Sky Ride was built in 1933, and it wasn't on the Midway Plaisance. The Midway was on the mainland south of it in 1933.
The 1934 Beach Midway was just south of Adler Planetarium and replaced the Jantzen (a swimsuit company) bathing beach that was there in 1933.
The steel coaster "Ride of the Century" was never built.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
The steel coaster "Ride of the Century" was never built.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Dr. Thomas Neill Cream (1850-1892); Serial Killer.
Cream established a medical practice not far from the red-light district in Chicago, offering illegal abortions to prostitutes. He was investigated in August 1880 after the death of Mary Anne Faulkner, a woman on whom he had allegedly operated, but he escaped prosecution due to lack of evidence.
In December 1880, another patient, Miss Stack, died after treatment by Cream, and he subsequently attempted to blackmail a pharmacist who had made up the prescription.
On 14 July 1881, Daniel Stott died of strychnine poisoning at his home in Boone County, Illinois, after Cream supplied him with an alleged remedy for epilepsy. The death was attributed to natural causes, but Cream wrote to the coroner, blaming the pharmacist for the death after again attempting blackmail.
In December 1880, another patient, Miss Stack, died after treatment by Cream, and he subsequently attempted to blackmail a pharmacist who had made up the prescription.
On 14 July 1881, Daniel Stott died of strychnine poisoning at his home in Boone County, Illinois, after Cream supplied him with an alleged remedy for epilepsy. The death was attributed to natural causes, but Cream wrote to the coroner, blaming the pharmacist for the death after again attempting blackmail.
Cream was arrested, along with Mrs. Julia A. (Abbey) Stott, who had become Cream's mistress and procured poison from Cream to do away with her husband. She turned state's evidence to avoid jail, laying the blame on Cream, which left Cream to face a murder conviction on his own. He was sentenced to life imprisonment in Joliet Prison. One night unknown persons erected a tombstone at Mr. Stott's grave, which read, "Daniel Stott Died June 12, 1881, aged 61 years, poisoned by his wife and Dr. Cream."
According to the hangman, his last words were reported as being "I am Jack the Ripper." Records show Cream was in prison during the last three Ripper murders in 1888.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
"My Uncle Al Capone played Santa Claus." A True Story.
1930 was a terrible year for most of us. The Depression had set in deep. My old man and many other heads of families were laid off without an hour's notice. Small businesses closed down, hundreds of them. Families doubled up to save rent.
 |
| Al Capone as Santa Claus. Sent to me by Deirdre Marie Capone, Al Capone's Grandneice. |
The breadlines. The soup kitchens. Al ran his own soup kitchen in Chicago. Beggars coming around to your back door for a crust of bread. Food was cheap enough, but nobody had money to buy it. The corner drugstores sold cigarettes two for a penny. Who could afford a full pack at 15¢ for 20 cigarettes? There was always a long line in front of the roll-your-own cigarette machine. If you rolled them thin enough, you could get 50 cigarettes out of a 10¢ package of loose tobacco. We practically lived on the three-day-old bread Dad brought home from a bakery. A full gunnysack (burlap sack) cost 25¢, and we kids would rummage through it, hoping to find a sweet roll or two.
Christmas 1930. I'll remember it as long as I live. None of the kids expected any presents. But maybe a chicken dinner. We still had a few hens scratching around the backyard. Then, the miracle happened. We were gathered around the Christmas tree - such as it was, just bare branches - when a loud knocking on the front door came. Dad opens up, and it's Santa Claus, whiskers, a red suit, and a big bag on his back. I yelled, "Al!" and threw myself at him. He clapped his hands, and six of his boys came in, each lugging a box of groceries that could have fed the whole neighborhood. They helped Mom stack them neatly on the pantry shelves. There were expensive gifts for everybody - a watch set in diamonds for Babe and slip-over sweaters for my brothers Edward, Sam, Don, and me. Don got a wind-up train and a whole set of tracks. My sister Kathy got the most beautiful doll I have ever seen, with an entire wardrobe. And a large turkey with all the fixings. I never tasted anything so good in my life.
Deirdre Marie Capone, Al Capone's Grandneice.
Edited by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Saturday, November 26, 2016
Illinois Boys Reformatory School in Pontiac, Illinois.
After the end of the Civil War, social reformers began to object to the practice of placing convicted juvenile offenders in the same penal institutions as adult criminals. They based their objections on the belief that young men would be further corrupted by being in close proximity to dangerous felons, and if sent to an adult facility, the young men might be victimized inside of prison.
In Illinois, this progressive spirit led the state's legislators to decide that the time had come to modernize its dealings with juvenile criminals. When the State of Illinois announced its decision to build a Reform School for young lawbreakers, the city and township of Pontiac were very interested in securing its location within the city limits. The Illinois legislature had passed an act in 1869 allowing certain towns possessing specified natural and already acquired advantages to compete for the establishment of the school in their community.
After due examinations by the commission appointed for that purpose and hearing the propositions from each locality, they settled on Pontiac. The Board of Trustees sought to provide "a place for the thorough reformation and elevation of the erring young people of our State." The first buildings at the Reform School were completed, water and heating systems installed, and the grounds made ready. In June of 1871, the first six young men, convicted of stealing horses in Peoria, arrived at the Illinois Boys Reformatory School in Pontiac. Over the years, they would be followed by thousands.
In just a few months, the pattern of life at Illinois Boys Reformatory School was set. There was belonging to the institution in land, 280 acres, which was worked by the inmates. The buildings which made up the institution were, in 1872, valued at $110,000. Over 6,000 shade and fruit trees were planted, and a large field for sports, including an excellent baseball diamond was created. There were dormitories, a greenhouse, factory and school classroom areas, cooking and dining facilities, a farm, and other spaces. Five teachers were employed to provide instruction, also a farmer, engineer, baker, overseers of shops and others added to the number of eighteen employees.
The school could house up to 400 boys ages 8 to 16, but it took several years to approach capacity. Each of the young men assigned to the Pontiac Reformatory was expected not only to attend conventional educational classes, but also to learn a trade that would help them to become law-abiding and productive citizens in the future. The boys attended school for 4 hours each day (except Sunday). All of the common branches of knowledge were taught: reading, arithmetic, writing, history, geography, and other subjects. Several of the boys requested and received special lessons in Latin and Greek. The course of instruction was very thorough and competent teachers were employed.
The prison began with a library of 1,500 volumes (which expanded to over 12,000 volumes by 1907), and reading evolved into one of the favorite ways to use any free time the boys had. Over twenty magazines and papers were subscribed to for the inmates, and all were reported to have been “read eagerly.” A large number of the boys committed to the Pontiac Reformatory could neither read nor write on entering the institution. However, when discharged, many of them were described by their teachers to be “fair scholars.”
Among the career choices the boys had to choose from were: printing and book-binding, black-smithing, mechanical and electrical engineering, various branches of wood working, brick-laying and masonry of different kinds, painting and glazing, tin-smithing, plumbing, tailoring, steam fitting, barbering, and shoe making.
In the shoe factory, between seventy and eighty boys were employed. Nearly 300 pairs of shoes or boots were produced each day. The shoes made were then sold by a footwear dealer. The shoe firm of Tead & Son paid the Reformatory School eighteen cents per day (made up of six hours of work) for each young worker. Later, the task of marketing and selling the shoes made by the boys was taken over by the Pontiac shoe firm of Lyon and Legg. They were, in turn, replaced by the Chicago-based, R.P. Smith Sons & Company.
In 1893 the institution was changed from a boys’ reformatory into a more conventional penal institution with the acceptance of inmates as old as 21, and later 30 years of age. The name was altered to reflect this evolution, the Illinois State Reformatory. Two new cell houses were constructed, adding nearly 800 beds to the facility. By the turn of the century, more than 1200 prisoners could be housed there. Rehabilitation was still favored, and training options continued to be offered. After 1904, many of the State's youngest juvenile offenders were no longer sent to Pontiac, but were placed in a new facility built in St. Charles, The Illinois School for Boys.
In the 1907 report from the Reformatory’s Board of Managers, the state of the institution is fully discussed. According to the report, there were just over 1,100 inmates at the facility. Of that group 894 were white and 218 men of color. There were just 52 boys between the ages of 8 and 12 years, 163 young men between 13 and 16 years of age, 625 adult men who were considered redeemable, and 272 men viewed as habitual criminals and not likely to change.
In 1931 another cell house was added to the institution. All maximum age restrictions were removed in 1933 and the facility was renamed the Illinois State Penitentiary. Prison population soon topped 2,500. As the number of inmates grew, the educational opportunities began to shrink. The manual training programs that were created to reform the youngest offenders were phased out. Educational classes continued, and there were opportunities for some prisoners to work inside the walls.
Starting in the late 1970s the institution was promoted to Maximum Security and prisoners were on 24-hour lock down, only being allowed out of their cell for weekly exercise in the yard.
While the history of the Pontiac correctional facility has been generally good, there have been a few instances of escape, some periods marked by prison violence, and only rare situations that devolved into prisoner riots. The state's worst prison riot and fire occurred at Pontiac on July 22, 1978. The result of the incident were scores of prisoners and guards injured, buildings damaged or destroyed to the amount of more than four million dollars, and three Correctional Officers killed.
The Pontiac Correctional Center is now classed as a Maximum Security prison, but does have a separate Medium Security facility on the grounds. The Center was threatened with shut down in 2008, but that threat has been reduced, and the institution continues in operation.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
 |
| Boys Reform School, Pontiac, Illinois in 1893. |
After due examinations by the commission appointed for that purpose and hearing the propositions from each locality, they settled on Pontiac. The Board of Trustees sought to provide "a place for the thorough reformation and elevation of the erring young people of our State." The first buildings at the Reform School were completed, water and heating systems installed, and the grounds made ready. In June of 1871, the first six young men, convicted of stealing horses in Peoria, arrived at the Illinois Boys Reformatory School in Pontiac. Over the years, they would be followed by thousands.
 |
| Boys Reformatory, 1895 |
The school could house up to 400 boys ages 8 to 16, but it took several years to approach capacity. Each of the young men assigned to the Pontiac Reformatory was expected not only to attend conventional educational classes, but also to learn a trade that would help them to become law-abiding and productive citizens in the future. The boys attended school for 4 hours each day (except Sunday). All of the common branches of knowledge were taught: reading, arithmetic, writing, history, geography, and other subjects. Several of the boys requested and received special lessons in Latin and Greek. The course of instruction was very thorough and competent teachers were employed.
The prison began with a library of 1,500 volumes (which expanded to over 12,000 volumes by 1907), and reading evolved into one of the favorite ways to use any free time the boys had. Over twenty magazines and papers were subscribed to for the inmates, and all were reported to have been “read eagerly.” A large number of the boys committed to the Pontiac Reformatory could neither read nor write on entering the institution. However, when discharged, many of them were described by their teachers to be “fair scholars.”
Among the career choices the boys had to choose from were: printing and book-binding, black-smithing, mechanical and electrical engineering, various branches of wood working, brick-laying and masonry of different kinds, painting and glazing, tin-smithing, plumbing, tailoring, steam fitting, barbering, and shoe making.
 |
| Young Men Learn Skills in Barber School. |
In 1893 the institution was changed from a boys’ reformatory into a more conventional penal institution with the acceptance of inmates as old as 21, and later 30 years of age. The name was altered to reflect this evolution, the Illinois State Reformatory. Two new cell houses were constructed, adding nearly 800 beds to the facility. By the turn of the century, more than 1200 prisoners could be housed there. Rehabilitation was still favored, and training options continued to be offered. After 1904, many of the State's youngest juvenile offenders were no longer sent to Pontiac, but were placed in a new facility built in St. Charles, The Illinois School for Boys.
In 1931 another cell house was added to the institution. All maximum age restrictions were removed in 1933 and the facility was renamed the Illinois State Penitentiary. Prison population soon topped 2,500. As the number of inmates grew, the educational opportunities began to shrink. The manual training programs that were created to reform the youngest offenders were phased out. Educational classes continued, and there were opportunities for some prisoners to work inside the walls.
Starting in the late 1970s the institution was promoted to Maximum Security and prisoners were on 24-hour lock down, only being allowed out of their cell for weekly exercise in the yard.
While the history of the Pontiac correctional facility has been generally good, there have been a few instances of escape, some periods marked by prison violence, and only rare situations that devolved into prisoner riots. The state's worst prison riot and fire occurred at Pontiac on July 22, 1978. The result of the incident were scores of prisoners and guards injured, buildings damaged or destroyed to the amount of more than four million dollars, and three Correctional Officers killed.
The Pontiac Correctional Center is now classed as a Maximum Security prison, but does have a separate Medium Security facility on the grounds. The Center was threatened with shut down in 2008, but that threat has been reduced, and the institution continues in operation.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
The History of "Newspaper Alley," Chicago, Illinois. 1833-1918
Newspaper Alley is one of the landmarks of the city. Originally it was named Calhoun Place [1]. It was named for John Calhoun, Chicago's pioneer printer and newspaper publisher. Mr. Calhoun arrived in Chicago in 1833 from Watertown, New York.
On Thanksgiving Day of 1833, he founded the "Chicago Democrat" (1833-1861) newspaper. He lived on State Street at the corner of the alley between Madison and Washington Streets and usually walked through the alley for a shortcut to his print shop.
In later years, the street became known as "Gamblers Alley" on account of the large number of gambling houses that infested it.
The Chicago Times (1854 to 1895) was the first newspaper user of the alley. It was started on the site of the old University Club. Newsboys entered the basement through a stairway off the alley, and there received their papers to sell.
Other newspaper users of the alley were the Old Herald, the Globe, the Dispatch, the Mail, the Journal, the Morning News, the Chicago Record, the Chronicle, The Times-Herald, the Record-Herald, the Evening Post, and lastly, the Herald.
Other famous users of the alley, all of whom have gone out of business or moved away, were the Chicago Board of Trade [2]; the Chicago Open Board of Trade [3]; George Clark's concert hall; "Appetite Bill's" saloon in which Jere Dunn killed Jimmy Elliott [4]; the Round Bar in which "Doc" Haggerty was killed by "Bad Jimmy" Connorton [5]; the Whitechapel Club [6]; William "Silver Bill" Riley's Poolroom; John Condon's, Pat Sheedy's, and "Si" James' gambling houses; Bill Shakel's "clock."; "Bathhouse John's silver dollar saloon (1895-1914) [7]; Billy Boyle's Chop House [8]; Harry Varnell's Big Faro Game [9]; and Jim McGarry's Place, where Finley Peter Dunne got the inspiration for his "Mr. Dooley. [10]"
On May 7, 1918, the passing of the Chicago Herald as an individual publication and the subsequent address 30 Newspaper Alley was the occasion for a tribute to the few hundred yards of famous brick and stone.
NEWSPAPER ALLEY GOES DARK FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Lights went out for the first time in a half-century on May 10, 1918, in the famous old "Newspaper Alley." Its passing came with the sale of the Herald and the ending of its nightlife. Between midnight and 5 o'clock am, the alley in former days was full of bustle and activity. Wagons and auto trucks were coming and going. At times the alley was choked with traffic.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
[2] The completion of the Illinois & Michigan Canal in the fall of 1847 and its opening in the spring of 1848 inspired the formation of the Chicago Board of Trade, the city's first voluntary association of businessmen. The Board of Trade was reorganized in 1850 to conform to a law
The city's merchants adopted their procedures to handle grain in bulk, not in bags, as traditionally had been the case. The first small shipment of grain in bulk occurred in 1839. Chicago's grain traders gained national recognition as a reliable and competitively priced source of grain during the 1850s.
The Board of Trade enhanced its role in the grain trade by implementing regulations for grading grain. The state legislature recognized its regulations by granting it a special charter in 1859. The special charter gave the board the power to impose rules and regulations for handling grain and to arbitrate disputes between commodity merchants.
[3] The Chicago Open Board of Trade was organized in 1880 and has survived as the Mid-America Commodity Exchange and is a subsidiary of the Chicago Board of Trade. A butter and egg exchange that traces its roots to the post–Civil War era was reorganized in 1919 as the Chicago Mercantile Exchange.
[4] How I Killed Three Men, Chicago Daily Tribune, July 1, 1890.
[5] He murdered "Doc" Haggerty, Chicago Tribune, February 17, 1891
[6] The Whitechapel Club was started in 1889 by a small group of newspapermen in Chicago, Illinois. The club was named after the area in London where Jack the Ripper murdered his victims. It only lasted five years, ending in 1894. While the core of the club members were newspapermen, the club members included artists, musicians, physicians and lawyers. Some of the well-known members of the club included Brand Whitlock, George Ade, and Finley Peter Dunne.
Inside, the Whitechapel Club looked more like a trophy room for murderers rather than a clubhouse. Walls were decorated with Indian blankets soaked with blood, nooses, knives that had been used to kill, and pictures of pirates who had been beheaded. Skulls, used to drink red fruit juice, lay everywhere, and a full-size model of their "President," Jack the Ripper, was placed in a corner. Pipes, cigars, and alcohol would also be easily found in any room.
Meetings at the Whitechapel Club would usually start around midnight. Because Jack the Ripper was never in attendance, the Vice-President would chair meetings. Club meetings were very private, although guests very occasionally were brought. People would tell stories, jokes, poems, or monologues during meetings. Telling insults at whoever rose to speak to the club was customary. Throughout the meetings, members would drink heavily.
In later years of the club’s existence, membership became very coveted. In order to become a member, a candidate had to go through an initiation. First, only two members of any profession could belong to the club at any time. The new member, a probationary member, would attend club meetings for one month. At any time during that month, another member could reject him from becoming a member. If the first month was survived a club-wide vote would be made on whether to keep or reject the man. If one vote was a “No” he would not get a membership to the club.
[7] The story of Bathhouse John. Chicago Tribune, May 24, 1953
[8] Billy Boyle's famous "chophouse in the alley," at 5 Calhoun Place, Chicago, known widely since 1875 among Bohemians of Chicago and those by other cities visiting Chicago, was closed on March 20, 1895, by its creditors. High rent, many "tabs," and a declining business have put an end to the noted "all-night" resort.
[9] Faro, Pharaoh, or Farobank is a late 17th-century French gambling card game. It is descended from basset and belongs to the Lansquenet (card game) and Monte Bank family of games due to the use of a banker and several players. Winning or losing occurs when cards turned up by the banker match those already exposed. It is not a direct relative of poker, but Faro was often just as popular due to its fast action, easy-to-learn rules, and better odds than most games of chance. The game of faro is played with only one deck of cards and admits any number of players.
[10] Finley Peter Dunne (1867-1936) was an American humorist and writer from Chicago. In 1898 Dunne published “Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War,” a collection of his nationally syndicated Mr. Dooley sketches. The first Dooley articles appeared when Dunne was a chief editorial writer for the Chicago Post, and for a number of years, he wrote the pieces without a byline or initials. They were paid for at the rate of $10 each above his newspaper pay.
A contemporary wrote of his Mr. Dooley sketches that "there was no reaching for brilliancy, no attempt at polish. The purpose was simply to amuse. But this very ease and informality of the articles caught the popular fancy. The spontaneity was so genuine; the timeliness was so obvious." In 1898, he wrote a Dooley piece that celebrated the victory of Commodore George Dewey over the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay—and this piece attracted national attention. Within a short time, weekly Dooley essays were syndicated across the country.
In 1899, under the title Mr Dooley in Peace and War, a collection of the pieces was brought out in book form, received rave reviews from the critics, and was on the best-seller list for a year.
On Thanksgiving Day of 1833, he founded the "Chicago Democrat" (1833-1861) newspaper. He lived on State Street at the corner of the alley between Madison and Washington Streets and usually walked through the alley for a shortcut to his print shop.
 |
| The alley between Madison and Washington Streets was known as "Newspaper Alley," Chicago. |
The Chicago Times (1854 to 1895) was the first newspaper user of the alley. It was started on the site of the old University Club. Newsboys entered the basement through a stairway off the alley, and there received their papers to sell.
 |
| Newspaper Alley... the first Tribune building would be erected here in 1869. |
Other famous users of the alley, all of whom have gone out of business or moved away, were the Chicago Board of Trade [2]; the Chicago Open Board of Trade [3]; George Clark's concert hall; "Appetite Bill's" saloon in which Jere Dunn killed Jimmy Elliott [4]; the Round Bar in which "Doc" Haggerty was killed by "Bad Jimmy" Connorton [5]; the Whitechapel Club [6]; William "Silver Bill" Riley's Poolroom; John Condon's, Pat Sheedy's, and "Si" James' gambling houses; Bill Shakel's "clock."; "Bathhouse John's silver dollar saloon (1895-1914) [7]; Billy Boyle's Chop House [8]; Harry Varnell's Big Faro Game [9]; and Jim McGarry's Place, where Finley Peter Dunne got the inspiration for his "Mr. Dooley. [10]"
On May 7, 1918, the passing of the Chicago Herald as an individual publication and the subsequent address 30 Newspaper Alley was the occasion for a tribute to the few hundred yards of famous brick and stone.
NEWSPAPER ALLEY GOES DARK FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Lights went out for the first time in a half-century on May 10, 1918, in the famous old "Newspaper Alley." Its passing came with the sale of the Herald and the ending of its nightlife. Between midnight and 5 o'clock am, the alley in former days was full of bustle and activity. Wagons and auto trucks were coming and going. At times the alley was choked with traffic.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
[1] Calhoun Place (20 North - 1 to 400 West) was named after John C. Calhoun, editor of the Chicago Democrat, the city’s first paper. He died in Chicago on February 20, 1859, at the age of 51 years old. Nicknames but nothing official: Newspaper Alley, Whitechapel Alley, Gamblers Alley, and Newsboy’s Alley.
[2] The completion of the Illinois & Michigan Canal in the fall of 1847 and its opening in the spring of 1848 inspired the formation of the Chicago Board of Trade, the city's first voluntary association of businessmen. The Board of Trade was reorganized in 1850 to conform to a law
governing boards of trade passed by the Illinois General Assembly in 1849.
The city's merchants adopted their procedures to handle grain in bulk, not in bags, as traditionally had been the case. The first small shipment of grain in bulk occurred in 1839. Chicago's grain traders gained national recognition as a reliable and competitively priced source of grain during the 1850s.
The Board of Trade enhanced its role in the grain trade by implementing regulations for grading grain. The state legislature recognized its regulations by granting it a special charter in 1859. The special charter gave the board the power to impose rules and regulations for handling grain and to arbitrate disputes between commodity merchants.
[4] How I Killed Three Men, Chicago Daily Tribune, July 1, 1890.
[5] He murdered "Doc" Haggerty, Chicago Tribune, February 17, 1891
[6] The Whitechapel Club was started in 1889 by a small group of newspapermen in Chicago, Illinois. The club was named after the area in London where Jack the Ripper murdered his victims. It only lasted five years, ending in 1894. While the core of the club members were newspapermen, the club members included artists, musicians, physicians and lawyers. Some of the well-known members of the club included Brand Whitlock, George Ade, and Finley Peter Dunne.
Inside, the Whitechapel Club looked more like a trophy room for murderers rather than a clubhouse. Walls were decorated with Indian blankets soaked with blood, nooses, knives that had been used to kill, and pictures of pirates who had been beheaded. Skulls, used to drink red fruit juice, lay everywhere, and a full-size model of their "President," Jack the Ripper, was placed in a corner. Pipes, cigars, and alcohol would also be easily found in any room.
Meetings at the Whitechapel Club would usually start around midnight. Because Jack the Ripper was never in attendance, the Vice-President would chair meetings. Club meetings were very private, although guests very occasionally were brought. People would tell stories, jokes, poems, or monologues during meetings. Telling insults at whoever rose to speak to the club was customary. Throughout the meetings, members would drink heavily.
In later years of the club’s existence, membership became very coveted. In order to become a member, a candidate had to go through an initiation. First, only two members of any profession could belong to the club at any time. The new member, a probationary member, would attend club meetings for one month. At any time during that month, another member could reject him from becoming a member. If the first month was survived a club-wide vote would be made on whether to keep or reject the man. If one vote was a “No” he would not get a membership to the club.
[7] The story of Bathhouse John. Chicago Tribune, May 24, 1953
[8] Billy Boyle's famous "chophouse in the alley," at 5 Calhoun Place, Chicago, known widely since 1875 among Bohemians of Chicago and those by other cities visiting Chicago, was closed on March 20, 1895, by its creditors. High rent, many "tabs," and a declining business have put an end to the noted "all-night" resort.
[9] Faro, Pharaoh, or Farobank is a late 17th-century French gambling card game. It is descended from basset and belongs to the Lansquenet (card game) and Monte Bank family of games due to the use of a banker and several players. Winning or losing occurs when cards turned up by the banker match those already exposed. It is not a direct relative of poker, but Faro was often just as popular due to its fast action, easy-to-learn rules, and better odds than most games of chance. The game of faro is played with only one deck of cards and admits any number of players.
[10] Finley Peter Dunne (1867-1936) was an American humorist and writer from Chicago. In 1898 Dunne published “Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War,” a collection of his nationally syndicated Mr. Dooley sketches. The first Dooley articles appeared when Dunne was a chief editorial writer for the Chicago Post, and for a number of years, he wrote the pieces without a byline or initials. They were paid for at the rate of $10 each above his newspaper pay.
A contemporary wrote of his Mr. Dooley sketches that "there was no reaching for brilliancy, no attempt at polish. The purpose was simply to amuse. But this very ease and informality of the articles caught the popular fancy. The spontaneity was so genuine; the timeliness was so obvious." In 1898, he wrote a Dooley piece that celebrated the victory of Commodore George Dewey over the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay—and this piece attracted national attention. Within a short time, weekly Dooley essays were syndicated across the country.
In 1899, under the title Mr Dooley in Peace and War, a collection of the pieces was brought out in book form, received rave reviews from the critics, and was on the best-seller list for a year.
Looking west from South Water Street, east of Clark Street, Chicago. Lithography 1866
The scene presented in this picture of one of the central business points of the city, is by no means exaggerated. The view is taken from South Water Street, east of Clark, looking west. It exhibits the southern approach to Clark Street bridge being open and travel suspended.
The block west of the approach to the bridge is devoted to commercial business, and is occupied by insurance agencies, forwarding and commission merchants, brokers and others. The view extends westward to Franklin Street.
ADDITIONAL INFO: South Water Street, Chicago. "The Busiest Street in the World" from the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, in the Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal™
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
ADDITIONAL INFO: South Water Street, Chicago. "The Busiest Street in the World" from the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, in the Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal™
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Friday, November 25, 2016
The Crilly Court Apartments, Crilly Court (on the 1700 block of Wells Street between St. Paul and Eugenie Streets), Chicago, Illinois.
Crilly Court Apartments were built in 1877 by a south-side developer named Daniel Crilly who is credited with developing much of Chicago's Old Town. In 1885, Crilly purchased all of the property between Eugenie and St. Paul from Wells Street to North Park and proceeded to construct his very own planned community, leasing only to young married couples and personalities connected with the arts: writers, actors, musicians, dancers, and painters. He and his son Edgar kept to this plan, for the most part, until the area fell on hard times after World War I ended (November 11, 1918).
By the mid-1920s, they had become seedy tenements whose landladies sat on their front stoops barefoot and tossed bones to dogs passing by. They also threw their trash directly into the back yards.
By the late 1920s, the family had to give up pieces of Crilly, a house here, an apartment complex there. Later, they tried to buy them back, but it was too late. Finally, in 1963, they sold off everything they had left: the houses, the apartments, and the stores on Wells Street for just over two million dollars.
Things began to change in the late 1930s. In 1937, a young couple named Kappy and Alexander Maley decided to bite the bullet and rent the house at 1716 N. Crilly Court. It took some courage because they were appalled at what they saw when they first walked inside. The already-small rooms had been chopped in half and had beds in every cubby-hole. Payphones hung on partitions all over the house. There was only one bathroom, and it was in such terrible condition that it had to be completely gutted.
Despite its shabby appearance, the Maley's fell in love with the place, and when Edgar Crilly agreed to tear out the partitions, remove the phones, put in new carpeting, build a second bathroom, and have the entire house painted, they signed a lease--promising to pay $50 per month in rent. Irma O'Toole, daughter of a well-known Old Town saloon keeper, bought the house at 1706 for a whopping $3,000. She and her husband did a complete rehab on their place and turned it into an early Old Town showpiece.
The house at 1704, though still a rental, had a nice, cared-for appearance, displaying "clean windows" and polished brass plates and door knockers. Kappy Maley, who by then was becoming seriously invested in the neighborhood, decided to drop by one afternoon and get some decorating tips for her place. She knocked on the door and was courteously received by a handsome woman of a certain age. She walked into a glitzy parlor and found several young ladies all made up and lounging around in their robes, albeit fairly elaborate robes, and looking askance (with doubt, disapproval, or no trust) at their visitor.
Now, this was odd. A few minutes into the conversation, Kappy realized that she had not walked into just an ordinary house. The "older woman" was, in fact, the Madame of a "call house", and the younger women were her "girls".
The tiny row of two-plus story Queen Anne-style houses, fronted by wrought iron fences, tiny gardens, and wooden stairs leading to the main floor entry, makes you think of Victorian England. Crilly Court just oozes charm. Bay windows, iron columns, and the engraved names of Crilly's four children above four entrances — Isabelle, Edgar, Eugene, and Erminie -- distinguish the apartment building facing Crilly Court. There is space for shops on the first floor of the building along Wells Street, and they continue to operate as such.
Now listed in the National Register of Historic Places, the 80-unit complex has survived the ups and downs of the changing neighborhood.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
By the late 1920s, the family had to give up pieces of Crilly, a house here, an apartment complex there. Later, they tried to buy them back, but it was too late. Finally, in 1963, they sold off everything they had left: the houses, the apartments, and the stores on Wells Street for just over two million dollars.
Despite its shabby appearance, the Maley's fell in love with the place, and when Edgar Crilly agreed to tear out the partitions, remove the phones, put in new carpeting, build a second bathroom, and have the entire house painted, they signed a lease--promising to pay $50 per month in rent. Irma O'Toole, daughter of a well-known Old Town saloon keeper, bought the house at 1706 for a whopping $3,000. She and her husband did a complete rehab on their place and turned it into an early Old Town showpiece.
Now, this was odd. A few minutes into the conversation, Kappy realized that she had not walked into just an ordinary house. The "older woman" was, in fact, the Madame of a "call house", and the younger women were her "girls".
The tiny row of two-plus story Queen Anne-style houses, fronted by wrought iron fences, tiny gardens, and wooden stairs leading to the main floor entry, makes you think of Victorian England. Crilly Court just oozes charm. Bay windows, iron columns, and the engraved names of Crilly's four children above four entrances — Isabelle, Edgar, Eugene, and Erminie -- distinguish the apartment building facing Crilly Court. There is space for shops on the first floor of the building along Wells Street, and they continue to operate as such.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
The Women's World's Fair of 1925, Chicago, Illinois.
The Women's World's Fair of 1925 was held April 18-25 in the American Exposition Palace at 666 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago (changed address to 680 North Lake Shore Drive because of superstition). It attracted more than 160,000 visitors and consisted of 280 booths representing 100 occupations in which women were engaged.
The fair was the idea of Helen Bennett, the manager of the Chicago Collegiate Bureau of Occupations, and Ruth Hanna McCormick, a leading club woman. Women publicized and ran the fair; its managers and board of directors were all women.
The fair had the double purpose of displaying women's ideas, work, and products, and raising funds to help support women's Republican Party organizations.
The booths at the fair showed women's accomplishments in the arts, literature, science, and industry. These exhibits were also intended as a source for young women seeking information on careers. Among the exhibitors at the fair were major corporations, such as Illinois Bell Telephone Company and the major national and regional newspapers.
Local manufacturers, banks, stores, and shops, area hospitals, and women inventors, artists, and lawyers set up booths demonstrating women's contributions in these fields and possibilities for employment. Women's groups were represented by such organizations as the Women's Trade Union League, Business and Professional Women's Club, the Visiting Nurse Association, the YWCA, Hull House, the Illinois Club for Catholic Women, and the Auxiliary House of the Good Shepherd. The 1925 fair raised $50,000 ($741,500 today) and was so successful that it was held for three more years.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
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| American Furniture Mart, 680 N. Lake Shore Dr. (formerly 666 N. Lake Shore Dr.) Built-in 1924. |
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| The Famous Women's Luncheon at the Women's World's Fair, there were six distinguished speakers, and two of them were fliers. A scene at the banquet. Left to right, Mrs. Joseph Coleman, Mrs. Mary Hastings Bradley, Mrs. Edith Rockefeller McCormick, Katherine Stinson, Mrs. Joseph T. Bowen, Miss Herta Junkers, whose father built the Bremen, and Jane Addams of the Hull House. 1925 |
Local manufacturers, banks, stores, and shops, area hospitals, and women inventors, artists, and lawyers set up booths demonstrating women's contributions in these fields and possibilities for employment. Women's groups were represented by such organizations as the Women's Trade Union League, Business and Professional Women's Club, the Visiting Nurse Association, the YWCA, Hull House, the Illinois Club for Catholic Women, and the Auxiliary House of the Good Shepherd. The 1925 fair raised $50,000 ($741,500 today) and was so successful that it was held for three more years.
Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
The Kranz Confectionery Store, Chicago, Illinois.
Kranz Confectionery Store opened its doors in 1868 on Blue Island Avenue, Chicago. John Krantz immigrated to America from Germany at the age of 15. 
Although only pastries, ice cream, candies, and beverages were served, Mr. Kranz's fame continued over the years as he continually introduced the very latest creations made by highly specialized candy artists from Europe.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Kranz moved the Confectionery to 126-30 State Street in 1881. Very little changed until the building was remodeled in the mid-1880s by architects Adler & Sullivan. Electric fixtures replaced the Gaslights. Kranz opened a second location at 78-80 State Street, Chicago.
Although only pastries, ice cream, candies, and beverages were served, Mr. Kranz's fame continued over the years as he continually introduced the very latest creations made by highly specialized candy artists from Europe.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Lost Communities of Chicago - The Village of Pennock.
The little village of Pennock was founded in 1881. It was located at Diversey Street and Ballou (St. Louis Ave.), Fullerton, and Crawford (Pulaski Rd.) avenues. The village of Pennock was in Jefferson Township, a former civil township in Cook County, that existed as a separate municipality from 1850 until 1889 when it was annexed into the city of Chicago. Its borders were Devon Avenue on the north, Harlem Avenue on the west, Western Avenue to the east, and North Avenue to the south.
The village of Pennock was founded by Homer Pennock, a mining entrepreneur, and con man. He was going to make money, and if things didn’t work out the way they ought to, Pennock was not above cheating his way to a profit.
Perhaps the first scam Pennock pulled was in 1871 when he lied about having discovered an incredible amount of tin in a region of Canada not known for its tin. Pennock was ultimately jailed, but once he got out, he continued to pull more scams.
Pennock must have been persuasive and charismatic because he continually found financial supporters for his mining adventures. In the 1880s, Pennock, who, at that time owned a gold mine in Colorado, took over a chunk of Northwest Side farmland, from Diversey Street to Ballou Avenue (now St. Louis) and Fullerton and Crawford (now Pulaski) avenues, with the goal of building an industrial town there “that would cause the world to marvel,” according to a 1903 Chicago Tribune article below.
Pennock wasted no time getting to work. He brought carload after carload of bricks to the area and enlisted a lot of workmen to help him realize his dream. He dubbed Wrightwood Avenue “Pennock Boulevard.”
Osgood Manufacturing Company, a refrigerator and furniture maker, moved into one of Pennock’s plants, bringing about 500 workers to the area. Realizing the workers needed places to live, builders then constructed brick homes and shops to accommodate them.
That boom was short-lived.
Pennock’s main factory was destroyed in a fire and one of his mines flooded, which left him unable to finance construction. Those two setbacks combined marked the beginning of the end for Pennock and his “City of Dreams.”
With the factory gone, there was no reason for the existence of the village out on the prairie, and those who had cast their lots with Pennock flocked back to Chicago. Essentially, Pennock’s plan failed and the village crumbled.
Pennock’s failure came at a time when farms across Chicago were transforming into clusters of factories and homes.
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| Wrightwood Avenue (Pennock Boulevard), Looking West, Chicago, Circa 1900. The Village of Pennock was annexed by the City of Chicago in 1889. |
The village of Pennock was annexed by the City of Chicago in 1889. Today's west side of Logan Square had many life cycles and was relabeled over time with distinctly different local identities—Avondale, Pennock, Polish Village, the Land of Koz (after Kosciuszko Park), and finally Logan Square, one of the official 77 communities of Chicago.
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| Few Houses from the Village of Pennock Still Stand. |
In the ensuing years, most of the buildings in Pennock had reached a stage of decay which made them untenable to the most miserable squatter,” according to the Tribune, “A Deserted Village in Chicago,” reprinted below.
After his Chicago failure, Pennock went on to found Homer, Alaska in 1896. As the story goes, he “lured others to the Homer area with promises of gold, although the area was known for coal mining.
"A DESERTED VILLAGE IN CHICAGO"
Chicago Sunday Tribune, June 14, 1903
Standing like tombstones over a village that now exists only in name, there are within Chicago's borders a dozen or more picturesque ruins which represent all that is left of what once promised to be a great manufacturing center.
And hanging about the crumbling bricks and rotting timber is an almost forgotten chapter in the city's history—a story of a boom that collapsed almost before it gains an impetus and left its promoter with little more than the valuable farmland to show for the money he had invested.
How many Chicagoans, as they are whisked by the station of Pennock on the St. Paul railway, have viewed the great ruins and wondered what they meant? And how many, to this day, can tell? Few of the oldest residents of the neighborhood are able to explain, and then in the vaguest way.
"There was a soap factory there once—a long, long time ago," one will say.
"No, it was a big warehouse—and it burned." another will impart.
But in all the neighborhood, which in most part has been peopled since the big plant and the once substantial brick houses which are adjacent to it were given over to the elements, not one person could be found who could recall the spectacular operations of Homer Pennock, who, in his dreams, saw on the prairie of the northwest side a manufacturing community that would cause the world to marvel.
WILLING TO TAKE CHANCES
It was twenty-two years ago that Pennock, then owner of a rich gold mine in Colorado, came to Chicago, intending to multiply his fortune and startle the financial world. He had the daring of a D'Artagnan [meaning; one who is exceptionally skilled in the use of sexual persuasion.] and was willing to risk his all in a single throw.
The mine was paying—how long it would continue to pay he did not know, but he planned to push his operations forward so rapidly that he would be prepared for any crash that might come.
Out at Fullerton and Fortieth avenues, Pennock found a stretch of level farm land that suited his needs. It was within easy access to the St. Paul railway and could be bought for a song, for in those days Chicago did not extend to the far northwest.
Pennock secured options on several thousand acres of land and almost before the farmers knew of his plans car-load after car-load of bricks was being dumped beside that track where the little frame railway station of Pennock now stands. Scores of workmen followed the building material and a foundation 600x650 feet had been erected.
"We'll have a car wheel factory there—the largest in the world," Pennock announced, as he stood by and proudly watched the workmen pilling brick upon brick. The foundation was completed and then came a halt. Perhaps word came from the west which delayed operations—but that is for Pennock himself to tell.
But the interested farmers had not long to wait, for Pennock again he was serenely confident that his City of Dreams would be carried to a glorious completion, put a force of men at work building what he called "the east wing" of his plant. "Thereat will come in time; it's sure to come—it must come," he mused.
When the "east wing" had been completed Pennock set about looking for a tenant, as for some reason or other his car wheel factory had not materialized. People were skeptical and hesitated in moving so far out of the city, but Pennock was not to be denied.
BEGINNING OF THE BOOM
Soon the Osgood manufacturing company, makers of refrigerators, and certain articles of furniture moved into the plant, and then came the first breath of the short-lived boom. The factory employed many hands—as many as 500, some authorities say—and these men had to be housed and fed.
Small stores began to spring up around the neighborhood and the real estate men made a rush to be first on the field. Like other booms, things were overdone. Brick houses that cost $3,000 were erected—and these to accommodate the men of modest wages who were working in the plant Pennock had built!
But all this time Pennock would smile and say: "Better times are coming." and there was magic in his words.
It so happened that Pennock, whatever else he may have been, was no prophet. Better times did not come, either for Pennock or those who had staked their fortunes with his. The plant—already large—was not increased to cover the big foundation and one day all except the somber walls that are now standing went up in smoke. Pennock's dream was over and the awakening had come.
Then, according to men who were close to Pennock in his venture, the mine out west became unproductive and Pennock's cup of despair was filled to overflowing.
Just what caused the factory fire is not known, but if human handset it the torch might just as well have been applied to the other buildings that had been erected in the boomtown. With the factory gone, there was no reason for the existence of the village out on the prairie, and those who had cast their lots with Pennock flocked back to town.
NEGLECTED HOUSES TUMBLE
Thus it came to pass that time and the elements, destroyers of the staunchest structures, laid hold of the buildings that the fire had spared. The brick houses began to crumble, and as Chicago began to spread toward Pennock's abandoned village the boys made pilgrimages to the ruins and aided in the destruction. First window panes and then window casings were broken from their fastenings till soon the elements had the once-proud houses at their mercy.
With the expansion of Chicago, a few of the brick residences were rescued and patched up, and are now tenanted by families who can afford no better shelter, but many of the $3,000 structures have reached a stage of decay which makes them untenable to the most miserable squatter.
Perhaps no resident of Chicago has a clearer recollection of Pennock and his operations than J. F. Keeney, who held stock in Pennock's mine and bought heavily of farmland in the vicinity of the Dream City.
"It's so long ago that even I have to search my memory," he said in speaking of the village that has gone to ruin. "Pennock came to Chicago fresh from the west, where he had made money in mining, and conceived the idea of building the factory and town out there on the prairie. He was enthusiastic and secured options on farmlands on every side of his plant-to-be. I had owned some stock in his mine—the 'Small Hopes,' I think he called it—and had made money, so I followed him in his new venture, putting some money into the factory and also buying farmland in the vicinity of the factory.
"As I remember it, the first trouble came when something went wrong with the mine. It filled with water or something of the sort, and Pennock was without the means to carry his operations to completion. He was resourceful, though, and it is hard to say what he might have succeeded in doing had it not been for the fire. As for myself, I held on to the land I had bought and several years after disposed of most of it at a good profit.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
The History of Chicago's Public Bath Houses.
Johnson's Bathing and Shaving Saloon.
The subscriber takes pleasure in informing his old customers, and the public generally, that he has removed his establishment opposite his old stand, on Clark Street, between Lake and Randolph, where he has fitted up in a superior manner for the reception of all who may favor him with a call. While in anticipation of the Cholera making its appearance in Chicago this spring and summer, it is well known to all that Bathing in considered a great perventive of this dreadful disease, therefore, I repeat that one perventive is better than a hundred cures.
Friday Evening of every week, from 9 o'clock till 11, will be set apart for the express accommodation of Ladies, at which time the public shop will be closed.
Bathing, Shaving, Hair Cutting, and SAhampooing, all done at the shortest notice.
Single Tickets 30¢ ─ Four Tickets $1.
The subecriber returnsa his greatful thanks to the public for their liberal patronage, and hopes iot will be continued.
WM. JOHNSON
Chicago Tribune, April 23, 1849: In the first Tribune.
By the late 1800s, personal cleanliness had become a cultural norm for Americans, necessary for social acceptance, symbolic of good character, and essential for protecting public health from infectious diseases.
A women's reform organization in Chicago, the Municipal Order League (later renamed the Free Bath and Sanitary League), led the campaign for public baths. Three women physicians, Gertrude Gail Wellington, Sarah Hackett Stevenson, and Julia R. Lowe, headed the crusade. Beginning in 1892, Wellington led the effort, utilizing the network of women reformers in Chicago centering in the settlement houses, especially Jane Addams's Hull House, the Chicago Woman's Club and the Fortnightly Club. These women gained support for the cause of public baths from the press and the city government under Mayor Hempstead Washburne and city council finance committee chairman Martin Madden. Chicago's first public bath, located at 192 Mather Street, near Hull House on the Near West Side, opened in 1894. It was named after the assassination of mayor Carter H. Harrison and cost $20,649. After that, Chicago public baths were generally named after prominent local citizens.
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| Small Public Bath, William Mavor Bath, Chicago, 1900. |
Although some American cities built elaborate, monumental, and expensive public baths, Chicago conformed to the bath reformers' ideal that public bathhouses should be modest, unpretentious, strictly functional, accessible, and located in poor and immigrant neighborhoods readily accessible to bathers. Chicago's bathhouses generally contained between 20 and 40 showers, attached dressing rooms, and a waiting room. There were no separate sections for men and women; two days a week were reserved for women, girls, and small children with their mothers. Bath patrons did not control water or temperature, which were regulated by an attendant who turned on the shower for 7 to 8 of the 20 minutes allowed for a bath.
Pilsen Public Bath Ogden Public Bath
Negro Owned Bathhouses and Baths.
Middle-aged civic activist Lewis Isbel's (1818-1905) journey from obscurity to celebrity mirrored the possibilities for Negroes of the frontier age. When he first arrived, he worked in primitive conditions on Clark Street between Lake and Randolph. Soon he struck out on his own and established a shop in Frink and Walker’s Stage office at Lake and Dearborn, opposite the popular accommodations offered at the Tremont House.
Early in the 1840s, he moved again to an alley location north of the Sherman House Hotel. With a growing clientele with constant tonsorial needs (a word that describes the work of those who give shaves and haircuts), Isbel secured space within the Sherman House itself, offering what he described as the town’s first combination barbershop and bathhouse. Lewis Isbel owned and operated two of the three bathhouses in the city by 1842, one with a section for women.
At an Emancipation Day celebration, Barber Lewis Isbel fell victim to a white pickpocket. After catching the perpetrator, Isbel suffered insult after injury when his testimony against the white man was disallowed in court by the provisions of the black laws that forbade Negro testimony against whites.
Settlement houses, for example, often provided limited bathing facilities for the neighborhoods they served. This was true of Hull House and the University of Chicago Settlement House. Chicago built simple bathhouses with shower baths and little else. Chicago opened its first year-round bath in 1894. By 1920, Chicago had built 21 bathhouses in poor and working-class districts.
After World War II, Chicago began to close down its public bathhouses. By the 1970s, only one bathhouse remained open to serve Skid Row (SRO; single-room occupancy) residents, which also closed in 1979.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
The Village of Godfrey, Illinois
The Village of Godfrey lies on the east side of the Mississippi River between the confluences of the Illinois and Missouri rivers. When waterways were the only highways, the junctions of the three rivers formed important intersections. The location drew Indians, Europeans, and—during Illinois’ territorial period—three groups of frontier settlers: “First, the white man born in a slave state…; second, the negro, generally a slave; and third, the Yankee, from over the Mountains.”
Reverend Jacob Lurton and his wife, the former Sarah Tuley, left their longtime home in Louisville, Kentucky, in the spring of 1817. Accompanied by an extended family and six slaves, the Lurtons were Godfrey’s first recorded settlers. Like many of their frontier counterparts, the Lurtons held slaves, engaged in whiskey making, and shared an antagonism toward Yankees. When Yankees took issue with the Southerners’ ways, the Lurtons and their neighbors moved on.
New Englanders led the second wave of Godfrey settlers. Nathan and Latty Scarritt were temperate, hardworking, devout Methodist farmers who recruited like-minded neighbors. Five years after the Scarritts settled in Godfrey, an influx of eastern businessmen developed nearby Alton’s riverfront. The Yankee businessmen considered Godfrey to be Alton’s chief source of natural resources and agricultural goods. By 1833, Alton and Godfrey were joined economically, but local settlers were deeply divided by social issues—especially slavery.
The small settlement of the Rocky Fork area in Godfrey may be the oldest and largest Underground Railroad site in Illinois. Rocky Fork was a refuge for runaway slaves. Courageous Negroes risked their lives to escape slavery, then continued to reach back to help others gain freedom. Indians provided protection and shelter to runaways until the close of the War of 1812. White “Friends to Humanity,” acting in response to their antislavery beliefs, also assisted slaves. In 1828, with the protection and assistance of Don Alonzo Spaulding and his family, Rocky Fork became a large-scale Underground Railroad station. Operated by both blacks and whites, the station drew fugitive slaves from Southern Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky, and Tennessee. The history of Rocky Fork presents a compelling, multi-racial effort that spanned decades.
Benjamin Godfrey, the man for whom Godfrey is named, has long been a subject of local speculation. Was he a hardened pirate with ties to the infamous Jean Lafitte? Or was he a pious and humble businessman with a passion for reform? The former New England sea captain came to the area in 1832 with $50,000. He quickly expanded his fortune as a partner in the successful freight-forwarding firm of Godfrey, Gilman & Company. He built the first church in Alton, a mansion in Godfrey, and the first women’s college west of the Allegheny Mountains. Yet, when asked about his past, Godfrey only said: “It would make a novel.” Benjamin Godfrey’s reticence concealed his past involvement in the domestic slave trade. By 1835, he and his partner were among the most successful businessmen in Illinois. In alliance with others, Godfrey embarked on a phenomenal array of economic development and philanthropic reform projects. By 1838, Godfrey had an interest in land, stock companies, lead mines, smelting equipment, steamships, and the proposed Alton-Shelbyville Railroad. Lower Alton was the scene of a commercial empire that was projected to rival St. Louis.
Several tragic events occurred in rapid succession in 1837. First, Elijah Lovejoy, a young minister and newspaper editor from New England, was killed by a proslavery mob while guarding his printing press in Godfrey, Gilman & Company’s Alton warehouse. Lovejoy’s martyrdom and the farcical trials that followed his death destroyed Alton’s reputation in the East. Next, a national economic downturn reached panic proportions. Godfrey and Gilman’s vertical monopoly on the Galena lead market collapsed, triggering the failure of other Alton businesses. Construction stopped, and land values dropped. Hard times set in. When a subsequent bank investigation of Godfrey and his partner in management abuses, the two men resigned their positions and prepared to dissolve their commercial empire.
Monticello Female Seminary opened in 1838 at the height of Benjamin Godfrey’s financial woes. Nevertheless, Godfrey spared no expense in building a palatial three-story stone building. Godfrey placed Reverend Theron Baldwin, a member of the Yale Band, in charge of academics. Baldwin modeled Monticello’s rigorous curriculum after that of his alma mater and hired three Eastern women to teach. Philena Fobes, a twenty-seven-year-old “blue stocking” with a love of learning and high academic standards, quickly rose to a leadership position at the college. Seminary students included the privileged daughters of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the state, as well as slaveholders’ daughters, Cherokee Indian girls, and orphaned girls on scholarship.
Benjamin Godfrey suffered a staggering series of personal and financial losses in the aftermath of the Panic of 1837. Turning his attention to his farm, family, the Seminary he founded, and the village he platted, Godfrey used the period to regroup and polish his remaining assets. He sought to insulate the college and the community from the reputation for violence that descended on the area after Lovejoy’s murder.
During the following decade, the Village of Monticello, a conservative New England community in both appearance and values, revolved around the Seminary, its two Protestant churches, and Benjamin Godfrey and his family.
In 1850, with the help of Abraham Lincoln and other members of the Illinois State Legislature, Benjamin Godfrey began construction on the long-awaited Alton-Sangamon Railroad. Godfrey encountered engineering difficulties, bad weather, labor problems, and cost overruns from the outset. In desperation, the founder sought additional funds from a New York financier, mortgaging everything he owned. When the double ribbon of track was completed in 1852, the road was renamed the Chicago and Mississippi Railroad. At the same time, Godfrey was replaced as superintendent of the road and embroiled in a series of lawsuits that dragged on for years. His efforts, however, brought renewed hope and prosperity to the region. Farmers cultivated more land, and land prices rose; coalmines, sawmills, flour mills, factories, and distilleries operated at capacity. New industries opened, and jobs were plentiful. At the height of its academic and cultural achievement, Monticello Seminary was dubbed “the ornament of the West.”
The Mexican War, the California Gold Rush, the railroad, and the telegraph brought the rest of the nation closer. Change spawned new antagonisms and conflicts.
The death of Elijah Lovejoy in 1837 gave rise to the abolition movement. Antislavery men and women were appalled as growing numbers of free blacks and runaways were jailed and kidnapped. Eastern missionaries drew a line east from Alton across the State of Illinois. The area south of the line was considered proslavery and outside the boundaries of the missionaries’ cause. Godfrey was just north of the line. St. Louis slaveholders formed a secret organization and stepped up their efforts to return runaways and expose those who assisted runaways. Secret Copperhead societies formed. Local black leaders emerged to combat the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850. Sympathetic whites, including Dr. Benjamin Franklin Long of Godfrey, founded the Illinois Mutual Fire Insurance Company. This legitimate business provided a highly organized, well-disguised cover for an Underground Railroad system that spanned central and northern Illinois. Dr. Long’s farm became the first stop on Rocky Fork’s Underground Railroad. Rocky Fork’s population doubled between 1850 and 1860. When Lincoln and Douglas debated at Alton in 1858, the United States was on the path to war.
Abraham Lincoln carried Monticello Precinct in the 1860 presidential election but did not carry Madison or surrounding counties. When the southern states seceded from the Union, many residents of Southern Illinois sympathized with the Confederacy. In Godfrey, however, a large, enthusiastic crowd immediately gathered to express their loyalty to the Union. Amidst rumors of traitors, county secessions, and invasion, Godfrey residents formed the secret “Monticello Prudential Committee.” Sons of Godfrey’s original settlers served with the Mississippi Ram Fleet, fought in the battles of Ft. Henry and Ft. Donelson in Kentucky, and at the bloody battle of Shiloh in Tennessee. Sgt. Carlos Colby, a Godfrey resident and a nephew of Dr. Benjamin F. Long, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for heroism during the Siege of Vicksburg.
It was time for a fresh start when the soldiers came home victorious and honored the dead. There was a feeling of hope, gaiety, and change in the air. A new generation was in charge. Reminiscences of the pioneering generation became history. New leaders emerged. Reverend Erasmus Green, a black Civil War veteran, presided over the newly built Rocky Fork A.M.E. Church. At Monticello Seminary, women laid aside their hoop skirts and performed in gymnastic exhibitions. Philena Fobes retired. “What is unfinished in one administration,” she said, “may be completed in another.”
Godfrey’s original settlers made astounding progress despite differing styles, values and beliefs. Within a generation, they cleared land, built homes, cultivated farms, and successfully established churches, schools, and businesses.
In 1991, the Village of Godfrey was incorporated. Local monuments, historic landmarks, churches, and traditions commemorate Godfrey’s pioneering generation.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
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| Benjamin Godfrey House |
New Englanders led the second wave of Godfrey settlers. Nathan and Latty Scarritt were temperate, hardworking, devout Methodist farmers who recruited like-minded neighbors. Five years after the Scarritts settled in Godfrey, an influx of eastern businessmen developed nearby Alton’s riverfront. The Yankee businessmen considered Godfrey to be Alton’s chief source of natural resources and agricultural goods. By 1833, Alton and Godfrey were joined economically, but local settlers were deeply divided by social issues—especially slavery.
The small settlement of the Rocky Fork area in Godfrey may be the oldest and largest Underground Railroad site in Illinois. Rocky Fork was a refuge for runaway slaves. Courageous Negroes risked their lives to escape slavery, then continued to reach back to help others gain freedom. Indians provided protection and shelter to runaways until the close of the War of 1812. White “Friends to Humanity,” acting in response to their antislavery beliefs, also assisted slaves. In 1828, with the protection and assistance of Don Alonzo Spaulding and his family, Rocky Fork became a large-scale Underground Railroad station. Operated by both blacks and whites, the station drew fugitive slaves from Southern Illinois, Missouri, Kentucky, and Tennessee. The history of Rocky Fork presents a compelling, multi-racial effort that spanned decades.
Benjamin Godfrey, the man for whom Godfrey is named, has long been a subject of local speculation. Was he a hardened pirate with ties to the infamous Jean Lafitte? Or was he a pious and humble businessman with a passion for reform? The former New England sea captain came to the area in 1832 with $50,000. He quickly expanded his fortune as a partner in the successful freight-forwarding firm of Godfrey, Gilman & Company. He built the first church in Alton, a mansion in Godfrey, and the first women’s college west of the Allegheny Mountains. Yet, when asked about his past, Godfrey only said: “It would make a novel.” Benjamin Godfrey’s reticence concealed his past involvement in the domestic slave trade. By 1835, he and his partner were among the most successful businessmen in Illinois. In alliance with others, Godfrey embarked on a phenomenal array of economic development and philanthropic reform projects. By 1838, Godfrey had an interest in land, stock companies, lead mines, smelting equipment, steamships, and the proposed Alton-Shelbyville Railroad. Lower Alton was the scene of a commercial empire that was projected to rival St. Louis.
Several tragic events occurred in rapid succession in 1837. First, Elijah Lovejoy, a young minister and newspaper editor from New England, was killed by a proslavery mob while guarding his printing press in Godfrey, Gilman & Company’s Alton warehouse. Lovejoy’s martyrdom and the farcical trials that followed his death destroyed Alton’s reputation in the East. Next, a national economic downturn reached panic proportions. Godfrey and Gilman’s vertical monopoly on the Galena lead market collapsed, triggering the failure of other Alton businesses. Construction stopped, and land values dropped. Hard times set in. When a subsequent bank investigation of Godfrey and his partner in management abuses, the two men resigned their positions and prepared to dissolve their commercial empire.
Monticello Female Seminary opened in 1838 at the height of Benjamin Godfrey’s financial woes. Nevertheless, Godfrey spared no expense in building a palatial three-story stone building. Godfrey placed Reverend Theron Baldwin, a member of the Yale Band, in charge of academics. Baldwin modeled Monticello’s rigorous curriculum after that of his alma mater and hired three Eastern women to teach. Philena Fobes, a twenty-seven-year-old “blue stocking” with a love of learning and high academic standards, quickly rose to a leadership position at the college. Seminary students included the privileged daughters of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the state, as well as slaveholders’ daughters, Cherokee Indian girls, and orphaned girls on scholarship.
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| Monticello Female Seminary, Godfrey, Illinois |
During the following decade, the Village of Monticello, a conservative New England community in both appearance and values, revolved around the Seminary, its two Protestant churches, and Benjamin Godfrey and his family.
In 1850, with the help of Abraham Lincoln and other members of the Illinois State Legislature, Benjamin Godfrey began construction on the long-awaited Alton-Sangamon Railroad. Godfrey encountered engineering difficulties, bad weather, labor problems, and cost overruns from the outset. In desperation, the founder sought additional funds from a New York financier, mortgaging everything he owned. When the double ribbon of track was completed in 1852, the road was renamed the Chicago and Mississippi Railroad. At the same time, Godfrey was replaced as superintendent of the road and embroiled in a series of lawsuits that dragged on for years. His efforts, however, brought renewed hope and prosperity to the region. Farmers cultivated more land, and land prices rose; coalmines, sawmills, flour mills, factories, and distilleries operated at capacity. New industries opened, and jobs were plentiful. At the height of its academic and cultural achievement, Monticello Seminary was dubbed “the ornament of the West.”
The Mexican War, the California Gold Rush, the railroad, and the telegraph brought the rest of the nation closer. Change spawned new antagonisms and conflicts.
The death of Elijah Lovejoy in 1837 gave rise to the abolition movement. Antislavery men and women were appalled as growing numbers of free blacks and runaways were jailed and kidnapped. Eastern missionaries drew a line east from Alton across the State of Illinois. The area south of the line was considered proslavery and outside the boundaries of the missionaries’ cause. Godfrey was just north of the line. St. Louis slaveholders formed a secret organization and stepped up their efforts to return runaways and expose those who assisted runaways. Secret Copperhead societies formed. Local black leaders emerged to combat the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850. Sympathetic whites, including Dr. Benjamin Franklin Long of Godfrey, founded the Illinois Mutual Fire Insurance Company. This legitimate business provided a highly organized, well-disguised cover for an Underground Railroad system that spanned central and northern Illinois. Dr. Long’s farm became the first stop on Rocky Fork’s Underground Railroad. Rocky Fork’s population doubled between 1850 and 1860. When Lincoln and Douglas debated at Alton in 1858, the United States was on the path to war.
Abraham Lincoln carried Monticello Precinct in the 1860 presidential election but did not carry Madison or surrounding counties. When the southern states seceded from the Union, many residents of Southern Illinois sympathized with the Confederacy. In Godfrey, however, a large, enthusiastic crowd immediately gathered to express their loyalty to the Union. Amidst rumors of traitors, county secessions, and invasion, Godfrey residents formed the secret “Monticello Prudential Committee.” Sons of Godfrey’s original settlers served with the Mississippi Ram Fleet, fought in the battles of Ft. Henry and Ft. Donelson in Kentucky, and at the bloody battle of Shiloh in Tennessee. Sgt. Carlos Colby, a Godfrey resident and a nephew of Dr. Benjamin F. Long, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for heroism during the Siege of Vicksburg.
It was time for a fresh start when the soldiers came home victorious and honored the dead. There was a feeling of hope, gaiety, and change in the air. A new generation was in charge. Reminiscences of the pioneering generation became history. New leaders emerged. Reverend Erasmus Green, a black Civil War veteran, presided over the newly built Rocky Fork A.M.E. Church. At Monticello Seminary, women laid aside their hoop skirts and performed in gymnastic exhibitions. Philena Fobes retired. “What is unfinished in one administration,” she said, “may be completed in another.”
Godfrey’s original settlers made astounding progress despite differing styles, values and beliefs. Within a generation, they cleared land, built homes, cultivated farms, and successfully established churches, schools, and businesses.
In 1991, the Village of Godfrey was incorporated. Local monuments, historic landmarks, churches, and traditions commemorate Godfrey’s pioneering generation.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
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