Monday, July 31, 2017

The words "Grocery," "Ordinary," and "Doggery" Meant The Same Thing in different eras starting in the 18th Century.

Before the 20th Century, the terms "Grocery," "Ordinary, and "Doggery" "had different meanings than today. During this time, whiskey drinking was the reigning vice, and a stock of liquors was being kept for sale, by the glass, in almost every roadside cabin and stops on stagecoach routes. The settlers' cabins often displayed a sign with the word "grocery" printed on it, meaning 'liquor by the glass or bottle sold here.' In addition to the liquor, they often kept a small stock of general provisions and supplies. Doggeries were cheap saloons. The owner of a grocery was called a grocer. 

The distances between one habitation and another were often considerable, and people traveling late in the day were frequently frozen to death in extreme weather, especially in intoxicated conditions. Indeed there were more deaths from freezing than from any other fatality. Winters would kill mostly transient dwellers such as discharged soldiers, sailors, and farmhands out of work for the winter. 

The grocery stores we know today were called "General Stores" back then. General Stores 

Proof: Ordinances of the Town of Chicago were incorporated on August 12, 1833.

The saloon in Chicago had its origin in two places. The oldest was the inn or tavern, a combination kitchen, hotel, and drinking establishment. Much of the city's early social life revolved around Wolf Point on the Chicago River. Such spots included James Kinzie's (John Kinzie's son) Green Tree Tavern
Mark Beaubien opened the Eagle Exchange Tavern in a log cabin on the south bank of the Chicago River in 1829, then added a frame addition to the Eagle in 1831. Beaubien also opened the Sauganash Hotel, Chicago's first hotel, serving food and drink. 

The second type of drinking establishment evolved from grocers and provisioners who began to sell hard liquor in wholesale quantities. At first, their sample rooms were places where customers could taste-test the stock; long afterward, "sample room" became another name for a saloon. By the late 1850s, the term saloon had begun to appear in directories and was commonly used as a term for licensed drinking establishments that specialized in beer and liquor sales by the glass, with food and lodging as secondary concerns in some places. Stops such as Stacey's Tavern in present-day Glen Ellyn or the Pre-Emption House in Naperville were popular among farmers journeying to the city.
As the rapidly growing ethnic population swelled, the saloon ranks through the mid-nineteenth Century, but during the early 1880s, a growing overcapacity in the brewery industry began to force change. Overestimates of future growth and easy rail access to Chicago for St. Louis and Milwaukee brewers left all producers scrambling for retail outlets.

The answer lay in adapting the British "Tied-House" control system. Brewers purchased hundreds of storefronts, especially in highly desired corner locations. The brewers rented to prospective saloonkeepers and all the furnishings, including recreational equipment such as billiard tables and bowling alleys. Schlitz and a few others built elaborate saloons, examples of which still survive in Chicago today. The Chicago City Council also contributed to the brewery domination by increasing the saloon license from $50 to $500 between 1883 and 1885 to pay for an expanded police force supposedly made necessary by the increasing barroom brawls. Relatively few independent proprietors could afford to pay such amounts.
An 1880s Grocer's Newspaper Ad.
The General Store.
Today's stores offer a great variety of merchandise for the convenience of their customers, but in the 1800s, merchants simply sold the items they could obtain and resell. These general stores, mercantile or emporiums, served rural populations of small towns and villages and the farmers and ranchers in the surrounding areas. They offered a place where people could find food and necessities that would have otherwise been difficult to obtain.
In addition to merchandise, a general store offered a meeting place for isolated people to socialize and do business. Many of these stores also doubled as a post office.

During the first part of the 19th ceCenturythese, stores stocked necessities, but as the economy prospered after the Civil War, more and more luxury items found their way onto the shelves. The storekeepers purchased merchandise from salesmen representing large wholesale houses and manufacturers in larger cities and seaside ports.

At first, only locally produced perishable goods were sold in general stores. With the expansion of the railroads, the advent of mass production, and advances in technology, such as the refrigerated boxcar, the local shopkeeper could receive and sell goods from countries far away and southern and western America states.

What was a general store like in the 19th Century?
Indeed, not anything approaching the modern grocery or department store. Most stores had at least one large display window, but inside, they were still dark and gloomy — and, depending on their geographical location, probably damp and humid to boot. Most were crowded with shelving along every wall. The floors were also crammed with boxes, barrels, crates, and tables holding goods.
The front counter held display cases for smaller items and needed machineries such as a coffee grinder, scales for weighing merchandise, and a cash register. Surplus inventory was stored in the cellar or basement or possibly on the second floor if that was not the living quarters of the grocer's Family.

Most of the items found in a general store would be familiar to us today. Food and consumables included coffee beans, spices, baking powder, oatmeal, flour, sugar, tropical fruit, hard candy, eggs, milk, butter, fruit and vegetables, honey and molasses, crackers, cheese, syrup and dried beans, cigars, and tobacco.

The apothecary section of the store, as in a modern grocery or department store, was well represented with patent-specific medicines, remedies, soaps, toiletries, and elixirs. The major difference between the medicine then and now is that it's illegal to sell snake oil! Most patent remedies of the era were alcohol-based, which explained their popularity in many cases. 

The dry goods section of the store included bolts of cloth, pins and needles, thread, ribbon, silk, buttons, collars, undergarments, suspenders, dungarees, hats, and shoes. Essential items such as rifles, pistols, ammunition, lanterns, lamps, rope, crockery, pots and pans, cooking utensils and dishes, farm and milking equipment parts, and sometimes even coffins could be found inside a general mercantile!

The average store would have been considered none too clean by modern standards. The roads outside were unpaved and unwashed; the dirt tracked in by customers would have included animal waste (and possibly human if someone had emptied their chamber pot into the street). The cast-iron stove heating the store during cold weather produced soot that settled over much of the merchandise. And it was not unheard of to discover rodents foraging about inside the store.

When money was scarce, the shopkeeper might extend credit to a regular customer or accept payment in kind (bartering for meat, eggs, and/or crops).

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Saturday, July 22, 2017

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

The Lake Michigan Seiche of 1954 in Chicago.

Definition of a Seiche
A seiche (SAYSH) is a standing wave in an enclosed or partially enclosed body of water. Seiches and seiche-related phenomena have been observed on lakes, reservoirs, swimming pools, bays, harbors, and seas. The key requirement for forming a seiche is that the body of water is at least partially bounded, allowing the formation of the standing wave.


Lakefront Was Caught Off Guard By A Deadly Inland Tidal Wave.
As the line of windy squalls passed out over Lake Michigan that hot June morning 60 years ago, Joseph Pecararo assumed the worst of the day's weather was over. The sky was clear, and the lake was still by the time the 24-year-old lifeguard captain arrived for work at North Avenue beach.
With temperatures expected to climb to nearly 100, he expected a big Saturday crowd.

But so far, the beach was deserted, except for a pair of fishermen out on the hook-shaped pier and a line of rowboats stored in front of the beach house, ready for use in an emergency.

They turned out to be of no use at all against the silent killer racing toward the beach from the southeast that morning: a freakish, 10-foot-high inland tidal wave that would sweep eight anglers to death and pound the Lake Michigan shoreline all the way from the Chicago River to Wilmette on its way into the history books.



"The water came up suddenly, and our boats began to float," remembers Pecararo, now general superintendent of beaches for the Chicago Park District.

"We ran out and went to pull the boats up, and when we did, there was a wave."

The wall of water crashed over the lifeguards without warning, knocking them from their feet. When they surfaced, "we laughed, we thought it was kind of funny," he remembers.

"But seconds later, a person came running over and said there was a fisherman swept off the pier," Pecararo said. John Jaworski, fishing with his 18-year-old son Joseph, had disappeared.

Jaworski was just the first of the victims of one of Lake Michigan's most unusual phenomena: the seiche.

Such potentially deadly waves, the worst of which hit Chicago on June 26, 1954, are formed when a squall line with high winds drives water across the lake in the same way that blowing on a hot cup of coffee pushes the liquid toward the far rim. The winds then pass off the lake, but the water sloshes back across, producing damaging waves with no storm to warn of their impending arrival.

That morning, the seiche-producing storm started in LaCrosse, Wis., and moved southeasterly through Madison, Rockford, and Milwaukee. At 7:30 a.m., it crossed over Chicago and blew out onto Lake Michigan at nearly 55 miles an hour.

At 8:10 a.m., it hit Michigan City, pushing a 5-foot wall of water over the breakwater and onto the shore. It then reflected back and began racing toward Chicago, where it crashed with terrifying fury an hour and 20 minutes later.

Unlike anglers in Michigan City, who fled the squall for higher ground, the Chicago fishermen had no storm to warn them of the deadly wave racing their way.

The only warning Herbert Riederer, then a 24-year-old state conservation officer, had of the impending wave was a wet shoe. He'd just finished writing a ticket to a fisherman without a license when water suddenly rose onto the Montrose Harbor breakwater where he was standing.

"I stepped up to higher ground," he remembers. "As I did, I heard a rush of water, and when I looked back, I saw people being washed off the pier."

"It's not something you can forget," he said. "I can still see that woman. She was riding the crest of this huge wave into the harbor mouth, then she disappeared."

Mae Gabriel, 48, and her husband, Edward, 49, were later found drowned.

Riederer, who had no radio, raced for help to a nearby roadway, where he "commandeered the first car I saw and had him drive me to the bait shop" a half-mile away, where the nearest phone was located.

Soon Montrose Harbor was crawling with divers, including the lifeguards from North Avenue Beach. They had just recovered Jaworski's body in the rough water by forming a line and pushing it toward the shore when a squad car rolled up with the news: "Dozens down at Montrose!" "We jumped in the squad car. It was a wild ride," Pecararo remembers.

Three bodies were pulled from the harbor that morning; four more were recovered later. One was Theodore Stempinski, the man Riederer, who is no longer with the conservation service, had issued the ticket. He had apparently stopped to pick up his fishing gear before fleeing the pier.

The deadly seiche triggered a flurry of scientific study into the phenomenon that quickly saved lives: Just weeks later, on July 6, 1954, a similar storm passed over Chicago, prompting the local weather service to issue a seiche warning.

When the seiche hit, waters rushed into the Loyola beach parking lot and up the North Avenue beach house steps, then raced away. But the beaches had been cleared, and no one was hurt.

Since the 1954 disaster, so-called seiche fences have been installed on many breakwaters. The simple metal cables and posts anchored in concrete are intended to provide a handhold in the event of a sudden wave.

Large seiches remain relatively rare. Over the last 100 years, weather watchers have recorded about 10 major ones on Lake Michigan. Last year three seiche warnings were issued for Chicago, none for waves approaching the size of those in 1954, Pecararo said.

"We never saw anything like that," Pecararo remembers. "I thought the end of the world was coming."

By William Recktenwald, Chicago Tribune Staff Writer. 

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Lost Towns of Illinois - Village of Harlem, Illinois

After Illinois entered the Union, most of the land west of Chicago was set aside for veterans of the war of 1812. The area was originally called Kettlestrings Grove, then Oak Ridge, Illinois (named because of the many native oak trees), then the Village changed names and boundaries to Noyesville, then to Harlem, and finally to Oak Park.
Lost Towns of Illinois - Village of Harlem, Illinois (1884-1907)
Joseph and Betty (Willis) Kettlestrings, the first settler, spent 10 weeks crossing the Atlantic with the first two of their 11 children. Only six would survive them. Arriving in Baltimore, a third child was born as they pushed west, eventually coming to Chicago, population 350. Their ox-drawn, covered wagon had pulled them through marshy soil, rocky terrain and boggy wetlands till they came to "a ridge of dry land abounding with oak trees."

In 1839 a French-Indian trader, Leon Bourassa, received a land grant from President Martin Van Buren of 160 acres along the Des Plaines River north of what is now Roosevelt Road. By this time, the Indians had been banished to the west of the Mississippi River, but one Indian maiden remained to tend the graves of her ancestors. According to legend, she married Leon and they settled here on land which is now part of Forest Home Cemetery. The deed for the government land Bourassa purchased was personally signed by President Martin Van Buren.

Two prominent families arrived in the 1850s and became the first subdividers of the area. The Henry Quick family arrived in Noyesville from Harlem, New York. Quick soon became a prominent landholder and lent his original hometown's name (Harlem) to the eastern portion of Noyesville as well as to Harlem Avenue. The David Thatcher family settled to the west of Harlem Avenue and named their portion of the community Thatcher.

The railroad came in 1856 bringing with it a workforce who settled here thus claiming the date of the community's first settlement as 1856. 

A German immigrant, Ferdinand Haase, purchased a 40-acre tract of land in 1851 which he eventually enlarged to 240 acres and turned into a popular park for residents and city dwellers, mostly from Bourassa. Haase built a home styled after the manors of New Orleans that he had seen. When he buried three members of his family near the homestead, they became the first white settlers to be interred here. 

When the Chicago and Galena Union Railroad, (now the Northwestern) established a division where Des Plaines Avenue now approaches the track in 1856, it marked the beginning of public transportation in the area. Soon after the railroad arrived, a nearby landowner, John Henry Quick, purchased a farm on the site of what is now River Forest and built a two-story boarding house. At the same time, Mr. Israel Heller erected a store building nearby. There being no municipal control, Mr. Quick named everything that needed a name Harlem, after his hometown in New York City.

In 1856, the Chicago & Galena Union Railroad opened a shop and roundhouse at today's Des Plaines Avenue and Lake Street, bringing 25 men and their families to settle there. 

In the aftermath of the Chicago Fire in 1871, many refugees came to this community to build their homes.

In 1881 a small railway called The Dummy Line was built from Chicago's west side to the cemeteries.

For several decades after 1880, a small excursion boat called the White Fawn took sightseers up and down the Des Plaines River. Docking facilities were at Haase Park, a popular picnic grove of the time.

The Village of Harlem, which was comprised of the vast area which later became River Forest and a portion of Oak Park, was incorporated in 1884. Twenty gas streetlights were installed throughout town in 1886. They came complete with a lamplighter who received a salary of $12 per month. A sausage factory started in 1890 by Karl Lau became the areas the first industry. The Metropolitan Westside' L' began electrified rapid transit service in 1895. Because it ran through Garfield Park, it became known as the Garfield Line.

In 1897, the installation of electric lighting for "whomever desired this service," was available to those living on or doing business on Madison Street. The telephone came in 1898.

When the Village applied for its own Post Office, they were informed this was not possible since there already was a Harlem, Illinois with a Post Office on the northern fringe of Rockford. Hence, a new name for the Village had to be selected. A contest was held and the last portions of the name of the town North and East were joined in a clever manner - namely Forest Park. At a village hall meeting August 12, 1907, a resolution was passed changing the name of the Village of Harlem to the Village of Forest Park.

The Forest Park Amusement Park opened at Desplaines Avenue and Harrison Street in Forest Park in 1907. It was one of the most spectacular amusement parks in its day, featuring a roller coaster superstructure. Read about the entire life of Forest Park Amusement Park IN AMAZING DETAIL, and view over 25 amazing images. 

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Chicago's Chicken Man, a Maxwell Street performer.

The Chicken Man's real name is Anderson Punch, who went by Casey Jones and was also called Chicken Charley, was a Jawa. Historically, Jawas were wandering junk men and performers who plied their trades on the street corners of Chicago.

Legend has it that the Chicken Man, who described himself as a showman, had played the accordion on the streets for many years prior to his chicken phase. When his accordion was broken, he broadened his repertoire to include the chicken act.

Until his death at 104 years old in 1974, he was well-known throughout the South Side, Maxwell Street Market and the Loop for his big white performing rooster. One reporter wrote, “that chicken could do anything but talk.”

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.