An In-depth Biography of Architect Daniel Hudson Burnham.

Daniel Hudson Burnham (1846-1912)

Daniel Hudson Burnham was born in Henderson, New York, and raised in the teachings of the Swedenborgian called The New Church, which ingrained in him the strong belief that man should strive to be of service to others. At the age of eight, Burnham moved to Chicago, Illinois, and his father established a wholesale drug business, which became a success.

Burnham was not a good student, but he was good at drawing. He went east at the age of 18 to be taught by private tutors in order to pass the admissions examinations for Harvard and Yale, failing both apparently because of a bad case of test anxiety. In 1867, when he was 21, he returned to Chicago and took an apprenticeship as a draftsman under William LeBaron Jenney of the architectural firm Loring & Jenney.

Architecture seemed to be the calling he was looking for, and he told his parents that he wanted to become "the greatest architect in the city or country."

Nevertheless, the young Burnham still had a streak of wanderlust in him, and in 1869 he left his apprenticeship to go to Nevada with friends to try mining gold, at which he failed. He then ran for the Nevada state legislature and failed to be elected. Broke, he returned again to Chicago and took a position with the architect L.G. Laurean. When the Great Chicago Fire hit the city in October 1871, it seemed as if there would be endless work for architects, but Burnham chose to strike out again, becoming first a salesman of plate glass windows, then a druggist. He failed at first and quit the second. He later remarked on "a family tendency to get tired of doing the same thing for very long."

Burnham married Margaret Sherman, the daughter of his first major client, John B. Sherman, on January 20, 1876. They first met on the construction site of her father’s house. Her father had a house built for the couple to live in. During their courtship, there was a scandal in which Burnham's older brother was accused of having forged checks. Burnham immediately went to John Sherman and offered to break the engagement as a matter of honor, but Sherman rejected the offer, saying, "There is a black sheep in every family." However, Sherman remained wary of his son-in-law, whom he thought drank too much.

Burnham and Margaret remained married for the rest of his life. They had five children, two daughters and three sons, including Daniel Burnham Jr., born in February 1886, who became an architect and urban planner like his father. He worked in his father's firm until 1917 and served as the Director of Public Works for the 1933-34 Chicago World's Fair, known as the "Century of Progress."

The Burnham family lived in Chicago until 1886, when he purchased a 16-room farmhouse and estate on Lake Michigan in the suburb of Evanston, Illinois. Burnham had become wary of Chicago, which he felt was becoming dirtier and more dangerous as its population increased. 

Daniel H. Burnham Residence, Forest Ave. and Burnham Place, Evanston, Illinois. (1888)

Burnham explained to his mother, whom he did not tell of the move in advance, "I did it because I can no longer bear to have my children on the streets of Chicago..." When Burnham moved into "the shanty" in Jackson Park to better supervise the construction of the fair, his wife, Margaret, and their children remained in Evanston.

Professional Career
At age 26, Burnham moved on to the Chicago offices of Carter, Drake, and Wight, where he met future business partner John Wellborn Root, who was 21, four years younger than Burnham.

Daniel H. Burnham and John W. Root. (circa 1890)

The two became friends and then opened an architectural office together in 1873. Unlike his previous ventures, Burnham stuck to this one. Burnham and Root (1873-1891) went on to become a very successful firm.

Their first major commission came from John B. Sherman, the superintendent of the massive Union Stock Yards in Chicago, which provided the livelihood – directly or indirectly – for one-fifth of the city's population. Sherman hired Burnham and Root to build him a mansion on Prairie Avenue and Twenty-first Street among the mansions of Chicago's other merchant barons.

John B. Sherman House, 2100 South Prairie Avenue, Chicago. (1874)

Root made the initial design. Burnham refined it and supervised the construction. It was on the construction site that he met Sherman's daughter, Margaret, whom Burnham would marry in 1876 after a short courtship. Sherman would commission other projects from Burnham and Root, including the Stone Gate, an entry portal to the stockyards, which became a Chicago landmark.

Union Stock Yards Stone Entrance, Chicago, Illinois.

In 1881, the firm was commissioned to build the Montauk Building, which would be the tallest building in Chicago at that time. To solve the problem of the city's water-saturated sandy soil and bedrock 125 feet below the surface, Root came up with a plan to dig down to a “hardpan” layer of clay on which was laid a 2-foot thick pad of concrete overlaid with steel rails placed at right-angles to form a lattice “grill,” which was then filled with Portland cement. This "floating foundation" was, in effect, artificially created bedrock on which the building could be constructed. The completed building was so tall in comparison to existing buildings that it defied easy description, and the name "skyscraper" was coined to describe it. Thomas Talmadge, an architect and architectural critic said of the building, "What Chartres was to the Gothic cathedral, the Montauk Block was to the high commercial building."

The Montauk Building, Chicago. (c.1886)

Burnham and Root went on to build more of the first American skyscrapers, such as the Masonic Temple Building in Chicago. Measuring 21 stories and 302 feet, the temple held claims as the tallest building of its time but was torn down in 1939.

Masonic Temple Building, Chicago, Illinois.

The talents of the two partners were complementary. Both men were artists and gifted architects, but Root had a knack for conceiving elegant designs and was able to see almost at once the totality of the necessary structure. Burnham, on the other hand, excelled at bringing in clients and supervising the building of Root's designs. They each appreciated the value of the other to the firm.

Burnham also took steps to ensure that their employees were happy: he installed a gym in the office, gave fencing lessons, and let employees play handball at lunchtime. Root, a pianist, and organist gave piano recitals in the office on a rented piano. Paul Starrett, who joined the office in 1888, said:

"The office was full of a rush of work, but the spirit of the place was delightfully free and easy and human in comparison to other offices I had worked in."

Although the firm was extremely successful, there were several notable setbacks. One of their designs, the Grannis Block, 21-29 N. Dearborn Street, in which their office was located, burned down on February 19, 1885. The building was seven stories high, with one basement on spread foundations. It had a red brick and red terra cotta front, with wood floor construction. The cast-iron columns were fireproofed with 21 inches of terra cotta. H.M. Kinsley restaurant was in the basement. It was totally destroyed, causing a loss of $185,000. The occupants lost, in furniture and effects, $50,000, making a total loss of $235,000. Upon this, there is an insurance of about $200,000.

Illustration of the Portland and Grannis buildings, 1886.
An arrow pointing to the Grannis building.

Burnham was the first person to discover the fire, and his theory of the origin is undoubtedly the correct one. The stairway that winds around the elevator hatchway led directly to the door of his private office, which was located in the southeast corner of the building. The elevator hatchway was about ten feet distant from his office, and projecting into the room was a sealed shaft running from the basement to the attic. The shaft was oblong in shape with ventilators on each floor, walled on one side with brick and on the other with wood and plaster. Access to it was to be had only in the basement and the attic. In this shaft were the elevator counter-weights and cables. The cables were thick and stout, which were well oiled, as the elevator was kept in constant use during the day. Mr. Burnham was sitting in his office at half-past 5 o’clock, occupied with a client. He said:

"I thought I detected the odor of smoke and called to the engineer to investigate. I walked into our main rooms to investigate, but no smoke could be found there. I arrived at the conclusion that the flames were under the floor of my private office; and after ordering everything thrown into the vaults, I stepped out to talk to the elevator-boy. It was then that positive evidence of fire was revealed. A half-dozen sparks flew out of the shaft-ventilator and were drawn down into the elevator hatchway. It was then that the automatic fire-alarm in the attic sounded and brought the fire patrol to the scene."

It was necessary to move to the top floor of The Rookery, another of their designs.

The Rookery Building in Chicago. (1886, photo: 1891)

Then, in 1888, a Kansas City, Missouri hotel they had designed collapsed during construction, killing one man and injuring several others. At the coroner's inquest, the building's design came in for criticism. The negative publicity shook and depressed Burnham. Then in a further setback, Burnham and Root also failed to win the commission for the design of the giant Auditorium Building, which went instead to their rivals, Adler & Sullivan.

On January 15, 1891, while the firm was deep in meetings for the design of the World's Columbian Exposition, Root died after a three-day course of pneumonia. As Root had only been 41 years old, his death stunned both Burnham and Chicago society. After Root's death, the firm of Burnham and Root, which had had tremendous success producing modern buildings as part of the Chicago School of architecture, was renamed D.H. Burnham & Company (1891-1912).

The 1893 World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago
Burnham and Root had accepted the responsibility to oversee the design and construction of the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago’s then-desolate Jackson Park on the south lakefront. The largest world's fair to that date (1893), it celebrated the 400-year anniversary of Christopher Columbus's famous voyage. After Root's sudden and unexpected death, a team of distinguished American architects and landscape architects, including Burnham, Frederick Law Olmsted, Charles McKim, Richard M. Hunt, George B. Post, Henry Van Brunt, and Louis Sullivan, radically changed Root's modern and colorful style to a Classical Revival style. 

D.H. Burnham & Co. Drawing of the World's Columbian Exposition, Palace of Fine Arts (Museum of Science and Industry), Jackson Park, Chicago, Illinois. (built 1891-1893)

To ensure the project’s success, Burnham moved his personal residence into a wooden headquarters, called "the shanty," on the burgeoning fairgrounds to improve his ability to oversee construction. The construction of the fair-faced huge financial and logistical hurdles, including the Panic of 1893, and an extremely tight timeframe, to open on time.

1893 World's Columbia Exposition, Chicago, Illinois.

Considered the first example of a comprehensive planning document in the nation, the fairground featured grand boulevards, classical building facades, and lush gardens. Often called the "White City," it popularized neoclassical architecture in a monumental yet rational Beaux-Arts style. As a result of the fair’s popularity, architects across the U.S. were said to be inundated with requests by clients to incorporate similar elements into their designs.

The control of the fair's design and construction was a matter of dispute between various entities, particularly the National Commission, which was headed by George R. Davis, who served as Director-General of the fair, the Exposition Company, which consisted of the city's leading merchants, led by Lyman Gage, which had raised the money need to build the fair, and Burnham as Director of Works. In addition, the large number of committees made it difficult for construction to move forward at the pace needed to meet the opening day deadline. After a major accident that destroyed one of the fair's premier buildings, Burnham moved to take tighter control of construction, distributing a memo to all of the fair's department heads which read, "I have assumed personal control of the active work within the grounds of the World's Columbian Exposition... Henceforward, and until further notice, you will report to and receive orders from me exclusively."

After the fair opened, Olmsted, who designed the fairgrounds, said of Burnham that: 

"Too high an estimate cannot be placed on the industry, skill and tact with which this result was secured by the master of us all."

Burnham himself rejected the suggestion that Root had been largely responsible for the fair's design, writing afterward:

What was done up to the time of his death was the faintest suggestion of a plan... The impression concerning his part has been gradually built up by a few people, close friends of his and mostly women, who naturally after the Fair proved beautiful desired to more broadly identify his memory with it.

Post-Fair Architecture
Nevertheless, Burnham’s reputation was considerably enhanced by the success and beauty of the fair. Harvard and Yale Universities presented honorary master's degrees, ameliorating Burnham’s failure to pass their entrance exams in his youth. While the common perception when Root was alive was that he was the architectural artist and Burnham ran the business side of the firm, Root's death, while devastating to Burnham personally, allowed him to develop as an architect in a way that might not have happened if Root had remained alive.

In 1901, Burnham designed the Flatiron Building in New York City, a trailblazing structure that utilized an internal steel skeleton to provide structural integrity; the exterior masonry walls were not load-bearing. This allowed the building to rise to 22 stories. The design was that of a vertical Renaissance palazzo with Beaux-Arts styling, divided like a classical column into the base, shaft, and capital.

Other Burnham post-fair designs included the Land Title Building (1897) in Philadelphia, the first major building in that city not designed by local architects, and known as "the finest example of early skyscraper design" there, John Wanamaker's Department Store (1902-11) in Philadelphia, now Macy's, which is built around a central court, Wanamaker's Annex (1904, addition: 1907-10), in New York City, a 19 story full-block building which contains as much floor space as the Empire State Building, the neo-classical Gimbels Department Store (1908-12) also in New York, now the Manhattan Mall, with a completely new facade, the stunningly Art Deco Mount Wilson Observatory in the hills above Pasadena, California, and Filene's Department Store (1912) in Boston, Burnham's last major building.

Burnham's last building project was Filene's Department Store
in Boston, completed in September of 1912.

The Burnham Plan: Plan of Chicago
Initiated in 1906 and published in 1909, Burnham and his co-author Edward H. Bennett prepared a Plan of Chicago (pdf), which laid out plans for the future of the city. It was the first comprehensive plan for the controlled growth of an American city and an outgrowth of the City Beautiful movement. The plan included ambitious proposals for the lakefront and river. It also asserted that every citizen should be within walking distance of a park. Sponsored by the Commercial Club of Chicago, Burnham donated his services in hopes of furthering his own cause.

Title page for Burnham's Plan of Chicago. Click to download in pdf format.

Building off plans and conceptual designs from the World’s Fair for the south lakefront, Burnham envisioned Chicago as a "Paris on the Prairie." French-inspired public works constructions, fountains, and boulevards radiating from a central, domed municipal palace became Chicago's new backdrop. Though only parts of the plan were actually implemented, it set the standard for urban design, anticipating the future need to control urban growth and continuing to influence the development of Chicago long after Burnham's death.

Burnham's city planning projects did not stop at Chicago, though. Burnham had previously contributed to plans for cities such as Cleveland (the 1903 Group Plan), San Francisco (1905), and Manila (1905), and Baguio in the Philippines, details of which appear in the 1909 Plan of Chicago publication. His plans for the redesign of San Francisco were delivered to the Board of Supervisors in September 1905, but in haste to rebuild the city after the 1906 earthquake and fires, Burnham’s plans were ultimately ignored.

In his career after the fair, Burnham became one of the country's most prominent advocates for the Beaux-Arts movement, as well as the revival of Neo-classical architecture, which the fair set off. Much of Burnham's work was based on the classical style of Greece and Rome. In his 1924 autobiography, Louis Sullivan, one of the leading architects of the Chicago School, but one who had a difficult relationship with Burnham over an extended period of time, criticized Burnham for what Sullivan viewed as his lack of original expression and dependence on classicism. Sullivan went on to claim that "the damage wrought by the World's Fair will last for half a century from its date, if not longer" – a sentiment edged with bitterness, as corporate America of the early 20th century had demonstrated a strong preference for Burnham's architectural style over Sullivan's.

Burnham is famously quoted as saying, "Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men's blood and probably will not themselves be realized." This slogan has been taken to capture the essence of Burnham's spirit.

A man of influence, Burnham was considered the pre-eminent architect in America at the start of the 20th century. He held many positions during his lifetime, including the presidency of the American Institute of Architects. Other notable architects began their careers under his aegis, such as Joseph W. McCarthy. Several of his descendants have worked as influential architects and planners in the United States, including his son, Daniel Burnham Jr., and grandchildren Burnham Kelly and Margaret Burnham Geddes.

Reliance Building in Chicago. (1890-95, photo: 2010)

Of the 27 buildings designed by "Burnham and Root" for Chicago's Loop, only The Rookery and the Reliance Building, now the "Staypineapple Chicago," remain.

When Burnham was in his fifties, his health began to decline. He developed colitis and, in 1909, was diagnosed with diabetes, which affected his circulatory system and led to an infection in his foot which was to continue for the remainder of his life.

The Burnham Family: Daniel H. Burnham, Daniel Burnham Jr., John Burnham, Margaret "Peg" Burnham (daughter), Hubert Burnham, Ethel Burnham, and others. (c.1910)

On April 14, 1912, Burnham and his wife were aboard the S.S. Olympic of the White Star Line, traveling to Europe to tour Heidelberg, Germany. When he attempted to send a telegram to his friend Frank Millet, who was traveling the opposite direction, from Europe to the United States, on the S.S. Titanic, he learned that the ship had been having sunk in an accident and that Millet was not one of the survivors. Burnham died just 47 days later from colitis complicated by his diabetes and food poisoning from a meal eaten in Heidelberg.

Daniel Hudson Burnham Headstone in Chicago's Graceland Cemetery.

At the time of his death, D.H. Burnham & Co. was the world's largest architectural firm. D.H. Burnham & Company was passed down to a longtime trusted employee, who later changed the name to Graham, Burnham, and Company then renamed to Graham, Anderson, Probst & White, and Company, which continued in some form until 2006.

Even legendary architect Frank Lloyd Wright, although strongly critical of Burnham's Beaux-Arts European influences, still admired him as a man and eulogized him, saying:

"[Burnham] made masterful use of the methods and men of his time.... [As] an enthusiastic promoter of great construction enterprises... his powerful personality was supreme."

Daniel Burnham is interred at Graceland Cemetery in Chicago.

Notable Burnham Chicago Commissions
Union Stock Yard Gate (1879)
Union Station (1881)
Montauk Building (1882-83)
Kent House (1883)
Rookery Building (1886)
Reliance Building (1890-95)
Rand McNally Building, the second one (1890, the first all-steel framed skyscraper)
Monadnock Building (northern half, 1891)
Marshall Field and Company Building (1891-92)
Masonic Temple (1892). 
Fisher Building (1896)
Orchestra Hall (1904)
Heyworth Building (1904)

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

The Old Baptist Church on the corner of 3rd and Main Streets in Kewanee, Illinois.

This congregation was organized at Wethersfield, and on May 9, 1856, it was decided by a vote of its members to move their place of holding services to Kewanee. There were at that time over 100 members. They worshipped for some time in different halls, and in some of the other local churches. 

On Dec. 21, 1865, a building committee was appointed, and steps taken toward the erection of a suitable church building. This was completed and occupied on July 7, 1867, and the cost, including the property, was over $8,000.

The church building does not exist any longer.

Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Montgomery Ward fights to keep Chicago's lakefront “open, clear and free” and protect the Public Trust Doctrine.

Aaron Montgomery Ward is probably best remembered as the merchant who invented the mail order catalog sales business in 1872, just after the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which enabled thousands of residents in young, rural America to obtain the latest merchandise with a "Cash-on-Delivery" policy. This unique idea of catalog sales helped the country to grow and prosper and made the Montgomery Ward Company one of the largest retail firms in the nation.

But lesser known is that Montgomery Ward fought to preserve Chicago's "forever open, clear and free" lakefront park system, making Chicago one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Humble Beginnings, Great Aspirations, Tremendous Results

Aaron Montgomery Ward

Aaron Montgomery Ward was born in Chatham, New York, on February 17, 1844. Ward's family moved to Niles, Michigan, when he was 9, but life was always challenging. His father was a cobbler of modest means, and too often, the family had difficulty making ends meet. Ward left home at age 14 and tried his hand at many trades, including making barrels and as a stockboy at a general store in Street  Joseph.

After moving to Chicago and working for Mashall Field for two years, he became a road salesman for a St. Louis wholesaler. When he was on the road, talking to struggling farmers, he hit on the idea of developing a mail-order catalog business, selling directly to rural customers for cash. Ward returned to Chicago and published his first catalog on a one-page sheet in 1872, quickly seeing tremendous growth with his company. (Richard Warren Sears started a mail-order watch  business in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 1886, named "R.W. Sears Watch Company," the predecessor to Sears, Roebuck, and Company.)

Ward was known for standing behind his products. Montgomery Ward coined the phrase "Satisfaction Guaranteed or your Money Back," which became the standard for retailers nationwide. The company's slogan, "You Can't Go Wrong When You Deal With Montgomery Ward," transformed him into a symbol of trustworthiness to millions in rural America. Ward was known for treating his customers like family, seeking their ideas on the type of products they would like listed in his catalog. He wrote countless personal letters and received many warm responses and sound advice from his customers. By 1904, over 3 million catalogs weighing 4 pounds each were being sent to households all across America.

Montgomery Ward was also extremely private, avoiding the social scene and shunning public attention. He was also very charitable, making many anonymous gifts of food and coal to the poor, insisting that he should receive no recognition for his generosity.

Lakefront Preservation and the Makings of a Park
Chicago had long had a tradition of protecting its lakefront. In 1836, after the decommissioning of Fort Dearborn, citizens petitioned the federal government to set aside 20 acres of Fort Dearborn's land for a public square. About that same time, Commissioners of the proposed Illinois and Michigan Canal plotted lots near the new Canal and wrote a proviso that land east of what became Michigan Avenue (to the Lake) and south of Randolph Street to 12th Street should remain "Public Ground – A Common to Remain Forever Open, Clear and Free of Any Buildings, or Other Obstructions whatever." (The Private Rights in Public Lands; The Chicago Lakefront, Montgomery Ward, and the Public Trust Doctrine. pdf)

The Chicago lakefront in the late 1850s was seen from the Illinois Central Station near Randolph Street. Note the railroad trestle between Lake Michigan and the basin, lined with railcars on its west side.

Lake Park (today's Grant Park) "Rowhouses along Michigan Boulevard overlooking river and factories, looking north from Harrison Street, 1865."

After the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, much of the debris from the city's ruins was dumped along the lakefront at the Illinois Central railroad tracks, creating a new landfill. By 1890, the prime real estate was still a muddy mess, but "progress," in the name of new buildings, was being proposed by civic boosters for this site.

CLICK THE IMAGE FOR A FULL-SIZE VIEW.

Mayor Cregier and the City Council wanted to build a civic center on the landfill, a new city hall, a post office, a police station, a power plant, and stables for city garbage wagons and horses.

Montgomery Ward, who had just built his company's stately headquarters building on the northwest side of Michigan and Madison Avenue, gazed out from his office at this expanse and saw the potential for a great city park, which had been ordained by the canal commissioners in 1836. He spent the next 20 years and a small fortune fighting to preserve this land from commercial development.

The Fight for the Lakefront
Over the next 20 years, Ward took the city to court to prevent the construction of any buildings east of Michigan Avenue. His efforts to stop this unbridled development incurred the enmity of many civic leaders, businessmen, politicians, and the Chicago Tribune, which saw his steadfast stance as an impediment to Chicago's growth. He was called "stubborn . . .  undemocratic . . . a persistent enemy of real parks . . . [and] a human icicle, shinning and shunned in all but business relations."

Undaunted, Ward filed suit four times in the Illinois State Supreme Court. Ward won all four cases, preserving the open lakefront from Randolph Street south to 12th Street. Compromises, such as the Art Institute, were eventually constructed, but without question, his efforts saved Lake Park from private development and sprawl. 

Ward always felt he was doing the city a favor with his steadfast struggle and never understood why he was not appreciated for his vision and efforts. In 1909, he granted an interview to the Chicago Tribune, the only interview he ever gave in his life:

"Had I known in 1890 how long it would take me to preserve a park for the people against their will, I doubt I would have undertaken it. I think there is not another man in Chicago who would have spent the money I have spent in this fight with certainty that gratitude would be denied as interest . . . I fought for the poor people of Chicago . . . not the millionaires . . . Here is park frontage on the lake, comparing favorably with the Bay of Naples, which city officials would crowd with buildings, transforming the breathing spot for the poor into a showground of the educated rich. I do not think it is right."

I may yet see the public appreciate my efforts. But I doubt it.

The toll of the fight and an accident (which broke his arm and shoulder blade) significantly weakened Montgomery Ward's health. Shortly after a fall resulting in a broken hip, he developed pneumonia and died on December 7, 1913, at 69.

Ironically, just as the great man died, the city awakened to his magnificent contribution. A letter to the Chicago Tribune by J.J. Wallace put it best:

Who shall set a value on his service? The present generation, I believe, hardly appreciates what has been given them, but those who come later, as they avail themselves of the breathing spot, will realize it.

The Montgomery Ward Gardens
For nearly a century, no park was named to honor this great civic leader. Through the efforts of Friends of the Parks on October 14, 1993, that section of Grant Park along Michigan Avenue between Randolph and Monroe Streets was officially named the Montgomery Ward Company, a bust and historical plaque were placed at the site, stating:

Aaron Montgomery Ward had a vision for Chicago’s lakefront that set him apart from many of his contemporaries. For two decades (1890-1910) he fought tirelessly to preserve Chicago’s shoreline for recreational use and to assure that the city’s “front yard” would remain free of industry. Lake Park is his legacy to the city he loved . . . his gift to the future.

In 1999, the Ward Gardens and plaque were removed to make way for the construction of Millennium Park. In 2005, thanks to a grant from the Montgomery Ward Foundation, a new Montgomery Ward Gardens stood at the corner of Michigan Avenue and 11th Street , a glorious part of his beloved lakefront park.

Today, these Gardens are a living tribute to Montgomery Ward: a man of vision and conviction, a selfless and tireless advocate for the people and parks of Chicago.

The Obama Presidential Centers' Ability to Thwart Wards Plan.

The Chicago City Council unanimously approved the new proposals for the Obama Presidential Center on October 31, 2018. The center was met with some opposition from residents, City and State Republicans [1], who believed that it would damage Jackson Park and negate Montgomery Wards "forever open, clear and free." 

The benefits to the deteriorating community won out. The Obama Presidential Center cost was estimated at $700 million to build and would revitalize the community. Construction on the Obama Presidential Center was completed in August 2021. The center is expected to open in 2025.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

---

FACTUAL DATA

[1] Illinois State Congress Republicans had many complaints about the building of the Obama Presidential Center. Some of their complaints, racially and partisan motivated, included:

Project costs were estimated to be $700 million [a]. Republicans argued that this was too much money to spend on a presidential library, especially considering that the Obamas had already received a $10 million book deal and were likely to earn millions more from speaking engagements and other ventures.

The project's location was on the South Side of Chicago. Republicans argued that this was not a good location for a presidential library, as it was not easily accessible to tourists and would not generate much economic activity. They said of project's design was too modern and would not fit in with the surrounding neighborhood.

The fact that the project was not open to public bidding, which Republicans said, gave the Obama Foundation an unfair advantage.

In addition to these specific complaints, Republicans argued that building a presidential library for a Democrat, particularly one they believed was not a natural-born American. They felt "No Drama Obama" had been a divisive figure in American politics and would not be a neutral and objective representation of his presidency. 

Republicans also argued that the center would be a waste of taxpayer money and that it would not be worth the cost, and that the Obama Presidential Center would be a partisan monument that would only serve to further divide the country.

[a] The 2023 cost estimate for the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago is $830 million. This includes the cost of construction, exhibits, and operating costs for the first year.

Here is a breakdown of the costs: 

Construction: $700 million

Exhibits: $90 million

Operating costs: $40 million

The Obama Foundation has raised about $700 million of the $830 million needed to fund the center. The remaining $130 million is expected to be raised through donations and fundraising.

The 150 year mystery of the exterior color of President Lincoln's funeral train car... Solved!

After being shot on April 14 at Ford’s Theatre by the actor and rabid Southern sympathizer John Wilkes Booth, he was transported to a boarding house across the street from the theater, where he died early the next morning. His body lay in state at the White House and the rotunda of the Capitol building before being loaded into the railroad car, which had been modified to transport Lincoln’s coffin and the coffin of his young son Willie, who had died of typhoid fever in 1862. Willie had been buried in Georgetown’s Oak Hill Cemetery, but after his father’s assassination his coffin was removed and placed aboard the funeral train. The exterior sides bore a large painted crest of the United States. 

Lincoln's Funeral Train - 150 Year Memorial on May 02, 2015 - Car Medallion.

Lincoln's Funeral Train - 150 Year Memorial on May 02, 2015 - Train Wheel Trucks.

The special car, built to transport a living Lincoln and his cabinet, was one of the most elaborately appointed railroad vehicles ever made. The U.S. Military Railroads built the car and delivered it to the president in early 1865. It had upholstered walls, etched-glass windows, 16 wheels (adaptable to both standard and five-foot-gauge tracks) to ensure a smooth ride, and rooms for working and relaxation.

Some of the major stops on route from Washington D.C. to Springfield, Illinois.
[CLICK MAP FOR FULL SIZE]

Interestingly, Lincoln’s funeral car was originally intended to be the official presidential railroad car—the equivalent of Air Force One today. The U.S. Military Railroads built the car and delivered it to the president in early 1865. Tragically, Lincoln never rode in it until his death.

President Abraham Lincoln's funeral car in Alexandria, Virginia.

President Lincoln's funeral train in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

By military order, Lincoln’s funeral procession consisted of no fewer than nine cars, including the funeral car, officers’ car, six passenger cars and one baggage car. The procession left Washington on April 21, 1865, and proceeded across the Northern states, stopping for formal funeral ceremonies in 12 major cities. Smaller communities organized numerous other memorial services along the train’s route. According to a contemporary newspaper report, during the 12-day journey, there were no accidents—an unusual distinction for such a long journey in a time when trains lacked many of today’s safety features.

President Abraham Lincoln's funeral car in Chicago, Illinois, which arrived in Chicago on May 3, 1865, then continued on to Illinois' state capitol.

After being passed between the military and a couple railroad companies, Twin City Rapid Transit Company President Thomas Lowry bought it in 1905. Lowry's intention was to fully rehabilitate the car and find a place to display it so that people could finally visit this car and see it in all of its former splendor. Lowry died before he could restore the car and it was passed to the Minnesota Federation of Women's Clubs which kept it in Columbia Heights near the intersection of 37th Ave NE and Jackson St.

In 1911, the Federation planned to move it for exhibit. Months before the move, a grass fire erupted on March 18, 1911 and engulfed the car.

Lincoln's Funeral Car after the 1911 Fire.

Though many details are known about the car, its color was believed to be lost to history. As no color photographs, lithographs or contemporary paintings of the car exist.

Some accounts (written long after the Civil War) described it as “chocolate brown,” others as closer to a claret, or red-wine color. As Wesolowski points out, chocolate bars didn’t exist at the time of the procession, so chocolate brown at the time would have referred more to Dutch chocolate, which was more reddish brown in color than the chocolate we think of today. It was said that historians were able to salvage only a metal coupling from the ashes, but a man from Minnesota was located who had inherited part of the original railcar’s window frame, perhaps one of the only pieces that survived the 1911 fire. 

Researchers analyzed a small piece of the window trim under high-powered microscopes, then scraped away microscopic flecks of paint and compared them with pigment records and national color standards of the time. Through this painstaking process, they managed to identify the color as a brownish-red; describes as “dark maroon.”

Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The “Peoria War” of 1813 was a big part of the elimination of Indians in Illinois.

A nearly forgotten series of small skirmishes that became known as the “Peoria War” made up a big part of the elimination of Indians in Illinois. The tribe of the Peoria was not involved in this conflict.

In October 1812, Illinois’ territorial Gov. Ninian Edwards launched attacks against Kickapoo and Potawatomi villages in and around the wide area of the Illinois River dubbed Lake Pimiteoui. Some said the assaults — with companies of soldiers and irregulars (militia) destroying the homes and killing dozens of inhabitants — were in retaliation for the Potawatomi victory at Chicago's Fort Dearborn (An in-depth account of the Fort Dearborn Massacre).

Returning to the Peoria area, Black Partridge changed his conciliatory relations with the U.S. military. In his absence, the Americans’ attacks resulted in the destruction of the Potawatomi leader’s home and the deaths of his daughter and grandchild. That caused Black Partridge to renounce his allegiance and take up arms with other resisting Indian forces.

It’s impossible to say what would have happened had the assault on Peoria-area villages not occurred, of course. However, if Black Partridge and other Indian forces had had more resources from the British, with whom they’d been allied since the United States declared war against Great Britain on June 18, 1812, settlers’ westward expansion might have been stopped at the Illinois-Indiana border.

Instead, treachery in treaties and policies, clumsy betrayals, and shifting alliances linked the Peoria War to Tecumseh’s War and the War of 1812 and led to the eradication of Indian villages and their ultimate displacement.

Ties to the Tecumseh War and the War of 1812 started in 1811 and extended to the Treaty of Ghent, where American and British diplomats on Christmas Eve 1814 settled disputes — and abandoned Indians to the changing whims of settlers, troops, and governments.

Tecumseh’s War was a war of resistance against “the children of the Evil Spirit” after the Shawnee chief assembled a coalition of different tribes following the Treaty of Fort Wayne. That pact was supposedly decided on September 29, 1809, when Indian leaders agreed to relinquish 3 million acres in Indiana and Illinois, and although Black Partridge signed, many Indian leaders refused and some declared it a fraud, sparking the Tecumseh War. That armed conflict continued until Tecumseh’s death at the Battle of the Thames in southern Canada on October 5, 1813.

Meanwhile, the War of 1812 had four causes, historians agree upon Britain seizing Americans to forcibly serve on British ships, British trade restrictions, occasional British support for Indians, and a desire by some U.S. leaders to seize Canada from British control.

The Indian population in Illinois had increased after 1811 when Tecumseh’s forces were defeated at a battle at Tippecanoe in Indiana, but there were few U.S. troops or garrisons.

Still, a month after Black Partridge’s home and family were wiped out, another punitive attack came from troops coming to the Peoria area from Fort Knox in Kentucky. Despite the Indian villages having many “neutral” Potawatomi and Kickapoo warriors setting wild grass ablaze to stop the soldiers, troops destroyed villages and killed inhabitants who’d fled into a swamp. Even indecisive Indian villages then rallied against the troops and settlers to fight with the British and Tecumseh’s ragtag confederacy of tribes.

Fort Clark Illustration

About a year later, Tecumseh was killed at the Battle of the Thames east of Detroit in southern Ontario, and a few weeks later, fewer than 200 Potawatomi and Kickapoo warriors led by Black Partridge were beaten back by more than 1,000 soldiers who’d arrived from St. Louis to bolster forces at the newly built Fort Clark (constructed in 1813) on the riverfront near where Liberty Street is now, named for Revolutionary War hero George Rogers Clark. That winter, Black Partridge met in St. Louis with Missouri’s Territorial Gov. William Clark (of the Lewis and Clark Expedition and brother of George Rogers Clark), ending the Peoria War.

Black Partridge died in 1815, but he was one of several area Indian leaders, men who answered to the names Gomo, Senachwine, Shabbona, Main Poc of the Kankakee, and Black Hawk of the Sauk ("Life of Black Hawk" as dictated by himself). Some had supported the French against Great Britain and colonists in the French and Indian War; some backed colonists in the American Revolution.

Elsewhere, remaining Indian fighters including Kickapoo, Sauk, and Fox defeated troops in two related actions in the area where the Quad Cities are today: the Battle of Rock Island (July 1814) and the Battle of Credit Island (September 1814). But such victories were few.

Edwards, who served from 1809-1818, went on to again order attacks against Indians during the Winnebago War in southern Wisconsin in the 1820s when the U.S. government started setting aside “reservation” land farther west. Also, 5 million acres of land in western Illinois in May 1812 was offered to people who were serving in the War of 1812 — about one-eighth of the current state’s area, and where many Indians still lived. So new settlers and land speculators stepped up efforts to push Indians from the Midwest to Oklahoma, where the Potawatomi Nation survives.

Later, the Black Hawk War, lasting four months in 1832, was the Indians’ last, unsuccessful attempt to preserve their homes in Illinois and Wisconsin.

Pokagon of the Potawatomi in the late 1800s said, “Often in the stillness of the night, when all nature seems asleep about me, there comes a gentle rapping at the door of my heart. I open it; a voice inquires, ‘Pokagon, what of your people? What will their future be?’ My answer is: ‘Mortal man has not the power to draw aside the veil of unborn time. That gift belongs to the Divine. But it is given to him to closely judge the future by the present and the past.’”

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.