Illiniwek Indians made a bid for power in the late 1600s Mid-west America, based on bison and slavery.

Most historical accounts describe the Illiniwek Indians, of the late 1600s as a weak and beleaguered people, shattered by war.

{{The Illiniwek Indian tribe was a Confederacy of tribes [aka: Illinois (pronounced as plural: Illinois') and Illini]; consisted of the Kaskaskia, Cahokia, Peoria, Tamaroa, Moingwena, Michigamea, Chepoussa, Chinkoa, Coiracoentanon, Espeminkia, Maroa, and Tapouara tribes.}}

Their Grand Village of the Kaskaskia (aka: The Village of La Vantum), near present-day Starved Rock State Park, 80 miles southwest of Chicago, was depicted as little more than a refugee center, propped up by the French Fort St. Louis du Rocher.

The reality, however, is quite different, argues University of Illinois history professor Robert Morrissey, in an “editor’s choice” article in the December issue of the Journal of American History.

The Grand Village and surrounding settlements were then likely the largest population center north of Mexico City, and the Illinois were making “perhaps the most remarkable bid for power in 17th century native North America,” according to Morrissey, who also has written a book on colonial Illinois during this period.

The Illinois Indians were exploiting a unique ecological and social borderland at the center of the continent – between tallgrass prairie to the west and woodlands to the east, and between distinctly different peoples of the Great Plains and the Great Lakes, he said.

There they could hunt plentiful bison at the eastern edge of their range. And there they also could raid Indian villages to the west for slaves, to trade to Indians to the east, where slaves were sought mostly as “replacement kin” for those lost to war and European disease.

“In that particular moment, and in that particular space, these people rose to quite considerable power, and yet they’re not part of the narrative of early American history, and the place is totally off the map,” Morrissey said.

Much of the reason can be traced back to accounts by the French who established an outpost and mission near the Grand Village in the 1670s, he said. “I don’t think they understood what they were looking at when they arrived in the Illinois country.”

The Illinois and other Algonquian-speakers in the Great Lakes region had suffered what seemed to be devastating attacks by the eastern Iroquois, as part of what were called the Beaver Wars, Morrissey said. “I think this caused the French to miss the ways that the Algonquians, and especially the Illinois, were themselves acting aggressively and were themselves acting out of their own motivations.”

The French also exaggerated their own importance in those accounts, Morrissey said. “The French were not the biggest thing happening in the Illinois people’s lives at this moment, and when we read those sources, it sometimes seems like the French think they are.” They also had reason to exaggerate Illinois weakness and their own importance in search of greater support from the French government and the Catholic Church.

Taking a more-critical look at French accounts, and supplementing that with archeological and environmental sources, Morrissey is seeking to tell native history in a broader context.

In his story of the Grand Village, for instance, he notes that the Illinois, a loose confederation of at least 13 subgroups or kinship groups – among them the Cahokia, Kaskaskia and Peoria – were recent arrivals themselves. Their ancestors, or “proto-Illinois,” had lived south of Lake Erie and in the Ohio River Valley, and moved west in the 1500s and early 1600s.

Their move may have been prompted by climate changes resulting from the “Little Ice Age,” which shortened growing seasons in the Ohio Valley and moved the bison range east into Illinois.

They had settled in villages along and west of the Mississippi River before moving into the upper Illinois River Valley. What they saw or found there, according to Morrissey, were the advantages of a literal and metaphorical “ecotone,” a term used by biologists to describe a border zone between adjacent communities of vegetation. Some species thrive in such zones, moving between and exploiting multiple habitats.

The Illinois thrived in that ecotone for about two decades, Morrissey said. They found opportunities and power in bison hunting, trading and then slave trading.

The Grand Village was ultimately short-lived, in part due to the inherent violence and other corrosive effects of the slave trade, Morrissey said. One aspect of that was that many more women than men were taken as slaves since they were more valuable as replacement kin, and Illinois men then took some of those female slaves as additional wives.

This degraded the status of Illinois women and caused rifts and often abuse within these polygamous families, Morrissey said. Many Illinois wives sought refuge in the Catholic mission and Christianity.

Resources were also an issue. Nearby forests were thin, so village residents lacked firewood, and it’s possible they even reached limits on bison hunting, supporting a population of up to 20,000.

The story of the Illinois and the Grand Village holds importance because it shows native people acting on their own motivations in a bid for power, separate from European influence, Morrissey said. It also reveals the significant and often-neglected place of the Midwest in early American history, he said.

“Historians of early America often still tell their narratives in terms of Indian reaction to Europeans, as if Europeans were the most important thing happening in Indian worlds,” Morrissey said.

“My agenda here is to suggest that there are a lot of other factors playing into what native people were doing, and why they were doing it. Many of the logics of their actions have probably nothing to do with Europeans, or only partially to do with Europeans. To understand them, we need to recontextualize the story from an indigenous perspective.”

By Craig Chamberlain
Edited by Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Chicagoan Keanon Kyles, a black opera singer, gets his big break after years as a night janitor.

Bass-baritone operatic singer Keanon Kyles performed in his studio at the Fine Arts Building at 410 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago. Kyles has worked as a janitor and voice coach to fund his dream. Never give up on your dreams, someone told Keanon Kyles along the way. It stuck, even in dark moments, like when he'd find tears dropping as he cleaned corporate offices on his night shift job as a janitor.

Kyles, 31, is an opera singer, a rare black male in a music genre many may see as staged musical dramas with high-pitched singing. A little time with the talented Kyles changes that thinking.

"It started when I was 7. My mother signed me and my sister up with the Chicago Children's Choir. We worked our way up to the top concert choir," Kyles said.

"We went on tours all around the world. That was my childhood. At age 13, I joined Gallery 37's Operatics Ensemble. It was the first time I was part of an opera production. I realized I had a strong interest and love for it," he said.

"High school was when I really came to believe I had a chance at being an opera singer. My teacher picked me to perform an aria for a state competition with two weeks to prepare," he said." I won us an honor superior. That's when I thought: 'This could be something.'"

After years of chasing that dream, at times feeling beaten, Kyles, raised in the Washington Heights community's Brainerd neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago, got his big break.

He earned the lead role in "Rigoletto," an opera in three acts by Giuseppe Verdi in Scotland. The role of this hunchback court jester is one of the most powerfully dramatic character roles in opera.

"He was just a kid when he auditioned to be in the elite ensemble I conducted for Gallery 37. He had such a good voice," said Andrew Schultze, an eminent opera singer, conductor, stage director and teacher who has sung throughout the U.S. and Europe, from Carnegie Hall to Milan's La Scala Opera House.

Kyles' longtime mentor and voice coach, Schultze, again worked with him as a teacher at Columbia College, where Kyles obtained a music degree in 2010.

"It's been wonderful to see this kid who was always interested in music become focused on opera. He sings gospel. He sings jazz. He sings everything. But he just kept saying, 'I want to do opera,'" Schultze said.

"He has this talent. It's compelling him. It's propelling and impelling him," said Schultze, who will travel with his wife to see Kyles' performance. "He's such an unaffected person, a really nice guy. I told him, 'Keanon, Rigoletto is the one role I've always wanted to play. I've studied that role but never gotten to do it. Now, you see, you are singing it for me!'"

The third of four children of William and Vivian Kyles, a construction contractor and stay-at-home mom, Kyles left home after college to share a North Side apartment with roommates. To pay the bills while chasing his dream, he contacted a placement agency that had employed him during college. All they had was janitorial work.

"I was like, 'Ummm … I'll get back to you.' I needed a job but wasn't expecting to be cleaning nothing up," said Kyles, voice soft as butter, melodic even in conversation. "After talking to my mother, I had a talk with myself. I realized this was just a job. And that's when adulthood started."

He has worked as many as three jobs at a time to fund his opera journey, weathering frustration and occasional tears. But as his performance gigs increased, so did his exposure.

Doors began to open. In the summer of 2015, he was accepted into Europe's premiere young artist performance festival, Italy's Trentino Music Festival. In the summer of 2016, he secured the role of Colline in Clyde Opera Group's U.K. production of "La Boheme," one of the world's most popular operas. The performance garnered him Clyde Opera Group's Rigoletto role. This would put him on the map.

Bass-baritone operatic singer Keanon Kyles poses for a portrait near his studio at the Fine Arts Building, 410 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago.

"When I realized his interest was classical music, I was thrilled because most young African Americans who go into music are drawn to hip-hop," his mother said. "When he graduated from Columbia and did his recital, everyone was amazed because he sings in three languages. His stage presence brings music alive, even if you don't understand a word. He has that same presence in character and spirit, just a bright light."

Kyles just wants to share his gift.

"I sing R&B. I sing gospel. I sing all those things, but nothing stands out to me more than opera," Kyles said. "Since opera is a European-driven genre, I wanted to represent the blacks because we can sing. We can do that. We can sing in Italy. We can sing in France. People will put limits on you based on your skin color until you prove them wrong, and that's what I wanted to do. I wanted to prove everybody wrong and to prove to people that there were African Americans interested in opera. Put yourself in an arena that nobody would expect you to ever be."

"I want young people to know they don't have to wait for anybody to hand them something or tell them you deserve it," he said. "If you believe it, work at it. Being a star doesn't begin when you reach the spotlight. It starts the moment that the light bulb goes on. This is what you want to do."

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The Biography of the Honorable Jesse White.

Jesse Clark White was born in Alton, Illinois, on June 23, 1934. He moved to Chicago with his parents and attended Schiller Elementary School In 1943. He attended Waller High School, where he was active in school athletics, being named All-City in basketball and baseball. He also excelled at tumbling and hoped to play professional baseball after graduation, fielding offers from the St. Louis Browns and the Pittsburgh Pirates. However, White's father insisted that he first go to college. White enrolled at Alabama State College, majoring in physical education. He played baseball and basketball, earning All-Conference honors in both sports. 

Upon graduation, White signed with the Chicago Cubs organization. However, four days before leaving for spring training, he was drafted by the United States Army, where he attended jump school and was trained as a paratrooper. White was soon assigned to the 101st Airborne Division. After his discharge in 1959, White returned to Chicago, where he finally began his professional baseball career, playing for several seasons with the Chicago Cubs organization. 

When Secretary of State Jesse White was a young Chicago Cubs prospect in the early 1960s, legendary slugger Ernie Banks would hold court at spring training dinners with other black players. White says Banks was "our godfather," a player "who we rallied around. And we would meet at this restaurant, and we'd talk baseball. And he'd give us guidance about how to conduct ourselves." The Cubs' playoff run means a little more to the 24-year government officeholder, who played from 1959 to 1966 in the Cubs' farm system. He made it close to the major leagues but never got that coveted call. Still, the advice White says Banks relayed about hard work and moving up in the world could apply as neatly to politics as to baseball. "You cannot just expect a promotion from the sky," White said.

He says the only time he played at Wrigley Field besides a softball game among lawmakers was at a tryout in 1956, 11 years after the team's last World Series appearance. After that tryout, he was signed by the Cubs organization but would be drafted by the Army shortly afterward. "Instead of going to spring training, I went to basic training," White said. White started playing for the low-level Potashers of Carlsbad, New Mexico, in 1959. He eventually made it to the highest levels of the minor leagues, playing a couple of years for the AAA Salt Lake City Bees in the early 1960s.

Jesse White played for the Cubs' AAA team, the Salt Lake City Bees, in the early 1960s. 

He finished with a lifetime .291 batting average, but the game is different now. "I think there's more enthusiasm for the game today, especially here in Chicago, than ever before," he said. "I cannot ever remember this enthusiasm for the Cubs. The players are a lot younger. They're a lot faster. And they pitch the ball a lot faster. "But we played... for the love of the game and not so much for the money involved because we didn't get paid that much."

Off-season, White also worked as a physical education instructor at Schiller Elementary School, the school he attended as a child, and the Chicago Park District. In December 1959, White was asked to organize a gym show at the Rockwell Garden Housing Project. This show laid the foundation for what would become known worldwide as the "Jesse White Tumblers." Team members must stay away from gangs, drugs, and alcohol, stay in school, and maintain a minimum "C" average. The team consists of male and female participants as young as age 6.

With 7 units, the team gives more than 1,500 performances each year at major sporting events and community, business, and charity functions. The Jesse White Tumblers attract national and international attention and have performed throughout the United States in all 50 states and the Countries of Belize, Bermuda, Canada, China, Croatia, Israel, Japan, and others. The team has also been featured in commercials, national television shows, and motion pictures.

Because the organization requires its student-athletes to maintain at least a "C" average, team members and trainees who fall below this standard must attend tutoring classes or show proof that they are enrolled in a tutoring program. Our program assists with homework, encourages independent reading, improves writing skills, spelling and handwriting, and practices basic math facts. The program also helps improve science and social studies grades through study skills and develops higher thinking skills through group and individual work. So far, the Tumblers have served as a positive alternative for over 16,500 underprivileged Chicago children. 

As White continued to juggle teaching and tumbling, he was approached to run for a seat in the state legislature, replacing Robert Thompson, who was retiring. In 1974, he was elected to the Illinois House of Representatives, where he served on the Committees on Aging, Elementary & Secondary Education, and Public Utilities and chaired the Committee on Children and Human Services. Among the bills proposed by White in the House was the Good Samaritan Bill, which allowed hotels to offer leftover food to soup kitchens without threat of liability. 

Except for the 1977-79 term, White served in the Illinois General Assembly until 1992, when he was elected Cook County Recorder of Deeds. In 1996, he was reelected to the same office and served until 1998, when he made history by being the first Black elected Secretary of State for Illinois.

Illinois Secretary of State Jesse White. 

The Secretary of State's office is responsible for issuing license plates and titles, maintaining driver records, and overseeing the State Library, State Archives, and the organ and tissue donor program.

In May 1995, White was inducted into the Southwestern Athletic Conference Hall of Fame. He was an all-city baseball and basketball star at Chicago's Waller High School (now Lincoln Park Academy). He was inducted into the Chicago Public League Basketball Coaches Association Hall of Fame in June 1995.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Beginning January 1, 2019, State law mandates black history courses at public colleges in Illinois.

Public colleges and universities throughout the state of Illinois must now offer a course studying black history.

May 3, 1968, black students occupied Northwestern University's bursar’s office, alleging that NU hadn’t confronted Evanston’s segregated housing. Among their demands was a greater presence of minorities at the university, where there were about 45 to 50 blacks among 6,500 undergraduates. 

In 1981, a state law was passed to make sure that all public schools in Illinois teach black history. And in 2016, Chicago Public Schools history teachers believed that CPS didn’t do enough to implement black history classes into its curriculum.

The fact that the existing state mandates weren’t always followed is one reason state Rep. La Shawn K. Ford co-sponsored the bill. “We’re going to have an audit on every school district in the state. In today’s times, where we have so much racial tension, we need to know each others’ culture,” Ford said. “You can’t have institutional learning that’s not complete.”

South Side native Joshua Adams, an assistant professor of media and communications at Salem State University, believes the legislation is a step in the right direction since most students never take a black history course until college. “The way American history is taught around the country often leaves most students unequipped to know about and think critically about where we came from as a country and where we are going,” Adams said.

Elizabeth Todd-Breland, Ph.D. an assistant professor of history at the University of Illinois at Chicago and author of “A Political Education: Black Politics and Education Reform in Chicago since the 1960s,” believes oversight of the law is paramount.

“Given the way that black history has been ignored or distorted—particularly the history of slavery in some secondary textbooks and curriculum—I think requiring black history to be offered at the post-secondary level is important,” Todd-Breland said. “It will also be important to monitor the implementation of this to make sure these courses are not marginalized among other requirements.”

By Evan F. Moore, Chicago Sun Times
Edited by Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The Morgan Park Community is home to Chicago's pioneer Negro settlement, dating back to the 1880s.

The earliest days of Morgan Park included a small settlement of Negroes, some of whom were former slaves and others descended from Southern slave families who migrated north after the Civil War. 

French immigrants also settled in Morgan Park. They settled east of Vincennes Avenue, near the main line of the Rock Island railroad.

Map of Morgan Park, Illinois, as laid out by Thomas F. Nichols for the Blue Island Land and Building Company, 1870.

Morgan Park is 13 miles south of the Loop and is one of the city's 77 official community areas. It was laid out in the 1870s by Thomas F. Nichols, so Morgan Park's winding streets, small parks, and roundabouts evoke images of an English country town. In 1869, the Blue Island Land and Building Company purchased property from the heirs of Thomas Morgan, an early English settler, and subdivided the area from Western Avenue to Vincennes Avenue that falls within the present community area. Although the Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad laid tracks through the area in 1852, regular commuter service to downtown was established in the suburban line opened in 1888.

They established their own churches, beginning with Beth Eden in 1891 which was the first of more than 19 churches organized by Negro families who lived in the segregated district east of Vincennes, near the main line of the Rock Island railroad. Public institutions such as the Walker Branch Library (founded in 1890) and the Morgan Park High School (built in 1916) were always integrated.

On the other side of the tracks near 117th Street, French Roman Catholics who worked in the local Purington brickyard established Sacred Heart Church (1904).

The battle over annexation to Chicago in 1911, which sharply divided the community, dragged on in court until 1914.

By 1920, 674 of Morgan Park's 7,780 residents were Negroes (11.5%). The official report published in the wake of the city's 1919 Race Riot (aka Red Summer) noted that, while whites and blacks in Morgan Park "maintain a friendly attitude," nevertheless, "there seems to be a common understanding that Negroes must not live west of Vincennes Road, which bisects the town from northeast to southwest

Second grade at Holy Name of Mary School. 1955

Reflecting the reality of urban segregation, black Catholics established Holy Name of Mary (1940) at the east end of the community. Racial integration in the larger Morgan Park area did not occur on a large scale until the late 1960s. By then, however, the west leg of Interstate 57 had effectively isolated the older black settlement east of Vincennes.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.