Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Chicago's "I Will" Motto and "Y" Municipal Device History.

The figure depicted and the words “I Will” represent a rival or alternative to Chicago’s official motto “Urbs in Horto” (City in a Garden), which was adopted in 1837.

The figure and slogan were dreamed up by Chicago artist Charles Holloway, who was the first-place winner in an 1891 contest sponsored by The Chicago Inter Ocean newspaper. The contest seems to have been inspired by the city’s zealous preparations for the 1893 World’s Fair, although it wasn’t sponsored by the Fair itself. 

The Inter Ocean challenged artists to come up with “a figure typical of Chicago’s spirit” to represent the city – sort of like an Uncle Sam for the United States or John Bull for Chicago. They enlisted a panel of judges that included famed cartoonist Thomas Nast and the president of the Fair’s board of lady managers, Bertha Honoré Palmer. She and her husband, Potter Palmer, were a famed power couple in Chicago.

Some three hundred artists submitted entries, and Holloway’s entry of a goddess figure suited for battle came out on top. Reflecting her defiant attitude, she wore a breastplate that read "I Will." With her crown depicting a phoenix rising from the flames, she also seems to symbolize the resolve of Chicago to rise from the ashes of the Great Chicago Fire, which destroyed much of the city just 20 years before the Inter Ocean contest. For his inspired creation, Holloway was awarded $200 ($5,775 today)!

Although she wasn’t the official symbol of the 1893 Fair, the Inter Ocean did use her image to represent the Fair. Her image, and the motto, also became a success after the fair.

A few years later, in 1910, a series of postcards featuring Chicago scenes was issued with the “I Will” motto in the corner of each.
Courtesy of my Chicago Postcard Museum.
And the World’s Fair of 1933 used her image extensively to beckon people to come to the fair. Commemorative spoons featuring the “I Will” woman seem to be an especially popular item.

The “I Will” motto enjoyed a resurgence in popularity during the ‘60s and ‘70s – one item we found was a whiskey decanter featuring Chicago landmarks topped with the “I Will” motto.  Another example many people will remember is a stylized “C” logo with four stars and the inscription “I Will – the Spirit of Chicago” on the 2600 series of “L” cars, some of which were in service into the early 2000s.

Sculptor Ellsworth Kelly also picked up on the motto.  He said his 1981 minimalist sculpture, located at the northernmost extent of the fire in Lincoln Park, is dedicated to the “I Will” spirit of the city.  It’s along Fullerton Avenue, north of Lincoln Park Zoo.

Chicago's Municipal Device; the “Y” symbol.
Designed by Danish-born A.J. Roewad, the emblem resulted from an 1892 Chicago Tribune contest that sought an image typical of the city in anticipation of the World’s Columbian Exposition. 
The “Y” symbol, which represents the three branches of the river as they come together at Wolf Point and separate the north, south, and west sides of Chicago, can be found on structures and buildings all across the city. While prominent on many municipal buildings and street lighting boxes, it can often be found interestingly hidden in the facades of older commercial and industrial buildings.
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Monday, May 8, 2017

1871 Great Chicago Fire. Destruction at Fifth Avenue and Madison Street.

A portion of Wells Street (named for Captain William Wells, hero and martyr of the Fort Dearborn Massacre in July of 1812), south of the Chicago River was renamed Fifth Avenue in 1870 to remove negative associations with the Wells name and the streets disrepute. Fifth Avenue was reverted to Wells Street in 1916. Not to be confused with the Fifth Avenue on the west side, formerly Colorado Avenue. 

Both Fifth Avenues were named after the famous New York Avenue in failed efforts to covey prestige.
Fifth Avenue in 1911, five years before the name of the street reverted to Wells St.

The Doremus Laundry on Madison St. Explodes killing 9 and injuring over 50, on March 11, 1901, Chicago.

At 8:14 on the morning of March 11, 1901, when a boiler explosion, not an uncommon event, at the "Doremus Laundry" at 458 West Madison Street (address prior to the 1909 Chicago streets renaming and renumbering) rocked the west side, killing 9 people and injuring more than 50.
The explosion completely destroyed the laundry, at which employees were just getting ready to start the day. The sidewalks were crowded with people hurrying to work, and the streetcars were all overloaded. The explosion was so powerful that it blew the west wall from the Waverly Theater, leaving the auditorium exposed. 
Preliminary investigations revealed that the front end of the boiler had been blown 30 feet away from its original position with the rear section blown nearly as far away in the opposite direction. The boiler had originally been built for the Board of Trade and used there for 11 years before being carted over to the laundry five years earlier.

Small fires broke out in several places, but quick work by the fire companies extinguished them, at which point firemen and policemen directed their efforts toward rescuing those trapped in the wreckage. A number of women were pulled out quickly, but the task became more and more grim as the workers dug deeper into the wreckage. All told, nine bodies were pulled from the ruined building.

The shock of the explosion was felt for a mile in every direction. The Tribune reported, that buildings on both sides of Madison Street, in Throop Street, and Waverly Place were shaken to their foundations, and scores of plate-glass windows were left without a piece of glass in them throughout the area. 

The coroner’s inquiry into the causes of the explosion was extensive and its findings were given at 5:30 p.m. on March 27, 1901. The owner of the laundry, Abram Doremus, was ordered arrested, and he was taken to the Criminal Courts building. After all, it is always somebody's fault. “I am a law-abiding citizen and I must take the result of the investigation philosophically,” Mr. Doremus said. “I am not guilty of any carelessness or negligence in this matter. All I want is justice. I will be able to prove that I am not guilty.” 

The grand jury voted on May 1, 1901 against sending Doremus to trial, and he was sent on his way.

More troubling, though, was the city’s laxity in inspecting the hundreds of boilers toiling away throughout the most populous parts of Chicago. George B. Ballard, a stationary engineer, called to testify at the inquiry, told the jury that during his thirty years’ residence in the city he had never seen a boiler properly tested by the city officials. The Doremus boiler had not been tested since March 13, 1899.

There was one bright spot to emerge from the terror of that morning on Madison Street. On April 29, 1901 Alfred B. Chandler, a victim of the explosion, went to the county clerk’s office and, using his left hand, because his right was still bandaged and his arm in a sling, applied for a marriage license. The bride, 17-year-old Sarah N. McArthur, eleven years Chandler’s junior, had also been injured in the explosion and both the prospective bride and groom had been patients at the county hospital since the explosion.

Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.