The World’s Fair that Ignored More than Half the World.

The spectacle of the World's Columbian Exposition of 1893 was unrivaled in its time. But it hardly represented the "world" of Women and Negroes.

Between May and October of 1893, the nation and the world flocked to the exposition, often called the Chicago World's Fair or the "White City," for the white stucco that gave the whole exposition a marmoreal gleam. More than 27 million people attended during a worldwide financial depression named the 'Panic of 1893' — which was nearly one-half the population of the United States at that time. This was no private Coachella or Aspen Institute—Congress appropriated the initial funding, and the fair's governing board was appointed by the president.

The Lady Managers were as powerless as their name suggests and couldn't get women's accomplishments included in any exhibits outside of the Woman's Building.

But neither women nor Negroes were part of the project's planning stages, nor were they allowed to play any prominent roles in the substance of the exposition, write Elliott Rudwick and August Meier. White women, Negro men and women all lobbied the president for seats on the governing board, jobs, and more than token representation in the fair, to no avail. They didn't have much leverage: In 1893, white men held almost all political power everywhere. No women served in Congress, and only in Wyoming (population 62,555) could women vote in federal elections. Reconstruction was long over; Negro men in the South could barely vote, and only one Negro man served in Congress.

But the World's Fair was too big to ignore.

Rather than include the full range of women's ingenuity, creativity, and hard work throughout the fair, the all-male Board of Governors approved "The Woman's Building" as a substitute and a "Board of Lady Managers" as a consolation prize for denying women even one seat on the board. As Gail Bederman explains, the Lady Managers were as powerless as their name suggests and couldn't get women's accomplishments included outside the Woman's Building.

Unfortunately, white women's limited role in the fair didn't make them sympathetic to the near-total exclusion of Negro women and men. Historian Ann Massa writes that when Negro women requested a seat among the 115 Lady Managers, the white women refused them. The white women complained that they couldn't pick from several groups of Negro women activists and thus would seat no one. They ultimately offered an unpaid secretarial role to Fannie Barrier Williams—a college graduate and accomplished educator. She was disgusted but took it because it was literally the only professional role a Negro woman would fill at the exposition. (The enterprise employed tens of thousands of people.)

In fact, Negro accomplishments weren't featured in the White City at all. Thirty years after the Emancipation Proclamation, the remarkable postbellum achievements of slavery's survivors were all but erased from the story of America. Among 65,000 exhibits, only a few tokens of Negro art and invention were grudgingly included, among them sculptor Edmonia Lewis's busts of Phillis Wheatley and Hiawatha. Even Frederick Douglass—the most famous Negro man in America—spoke publicly only on "Negro Day," a one-time marketing gimmick on August 25th targeting Negro fairgoers and anybody interested.

Amid more than 300 women speakers at the fair, only six Negro women—including the veteran activist Frances Ellen Watkins Harper and scholar Anna Julia Cooper—were given speaking spots throughout the summer, including during a week-long World Congress of Representative Women.

Ida B. Wells

Muckraking journalist Ida B. Wells had no platform at the fair, so she made her own. She had just returned from a successful British-speaking tour that helped her launch her anti-lynching crusade. She was furious about the exclusion of Negro accomplishments from a fair meant to showcase American exceptionalism. What better demonstration of America's uniqueness, Wells asked, than to exhibit "the progress made by the race in 25 years of freedom as against 250 years of slavery?"

ADDITIONAL READING:

Racism at Chicago's 1893 World's Columbian Exposition.

"Reasons Why the Colored American is not in the World's Columbian Exposition." by Ida B. Wells and Frederick Douglass, Published 1893.

Negroes at the 1893 World's Fair, A People Without a Nation.

Negro Day, August 25, 1893, at the World's Fair (aka Colored Peoples' Day).

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Chicago's Urban Renewal into the 1960s.

Following World War II and continuing into the late 1960s, "urban renewal" referred primarily to public efforts to revitalize aging and decaying inner cities, although some suburban communities undertook such projects as well. Including massive demolition, slum clearance, and rehabilitation, urban renewal proceeded initially from local and state legislation, which in Illinois included the Neighborhood Redevelopment Corporation Act of 1941 (amended in 1953), the Blighted Areas Redevelopment Act of 1947 (which allowed for clearing land for non-residential uses, including highways), the Relocation Act of 1947, and the Urban Community Conservation Act of 1953. 

The earliest emphasis was placed on slum clearance or "redevelopment," followed by a focused effort to conserve 'threatened' but not yet deteriorated neighborhoods. Significant clearing of homes would occur with the 1955 Amendment to the Blighted Areas Redevelopment Act of 1947. It allowed for clearing land for non-residential uses, including highways.

The new legislation had three primary functions. First, it expanded the city's power of eminent domain and enabled it to seize property for the new "public purposes" of slum clearance or prevention. Second, it pioneered the "write-down" formula, which permitted the city to convey such property to private developers at its significantly reduced "use" value after the municipality subsidized its purchase and preparation. Last, the state provided assistance in relocating site residents—an absolute necessity in a time of severe housing shortages to enable the clearance of crowded, inner-city sites. The federal Housing Acts of 1949 and 1954, and their later amendments, mirrored the Illinois initiatives, providing a national framework and greater financial resources for the renewal effort. The clear intent was to offer public assistance to the private sector in the hope of heading off an urban crisis.

As early as 1943, a Chicago Plan Commission survey had found 242,000 substandard housing units within a 23-square-mile zone of "blight," with the most desperate conditions extending in a sweeping arc south and west of the Loop. Another 100,000 such units were scattered across Chicago in "non-blighted" areas. Such conditions, combined with the decentralizing pull of the burgeoning suburbs, threatened to ravage the city's tax base, deplete the stock of middle-class consumers, and raise the cost of basic city services such as police and firefighting. Worried about rising taxes, declining property values, and their traditional source of shoppers and workers, Loop interests such as Marshall Field & Co. and the Chicago Title and Trust Company moved swiftly to design plans to enhance downtown. Within weeks of his 1947 inauguration, Mayor Martin H. Kennelly received a housing program and legislative package that had gestated (develop over a long period) in Loop boardrooms.

Major institutional interests on the South Side, such as the Illinois Institute of Technology (IIT) and Michael Reese Hospital, also faced the daunting prospect of surviving within rapidly deteriorating neighborhoods. Even before World War II, they had recommitted themselves to the area, and, in 1946, they joined other local interests to create the South Side Planning Board (SSPB). Staking out a planning interest of seven square miles from Cermak Road south to 47th Street and from Michigan Avenue west to the Pennsylvania Railroad, their efforts—along with those of their Loop counterparts—enticed the New York Life Insurance Company to finance the Lake Meadows development. Michael Reese Hospital soon followed with its own Prairie Shores complex; IIT expanded its campus from 7 to 110 acres; Mercy Hospital decided to remain and grow in the area; and South Commons was developed as a middle-income housing enclave.

The population of Washington Park peaked at around 56,000 in 1950. There were significant overcrowding issues, but without other affordable housing options available because of racist policies and practices, many Negro residents on the South Side were forced into unsafe, egregiously overcrowded housing spaces.

The University of Chicago took the initiative in the urban renewal of Hyde Park, as it did with the conception and enactment of the Illinois Urban Community Conservation Act of 1953, a law precisely tailored to the institution's needs. Proceeding in stages throughout the 1950s under earlier redevelopment acts and through the South East Chicago Commission (SECC), the university responded forcefully to a racial transition accelerated by clearance projects to its north. The city approved a general renewal plan for Hyde Park– Kenwood in 1958 after the SECC had removed the worst pockets of "blight" and prevented precipitous "white flight." By 1970, the university and various public agencies had invested some $100 million in the area—an amount augmented by an additional $300 million in private funds.

The Urban Renewal program in Hyde Park displaces businesses and residents.

The largest renewal site north of the Loop provided space for Carl Sandburg Village between Division Street and North Avenue and, roughly, Clark and LaSalle. Most of the displaced residents were unmarried white renters without deep roots in the neighborhood. Demolition proceeded in 1960–61, with Arthur Rubloff & Co. beginning construction the next year. At its completion in 1969, the combination of high-rise towers and townhouses encompassed 3,166 units. At the same time, on the Near West Side, Mayor Richard J. Daley tried to protect the Loop, fight decentralization, and enhance Chicago's image by building a campus of the University of Illinois in the Harrison-Halsted area. Sparking considerable grassroots protest, the project displaced thousands of individuals and hundreds of businesses in an old, largely Italian community before it opened in 1965.

Concern with protecting and enhancing Chicago's core also generated a construction boom within the Loop itself. Beginning with the opening of the Prudential building in 1957, a 20-year burst of activity nearly doubled downtown office space; the federal government, Cook County, and the city of Chicago each added massive administrative centers.

The neighborhoods, however, experienced a different kind of transformation. While whites were among those uprooted in Hyde Park and on the North and West Sides, urban renewal in this context too often meant, as contemporaries noted, "Negro removal." Between 1948 and 1963 alone, some 50,000 families (averaging 3.3 members) and 18,000 individuals were displaced. Old neighborhoods disappeared, and new ones faced increasing racial pressures. Although some urban renewal sites were redeveloped for institutional expansion or middle-class housing, displaced African Americans received little benefit from the program. The city tried to contain the expansion of Blacks' living space, in part, by using densely packed, centrally located high-rise public housing. Segregation became public policy, as the courts acknowledged in deciding the 1966 suit brought by Chicago Housing Authority (CHA) resident Dorothy Gautreaux. In 1969, federal district court Judge Richard Austin found that 99 percent of the residents of CHA family housing were Black and that 99.5 percent of such units were confined to Black or racially changing areas. Rather than solve the urban crisis, urban renewal had set the stage for its next phase.

By Arnold R. Hirsch

Edited by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

An illustration looking due west on the Chicago River in 1831.

An illustration looking due west on the Chicago River in 1831.

The first building on the left is the Post Office of John S.C. Hogan, which stood near the corner of Lake and Market Sts. There was only one delivery a week coming from Niles, Michigan, which came from the East. 

The next building was the Sauganash Tavern which stood on the corner of Lake and Market Streets and was run by Mark Beaubien. 

In the distance, the small tip of a building was that of Jesse Walker, which was used as a church, a school, and a residence. 

The building at the point where the north and south branches meet was the Wolf Point Tavern, but later, in 1833, it was renamed the Travelers Home by Chester Ingersoll. 

Note the footbridge over the north branch.

To the right and north at the forks stood the Miller House, and it is said it was in part built by Alexander Robinson in 1820. In 1829, the proprietors were Samuel Miller and Archibald Clybourn, and in 1832 it was occupied as a store by P.F.W. Peck while his new frame store was under construction.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

How and When did Chicago get the moniker "The Windy City?"

Fort Dearborn and the Chicago River.

Chicago's nickname, "The Windy City,” is usually attributed to an editorial by Charles A. Dana in the New York Sun, written in 1889 or 1890 when Chicago and New York were competing to host the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition. Dana reportedly took Chicago's blustering politicians to task for excessive boasting about the merits of their city. The power of the name lies in the metaphorical use of “windy” for “talkative” or “boastful.” Chicago politicians early became famous for long-windedness, and the Midwestern metropolis's central location as a host city for political conventions helped cement the association of Chicago with loquacious politicians, thus underlying the nickname with double meaning. But this story, however often repeated, is a myth!

Etymologist (the study of the origin of words) Barry Popik was the first to show that "Windy City" as a sobriquet (nickname) for Chicago predated the alleged editorial by many years. Popik traced the origin of the term to 1876 in Cincinnati, where a story in the Cincinnati Enquirer for May of that year reported on the Cincinnati Red Stockings' trip to Chicago to play baseball in the "Windy City." 

Since Popik's first report, Fred Shapiro has provided an even earlier citation. The Daily Cleveland Herald of June 4, 1870, reported, "CLEVELAND vs. CHICAGO. The Great Game between the Forest City and Chicago Clubs — the Windy City Wins by a Score of 15 to 9 — a Hotly Contested Game.” 

A decade earlier, in its July 4, 1860, issue, the Milwaukee Daily Sentinel contained the following: "We are proud of Milwaukee because she is not overrun with a lazy police force as is Chicago — because her morals are better, her criminals fewer, her credit better, and her taxes lighter in proportion to her valuation than Chicago, the windy city of the West."

As it turns out, the term "Windy City" referring to Chicago came about through baseball's sports writers.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

CHICAGO: The Hotel Langham Destroyed by Fire on Saturday Evening, March 21, 1885.

At 8:00 o'clock in the evening of March 21, 1885, fourteen fire engines poured water on the Hotel Langham, at the corner of Adams Street and Wabash Avenue, which was engulfed in flames. The fire originated in one of the tower rooms. At the time, the house's restaurant contained about 100 guests at dinner, and as many more were in their rooms. The people in the restaurant had no problem getting out, but several persons in the upper rooms had very narrow escapes.

The fire spread uncommonly, and flames burst through the roof before a second alarm was rung. A general alarm was given half an hour after the broke out, but all the engines which could be brought couldn't get the fire under control. 

Mrs. Belknap, an elderly lady, committed suicide by jumping from the fourth story and landing in the alley. Subsequently, a cry was raised that the walls were falling and that Bullwinkle's Fire Insurance patrolmen were inside the building. A portion of the south wall was seen to totter, and it came down with a crash. 

Patrolman John Carroll Walsh

Two Bullwinkle's Fire Insurance patrol members barely escaped the tumbling bricks and falling timbers. Two others were pinned fast but, after strenuous efforts, were finally extricated. The legs of both men were severely bruised. Patrolmen Edward Jones, 30, and John C. Walsh, 32, are believed to have suffocated beneath the walls. Walsh left a widow and three very young children.

Policeman Marks saw two domestics at one of the second-story windows after it was supposed all the guests had been rescued. He rushed up a burning staircase and a few moments later appeared, dragging out both women, who had been rendered unconscious by smoke inhalation.

The firemen never ceased their efforts to rescue the two missing patrolmen. In about four hours, they were found in the basement of the building next to the hotel. They were buried under broken flooring and fragments of the fallen wall. They were taken out alive and survived their injuries.

The escape of Mrs. J.A. Murray and the child was almost miraculous. The lady occupied a room on the fifth floor and was unaware of the danger until it was too late to attempt to descend the stairway. She reached the fire escape but at each floor found the hole in the grating too small to admit the passage of herself and her infant. Therefore she was compelled four times, with the flames swirling around her, to lay her baby on the platform, lower herself over the edge, and reach up for the baby. Mrs. Murray reached the ground without assistance and, a quarter of an hour afterward, had wholly recovered from the effects of her traumatic experience. 

The hotel was a total loss and was erected immediately after the great fire. While substantial looking on the outside, it had been called a fire trap. It was formerly known as the Burdick House, the Crawford, and finally, the Hotel Langham.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.