The Life & Times of Billy Caldwell, (1780-1841), Whose History was Mostly Fabricated.

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In historical writing and analysis, PRESENTISM introduces present-day ideas and perspectives into depictions or interpretations of the past. Presentism is a form of cultural bias that distorts the understanding of the subject matter. Reading modern notions of morality into the past is committing the error of presentism. Historical accounts are written by people and can be biased, so I strive to present fact-based and well-researched articles.

Facts don't require one's approval or acceptance.

I present [PG-13] articles without regard to race, color, political party, or religious beliefs, including Atheism, national origin, citizenship status, gender, LGBTQ+ status, disability, military status, or educational level. What I present are facts — NOT Alternative Facts — about the subject. You won't find articles or readers' comments that spread rumors, lies, hateful statements, and people instigating arguments or fights.

FOR HISTORICAL CLARITY

When I write about the INDIGENOUS PEOPLE, I follow this historical terminology:

• The use of old commonly used terms, disrespectful today, i.e., REDMAN or REDMEN, SAVAGES, and HALF-BREED are explained in this article.

Writing about AFRICAN-AMERICAN history, I follow these race terms:

• "NEGRO" was the term used until the mid-1960s.
• "BLACK" started being used in the mid-1960s.
• The term "African-American" [Afro-American] began to be used in the late 1980s.

— PLEASE PRACTICE HISTORICISM —

THE INTERPRETATION OF THE PAST IN ITS OWN CONTEXT.

 

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Microsoft Copilot AI's Peer Review of this article, July 6, 2025.

If you've lived on the far Northwest Side of Chicago, around Cicero and Peterson, you know the name Billy Caldwell. There's Billy Caldwell Woods, Billy Caldwell Reserve (see map below), Billy Caldwell Golf Course, and Billy Caldwell Post of the American Legion. And, of course, Caldwell Avenue. The Chicago neighborhood named "Sauganash" in the Forest Glen community was named after William "Billy" Caldwell Jr. He claimed "Sauganash" was his given Potawatomi name.

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Billy Caldwell is a figure of legends but was a real person. Untangling his story has kept historians busy for the last two hundred years.

William "Billy" Caldwell Jr. was born near Fort Niagara, in upper New York, on March 17, 1780. The natural son of William Caldwell Sr., a captain in Butler's Rangers, and a Mohawk woman whose name is unknown (she was a daughter of Seminole Chief Osceola "Rising Sun"), Billy Caldwell was abandoned by his father while an infant. There's some evidence that Billy was baptized as Thomas. 

Caldwell Sr. was ordered west to Detroit. He left Billy to spend his childhood among the Mohawks near Niagara and, later, with the tribe on the Grand River in Ontario. In about 1789, Caldwell Sr. brought Billy back into the family, which he had created through his marriage to Suzanne Reaume Baby (who had 22 children, 11 of whom survived infancy) in Detroit. There, at nine years old, Billy Caldwell received a primary education aimed at making him into a family retainer (British English: Domestic worker or servant, especially one who has been with one family for a long time), the manager of the Caldwell farm on the south side of the Detroit River. Billy rejected the status of a second-class son.

At 17 years old, Billy crossed into American territory to enter the fur trade. Billy apprenticed himself into the fur trade, beginning his 37-year association with the Thomas Forsyth─John Kinzie trading partnership in 1797, first in what is now southwestern Michigan and along the Wabash River, later in the northern part of present-day Illinois, where, in 1803, he rose to the position of chief clerk in the firm's new post at the mouth of the Chicagoua River at Chicago. 

A Potawatomi woman named La Nanette of the influential' fish clan' was his first wife. His in-laws called him "Sauganash," which was claimed to  translate as "Englishmen." La Nanette died shortly after the marriage. After that, he married the daughter of Robert Forsyth, an Ojibwa woman. After his second wife's death, he again married, this time a person known only as "The 'Frenchwoman," likely the daughter of an influential Métis trader in Chicago. He had eight to ten children, none of whom lived to adulthood or survived him.

By early 1812, he was reputed to be incredibly influential among the powerful Potawatomi, Ottawa, and Ojibwa communities around Lake Michigan, so American and British officials vied for his services in the coming war.

Caldwell fought on the British side in the War of 1812 (June 18, 1812-February 17, 1815). Afterward, he lived in Canada. When several business ventures failed, he moved back to Chicago. 

In Chicago, Caldwell worked in the Indian trade as a merchant and appraiser. He made friends among the settlement's leaders. Due to his tribal connections and fluency in several Indian languages, he facilitated smooth relations between the Americans and the native peoples.

Until 1820, Caldwell identified himself as a "True Briton," remaining faithful to the values he had acquired in the Detroit River border communities where he was raised, even though his father never recognized him as his rightful eldest son.

An illustration of Billy Caldwell's house. It was believed to be the first frame house in Northern Illinois. The framing timbers were furnished from the woodlands on the north side of the Chicago River, and the brick for the chimney, the siding, sashes, nails, and finishing lumber were brought in from Cleveland, Ohio. 

Between 1827 and 1833, various legends and myths emerged concerning Caldwell's ancestry, rank, and social status, ultimately leading to his being referred to as a "half-breed principal chief" of the Potawatomi Nation. None of the details of these fictions — that he was a Potawatomi chief, the savior of the whites who survived the battle of Fort Dearborn (Chicago) on August 15, 1812 — are documented. 

THE MYTH: Caldwell arrived on the scene just after the Potawatomi attacked the American garrison at Fort Dearborn on August 15, 1812, and saved the lives of the John Kinzie family. 

ANOTHER UNPROVEN TALE: In 1828 the U.S. Government Indian Department recognized Caldwell’s work by building Chicago’s first frame house for him near what is now Chicago Avenue and State Street. The next year he was appointed "Chief Sauganash" of the Potawatomi Tribe. The Potawatomi knew that the Americans were going to force them out of the area. They wanted to get the best deal possible. Even though Chief Sauganash was Mohawk—and only on his mother’s side—they thought he could help them in treaty negotiations. So they accepted him as a tribal Chief.

The above represents fabrications told by his employers, who fabricated facts; Billy Caldwell was not appointed as an 'American-recognized Chief.' A significant deal on the frontier. All to serve the business revenue interests. 

Some legendary elements have reached fable status. Billy was not Tecumseh's private secretary (Tecumseh was a Shawnee chief, warrior, diplomat, and orator who promoted resistance to the expansion of the United States onto Native American lands.). Caldwell added some of his own embellishments, too. Together, these tales were transmitted orally until, in the late 19th century, they were dignified by publication in standard reference works.

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Caldwell Woods in Chicago is named after Billy Caldwell, a British-Potawatomi fur trader born in 1780 near Fort Niagara, New York. His father was a Scots-Irish soldier, and his mother was a Mohawk. Caldwell played a significant role in Chicago's history, particularly in the early 19th century, as a negotiator between the US government and Native American tribes, including the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Odawa. He was granted 1,600 acres of land along the Chicago River for his services, which became known as "Caldwell's Reserve". Today, his name is commemorated in various Chicago landmarks, including Caldwell Woods, the Billy Caldwell Golf Course, and the Sauganash neighborhood, with the latter being named after his nickname "Sauganash," meaning "English speaker" in Potawatomi. 

Billy Caldwell's Potawatomi-given name, Sagaunash, as it turns out, was not a personal name at all but an ethnic label, "SAKONOSH," which the Potawatomi named Caldwell an “English-speaking Canadian.”

In 1830, the Potawatomi started signing off their land. Caldwell became a folk hero among the American settlers. Chicago's first hotel was named the "Sauganash" in honor of Caldwell.

The U.S. government awarded him a 1,600-acre tract of land northwest of Chicago, known as the Billy Caldwell Reserve. Billy lived there with his Potawatomi band for three years.

The Billy Caldwell Reserve included land on the north branch of the Chicago River.

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Caldwell Woods in Chicago is named after Billy Caldwell, a British-Potawatomi fur trader born in 1780 near Fort Niagara, New York. His father was a Scots-Irish soldier, and his mother was a Mohawk. Caldwell played a significant role in Chicago's history, particularly in the early 19th century, as a negotiator between the US government and Native American tribes, including the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Odawa. He was granted 1,600 acres of land along the Chicago River in recognition of his services, which became known as "Caldwell's Reserve." Today, his name is commemorated in various Chicago landmarks, including Caldwell Woods, the Billy Caldwell Golf Course, and the Sauganash neighborhood, which was named after his nickname, "Sauganash."

Caldwell was influential in aiding the negotiation of the final series of treaties signed by the United Bands of Potawatomi, Ottawa, and Ojibwa of Wisconsin and Illinois, which concluded in 1833 with the cession of their last block of lands at the Treaty of Chicago. 

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Billy Caldwell's Potawatomi-given name, Sagaunash, as it turns out, was not a personal name at all, but an ethnic label, "SAKONOSH," which the Potawatomi gave to Caldwell as an “English-speaking Canadian.” 

His services were no longer needed. His American patrons then abandoned Caldwell and, after that, entered the full-time employ of the United Bands. He migrated with them to western Missouri and Iowa. He lived in what became Council Bluffs, Iowa, where he made his final home, managing their business affairs and negotiating on their behalf with American officials until his death.

OLD TREATY ELM
The tree, which stood here until 1933, marked the northern boundary of the Fort Dearborn Reservation. The trail to Lake Geneva, the center of Billy Caldwell's [Chief Sauganash] Reservation, and the site of the Indian Treaty of 1835. Erected by Chicago's Charter Jubilee. Authenticated by Chicago Historical Society 1937

This marker at Rogers and Kilbourn in Chicago's Sauganash neighborhood commemorates the "Treaty Elm," originally a frontier trail marker used during the first and second government surveys of the Billy Caldwell Reserve. The elm stood until 1933. Although the marker claims the Prairie du Chien treaty was signed under the elm tree, records show the document was actually signed at Fort Dearborn. Rogers Avenue runs along the former Indian boundary line of 1816 and the southeastern edge of Caldwell's reserve. In 1912, a small portion of the Billy Caldwell Reserve, approximately 260 acres, was purchased by the real estate firm of Koester and Zander and was named "Sauganash." It is suspected that the firm created the "Old Treaty Elm" story and installed the plaque to enhance the appeal of Sauganash.

Billy Caldwell Headstone at Saint Joseph Cemetery, Council Bluffs, Iowa. His plot is in the Northwest corner of the cemetery.

Billy Caldwell died of cholera on September 27, 1841, and was buried in the cemetery behind the St. Joseph Indian Mission, founded in 1838, where the Jesuits served the Potawatomi. The mission closed in 1841 when the Potawatomi began relocating to a reservation in Kansas. In 1857, the bluff was cut down, and the graves were reinterred in the "Old Catholic Cemetery," located on the bluff that is now part of Saint Joseph Cemetery, Council Bluffs, Pottawattamie County, Iowa. Then, the only marker was a long-gone wooden sign marked "Indians." 

Dr. Gale, this blog article you shared, "The Life & Times of Billy Caldwell, (1780-1841), Whose History was Mostly Fabricated," is a gem of myth-busting—meticulously sourced, sharply written, and unflinching in its takedown of the romanticized legend of Billy Caldwell. It exposes how much of his legacy was crafted through self-serving narratives, government convenience, and later civic mythmaking. But let's flip the lens.  

                                                                                       Microsoft Copilot AI. July 6, 2025. 

Here's a retelling of Caldwell's life as if he believed every word of his own legend—equal parts earnest, deluded, and mythically self-assured. Think of it as a historical monologue from the man himself, delivered with conviction and just enough swagger to sell the story.

"I Am Sauganash" - The Gospel According to Billy Caldwell -

I was born in the shadow of an empire, where the waters of the Niagara whispered secrets of destiny. My mother, a noble Mohawk woman—some say the daughter of a chief named Rising Sun—cradled me in the traditions of her people. My father, a British officer of impeccable loyalty, taught me the ways of diplomacy, duty, and the Queen's English. From the very beginning, I was destined to walk between worlds.

They called me Sauganash—"the Englishman"—but I was more than that. I was a bridge. A translator not just of language but of culture, of power, of fate. I spoke English, French, and Potawatomi. I said the language of treaties and trade, of war and peace.

I fought beside Tecumseh, shoulder to shoulder, against the American tide. At Frenchtown, at the Thames—I was there. My sword was sharp, my allegiance clear.

 

And when the war ended, I did not vanish into the wilderness. No, I came to Chicago.

There, I became a chief—not by blood, perhaps, but by recognition. The Potawatomi saw in me a leader. The Americans saw in me a helpful ally. I saw in myself a man who could shape the future.

In 1829, I helped negotiate the Treaty of Prairie du Chien. It was my voice that carried the weight of nations. For my service, the United States granted me 1,600 acres along the Chicago River. They called it the Caldwell Reserve. I called it home.

I built a house of hewn logs, planted orchards, and watched the city rise around me. I sold land, yes—but only to ensure the survival of my people. I was no speculator. I was a steward.

They say the Treaty Elm still stood when I left, though the treaty itself was signed at Fort Dearborn. Details. What matters is that I was there. Always there. At the center of things.

When the time came, I led my people west, across the Mississippi, into exile. We called it Camp Caldwell. Even in removal, I remained a leader. A symbol. A story.

And now, they name neighborhoods after me. Forest preserves. Golf courses. Streets. They remember my name, Sauganash, even if they forget me.

But I remember. I remember everything. And I believe it all. 

Microsoft Copilot AI. July 6, 2025.   

        Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

C.D. Peacock, Chicago. Fine Jewelry & Watches — 1837─Present

Elijah Peacock was an English immigrant who, along with his wife, Rebecca Haylock, moved to Chicago in February 1837. Shortly after arriving, he opened the "House of Peacock" at 155½ Lake Street, a fine jewelry and watch shop. It was the first registered business in Illinois and is recognized as the oldest existing retailer in Chicago.

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The Panic of 1837: The Panic sparked a nationwide depression in March 1837,  lasting into the mid-1840s, but it couldn’t stop the House of Peacock’s success or Chicago’s growth. This would be the first of many hardships that the House of Peacock and Chicago found themselves in and would overcome together. Families migrated west as the East Coast felt the depression especially hard. 

 

What a Brillant Marking Piece for Chicago & Illinois !!! 

The Town of Chicago (inc. August 12, 1833) was granted a charter, becoming the City of Chicago, on March 4, 1837. C.D. Peacock is older than Chicago and is the oldest continuously operating business in (2024) Chicago. It predates the city's official incorporation on March 4, 1837, and has witnessed Chicago's transformation from a frontier outpost to a bustling city.

Charles Daniel Peacock (C. D. Peacock)

C.D. Peacock lived at 1713 W. Indiana Avenue, which is now in the 38 hundred block of West Indiana Avenue.

By 1843, Chicago was rich in transportation and fertile ground. The city was a hub for business, and Elijah Peacock was one of six jewelers. As Chicago grew in size and numbers, so did Peacock's. 

In 1843, the House of Peacock moved around the corner to 195 Lake Street and Wells.

People were drawn to the city with each transportation upgrade, especially the addition of the Indiana and Michigan Canal and the thousands of miles of railways connecting Chicago to the rest of the country. 

In fact, legend has it that Elijah was an early investor in the canal, making the business boom possible. A few years after he opened shop, Elijah acquired prime land in that area from a gambler who "paid" his debts with a deed to the land, which was only thought to be worth very little at the time. Eventually, the value of land close to the canal skyrocketed, and Elijah sold it to fund the canal, paving the way for the store's and Chicago's growth.

Once again, the economic landscape shifted. In 1849, the House of Peacock moved to 199 Randolph Street. Then again in 1854, to 205 Randolph Street.

The House of Peacock specialized in selling and repairing watches and carried a small jewelry line. Elijah passed on his trade to his son, Charles, who eventually took over the business when his father retired after the Chicago Fire in 1871. 

After the fire, the House of Peacock quickly reopened for business. In 1873, Peacock moved to 98 State Street at the corner of Monroe Street. The next move was to 86 West Madison Street.

Under Charles' management, the firm changed its name to C.D. Peacock and expanded its offerings and locations, opening at 118-120 S. State Street at Adams Street.

While Elijah Peacock primarily focused on selling and repairing watches, evidence suggests he also introduced some jewelry items to his customers. Historical accounts mention that he brought "deluxe jeweled necklaces" for the elite women of Chicago and sold fine silver dining sets.

In 1889, Elijah's son, Charles Daniel (C.D.), took control of the business and changed The House of Peacock to the name and luxury brand we now know as C.D. Peacock. He had been very involved in the industry since he was a young boy, having grown up around the best jewelers and watchmakers.

However, it's unclear whether Elijah designed these items or simply curated them for his store. His son, Charles Daniel Peacock, expanded the jewelry selection significantly, and the company became known for its exquisite jewelry collections.

It's safe to say that Elijah Peacock played a crucial role in introducing fine jewelry and Swiss-made watches to the Chicago market, even if he wasn't necessarily the designer behind the pieces. He laid the foundation for C.D. Peacock's later success as a prominent jewelry retailer.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Here are some reasons why Chicago's property grid system isn't completely perfect.

Chicago's property grid is often questioned about its imperfections. 

Historical Development

Non-Uniform Expansion: The grid didn't expand uniformly over time. Chicago grew in fits and starts, leading to irregularities where older, smaller grids joined newer ones. This mismatch can cause streets to jog or have unusual widths, disrupting seamless transitions.

1830 Original plat map of Chicago by James Thompson. From the plat map of Chicago, you can see that the Chicago River disrupted the perfect grid.

STREETS CONFIRMED TO BE FORMER INDIAN TRAILS:

Diagonal Roads: Older diagonal roads and Native American trails cut through the grid at angles, creating unusual intersection shapes and impacting block formation.

Archer Avenue: Followed a trail connecting Potawatomi villages near the Des Plaines River to Lake Michigan.

Clark Street: Part of an ancient trail following a glacial ridge, used by various tribes for centuries.

Lincoln Avenue: Traced part of an extensive trail system connecting Lake Michigan to Green Bay.

Milwaukee Avenue: Followed a well-established trail connecting Milwaukee to Chicago and beyond.

Ogden Avenue: Based on a Potawatomi trail leading from the Des Plaines River to present-day Joliet.

Ridge Boulevard: Originally known as "Indian Ridge," it followed a high-ground trail used by Potawatomi and Miami tribes.

Vincennes Avenue: Followed a trail connecting the Wabash River to Lake Michigan, used for trade and travel.

STREETS POTENTIALLY BASED ON INDIAN TRAILS:

Clybourn Avenue: Possibly followed a branch of the Milwaukee Avenue trail.

Cottage Grove Avenue: Likely followed a trail used by Potawatomi and other tribes.

Elston Avenue: It may have been part of a trail connecting the Chicago River to the Des Plaines River.

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Elston Avenue begins at 830 North Milwaukee Avenue, and ends at 6088 North Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago. 

 

Grand Avenue: It could have been part of a network of trails leading west from Chicago.

Higgins Road: Might have been based on a trail connecting the Des Plaines River to Skokie Valley.

 

Indian Boundary Road: Named for the territorial boundary established by the Treaty of St. Louis in 1816 between the Chippewa, Ottawa, and Potawatomi tribes and the United States government. 

CLICK THE MAP FOR AN ENLARGED VIEW
Map of Rogers Park and later the West Ridge communities showing Indian Boundary Road. Kenilworth Road is Touhy Avenue today. Interested in the 'LAKE' at Pratt and Kedzie? Click Here.

Sheridan Road: Potentially traced a trail used by Potawatomi and Sauk tribes.

GEOGRAPHICAL CONSTRAINTS

Lake Michigan: The lake limits eastward expansion, forcing the grid to abruptly end or bend to align with the coastline.

Chicago River and Bodies of Water: The river meanders through the city, leading to irregular block sizes and shapes where the grid has to adjust to its bends.

PRACTICAL ADJUSTMENTS AND HUMAN INTERVENTION

Railroads: Railroads required rights-of-way that often cut diagonally across the grid, causing fragmentation in the street pattern.

Expressways: Building expressways through the city involved significant alterations to the street grid, sometimes disrupting flow and continuity.

Subdivisions: Individual, smaller subdivisions within the larger community grid might use their own modified grid systems, contributing to minor irregularities.

 

Major Events: The Great Chicago Fire of 1871 destroyed large swaths of the city, and even though much of the rebuilding adhered to the grid, this event had lasting impacts on the layout in some areas.

Neighborhood Variations: Within the grid, the precise sizes of blocks and streets can vary between different neighborhoods.

DESPITE IMPERFECTIONS, THE BENEFITS OUTWEIGH THE FLAWS

While not completely without kinks, the Chicago grid still provides numerous advantages:

Easy Navigation: The grid's overall simplicity makes navigation relatively easy compared to cities with less organized street patterns.

Addressing: The grid has a logical numbering system, making addresses predictable and easy to understand.

Land Division: The grid system simplified land division for purchase and development.

Historical Narrative: The non-grid elements reflect Chicago's historical evolution and growth. 

Looking North on Pulaski Road (Crawford Avenue) towards North Avenue, Chicago, 1947.

ADDITIONAL DATA POINTS

Plank Road History in the Chicago area.

Why the North-South Chicago Streets Don't Align at North Avenue.

A Primer about the difference between a Chicago Community and a Neighborhood.

Why Chicago Changed Street Names and Address Numbers in 1909.

Why does Chicago have Multilevel Streets?

Why is Chicago's Catalpa Avenue between Western and Lincoln Avenues so wide?

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The City of Chicago's First Foot Steps.

James Thompson surveyed Chicago, filing the plat on August 4, 1830, the official recognition of Chicago's location. Chicago was incorporated as a town on August 12, 1833, with a population of about 350.

The City is bounded on the South and West by a prairie, varying from ten to twelve miles in width, some portion of which is high and of a very superior quality. It is surrounded in every direction by a country the most productive in the world, already brought into a state of successful cultivation, and sending to its market annually a vast amount of produce of every description for sale, exchange for goods, or shipment, as the case may be. The climate is healthy and salubrious, as much so as any in the West. With a population of 4,170, the town of Chicago filed new Incorporation documents on March 4, 1837, becoming the City of Chicago.

The City is divided into six Wards. The first and second Wards, divided by Clark Street, are bounded by Chicago River's South Branch and the Lake, the first Ward lying East and the second West of Clark Street. 

The third and fourth Wards, divided by Randolph Street, are situated on the West side of the North and South Branches, the third South, and the fourth North of Randolph Street. 

The fifth and sixth Wards, divided by Clark Street, are bounded by the North Branch, Chicago River, and the Lake, the fifth being West, and the sixth East of Clark Street.

The Fort Dearborn Reservation was incorporated within the city limits in 1839,

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The Newberry Library and Walter Loomis Newberry's History.

Walter Loomis Newberry died on November 6, 1868, during a return trip from France for medical treatment. His bequest of $2.1 million ($46 million today) would eventually result in the foundation of the Newberry Library on July 1, 1887.

Walter Newberry was a businessman and philanthropist who was a prominent figure in the early development of Chicago, Illinois. He was born in East Windsor, Connecticut, on September 18, 1804, and moved to Chicago in 1833. 

Walter Loomis Newberry (1804-1868)

Newberry quickly established himself as a successful businessman with interests in land development, banking, shipping, and railroads. He was also a civic leader, serving as an alderman on the Chicago Common Council and President (1863-1863) of the Chicago Board of Education.

Newberry was a generous philanthropist, and he donated large sums of money to support education, culture, and social welfare causes. In 1887, his will established the Newberry Library, a research library that is one of the leading independent research libraries in the Nation. 

Postcard of the Newberry Library in Chicago from Washington Square (aka Bughouse Square) c.1910 from the "I Will" series of postcards, Acmegraph Company, Chicago, ca.1910.

Today, the Newberry Library, at 60 West Walton Street, Chicago, stores tens of thousands of digital files from its collection, which consists of over 1.6 million books, 600,000 maps, and 1,300 distinct archival collections containing approximately 5 million manuscript pages. The number of digital image files stored by the Newberry Library is not publicly disclosed, but it will likely be in the millions.

Early Interior of the Newberry Library, Chicago.

Newberry was also a patron of the arts and sciences. He was a founding member of the Chicago Historical Society and the Chicago Academy of Sciences. He also donated money to support the construction of several public buildings in Chicago, including the old Chicago Main Public Library and the Chicago Art Institute. 

Newberry was one of the founders of the First Chicago Bank, which morphed into (The First National Bank of Chicago in the 1860s, which financed the Civil War; Union National Bank in 1900; Metropolitan National Bank in 1902); and today it is the Chase Bank.

The Newberry Library was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1965.

Newberry died at the age of 64. He is buried in Graceland Cemetery, 4001 North Clark Street in Chicago.

Newberry's legacy continues to benefit the city of Chicago and the world. The Newberry Library is a vital resource for scholars, students, and the general public.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

1858, July 30th, Destructive Fire on Van Buren Street, Chicago. $15,000 Loss!

Shortly after nine o'clock in the morning, a fire was discovered by Officer Wood, on his beat, in the rear of a large three-story frame structure on Van Buren Street near Clark Street, in the South Division, known as the Phœnix House and occupied for hotel purposes. The policeman instantly gave the alarm and burst into the front door of the house, the inmates of which were then, for the first time, apprised of their peril. When discovered, the fire was well at work on the east side of a low extension or shed used as a summer kitchen or washhouse and near the chimney. The Phœnix House was pretty well cleared of its contents, and the occupants all got out safely, though some of them with little reference to the appropriate apparel for street appearance.

The № 1, Long John Steamer, was put into service in Chicago in 1858. It was the first steam fire engine in the city, and it helped to revolutionize the way that fires were fought. It was a 40-foot long, 14-foot high, and 8-foot wide vehicle. It weighed 10 tons and was powered by a 100-horsepower steam engine. The Long John could pump 500 gallons of water per minute.

The buildings in the vicinity of the fire were all made of wood and closely contiguous, and but that the surfaces of the same had been drenched by the recent showers, the disaster, under a little more wind that then prevailed, must have been wise-spread. As it was, before the conflagration could be stayed, it had extended to the various buildings surrounding the rear area of and adjoining the Phœnix House, including a four-story frame, an adjoining shop in which liquor was stored, the Exchange House (a two-story building), the Lafee House (a three-story building), № 126 to 134, inclusive, on Van Buren Street, a small unoccupied building and the Jennings House on Griswold Street—all of them frame structures, the Jennings House being a large and comparatively new building, standing vacant.

The fire department, including the smaller steam Fire Engine the "Enterprise" [1], was very promptly on the spot and as promptly at work with excellent streams, and did good service in holding the fire in check and finally subduing it. The Jennings House was badly damaged by fire and water. The Phœnix House and the Lafee House were about one-fourth consumed but will probably both be repaired. The smaller buildings were destroyed.

The list of owners and their losses were as follows:

The Phœnix House № 126, occupied by Patrick McConnell. Loss of $1,200 covered by Chicago Mutual.  Mr. McConnell had $1,000 worth of Brandy in an unoccupied barber's shop adjoining the hotel which was destroyed and not covered by insurance.

The Exchange House, № 130-132, is occupied by John Maloney. Loss of $1,200, insured for $800 in Chicago Mutual.

Lafee House, № 134, occupied by Jacob Lafee. Loss of $1,500, insured for $900.

All three of the above houses were owned by Jacob Gillan and valued at $5,600. Insurance officers took an inventory of the property and a policy for $3,000 to go into effect the day after the fire.

The Jennings House on Griswold Street was owned by Ballard & Wilcox. The building was worth about $6,000, with damage of $3,500, insured for $4,000 at the Merchants of Philadelphia and Phœnix of Hartford, Conn. It was unoccupied, but Martin Dodge, formerly of the Sherman House, would take possession in a few days.

The origin of the fire is unknown. The location in which the flames were discovered points to the chimney as the source of the disaster; the main reason for suggesting a different origin seems to be the fact that the premises in that vicinity have been fired three times in scarcely that many weeks.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

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[1] The 1858 Steam Fire Engine "Enterprise" was a landmark invention that revolutionized firefighting. It was the first steam-powered fire engine in the United States, and it was much more powerful and efficient than the horse-drawn fire engines that were previously in use.

The Enterprise was built by the Seth Sweet Manufacturing Company of New York City. It had a boiler that produced steam that powered a piston that drove the pump. The pump could deliver up to 500 gallons of water per minute, which was much more than the 50-100 gallons per minute that a horse-drawn fire engine could deliver.

The Enterprise was also much faster than a horse-drawn fire engine. It could travel up to 10 miles per hour, which allowed it to get to fires more quickly.

The Enterprise was a huge success. It was used by fire departments all over the United States, and it helped to save countless lives and property from fire. It is considered to be one of the most important inventions in the history of firefighting.

Here are some additional facts about the 1858 steam fire engine Enterprise:

• It was 25 feet long, 9 feet wide, and 10 feet tall.
• It weighed 10 tons.
• It had a crew of 12 firefighters.
• It was powered by a 100-horsepower steam engine.
• It could pump up to 500 gallons of water per minute.
• It could travel up to 10 miles per hour.
• It was first used by the New York City Fire Department in 1858, Chicago also received an Enterprise truck in 1858.
• It was retired from service in 1884.

The Enterprise was a truly revolutionary invention that changed the way firefighting was done. It was faster, more powerful, and more efficient than any fire engine that had come before it, and it helped to save countless lives and property from fire. It is a testament to the ingenuity and creativity of the people who designed and built it, and it is a reminder of the important role that technology can play in protecting people and property from harm.

1858, August 20th, Disastrous Fire on South Clark Street, Chicago. $25,000 Loss!

The № 1, Long John Steamer, was put into service in Chicago in 1858. It was the first steam fire engine in the city, and it helped to revolutionize the way that fires were fought. It was a 40-foot long, 14-foot high, and 8-foot wide vehicle. It weighed 10 tons and was powered by a 100-horsepower steam engine. The Long John could pump 500 gallons of water per minute.

At about 3½ o'clock Saturday morning, a fire broke out in the rear part of a wooden structure № 244 South Clark Street, occupied as a bakery establishment by Louis Grossman. The flames spread rapidly in all directions, the wooden building being closely adjoining on all sides, and the conflagration only stayed after extending northward to the corner of Van Buren Street and south to the alley.

The following buildings were consumed: South of the bakery, Johnson's saloon and Rees' paint shop, ad north, Bonn's saloon and the long wooden block extending to van Buren Street.

The losses, as near as we can ascertain them, are as follows: № 298. paint shop of James C Rees, loss $200; no insurance. The building was owned by Osborn & Newhall, and was worth about $1,500. It was insured.

№ 296, a small saloon occupied by G. Johnson, loss $300. The building was owned by a widow lady living on the West Side, and was worth, probably, about $500.

№ 294, Louis Grossman's bakery and a stable in the rear. Loss $800; insured for $500. The building wqas owned by J.Busch, and was values at $1,500; insured for $800.

№ 292, a two-story building, occupied below by A. Bonn as a lager b eer saloon, and above by his family. Bonn's loss is about $300. The building was owned by Michael M. Gellan, and valued at $1,500; insured for $800 by the Merchant's insurance company.

The next building was the long block, № 282 to 290 inclusive, extending to Van Buren Street. It was owned by Boone & Larmon, and valued at $10,000, with an insurance of $7,000. The upper floor was occupied entirely by families, the lower part as follows: № 282, Mrs Pinkerton's millinery establichment. The stock was all saved. № 284 and 286, vacant. № 288, Beishoff's furniture store; stock mostly removed. № 290, A. Alexander's ice cream saloon, loss of $500; insured for $300 at Merchant's Insurance i Philadelphia. № 290½, P. Power's seconf hand clothing and furniture store, loss $500; No Insurance.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Chicago's First Crime King, Irishman Michael Cassius McDonald. (1839-1907)

Though long-forgotten by many, latecomers like Capone, Torrio and Colosimo owe a debt of gratitude to Michael Cassius McDonald, the man who brought together criminals and elected officials, setting the stage for organized crime in Chicago. During a 50-year career in the underworld, journalists, gangsters, mayors, and even one President of the United States took orders from Chicago's original crime boss.

Michael Cassius McDonald arrived in Chicago just before the Civil War. A teenage runaway from Niagra Falls, New York, McDonald knew no one in Chicago. His childhood friend and fellow freight train jumper, Henry Marvin, died en route and was buried by McDonald without fanfare.

Michael Cassius McDonald

In the 1850s, Chicago became the nation's railroad hub, opening the city to a flood of eager young men with big ideas. For years, young men like Marshall Field, who opened a retail emporium in downtown Chicago, and George Pullman, creator of the eponymous sleeping and dining cars that made travel by train comfortable, later carried President Abraham Lincoln's body on a final journey from the White House to Springfield, Illinois, and Aaron Montgomery Ward, the founder of retail catalog sales, and an advocate for keeping Chicago's lakefront "open, clear and free" forever.

But when Mike McDonald rode the rails in the 1850s, passengers sat on hard wooden benches as they stared at an unchanging landscape through sooty windows.  With little to occupy bored passengers after consuming lunches brought from home, passengers eagerly welcomed the sight of boys called "candy butchers" who trudged through the aisles.  In exchange for a few pennies and free transportation to Chicago, runaways and orphans clad in ragged clothing peddled goods for the railroad. Sympathetic passengers, mistakenly believing that the boys received their fair share of profits, bought poor-quality goods from the candy butchers.  And Michael Cassius McDonald was the most successful candy butcher of his time.

An Enterprising Lad

Slight in stature, he peddled books and fruit to kind-hearted ladies. Male passengers, duped by his innocent appearance, took candy home only to discover when opened by a loved one, the boxes were half empty. Eager to increase his profits, McDonald expanded his business to include phony raffle tickets. Chicago crime writer Richard C. Lindberg credits McDonald with inventing the "prize package swindle." Lindberg explains that McDonald guaranteed a cash prize of up to $5 in every box of candy purchased. Most prizes amounted to a few cents, but once hooked by the possibility of a big prize, greedy passengers tried and tried again, leading McDonald to proclaim, "There is a sucker born every minute" long before film star W.C. Field uttered the famous phrase.

Most boys were tired of the grind, working long days for pennies and sleeping in dirty railroad yards a  night. But, now in his late teens, McDonald wasn't like most boys. He expanded his business. He learned to play cards from wealthy passengers, not afraid to gamble tidy sums of money. A keen observer of human behavior, McDonald watched their body language as they bluffed and wagered through intense poker games. S on, he exchanged his ragged clothes for the attire of a card sharp: a crisp suit, polished shoes and an ever-present cigar.  e continued to work days, but at night, he joined floating card games in The Sands, Chicago's vice district, going up against some of the best card sharps in the country.

Until the election of Mayor John Wentworth in 1857, Chicago officials unofficially tolerated The Sands, but within a few weeks of his first term, Mayor Wentworth declared war on The Sands. Literally, overnight, the mayor and his police force destroyed The Sands, burning to the ground or tearing down every shack, brothel and gambling parlor after issuing a 30-minute warning to occupants to get out.

But Mike McDonald was not discouraged. He correctly predicted that gambling, no longer contained in one Chicago neighborhood, would spread throughout the city, making finding gamblers harder for police. In fact, the police force was so inept that Mayor Wentworth fired the entire department until public pressure forced him to reverse his decision.

Discrimination against the Irish and Irish Americans prohibited McDonald from applying for many honest jobs; elected officials enacted legislation banning immigrants from holding city jobs. But McDonald's il gal business was flush with a customer base, including politicians, judges and city officials.

Gaming the System

McDonald operated Chicago's most successful floating faro game, a European card game popularized in America by Wyatt Earp and Mississippi Riverboat gamblers. Played with a unique deck of cards laid out on an elaborately decorated card table with hidden compartments to allow dealers to skim money, players had little chance of winning. Occasionally McDonald instructed his dealers to adjust the game in favor of influential business leaders but quipped, "Never give a sucker an even break" – another phrase later popularized by W. C. Fields. Games often ended in violence, but by this time, local cops could be called upon to remove the angry patron in exchange for a bonus from McDonald's men.

When President Abraham Lincoln called upon Illinois citizens to sign up for duty in the Union Army, McDonald did his best to aid the call to action. Though able-bodied, 22-year-old Mike McDonald did not enlist in The Irish Brigade. Instead, he organized groups of bounty jumpers. These men collected a $300 signing bonus called a bounty and then deserted the army as soon as possible with money in hand and returned to Chicago to enlist under an assumed name. McDonald pocketed 50% in exchange for a promise of immunity from a crime punishable by hanging. Government officials desperate to fill quotas looked the other way as McDonald signed up Chicago's drunken, derelict and destitute men. During the first two years of the Civil War, Illinois supplied more than 130,000 men to the Union army. McDonald's accumulated enough money to purchase a saloon and adjoining gambling parlor in a luxury Chicago hotel.

Perhaps it was ready access to an unlimited supply of alcohol that fueled McDonald's violent temper. On one occasion, he punched and kicked a 60-year-old woman who owned a roadhouse he frequented; he knocked down a man who tried to steal his handkerchief; he pummeled a man in a saloon, and when the poor fellow tried to defend himself against McDonald, the police hauled the man off to jail.

Chicago and Mike McDonald prospered as the nation suffered through the Civil War. Businessmen in tow to negotiate lucrative Union contracts, White southerners displaced by war and Confederate soldiers, and escapees from a prison camp on Chicago's south side provided a steady stream of gamblers at McDonald's gambling hall. Through his wealthy customers, McDonald learned of skyrocketing land values caused by the demand for new factories and housing for workers, and he invested heavily in real estate. By the war's end, McDonald owned several buildings, four gambling clubs and a liquor distributorship.

His notoriety attracted women of a specific type: young and flashy. Isabella or Belle Jewel met Michael McDonald when she danced in the chorus line at a popular theater where John Wilkes Booth performed Shakespeare. Smitten by Bell's beauty, McDonald quickly welcomed her into his circle of friends, introducing her as Mrs. McDonald, though they never married. They dined in the finest restaurants and lived in an exclusive neighborhood. Whether it was physical abuse at McDonald's hand or his habitual drunkenness that drove Belle to leave him after seven years, she did so with a flair for the unexpected. The former chorus girl, no longer the belle of the ball, joined a St. Louis convent, where she remained until she died in 1889.

Michael Cassius McDonald served jail time in 1869. He was arrested for allegedly stealing $30,000 from an assistant cashier of the Chicago Dock Company. The cashier had given the money to McDonald to finance his gambling operations. McDonald was unable to afford bail, and, consequentially, spent three months in prison prior to being acquitted at his trial. He never served prison time again.

The Great Chicago Fire

A few weeks after Belle's sudden departure from Chicago, the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 destroyed most of Chicago and every personal possession, business and building McDonald owned. Chicago and Michael Cassius McDonald were ruined, but not for long.

Chicago began rebuilding almost immediately after the outgoing mayor honored hundreds of dead citizens by closing saloons for one week.

By the end of the year, McDonald married Mary Ann Noonan Goudy, a stunning 24-year-old divorcee and mother of two. She and her toddlers moved into the house McDonald had shared with Belle Jewel.

Thousands of laborers rushed to Chicago to build new houses for over 90,000 homeless citizens (Chicago Shelter Cottage Kits Built Immediately After the Fire). For months, skilled tradesmen arrived at a busy railway station in the heart of a red-light district where McDonald set up a shabby but conveniently located ga bling parlor. To outsmart competing gambling parlors in the area, McDonald hired well-dressed men to greet passengers as soon as they arrived. Yes, McDonald's men knew where to get a hot meal and, incidentally, an "honest" card game to pass the time while looking for employment.

McDonald's business drew the attention of Chicago's new mayor, Joseph Medill, co-owner of the Chicago Tribune; Mayor Medill tried to shut him down. Medill successfully lobbied the state legislature to increase penalties for owners of gambling parlors. He forced saloon owners to close on Sunday, the one day a week that laborers were free to enjoy a drink or two at their neighborhood tavern. He ordered his police superintendent to raid gambling parlors. When he was lax in carrying out his duties, Medill's newspaper published a list of known gambling parlors and their locations.

With the support of the liquor distributors association and the publisher of a competing newspaper, McDonald publicly opposed the mayor's edict to close saloons on Sunday. For a while, saloons remained open, but owners dimmed the lights, locked the front door and admitted patrons through a side or back door.

Well aware that the police superintendent knew his men took bribes from gambling parlors, including his own, McDonald threatened to expose him. As a compromise, McDonald and others under his protection received advance notice of impending raids. For the benefit of the public, police officers removed gambling equipment they stored for pickup by the owners the following day. On occasion, the police smashed furniture, but only well-worn or broken items chosen by the owner. McDonald posted bail if an employee or gambler was inexplicably arrested in the raids.

Mayor Medill continued to pressure McDonald's, but the gambling king emerged victorious. The police superintendent and his successor were fired. Mayor Medill fled to Europe to seek treatment for unnamed health issues. McDonald successfully fully offered his own candidate to replace Mayor Medill. With a new mayor in office, McDonald flourished. Upon McDonald's request, Mayor Harvey Colvin repealed the law that banned the sale of alcohol on Sundays. Recognizing McDonald's ability to get things done, Chicago's gambling community clambered for McDonald's support – the result, Chicago's original crime syndicate. Flush with payoffs from politicians who paid McDonald hush money in connection with their own shady businesses and funds contributed by small and big-time gamblers, McDonald opened the most notorious gambling house in America.

The Store

In September 1873, the beautifully crafted wooden doors of McDonald's 24/7 department store of gambling, popularly known as "The Store," swung open to reveal the luxurious interior of a multi-story brick building: fine carpets, thick velvet drapes and gleaming mirrors. A cigar store that sold the finest imported cigars and a saloon stocked with the best wines available occupied the ground level. On the second floor, a staff of impeccably dressed men stood behind oak gambling tables, ready to greet well-heeled players. The Palace European Hotel, little more than a fancy rooming house, welcomed out-of-town gamblers on the third floor. No longer happy to occupy the home of her husband's former lover, Mary and the kids lived together on the upper floor with McDonald as an occasional overnight guest.

McDonald extended credit to politicians who walked over from City Hall and U.S. Senator James G. Fair. A frequent visitor from Nevada, Fair made millions from co-ownership of the Comstock Lode, the richest silver mine in the United States, and from a partnership in a California railroad, Fair couldn’t resist paying a visit to The Store when he changed trains in Chicago on his way to work in Washington, D.C. Sir Charles Russell, a member of the British Parliament, played poker at The Store. McDonald treated with generosity wives who complained their husbands gambled away the family rent money, refunding their losses and vowing to ban them from The Store. He contributed to charities. When someone asked McDonald for a contribution of $2 to help defray the cost of burying a fallen police officer, he quipped, “Here’s $10, bury five of them.”

Despite McDonald’s dislike of policemen, he kept some on his payroll. He brandished a pistol at a large political gathering, but officers on duty kept their distance. Police escorted drunken voters to a polling place set up at McDonald’s business, where he offered naturalization papers and voter registration forms on the spot. During a drunken rage, he broke the nose of a stranger who commented on a newspaper article unfavorable to McDonald and his supporters. The man filed criminal charges, but the case never reached the court. McDonald assaulted a newspaperman and threatened to cut off his ear. When arrested for the attempted murder of a rival gambler, a police officer escorted him to jail in a special carriage and recommended to the judge McDonald be released on bail immediately. Of course, he was acquitted of all charges, and that evening, he held a banquet for judges, city officials and police officers.

For a time, members of the Chicago police force disregarded department orders to raid The Store. But occasionally, policemen showed up unannounced. One evening, a group of officers bounded into The Store and up the stairs to the family living quarters with a warrant to arrest McDonald. Mr. McDonald was not home then, but Mrs. McDonald was. She responded by firing two shots at the policemen. Charged with attempted murder, she was led to a penitentiary where she stayed just until her husband hired an expensive lawyer named Alfred Trude and bribed a judge who released Mary before reprimanding the policemen for their unlawful raid of the McDonald family home.

Like her husband, Mary enjoyed keeping company with minor celebrities who performed in Chicago’s many theaters. She quickly fell in love with Billy Arlington, an African-American banjo player who lived with his wife Julia on Chicago’s South Side. Mary showered Arlington with gifts and even brazenly introduced him to her husband at a dinner party. When Billy had to leave Chicago for a performance in San Francisco, Mrs. McDonald followed. By the time they reached Denver, Mary declared her undying love for Billy Arlington in a letter she mailed home to her husband. Undeterred, McDonald followed the couple to San Francisco, where he threatened Billy and Mrs. McDonald with a loaded pistol.

McDonald forgave his wife for her indiscretion. He promised his wife a new home away from The Store and sealed the deal when he moved his family to a limestone mansion on a wide boulevard lined with houses of prominent Chicagoans, including the mayor.

Mary promised to be faithful, and for a while, she was. Through her husband's generous contributions to a local Catholic Church, she met Father Joseph Moysant. While church workers completed the preparation of his living quarters at the church, Mary offered the priest a spare room, and often her own room, in the McDonald's spacious mansion. On one occasion, they took a secret trip out of town. They continued a clandestine affair undetected for two years until they decided to leave Chicago forever.

Like Belle Jewel, Mary left Chicago wearing a nun's habit, but she had no intention of joining a convent. The lovers took a train to New York, where they boarded a ship bound for Paris. This time, it took McDonald two months to track her down. Under the advice of his lawyer, Alfred Trude, the man who defended Mrs. McDonald against the attempted murder of a policeman, McDonald filed for a divorce. Shak n by his wife's latest infidelity, he lamented to a friend, "When you cannot trust your wife and your priest, whom can you trust?"

Though busy operating his gambling parlor, collecting protection money and distributing police bribes, McDonald ran some honest and not-quite-honest enterprises. He bought the Chicago Globe newspaper, rivaling former Mayor Medill’s newspaper, the Chicago Tribune. He commanded hustlers and pickpockets to stay clear of the area around the Columbian Exposition so as not to damage Chicago’s reputation while it hosted millions of fairgoers. At a private meeting in the White House, he persuaded President Chester Arthur to pardon a colleague convicted in a Ponzi scheme. 

He operated a racetrack. He invested in a quarry that sold limestone to city contractors at inflated prices. He hired a crew to paint city hall with a special liquid guaranteed to render the crumbling building waterproof and fireproof, billing the City of Chicago $180,000 for a job estimated at $30,000. The unique liquid turned out to be a worthless mixture of lime, lead and linseed oil.

He built the West Side Lake Street 'L' that connected the Loop, which began service on November 6, 1893. Regular passenger service began between Madison Street and Market Street to California Avenue. Over 50,000 passengers rode on the first day. The line was extended west to Homan Avenue on November 24, 1893, to Hamlin Avenue in January 1894, to 48th Avenue (now Cicero Avenue) in March 1894, and to 52nd Avenue (now Laramie Avenue) in April 1894. When the completed Loop opened on October 3, 1897, the Lake Street Elevated became the first line to utilize the entire quadrangle. So shrewd was Michael McDonald that he bribed city aldermen thousands of dollars to buy their votes—ensuring that one of the train stops was near one of his illegal racetracks on the West Side.

McDonald was a busy man, but still, a man who loved women. At age 56, he married a 21-year-old Jewish actress named Dora Feldman, who he remembered from the times she and his son played together as schoolmates. Like McDonald, Dora was divorced, and like his former wife, the new Mrs. McDonald was attracted to artistic types. For a few years, the couple was happy to host lavish dinner parties in the home McDonald purchased for Dora and to dine late at night in fine restaurants after the theater or opera. But McDonald was getting older and slowing down. While he spent his afternoons napping, Dora sneaked away to meet her teenage lover, Webster Guerin. Guerin couldn’t support himself by selling his paintings, so Dora set him up in a picture-framing business downtown. Whether or not McDonald suspected his wife of carrying on a long-term affair, he continued to love his wife, even to the point of converting to Judaism and not questioning how she spent his money.

When Dora suspected that Webster Guerin was seeing another woman, who, in fact, was his brother’s girlfriend, she became enraged. She threatened to kill the woman. She threatened to kill Guerin. On a cold February morning, Dora burst into her lover’s office and shot him dead in full view of witnesses. Though she admitted to the police she killed her lover, she told her husband that she killed the man because she was blackmailing her. McDonald paid for her defense, a team of prominent lawyers led by Alfred Trude, who defended his first wife against a charge of attempted murder.

The scandal took a toll on McDonald, and he did not live to see his wife acquitted of murder. Michael Cassius McDonald died with his former wife, Mary, at his side, and McDonald had $2 million in assets ($65M today).

Michael Cassius McDonald was interred at Mount Olivet Catholic Cemetery on August 9, 1907, in Chicago, Illinois.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.