Wednesday, May 16, 2018

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


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.
 


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. About 1789, Caldwell Sr. brought Billy back into the family, created by his marriage to Suzanne Reaume Baby (birthed 22 children; 11 survived infancy) at 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 powerful '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 living to adulthood or surviving 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. Because of his tribal connections and fluency in several Indian languages, he smoothed 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. 



In Chicago between 1827 and 1833, various legends and myths grew concerning Caldwell's ancestry, rank, and social status, eventually making him a "half-breed principal chief" of the Potawatomi. 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 made up facts; Billy Caldwell was appointed as an 'American-recognized Chief.' A really big 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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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 Caldwells' honor.

The U.S. government awarded him a 1600-acre tract of land northwest of Chicago called 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.
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 ended in 1833 when they ceded their last block of lands at the Treaty of Chicago

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 in the Billy Caldwell reserve's first and second government surveys. 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, 260 acres, was purchased by the real estate firm Koester and Zander and named it "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 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 somewhere on the bluff that is now Saint Joseph Cemetery, Council Bluffs, Pottawattamie County, Iowa. Then, the only marker was a long-gone wooden sign marked "Indians." 

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Chicagoan Frank Billings, a giant of American medicine and Dean of Rush Medical College was a body-snatcher.

Frank Billings, born in Wisconsin on April 2,1854, was one of the giants of American medicine. In 1881, he received his medical degree from Northwestern University. He continued his medical studies in Vienna, Paris, and London, 1885-1886, before returning to Chicago. Billings was an attending physician at Mercy Hospital, 1890-1898; St. Luke’s Hospital, 1890-1906; Cook County Hospital, 1890-1901;  and Presbyterian Hospital, 1898-1920. He served as Dean of Rush Medical College, 1900-1920. He introduced residents and the clerkship system to Presbyterian Hospital.
Dr. Frank Billings, circa 1905
Billings served as president of the Chicago Medical Society, 1891; the American Medical Association, 1902-1903; the Association of American Physicians, 1906; the National Association for the Study and Prevention of Tuberculosis, 1907; and the Institute of Medicine, 1922. He was an advocate for better medical care and a dedicated educator. He was instrumental in securing funds for fellowships and the construction of many buildings, including the Rawson Laboratory of Medicine and Surgery on the Rush Medical College campus and the Albert Merritt Billings Hospital at the University of Chicago. Billings' contributions to medical literature include writings on topics such as anemia, pneumococcic infections, and heart disease.
A portrait of Dr. Frank Billings, dean of faculty at Rush Medical College, and Dr. Wilbur Post, physician and professor of Medicine at Rush Medical College, wearing scholarly robes, standing in front of a building in Chicago, Illinois. 1927
He was the longtime dean of Rush Medical College during its affiliation with the University of Chicago. (Contrary to common belief, the university’s Billings Hospital is named for A.M. Billings, no relation).

Billings knew all of Chicago’s prominent families. One of his acquaintances was young Ernest Poole, later a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist. Poole delighted in re-telling a story of Dr. Frank’s medical school days.

The laws of the time made it difficult to get cadavers for classroom instruction. Medical students sometimes solved the problem by digging up fresh corpses from the county Potter’s Field. One night Billings and two Northwestern classmates set out in a wagon to retrieve the mortal remains of a murderer who’d recently been hanged. On the way, they came upon a brightly lit tavern.

Parked outside the tavern was a wagon belonging to Rush Medical College. A figure wrapped in blankets was propped up in the driver’s seat. The Rush students had gotten to the murderer's cadaver first. Now they were inside the tavern celebrating.

Billings and his two friends transferred the body to their own wagon. Just then the tavern door opened.  Telling his colleagues to get away, Billings quickly wrapped himself in the blankets. He climbed into the Rush wagon and assumed the dead man’s place.

One by one, the Rush students staggered out of the tavern. The first man got into the wagon and checked the corpse. “Hey fellas,” he shouted, “this stiff don’t feel as cold as he ought to be!”

“And neither would you be, if you were burning in hell like I am!” Billings announced in a spooky voice.

The terrified Rush student tumbled out of the wagon. With that, Billings grabbed the reins and drove off in the Rush wagon, laughing all the way.

Billings died of a gastric hemorrhage on September 20, 1932, and buried at Graceland Cemetery, Chicago. 

The full biography of Dr. Frank Billings.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The History of the "Father Time" Clock, the Jewelers Building, and the Stratosphere Club in Chicago.

ABOUT THE JEWELERS BUILDING CLOCK
The "Father Time" Clock at 35 East Wacker Drive, in Chicago, is located at the Jeweler's Building which faces the Chicago River.

Weighing an estimated six tons, the clock was donated to the building by one of its first major tenants, the Elgin National Watch Company.
If you visit the northeast corner of the building, the clock at first glance looks like the Marshall Field's clocks. That is until you notice the creepy guy who looks like death. He is really supposed to be Father Time.
At night the clock is outlined in dark red lights, which makes it look even creepier. The clock was a gift from the Elgin Watch Company. Father Time was their logo. They had an office in the building.
ABOUT THE JEWELERS BUILDING
Aside from its beautiful building with a fancy dome on top of it, it has a very cool history. Construction started in 1924 and was completed in 1927. 
The Jewelers' Building was renamed the Pure Oil Building on October 1, 1926.
The Jewelers' Building, seen here under construction in 1926.


The lower floors were opened to their first tenants in May 1927, the upper stories opened in the summer, and the tower in October 1926.

Since this was originally a jeweler's building, it had many innovative security features. One of them was a really extreme version of a parking garage. Since jewelers would carry their merchandise around, they were often in danger of being robbed. So, to make sure no one was attacked on the walk between the car and the office, jewelers just drove their car straight into the building! For its first 14 years, the building had a car lift that served the first 23 floors and facilitated safe transfers for jewelry merchants. The car elevator would bring you to the floor you worked on and then drop your car off on one of the parking levels. From the security office, a lockdown would commence upon any tenant's trigger of the alarm system. All outside doors would lock, and elevators would stop at the next floor; the doors remained closed and would not move.

The best part of this 40-story building is the dome at the top.
Formerly the Pure Oil Building, then the North American Life Insurance Building, 35 East Wacker was listed in 1978 as a contributing property to the Michigan–Wacker Historic District on the National Register of Historic Places and was designated a Chicago Landmark on February 9, 1994.
Instead of sticking four ungainly water tanks on steel legs (there are four of these towers on the building), Yiaver & Dinkleberg, architects and engineers of this enormous structure designed these attractive and ornamental tank screens, which beautify the building instead of disfiguring it.
THE STRATOSPHERE CLUB FOLKLORE
When the 40-story Jeweler's Building was completed in 1927, the dome sat empty for some time. In 1930, the Chicago Tribune reported that a hawk had taken up residence in the dome and was preying on migratory birds in the loop. References seem to indicate that it was used for storage.

The Stratosphere Club in the dome was not, nor ever was, a speakeasy and Al Capone never stepped foot in the Stratosphere Club, which opened in March of 1937. Al Capone was in Alcatraz Federal Prison since August 22, 1934, and prohibition ended on December 5, 1933.

The creation of the Stratosphere Club was announced in the Tribune. On January 10, 1937, a Tribune article entitled "City's Highest Restaurant Being Built." Owner Paul Streeter named the club after a closed club in the Rockefeller Center in New York City.

The Stratosphere was scheduled to open in March and was the top four floors – a kitchen on the 37th, a regular restaurant on the 38th and 39th, and a cocktail lounge on the 40th. An ornate birdcage elevator took guests to the 40th floor. The lounge was decorated as a hot air balloon, accentuating the outstanding views of the Chicago River and the Loop. 

The club was a big hit, but by 1954, the cupola was converted into a showroom for a commercial artist who kept and used the old circular bar of the Stratosphere Club. It was
 the private conference room and gallery for architect Helmut Jahn (1940-2021), with his offices in Suite 300 of the North American Life Insurance Building. 



Jahn designed that marvelous United Airlines Terminal 1 at Chicago's O'Hare International Airport in the late 1980s with the moving walkways, ceiling light sculpture, and heavenly music.

Jahn was killed on his bicycle in suburban Campton Hills on May 8, 2021. The collision happened near his home and horse farm in St. Charles, Illinois.
Movies love this building. It's the Gotham City Courthouse in "Batman Begins," Batman sits on one of the turrets in one scene. In the movie "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" a giant robot battle is on top of the building.

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"I used to give [Chicago] tours on double-decker buses, river & lake tours. We  used to tell customers the story of Al Capone and the Stratosphere Club [as a speakeasy], and we always believed it to be true. All those people that I lied to through the years."                                                                                                                                       Mr. C. R. (via Facebook)

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.