A Masked Highwayman Terrorizes Chicago in 1892.

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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 creates a distorted 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 slanted, so I try my hardest 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.
• "AFRICAN-AMERICAN" [Afro-American] began usage in the late 1980s.

— PLEASE PRACTICE HISTORICISM —

THE INTERPRETATION OF THE PAST IN ITS OWN CONTEXT.

 

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In late November of 1892, wild rumors spread about a mysterious “highwayman,” a masked robber who rode a dark horse with a blazing red leather saddle and who had been terrifying Lake View on the north side of Chicago. The Chicago Tribune described him as “either a maniac or a desperado.” Lake View (annexed to Chicago in 1889) and Lincoln Park became police states as dozens of officers were put on call to catch the crook, and stories began to circulate that the costumed crook had supernatural powers.

Illustration of a Masked Highwayman.

Children on the north side spoke in whispers that the Highwayman had been heard riding through Graceland Cemetery at midnight, the hoofs clacking over the tombstones as he rode atop them. Another said that he’d been seen on horseback jumping off a bridge and riding the horse right through the filthy Chicago River.

The mysterious mounted bandit grows bolder.

And his fame wasn’t limited to Chicago. The story of the Lake View Highwayman was retold in papers all over the country, and a few questioned how such a city could be trusted to hold a Chicago World’s Fair the next year.

Seldom has there been an example of how much a little flair for the dramatic can turn a story into a sensation. In reality, the Highwayman’s deeds were pretty low-key. If he hadn’t been wearing the mask, he would have been little more than a simple robber. But dress up like the Dread Pirate Roberts in a bowler hat and get yourself a dark horse with a white star on its forehead, and you become a supervillain!

The drama began on November 23rd, 1892, when a man in Lake View was approached by a masked rider who wore a mask covering his eye. Above it was a stiff derby hat, and below it a sandy mustache. The “highwayman” ordered him to set all his money on the ground and go away. This same instance was repeated several times all over the north side over the course of the rest of the day, concluding with a daring chase in which a cop took control of a bakery cart and chased the Highwayman a mile through the north side, firing a few shots in the process. He struck at North and Clybourn, at Clark and Lawrence, and at several saloons. However, his net profits were estimated to be in the range of $5.35 ($150 today).

The next day, dozens of officers were brought in, and armed citizens patrolled the streets, interrogated pretty much anyone they saw riding a horse. Still, the robberies continued, and the rider eluded capture.

After two nights, a mustached man dropped a horse off at a stable, saying he’d be back in an hour. When he never came for his horse, the stable owner notified the cops, who confirmed that the horse was the one that Highwayman had used. But there was no trace of the Highwayman.

What was generally agreed was that this was no professional robber; the “highway robbery” techniques he used were the sort of thing you saw far more often in dime novels than in real life. The Highwayman would approach a person and “Got any money? Throw it on the ground,” threatening to shoot if they disobeyed. He’d wait until they’d run far away before picking up whatever they’d tossed.

On November 27, a masked Highwayman with a long rifle (or a pistol in each hand, depending on the witness) was seen in Winnetka and Highland Park in the north suburbs, riding south towards Evanston. Police went on his trail but didn’t think it was the same highwayman; this one had a black mustache. Apparently, the tales of derring-do (displaying heroic courage) had begun to inspire imitators; the one in the north suburbs turned out to be a troubled 14-year-old student, Fred Spahr, from Highland Park, who was only out for kicks.

One credible rumor was that the criminal was a student who’d promised to put on a mask and rob everyone he saw for four days if Benjamin Harrison lost the election to Grover Cleveland (which he did). Another masked highwayman – possibly the real Lake View Highwayman – robbed a man of $6 in west suburban Riverside the same day and then repeated the deed the next day in Berwyn, Cicero, and other southwest suburbs, putting the area on high alert.

On the 28th, the Highwayman showed a few of his true colors when a grocer/undertaker in Aurora was approached by him. The undertaker brandished a whip and told the Highwayman to “Shoot and be derring-do (Google it),” which was all it took to get him to flee.

The Lake View Highwayman apparently returned to Chicago on November 29th, striking in Avondale, but by this time, he was losing his ability to inspire fear: the story of the grocer made the news all over the midwest. On November 30th, a man scared him away from a hold-up on Elston Avenue with a toy pistol.

Then, as suddenly as he came, the Lake View Highwayman simply vanished from the news. Sightings ceased in late November of 1892, and papers forgot all about him. In the summer of 1893, there was only a small item stating that the police had arrested a horse thief named James Dustin, who was suspected of being the Highwayman; he had a bunch of masks and fake mustaches in his possession. Several of the Highwayman’s victims were brought to the station, but none were certain that Dustin was the man. He had, after all, been wearing a mask.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Chicago streetlamps; when was the last gas streetlight extinguished?

Chicago introduced gas lamps in the 1850s, but by 1898, the city had already decided to replace them with new electric streetlights. Because of the cost and complexity of building new electric lines and circuits, the update took half a century to be completed, so the lamps that were still around in the early 1950s had been installed before 1900.

The last eighteen gas streetlights in Chicago were lit on June 4, 1954, on the east side, on Escanaba Avenue between 95th and 99th, to be precise. As recently as the 1940s, there were thousands of gas street lights in Chicago. Where gas lines were unavailable, gasoline street lights with a small reservoir inside the light. What could go wrong?

Domenico Basso

The Chicago Tribune featured an August 9, 1947 article featuring Domenico Basso lighting a street lamp at 59th and Cicero. Basso was one of fewer than twenty lamplighters still working in the 1940s.

The map indicates street lighting conditions in 1947 Chicago.

Lamplighters became dinosaurs even before electricity because the gas lamps had pilot lights with timers and igniters inside. The timers were simple clocks that needed to be rewound once a week. Lamplighters were still needed for those gasoline lamps. The lamplighter would come by every night, refill the lamp with gasoline, and light it with a blowtorch. 

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Chicago's Lincoln Park High Bridge called "Suicide Bridge" History.

In 1894, an iron high bridge – 75 feet above the water – was erected as a sight-seeing bridge over the lagoon that runs along Lake Shore Drive.

On a clear day, you could see the Union Stockyards and Jackson Park from the bridge.

It attracted plenty of weirdos – one elderly woman was known to go there daily to get as drunk as humanly possible. Another man would often go to whistle at the moon in a strange, eerie tone that scared the heck out of the cops. But it became most famous as a place to commit suicide. By 1900, kids around Chicago were superstitious about it, telling friends to “stay away from suicide bridge.”

In 1898, police officers who patrolled Lincoln Park at night had plenty of stories about running into ghosts while making their rounds. However, it doesn’t seem to have occurred to them to blame the fact that the park had been a cemetery in recent memory (and still had plenty of bodies buried below the ground). In fact, it was generally agreed that the ghosts were the unfortunate who had ended their life at Suicide Bridge.

No one knows how many people ended their lives with a leap from the bridge before it was closed, but it was probably between 50 and 100 (the number who came intending to jump but didn’t (or survived) was estimated as being in the hundreds). It was so popular a destination for suicide that even people NOT seeking to die by drowning came to the bridge – one man hanged himself from the edge, another went there to shoot himself, and many people killed themselves by taking poison on the bridge.

So renowned was the bridge that it was even named 'suicide bridge' on postcards.

In 1916, amateur movie-makers shot a chase scene on the bridge. The characters were to fall from the bridge, but a stunt man they hired refused to jump, saying the water below was too shallow. The amateur actors decided to do it themselves, and both survived.

High Bridge looking South towards Downtown Chicago.

Newspapers came up with wild headlines about it, including:

• Policeman Spoils a Suicide: Interferes When Fascinated Crowd in Lincoln Park is Waiting for Man to Kill Self.
• Doom High Suicide Bridge: Lincoln Park Commissioners to Spoil Convenience for Those Contemplating Self-Destruction (note: this was in 1909, and nothing appears to have come of it. When it was closed a decade later, it was due to poor condition).
• Jumps from Bridge To Lagoon: Says he Tried Suicide for Fun.

The Park District became greatly concerned and talked about fencing the bridge over or tearing it down. It survived until November 1, 1919, when the old iron bridge removal was started by the American House Wrecking Company. The reason the bridge was removed wasn't to avoid citizen suicides but because of the bridge's poor condition. By then, the bridge became so rusty that anyone going across it risked their lives.

The Lagoon was much larger, as you can see in the pictures above. Its natural shoreline was a water inlet from Lake Michigan. Lincoln Park and the Lagoon were redesigned as a part of the 1935 WPA[1] project, which was completed in 1941.

Today's Lincoln Park Lagoon's Pedestrian Bridge.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

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[1] The Works Progress Administration (WPA), renamed in 1939 as the Work Projects Administration, was an American New Deal agency employing millions of job-seekers (mostly unskilled men) to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads.