Chicago History | Spring 1987 by Chicago History Museum

CHICAGO HISTORY

CHICAGO HISTORY____T_h_e_M _ agazine of the Chicago Historical Socie!Y_ __ EDITOR

RL'SSELL LEWIS

Spring 1987 Volum e XVI, Number 1

ASSOCIATE EDITOR M EG M oss ASSISTANT EDITOR Al.ETA Z AK EDITORJAL ASSISTANT

CONTENTS

M A RGA RET W EI.S I I DESIGNER

BI LL V A, N 1~l\l'[ CEN ASSISTANT DESIGNER

M1CHELLE K ocA:s:

ST EFAN G ERM ER

WIUJ A~I j E:S:N l:S:GS

SENGSTOCK,]R.

"Those Exciting Times" FREDERIC TRAUTMANN

EDITORIAL INTERN C t .,\ l 'Dl.\ COFFEE

Chicago's Dance Bands and Orchestras C HAlU,ES

PHOTOGRAPHY

j Al':E R ECAN

Pictures at an Exhibition

Homeless Children, Childless Homes P AULA

P FEFFER

DEPARTMEN TS

ISSN 0272-85 10 Articles appearing in this journa l are abstracted a nd ind exed in lfi,torical Abstract< and America: I listo,y and Lije. Fomnoted manuscripts of the articles appearing in this issue are avai lable in the Chi cago I listorica l Soc iet1 ·s Pub lica tions O llice. Cm·er: In terstate Industr ial Expos it ion, 187:~, by Pauline Doh11

N11dolph. U IS Pa111ti11g1 and Srnlpture C:ollrctwn.

From the Editor

Yesterday's City

Chicago Historical Society OFFICERS Bryan S. Reid, Jr., 11-easurer Philip D. Block 111, Chairman Mrs. ewton N. Minow, Secretary Philip W. Humme1; \lice-Chairman Stewart S. Dixon, immediate Past Chairmrm Richard H. Needham, \lice-Chairman Ellsworth H. Brown, President and Director

TRUSTEES Mrs. Brooks McCormick Philip D. Block III Laurence Booth John T McCutcheon,Jc William J. McDonough Mrs. Pastora San.Juan Cafferty Robert Meers Mrs. Emmett Dedmon Mrs. Newton N. Minow Stewart S. Dixon Richard H. eedham William M. Drake Philip W. Hummer Potter Palmer Edgar D.Jannotta Bryan S. Reid,Jr. Edward Byron Smith,Jr. Philip E. Kelley W. Paul Krauss Demp ey J. Travis Mrs. Abra Prentice Wilkin

LIFE TRUSTEES Cyrus Colter Andrew McNally III Mrs. Frank D. Mayer Mrs. C. Phillip Miller Gardner H. Stern Theodore Tieken

HONORARY TRUSTEE William C. Bartholomay, President, Chicago Park District

The Chicago Historical Society is a privately endowed institution devoted to collecting, prcser\'ing, and interpreting the history of the city of Chicago, the state of Illinois, and selected areas of American history. It must look to its members and friends for continuing financial support. Contributions to the Society are tax-deductible, and appropriate recognition is accorded major gifts. Membership Membership is open to anyone interested in the Society's goals and acti\'ities. Classes of annual membership and clues are as follows: lncliviclual, $25; Family, 30. Members receive the Society's quarterly maga,ine. Chicago History; a quarterly newsletter, Past-71mes; a quarterly Calendar of Evmts listing Societ1 programs; invitations to special events; free admission to the building at all times; reserved seats at films and concerts in our auditorium; and a JO percent discount on books and other merchandise purchased in rhe Museurn Store. Hours The Museum is open daily from 9:30 A.~t. lo 4:30 l'.~t.; Sunday from 12:00 NOON to 5:00 P.M. The Library and Manuscripts Collectio n are open Tuesday tJ1rough Saturday from 9:30 A.M. to 4:30 l~M. All other research co llections are open by appo intment. The Society is closed on Chrisunas, New Year's, and Thanksgiving clays. Education and Public Programs Guided tours, slide lectures, gallery talks, craft demonstrations, and a variety of special programs for all ages, from pre-school U1rough senior citizen, are offered. Admission Fees for Non-members Adults, $1.50; Children (6-17), 5011; Senior Citizens, 5011. Admission is free on Mondays.

Chicago Historical Society

Clark Street at North Avenue

Chicago, Illinois 60614

(312) 642-4600

FROM THE EDITOR We live in a society that values commerce far more than culture. Yet few of us would judge a work of art by its market price. Instead, we judge art by the aesthetic pleasure it gives; its rarity, uniqueness, or historical importance; and by the emotional response it evokes. This philosophy forms the foundation of twentieth-century art museums, our institutions for acquiring, studying, preserving, and exhibiting works of art. Although museums traditionally have turned to the commercial sector for financial support, they assiduously have kept business out of their galleries. We are frequently told that museum exhibitions are filled with priceless art, but have you ever seen a price tag? This separation of culture from commerce has a fascinating history. In the past Chicagoans felt more comfortable merging art and business. "Beauty has always paid better than any other commodity and always will," architect Daniel H. Burnham reminded Chicago's leading businessmen in a speech to the Merchant's Club in April 1897. In Burn ham's day, art and business were not always separate worlds. Stefan Germer's article on the Interstate Industlial Expositions in this issue tells how these annual trade fairs created a bridge between culture and commerce. Mass-produced commodities like screws and tin ware were exhibited at the expositions in elaborate artistic displays that were judged by aesthetic standards; works of art were sold as commodities, their market price the measure of their value. From 1873 to 1890, these expositions introduced Chicago collectors to a hostofEuropean and American artists and established the city as an important art market. But by the early 1890s, this merging of art and business was deemed inappropriate. The museum emerged to separate culture from commerce. During the last decade the relationship between art and business has shifted again. Seventyeight years after Burnham spoke, artist Andy Warhol wrote in THE Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From A to B & Back Again that "Business art is the step that comes after Art. I started as a commercial artist, and I want to finish as a business artist. ... Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art." Taking Warhol's words as its credo, a new generation of artists has made fame and fortune its manifesto. Art is big business: paintings by Van Gogh sell for more than $50 million at auction, and the galleries are booming. Markets have replaced movements, and dealers and collectors- those who sell and buy-are key figures in shaping contemporary aesthetic trends. The feeling among many critics is that the market is corrupting art. If this recent commodification of art is not yet visible in art museums, the tremendous success of the Chicago International Art Exposition over the past eight years is strong evidence of the influence of art business on art making. Not since the Interstate Industrial Expositions has Chicago offered so much art for sale. Called America's largest art market, the Expo's offerings have grown from more than 5,000 works of art in 1980 to more than 20,000 in 1987. The Exposition is respected worldwide as one of the major art events of the year and has established Chicago, once again, as a major art market. Will the market destroy art? It could. But already artists are responding to this perceived threat in a healthy way: they are making art about the marketing of culture. RL

Pictures at an Exhibition by Stefun Germer

The Interstate Industrial Exposition's art exhibitions shaped Chicagoans' aesthetic tastes and established the city as a lucrative market for the latest European painting.

Chicago is simply the inevitable result of a prophetic intention. When God dropped the lakes in their places and unfolded the millions of acres of the bursting West beyond them .... He. speaking with reverence, He meant bu iness.

exhibition space to fill with a variety of pavilions, stands, and counters, showing the products of Chicago, midwestern, and even East Coast firms. Like I.he building itself, the exhibition was planned

Guide lo the Interstate Industrial Exposition, 1873

In Chicago. lhe intert\,Âˇining of art and business has a long history. "Cu1iously enough," wrote Lucy B. .\lonroe, when sur\'eying the artistic scene in 1892, "the hist0ry of the encouragement of art in Chicago must deal wilh the business-men of the community rather than with the artist ." B)' way of its invol\'ement in the art world, the business community shaped both attitude toward art as well as the in titutions concerned with it. It is therefore hardl)' surp1ising to find the first fonnation of artistic ta Le in a place de igned primarily for business: the Interstate Industrial Exposition. Started in 1 73 and organized annually until 1891, these exhibitions were huge trade fairs de igned to promote Chicago a the foremost midwestern trading and industrial center. Such fairs had been contemplated ince the late 1860s. After the Great Fire of 1871, the idea wa realized when a corporation headed by real e rate mogul Potter Palmer offered subsoiption stocks to finance the erection of an exhibition hall on 1\lichigan Avenue between Adams and Jackson streets. The first exhibition opened its gates to the public on September 25, 1873; Chicago had a new attraction. The exhibition hall, a huge iron and glass construct.ion designed by architect W.W. Boyington, offered businessmen 230,000 square feet of Stefc111 Germer is assistant professor of nineteenth- and twentiethcentW)' art al the University of Bonn, \Vest Germany.

Thule l'.1Jositiom of the late nineteenth century saw the juxtaposition of commodities and art. t.~~hibitors presmted induslrial prod ucls, like lhese railway irons al the I\orld s Columbian Exposilion. in elaborale artistic displays to r-mplwsiu their aesthelic qualities. Horks of arl, on the other hand, were offered for sale based on /heir value as commoditie.1. Left, Portrai1 ofa Lady, 1851, byjean-Uon Gerome, French. 5

Chicago History, Spring 1987

The first Interstate Industrial Exposition ope,ud 011 September 25. 1873, in a new exhibition hall 011 Michigan streets. The hall was the site of these huge tradR fairs held annually until 1891.

as a celebration of modernity, technology, and industrialization. It featured a working steam engine, a huge passenger elevator u-ansporting vis itors to an observation deck, gas lighting, and one year, an interior railroad track on which locomotives drawing passenger carriages sped around the exhibits. Tracie fairs like the Interstate Industrial Exposition were popular throughout the country. New Orleans staged one in 1866, Atlanta in 1870; Denve1~ Cinncinati, Louisville, Detroit, and other cities were to follow. All of tl1ese expositions imitated European examples: the Crystal Palace exhibition in London (1851) and the first Paris world's fair (1855) provided the ideological framework as well as the architectural model and specific techniques of display. Ideologically, these exhibitions underscored tl1e importance of industry as a means to solve the major conflicts of nineteenth-century society by propagating technological solutions for social problems. This ideology was of particular interest in Chicago. By the time the first exhibition opened in 1873, the city had barely recovered from its devastating fire, and its economy was stricken by a 6

Ave11111'

bt'twe1'11.fackso11 and Adams

severe depression. In addition to these temporary problems, the long-term social conflict between native-born Americans and the steady influx of illiterate immigrants, 11Âˇho were plagued by low wages and bad housing conditions, continued to grow. In the eyes of those who organized that first exhibition, rapid industrialization and the introduction of rational manufacturing methods to replace u-aditional craft work could overcome the present economic o;sis and also resol\'e longterm social conflicts. The architecture of the exhibition hall mirrored this belief in the power of technology. Modeled after the C1)'stal Palace Joseph Paxton had built for London's 1851 exhibition, it was a monument of pure functionalism. either the exterior nor the gigantic vaulted interior space bore any resemblance to architectural styles of the past. Its design owed much more to new construction materials (iron and glass) and to the skill of the engineer than to building traditions and the aesthetic of architecture. Clearly, the functionalist design of the hall underscored the ideological message of nineteenth-century exhibitions. The building demonstrated the applications of new technology

Pictures at an Exhibition to industry and commerce. This display of the potential of technology to transform industry held the promise that it might also help to solve social problems. This ideological interpretation of the possibi lities of industrialization was extended to all massproduced products shown in the exhibition hall. In order to emphasize their potential as remedies Lo the ills of tJ1e capitalist system of production, these commodities had to be presented in a way that separated them from the capitalist system of manufacturing that â&#x20AC;˘ -eated tJ1em. This was achieved by aesthet.icizing the commodities-using specific techniques of display that made them appear as artistic objects rather than as machine-produced merchandise. This aesthet.icization is evident in this description of Philadelphia-based Henry Disston & Sons' display at the exhibition: "The display of the firm was very showy and claimed a place among the prominent attractions of the Exposition. A large walnut and gold frame, 25 x 10 in size, the background of which was covered by black velvet, and upon the surface was artistically arranged a full line of saws of every description ...." In this way,

commodities were made into pectacular attractions, thereby endowing the objects exhibited witJ1 an almost mystical aura and emphasizing their magical power as means to overcome social problems. The display techniques could be used indisoiminately for all kinds of commodities. Consider these descriptions: In the display of this firm [C. E. Robens & Co., Chicago] great taste was evinced in its arrangement. An unique glass case, octagon in shape, contained screws from one eighth of an inch to one foot in length , which were neatly fastened to an inner frame , the background of which was covered by black velvet, the whole presenting a fine and attractive appearance. A very attractive display was made by this firm [H . B. Cragin & Co., Chicago] in their line by util izing the wall of the building, upon which was displayed tin ware, etc., artistically arranged in circles, one enclosing the other, until the full space alloued was completely filled. The arrangement of th is display was one of the most attractive in the building, and for which the firm is entitled to great praise.

Saws, screws, and tin ware displayed in the exhibition hall were given the kind of auratic presentation usually reserved for object of worship or works of art.

The machines in the Davis Sewing 1\/a,:hine Company booth at lhe Interstate hu/uslnal Exposition of 1878 are displayed as arlislic objects ralher lhan machine-produced merchandise.

CL5

Chicago History, Spring 1987 Industrial goods were even incorporated into works of art. Some products were exhibited in specially designed pavilions modeled after baroque altars, classical temples, or Egyptian pyramids. While references to traditional styles are conspicuous!}' absent in the architecture of the exhibition hall, they abound in the presentation ofindustrial products; in fact, this paucity of architectural decoration seems a deliberate attempt to emphasize the aesthetic character of the individual displays. Such artistic exhibition techniques shifted attention from the practical, utilitarian uses of the commodi ties to an aesthetic appreciation or a hallucinatory projection of desire. Exhibited to the gaze ofa mass audience numbering between seven and ten thousand a clay, these aestheticizecl commodities became the fetishes of the American public. The 1878 Exposition Souvenir stated: The stockholders and officers of this immense and highly popular Exposition ha,Âˇe every reason Lo congratulate themselves that eve1y year it is increasing in the public fa"or and has already become a settled feature of Chicago enterprise which not only our 0\\'11 citizens but thousands from the center and remote parts of our State ... make the MECCA of their yearly visit and tl1ithe1; as the season comes round , take tl1eir pilgrimage and here pay their homage to our home industries.

Like its European models, the Interstate Industrial Exposition included an art exhibition. Housed in a specially built and lit gallery connected to the main exhibition hall, tJ1e an shows became as important an attraction as the displays of ilie latest manufactured goods and inventions. Prior to the Great Fire, Chicago had staged only a few art exhibitions-most notably tJ1ose organized in support of the U.S. Sanitary Commission in 1863 and 1865-but iliese had been limited both in outlook and scope. Featuring a number of American artists and a host of copies after European masters, tJ1ey differed greatly from what was to be shown at tJ1e Interstate Industrial Exposition. The unabashed conflation of art and busines distinguished it from earlier exhibitions: "It is our purpose," declared the 1875 exhibition's organizing art committee (Franklin MacVeagh, W. E. Doggett, E. R. McCagg, and john Stafford) "to make the art exhibition the great picture sale of the orthwest:' The beginnings were humble. The first exhibition of 1873 presented what one East Coast observer would later call "a curious conglomeration of good, bad, and indifferent: paintings by Bierstadt, 8

DeHaas, Eastman Johnson , and David Neal . .. side by side with crayon portraits by the favorite photographer." For many of the visitors, and even some of the organizers, these art exhibitions were their first exposure to modern painting. Despite its bold declaration that "the primary aim of any exhibition is business," the art committee sought to stress the educational value of the exhibited art. The management of this organization has never sought to make the annual Expositions mere sensational or amusement shows- quite enough of such elements are sure to be present witl1outsearching. They are intended, rather, for the substantial education of those who study them in all that relates to mechanical and fine arts, to natural histo1y and to all otl1er departments of human activity which may properly find a place in such exhibitions.

Thus from the beginning, the art exhibitions served two conflicting purposes: they had to be both art market and art museum. These connicting aims are explained by the different audiences these exhibitions tried to reach. One audience was an important group of Chicago collectors (many of whom were members of the board organizing the Interstate Industrial Exposition) interested in buying art. The other group was the general public, from which the art committee wished to form a cultured middle-class audience. While collecting art was an important way of demonstrating social status for the first group, shaping the taste of the middle class was instrumental in the collector ' truggle for cultural hegemony in tl1e city. The men organizing the exposition came fiÂˇorn two different groups: a fir t generation of entrepreneurial pioneers and a }'Ounger group of businessmen who had come to Chicago in the 1850s and 1860s. During the 1870s and 1880s this second group gradually replaced the first generation as the city's elite. These rounger men-lumber merchants, grain dealers, meat packers, bankers, department store merchants , and real estate speculators-had larger financial means available and shared a much wider, nationally oriented perspective than their pioneering predecessors. Descending from East Coast families and shaped by ew England traditions, this second group turned to the business elite of eastern cities for its role model. The frontier ideals and pioneer pride that had shaped the generation of ilie Ogdens

Pictures at an Exhibition and ewberrys were too distant to inspire Chicago's new commercial elite. The new businessman's world was far more technologized than that of the city founders. Rapid industriali zation , improved means of transportation and communication, and the rationalization of manufacturing processes had made their quick rise to prominence possible. At the lnLersLaLe Industrial Exposition Chicago's ne,,Âˇ elite celebrated the very forces that had shaped them. These business leaders realized the necessity of forming a middle class that would defend the cultural tradition they cherished. An educated middle class would help them further establish themse lves as the socially dominant group in Chicago and strengthen upper-class control of politics and culture, which was tl1reate ned by growing working-class and immigrant populat.ion . Thus, the exposition organizers insisted tl1at the art shows

~7_/11/J _,/T/"' /

\I V I

have an educational aspect, which would familiarize the audience with a notion of "high an" decidedly different from lower-class cul Lure and ethnic o-aditions. Like tl1eir popularization oftl1e concept of "progress," which aimed Lo affirm economic development, tl1eir notion of"high art" was a means to forge a class alliance between middle and upper classes through a set of shared values. De pite its crucial function as an instrument to establish the cultural hegemony of the upper classes, the concept of "high art" remained shadowy and is probably best defined as excluding the popular, sensat.ional, and (in spite of the economic purpose of the exhibition) the merely commercia l. The art committee wanted to present arL as serious and dignified and modeled its exhibitions on the example set by European museums. Attempts to base the concept of "high art" explicitly on European academic standards, however, failed. In the even ties, the art committee made two such attempts: Lo introduce Lhe academic hierarchy of genres and Lo transplant the ideal of antique sculpture . A hierarchy of pictorial genres governed academic art exhibitions throughout nineteenthcentury Europe. Paintings were ranked by

Sara 7hon Hallowell, who se>'-ued as clerk and serrelW)' for the Industrial Exposition's wt commillee beginning in 1878, was the driving spirit behind the mt exhibitions.

Chicago History, Spring 1987 subject matter: still lifes, landscapes, and genre scenes held the lowest; historical paintings and allegories, the highest rank. Following this strict classification, the organizers of Chicago's art shows set up special groupings of historical paintings that were separated from the rest of the exhibition and usually described in minute detail in a catalogue. Despite efforts to establish the importance of these paintings, they failed to capture the audience's attention. The crowds prefenecl the small domestic scenes, sentimental genre pictures, and fancy landscapes to the huge historical canvases of events from clays gone by which required lengthy and leamecl explanations. In J877, after the showing ofC laudiusJacquancl's William theSil,ent, Prince of Orange, pawning his jewels to carry on the War of the Netherlands had drawn little response from the public, the art committee admitted: "Three noted paintings were placed on special exhibition in one of the larger galle1ies, but, notwithstanding their acknowledged merit as works of art, they failed to be so attractive as those of former Expositions." While this failure eventually led to the abolition of the special exhibitions of historical paintings, it did not discourage the art committee. "The managers of the department of the Exposition have this year," explained the 1878 guidebook, "branched off into the line of statuary and have made a very creditable and interesting display of casts of antique marbles and bronzes:' The committee seemed, however, not entirely convinced that its audience would appreciate the display.Just in case anyone should take the fragments and torsos exhibited in juxtaposition with shiny new machinery for broken objects, it admonished viewers that "The casts represent the actual condition of the marbles and bronzes in the national galleries of Europe, with all their abrasions and fractures and are the nucleus of a pem1anent collection." While plaster casts of European sculpture eventually became a prominent feature of the Art Institute, their value at the Interstate Industrial Exposition as a means to foster the notion of "high art" was minimal. What proved to be far more effective to form and establish patterns of taste were the art sales, since these provided an unfailing economic indicator of the value of the artwork. Gradually, economic criteria superseded aesthetic standards in judging the art exhibitions. This shift, however, posed a particular dilemma 10

because the notion of "high art" was now being based on the same economic criteria used to judge other products shown at the Interstate Industrial Exposition; the difference between the aestheticized commodities and the commodified aesthetic objects was bluned. The consequences of this development are most apparent in the case of the American paintings exhibited at the exposition. While the first exhibition had shown arbitrary examples from the Hudson River School (landscape painters like Albert Bierstadt, Thomas Cole, Asher Brown Durand, and Samuel F B. Morse who worked from 1825 to 1875), the selection in the subsequent exhibitions became increasingly dominated by the necessity to include the most recent productions. The notions of "novelty" and "permanent innovation" so characteristic of the promotion of commodities became increasingly pervasive in the aesthetic realm. For the art committee, the art market was in this way analogous to any other market: an arena of competition between the domestic and foreign product. In true businesslike fashion , the art committee u eel the exhibition to promote American art and succeeded in attracting the most recent productions. Acknowledging these efforts, a group of American artists headed by Eastman Johnson sent out an invitation asking for the participation of fellow painters in the 1875 exposition:" ... the Directors of the Chicago Exposition Building propose to collect a good representation of American art and to do full justice to American artists both in the fair exhibition of their works and in affording the best opportunities for their sale:' John La Farge, Arthur Quartley, Winslow Hornet~ George Inness, and a host of other artists were shown that year, and J. P. Reynolds, secretary of the Exposition Company, proudly claimed in his report: The Fine ArtDeparm1ent, as all who saw the Art Galleries during the late Exposition must know, was unique as a display of the highest and be I products of Ame1ican Art, a display which, for the character of the contributo1Âˇs and the me1it of the examples, has neve1Âˇ before been equaled, if, indeed, it has been approached, in America.

Two years later, more than six hundred American paintings were exhibited, and by 1879 these shows were the most prominent exhibitions of American art in the country, attracting dealers and critics from the East Coast. Looking back on these exhibitions in 1892, one art critic observed:

Pictures at an Exhibition

An illustrator parodies the European paintings at the exposition of 1879.

Chicago History, Spring 1987 They came to be repre entative of what the country had produced in art during the )'ea1~-more widely representative than any other exhibition held in the East or the West-,because they gathered tribute from Paris and 1unich, as well as from Boston and New York. Among the American artists in France this show came to be known as the American salon.

The term 't\merican salon" precisely captures the function of these exhibitions. Like the annual Parisian shows, the Chicago shows were meant to provide an overview of the American art scene, including works from Americans working at home as well as from those working abroad (thus the allusion to Paris and Munich, the most important art academies in late nineteenth-century Europe). The emphasis on novelty and contemporaneity of the artwork was very much in line with the general notion of modernity and progress that the Interstate Industrial Exposition wished to convey to the Midwest. Like the exhibits of advanced technology-new machinery or the latest inventions-the artwork seemed to attest to the progress of America in all areas, thereby furthe1ing the hope that in their quest for modernity American artists might eventually outrank their European masters. The motives behind promoting American art were notjust to help young arlists in their careers, nor were they purely patriotic. The exposition organizers also wanted to secure an important and growing market for Chicago and, in an indirect fashion, to encourage its commerce. As Charles L. Hutchinson, president of the Art Institute, explained in an 1888 lecture entitled 't\rt-Its Influence and Excellence in Modern Times": We must not lose sight of the fuct that skilled labor is of infinitely more value than unskilled; that in the commerce of the world tJ1at nation will ta ke the highest rank where the same given amount of labor will produce the most valued results ... France today, with no more natural resources than manv of the other nations of the Old World, stands out co~spicuou ly in wealth and importance because in great measure of the superior an of her people.

While encouragement of the arts benefited industry in the long run through the formation of useful skills, the economic impact of bringing the art market to Chicago was more immediately felt. An 1890 article from The Collector attests: "The time is coming when Chicago is going to be the centre of art commerce in this country. Already the dealers make pilgrimages to it as the faithful travel to Mecca; and from it they travel forth on

every line of the compass to sell to other western cities what Chicago has left unbought:' The art committee succeeded in making Chicago the most important art market in the Midwest. East Coast firms sold most of the art, however, and Chicago dealers complained of having business taken away from them. Enticing art dealers and artists to offer their works at the Interstate IndustTial Expo ition rather than anywhere else, the art committee wrote that ... meritorious works of art, whether the product of native or foreign artists, are appreciated in this community, and when for ale, are sure to find a ready market at remunerative prices. It is a market which artists and dealers in works of art will do well to cultivate .. .. This city, as the result of the great fire of '71 , is comparativel y destitute of fine paintings, and will take, as will also the surrounding country, a large number of them , if those who have them to sell will but manifest the enterprise to place them on exhibition in our halls.

Michael Knoedle1~ the prominent art dealer from New York, was tJ1e first to sell in Chicago at the 1873 show. One year later Williams & Everett of Boston , Snedecor of New York, the Philadelphia firms Haseltine and Bailly & Co., as well as Fryer & Bendann from Baltimore followed his example. Since the art committee financed transportation and insurance of the artwork and only occasionally charged a commission, most of the. e dealers became regular contributors to the art exhibitions. ome of them even established branch offices in Chicago , while others, like W. Schaus of ew York and Dolls & Richards of Boston , made occasional appearances. To solicit participation, the Indust,ial Exposition's art committee employed agents who convinced dealers and artists of the promising prospects of the Chicago area, selected artwork for presentation, and often conducted the sales in tJ1e gallerie . These agents, unlike the businessmen who made up the art committee, were art professionals. W. M. R. French, secretary of the Academy of Design and later director of the Art Institute, worked for the committee, as did Rose Durfee of New York, who arranged contacts with dealers in her native city in 1877. Beginning in 1878, Sara Tyson Hallowell-probably Chicago's most influential art agent-worked both as a clerk and secretary to the committee. A native of Philadelphia, Sara Hallowell had come to Chicago during tJ1e 1870s and soon rose to be the driving spirit behind

Pictures at an Exhibition

Villa Barbci-ini , 1872, by George /muss, American. Chicago colleclon sought landscapes above all other genres of art.

the art exhibitions at the Interstate industrial Exposition. Traveling widel y, she solicited contributions from art dealers and painters all over the counO)', organized loans from important East Coast collections, and scouted new American talent in Europe. New York art critic Montague Marks wrote admi,ingly of her in 1885 in the inÂŁ1uential magazine Art Amateur: "Largely due to the personal efforts of that exo-emely intelligent and energetic lady, Chicago thi year has a nticipated New York, Boston and Philadelphia in exhibiting the important American pictures from the last [ Parisian] Salon." The art dealers aimed their sales at those among th e seven Lo ten thousand daily visitors to the exposition who might be interested in forming an art collection. "In the earl) seventies," wrote Lucy B. Monroe about the aspiring collector of those days, "it was already considered necessary to own a few pictures, the larger the bette r; but two decades ha,Âˇe changed the ta te in art, and the purchases of that tim e are today hung in the gan-et:' As mention ed earlie,~collector -to-be came from the same group th at had started and managed the exposition: merchants like Potter Palm e ,~ Marshall Field,

or L. Z. Leiter; grain and real estate magnates like Albert A. Munger; entrepreneurs like Charles T. Yerkes; and bankers like Samuel M. Nickerson. The art exhibitions gave these art enthusiasts an orientation; they helped the neophyte shape his taste and gave the established collector the opportunity to show his latest finds. Moreover, they provided a glimpse at what was fashionable in the East, since the committee constantly solicited loans from outstanding collectors in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Baltimore. When men like New York department store king A.T Stewart or banker and philanthropist George I. Seney were asked for contributions, they did not send individual pictures, but rather whole sets of paintings, thus enabling their Chicago peers to undertand the pattern that informed their collecting. It was for the establishment of such patterns of collecting in the Midwest, or rather for their transplantation from the East, that the art exhibitions proved to be most important. Established collections pro,Âˇided the new collector with the important names, thus limiting the immense artistic field to a small number of painters whose work 13

Chicago History, Spring 1987 was considered a must for any reputable collection. This explains the striking similarity of many of Chicago's early collections in which the same names recur repeatedly. What did Chicago's social elite seek to buy? Despite their interest in promoting American art, many of them assembled collections that held predominantly foreign canvases, since the latter had a greater value as a sign of social distinction. In the residences of Prairie Avenue and the Near North Side, paintings by the Parisian Salon artists Bouguereau, Merle, Gerome, and Cabanel depicting classical nudes or sentimental scenes of mothers and children were hung side by side with the quiet landscape motifs ofBarbizon School artists Rousseau, Daubigny, and Dupre, or cattle by Troyon. The expositions were models of eclecticism, mixing different groups as well as different national schools. They demonstrated tl1e compatibility of what European critics had decried as incompatible. In addition to French paintings, there were pictures from tl1e German academies of Munich and Dt1sseldorf; landscapes by Koekkoek and Verboeckhoven, two Dutch painters; tl1e rustic canvases of Josef Israels; as well as examples from the Italian, Belgian, British, and even Scandinavian schools. Landscapes were the most prominent genre. In 1874 Sonderland's Scene on the Rhine, Herzog's Niagara Falls by Moonlight, and Dupre's View of France were shown together witl1 a host of otl1er pictures featuring cattle in tl1e meadows and peasants peacefully working in the fields or celebrating a good harvest. Second to landscapes came genre scenes, sentimental or moralizing views, with titles such as The Right Path (Merle), Good News (Pecrus), The Mother's joy (Soyer), and Tender Moments(Haniman). They presented mothers with small children, quaint village scenes, or young lovers exchanging coy glances under the watchful eyes of a chaperon. Oriental and exotic scenes also sti1Ted the imagination. Fromentin and Schreyer, and lesser painters such as T. Frare (who presented Iiuilight in Cairo in 1874), led viewers across the North African desert, showed tl1ern Arab 1Âˇiders in combat, or the splendor of Middle Eastern bazaars, while Felix Ziem and Louis Mouchot guided them tl1rough the canals of Venice. Even military actions, painted by Meissonier, Decamps, Detaille, or de Meuville, gained an exotic quality when exhibited. Remote to their American buyers, the scenes from 14

the Napoleonic or tile Franco-Prussian wars were admired much more for their elaborate descriptions of uniforms than out of a genuine historical interest in the events depicted. The literary genre, focusing on well-known episodes from the works of Shakespeare, Byron, or Racine, had its admirers, as had the mocking depictions of cardinals, monks, and prelates by the French artist Vibert. The collectors cherished the easily understandable and admired minutely detailed depictions and highly finished surfaces. Despite tl1eir investment in everything modern , they often prcfenecl subjects that offered an escape from the present into an unindustrialized countryside, exotic shores, the simple joys of rural family life, even the clangers of a distant battlefield. In these preferences tJ1e millionaire-collectors showed a certain discontent with the effects of the process of modernization they tl1emselves had initiated; aesthetically tl1ey sought to retrieve what economic progress wa about to destroy. While tJ1e possession of art objects might have bred the illusion of a realm free from the constTaints of modern industrial economy, their acquisition was inevitably bound up with financial associations. This was especially true since the art dealers enticed their clientele botll by praising the objects' artistic qualities and making a straightforward appeal to their customers' speculative instincts. Consider these descriptions from various exhibition catalogues. de Nittis, The Costumer's Shop, shown 1874: 't\ brilliant example, and rich in color. Such a specimen is difficult to obtain, and commands a high price." C. Troyon, Landscape and Cattle, shown 1874: "Troyon's pictures have become so rare and valuable that a collection containing one with it becomes important." E. Zamacois, The Cavalier's Repose, shown 1874: "The works of Zamacois are becoming exceedingly rare, and those collectors who have not already secured one, better avail themselves of the opportunities as tlley offer." Leon y Escosura, Before the Departure, shown 1874: "This artist's works will soon be as valuable as tl1ose of Meissonier whom he resembles in beautiful finish and skill of execution." The Bathers, 188./-, by William AdolphR Bouguereau, French. Classical nudÂŁs like this hung next to quiet landscapes in the Prairie Avenue and Go/,d Coast homes of Chicago collectors.

Chicago History, Spring 1987 Charles Hoguet, On the Coast of Noiway, shown 1874: "Since the death of .Hoguet, his pictures have rapidly advanced in price, and have become coJTespond ingl y scarce." G. FetTari, The Ambuscade, shown 1875: "It is only oflate years that the paintings ofFetTari have been imported; but they have long commended themselves Lo European buyers." P C. Comple, The Love Letter, shown 1875: "A most beautiful picture by one of the most celebrated of artists. A work calculated to adorn any co ll ection, and give great pleasure to its possessoc" M. Muhlig, Robbers in Ambush, shown 1875: "It should find a home in some ga llery where only the best productions of the Master are exh ibited." Art dealers had devi eel a number of techniques to sell their merchandise. Since art had no utility per se, its p1ice was determined by a monopolistic system. The key figure of this system was the art dealer who, by emp loying certain psychological mechanisms, created the demand for the \\'Ork ofan artist. His best sales arguments are summarized in the following seven points. The hand of the artist. Unlike the first generation of Chicago co ll ectors who were content with copies after famous masters, and thus for whom the name of an artist indicated the \'alue of a picture, the post-Fire collectors demanded authemic and original work. Since there \\'as no way to establish the authenticity ofa painting other than by comparing it Lo those works with which the audience was already fami li ar, this led to a paradoxical demand: the work of art had to appear as the unique pecimen by a famous artist's hand and yet at the same time resemble known works that had establ ished his fame . This desire produced not only a host of repetitive canvases, but, where demand exceeded supply, numerous copies and fakes as well. Recognizable style and subject matter. In selling art to a public that was only vaguely familiar with painting, the dealers had Lo make sure that the collectors would recognize the different artists by their respective features. This encouraged artists to specialize. Some painted cattle almost exclusively (va n Marcke and Troyon}, others special ized in religious figures (Vibert), some focused on Venetian cenes (Ziem). Important di tinguishing technical features were highly finished surfaces, the clear definition of the subject, and even the size of the painting. A dealer wrote somewhat defensively 16

about A. R. Vernon's Cloudy Day in Lorraine, exhibited in 1875: 'Â˝ I though not as large as some of his pictures, it is a first-class effort of this firstclass painter." hnportance ofschools and groups. The i m po rta n ce of schools of painters was most often stressed with younger or less-famous artists. In the catalogue entr)' quoted above, the style of Leon y Escosura is likened Lo that of his teacher Meissonier, thereby implying that a picture by the pupil wou ld equal one by the master. The exhibition catalogues generally mention the teachers of younger artists. The importance of schoo ls was enhanced by the 1igorous academic training in Europe, which aimed at certain common qualities, such as c01Tectness of drawing and finished execution. The emphasis on common features , however, proved to be a valuable sales argument in the case of nonacademic painting as well. The art dealers grouped Barbizon School painters Corot and Delacroix together a the "Men of l 830," thus giving the collector a chance to buy a related work shou ld one by his favorite artist not be available. Fame abroad. Despite the strong interest in American art, European works continued to command higher price and had greater value as a measure of social distinction. Since collectors were generally following trend that had been established in Europe, dealers thought that noting the alleged or real me1its ofa painter might help sell his work. Cata logue entries always mentioned ptizes, medals, or honorary citations won by the artists in the Parisian Salon, which became a sign of quality and the reason for a higher price. Completeness of a collection. Whenever possible dealers were interested in forming entire collections rather than elling individual paintings. They actively engaged in shaping taste patterns by stTe sing the importance of certain painters without whose work the collection would remain "incomplete" or by insisting on the necessity to buy as many members as possible of one of the groups they offered-the "Men of 1830" or impressionists, for example. The fear of having an "incomplete" collection served to encourage further acquisitions. Possibility of an increase in value. In many cases, dealers mentioned the economic value or prospects together with the artistic qualities of a painting. While an increase in value was almost certain in the case of the more prominent artists (given the demand artificially created by the dealers'

Pictures at an Exhibition insistence on the necessity ofowning their work) it was somewhat limited, since these paintings were usually acquired at considerably higher prices. This made the acquisition of the work ofless prominent yet promising artists appealing, since their work might rise in price more quickly than that of established masters. Social reputation. While collectors were certainly not insensitive to the possible speculative gains, these were nevertheless not their main motives for collecting art. Compared with the profits made on the grain

exchange or on real estate speculation, increase in the monetary value of artwork was negligible. Collecting art, howeYer, offered busines men a benefit that no other financial operation could yield: the possibility to tTansform economic wealth into "cultural capital:'The French sociologist Pie1Te Bourdieu employs the term cultural capital to define all the non-economic signs of class distinctions uch as education, taste, and refinement. Normally, this capital is acquired either by birth or in a long process of social adaptation. But in

On the Road, 1858, by Jules Dupre, French. Chicago collectors prefen-ed subjeti5 that offered an escape from the ind11Slrialized city.

Chicago History, Spring 1987 Chicago, the booming industrial economy of the nineteenth century catapulted a group of entrepreneurs to the top of the social hierarchy without provid ing clearly defined social forms. Unlike East Coast cities, Chicago had no fifth or fourth generation patriciate to dictate the social rules, and the Great Fire of 187 l had furtJ1er leveled the differences between old and new wealth. Much oftJ1e mid-I870s, and especially the 1880s, was therefore spent in the effort to devise unequivocal signs of class distinction: lavish residences, impressive parties, and of course, large-scale art collections. All that Thorstein Veblen, observing the scene from the University of Chicago cam pus, wou lei later describe as "conspicuous consumption," served tJ1is aim . Coll ecting art was a particularly good way to demonstrate class, since it irnpl ied a degree of sophistication that elevated the collector abo\'e the merely moneyed. Like their peers in the East, Chicago's collectors needed a forum in which they could publicly show off their acquisitions. The art exhibitions at the Interstate Industrial Exposition tl1Us assumed yet another function. In addition to offering temporary shows and a sales arena, they became a showcase of private taste. An 1876 loan exhibition of water colors and oil paintings that had come exclusively from midwestern co llections inspired the secretary of the Exposition Company to remark: "Until this experiment of a 'loan collection' few, if any, were aware of the existence of so many and so valuable art treasures in the p1ivate galleries of the West, and it is especially gratifying to know that the supply of fine paintings was far from being exhausted by this first efforL" Beginning in 1876 loan exhibits were an important feature of the art shows. In many cases lending a picture or a whole collection of pictures to the Interstate Industrial Exposition might be the first step toward a deeper involvement in Chicago's art scene. Men such as Potter Palmer, Marshall Field, Samuel M. Nickerson, Henry Field, C. J. Blair, E. S. Stickney, and others who had contributed to the loan exhibition of 1876 later became members, benefactors, and trustees of The Art Institute of Chicago. Founded in 1879, the Chicago Academy ofFine Arts (later renamed The Art Institute of Chicago) gradually took over many of the functions of the art exhibitions at the Interstate Industrial Exposition. By the late 1880s it had promoted American art and showed contemporary European work. The 18

Institute had given Chicago collectors the opportunity to present their possessions, inviting loans from out-of-town dealers; occasionally, it had even held sales exhibitions. Such commercial enterprises, however, remained exceptional, since the general u-end was to separate the art business from the art museum. Leaving the sales to the now well-established an dealers, the Art Institute concentrated on "high art," thus institutionally reinforcing the separation between exhibition space and sales arena and conu-ibuting to the illusion that

Pictures at an Exhibition art existed in a self-conta in ed, autono mo us sph ere. Whil e th e art exhibiti o ns re main ed a n im porta nt feature of th e Inte rstate Indust1ial Ex positio n until 1890, wh e n th e last such art sh ow was he ld , th e expositi o n was losing its fun ctio n as th e central art marke t in th e West. Many of th e wea lthy bu yers preferred to acquire th eir artwork di rectly in Europ e, using th e annual Chi cago show simpl y to acquire in fo rm ati o n. Paul Du ra nd -Ru e l, a n impo rta nt French art

deale r, bro ught six canvases by Mo ne t, fo ur by Pissarro, three by Re no i1~ a nd fo ur by Sisley to Chi cago in 1890. Co ll ecto rs like Be rth a Palm e r and Charl es T. Ye rkes wh o we re inte rested in impress io nist art carefull y examin ed the pictures a nd the n wa ited to buy until th ey trave led to Euro pe. The re, th ey wo ul d p urchase wo rks th at we re strikingly similar to th ose which th ey had seen in Chicago: Yerkes, fo r instance, bo ught Sisley's Landscape at Veneux in Paris in 189 1, a pa inting

Grenad ie rs a1 the Ca mp of St. i\ faur, 1869, by j ean Ba.j1tiste Fduoard Detailll'. french. Historical paintings like this one ranked highest in the hierarchy of acadnnic arl exhibitions in nineleenth-cenlwy Europe.

Chicago History, Spring 1987

Pasture in :\onnand)', 1852, by Constant ?J-oyon, french. Âˇn-oyon painted cattle almost exclmzvely.

which recalls the May Afternoon al By exhibited in Chicago the year before, and he also acquired Monet's Highland on the Coast, which resembles the Coast at Fecamp that Durand-Ruel had brought to the Interstate Industrial Expo ition in 1890. The exhibition of 1890 marked the encl of an art forum that had served as both public exhibition and sales arena. In the almost twenty years of its existence, the art exhibition at the Interstate Indusu-ial Exposition had formed the concept of art in Chicago and serYed as a place where collectors met dealers and learned about the fashionable trends at home and abroad . The art shows had promoted American art and given Chicago a glimpse of such movements as the Barbizon and the impressionist schools, and it certainly familiarized a large public with many other kinds of artistic productions. By the early nineties, howeve1~the conflation of art and business and the juxtaposition of aesthetically arranged commodities with commodified

aesthetic objects were regarded as awkward, and a strong need developed for an institution excluSi\'ely devoted to an. The Art institute ofTerecl this separation or the aesthetic from the commercial, and it finally replaced the an exhibitions. In 1892 the iron and glass construction that had housed the Interstate Industrial Exposition was clemolishecl , and the An Institute was erected in its place, thus marking a continuity in site while demonstrating the change in attitude towards art. The difference in the architectural tyle between the old exhibition hall and the new museum and an school clearly attests to this change: while the former had been a functionalist monument of modernity celebrating the forces of industry and progress, the neo-renaissance building of the Art Institute emphasizes the importance of u-adition and documents the separation of the art business and the art museum.

Pictures at an Exhibition

Boa ts in Winter Qua rte rs, 1885, by Claude Monet, French. Collectors like Bertha Palmer sought impressionist paintings by Mone/ and others.

This article is part of a larger research project concerned with the collectors ofnineteenlh-century French art in Chicago, which has been made possible by a grant from the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD).

Notebook," from 77zeArtAmaleU1; v. XIII, no. 6, November 1885; John D. Rysela, "Sara Hallowell Brings 'Modern Art' to the Midwest," from The Art Quarterly, v. XXVII, no. 2, 1964.

For Further Reading

II Iustrations

A rich collection of Interstate Industrial Exposition material can be found at the Chicago Historical Society. See Souvenir of the Interslale Industrial Exposition, Report of the Secretmy and Treasurer, and the Interstate Industrial Exposition Programme, all for the years 1873-91, in the CHS Library. To explore the schools of an and the artists exhibited at the Inter Late Industrial Expositions, sec The Second Empire: Art in t+ance Under Napoleon Ill (Philadelphia: Philade lphia Museum of Art, 1978), Gabriel D. Weisberg, The Realist Tradition: French Painting and Drawing, 1830-1900 (Cleveland: Cleveland Museum of Art, 1980), Robert C. Herbert, Barbizon Revisited (1 ew York: Clarke & Way, 1962), and American Paradise: 771e World of the Hudson River School (1 ew York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1987). Read more about Chicago's prominant art critics and collectors in Lena M. /\lcCauley, "So me Collectors of Paintings," from Art and Archaeology, v. Xll, nos. 3-4; Montague Marks, "My

7, CHS, ICHi-02172; 9, courtesy of The Newberry Library; 18-19, courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the William L. Elkins Collection. From the CHS Library: 5. from 77ze Book of the Fair (]893); 6, from Exposition Souvenir (1873 ); ll, from Sketchbook of the InterStale Exposition (1879). The following images are courteS)' of The Art Institute of Chicago, ÂŠ 1987 The An Institute of Chicago, all rights re erved: 4, tJ1e Silvain and Arma Wyler Foundation, restricted gift; 13, tJ1e Mart.in A. Ryerson Collection; 15, the A. A. Munger Collect.ion; 17, 20, the Henry Field Memorial Collection; 21, tJ1e Potter Palmer Collect.ion.

,v'orcls by

Qg,r\ig GrossMAN Mu51c

Qer\ k.a t\t~r

CHS. ICHi-18667

Chicago's

Daneeand Orchestras

by Charles A. Sengstock, Jr.

Chicagoans danced their way through much of the early twentieth century. This photographic essay traces the dance band craze as it swept the city. Dance bands and orchestras were an important part of American entertainment from tbe early 1920s until the mid-fifties. This was especially true in Chicago where they played not only in the city's ballrooms, but also in most of its large hotels, restaurants, cafes, nightclubs, and even radio stations. Records and radio were the two forces that catapulted dance bands to fame. But radio stations also depended on tbe bands to provide them with program material in those early, hungry days, and a mutually helpful and advantageous relationship developed between the two. The popularity of dance band music paralleled almost exactly the golden age of radio in this country. Both the bands and radio (especially AM radio) declined in popularity in the mid-fifties as musical tastes rhanged, and television began to el aim a larger share of the public's free time. But in the 1980s records and radio have combined to launch a small revival of danre band sounds. The interwoven development of radio and dance bands was nowhere more evident than in Chirago, an early center for radio

broadcasting. Radio pickups of local bands direct from ballrooms and restaurants, such as the Aragon and the Blackhawk, were often fed to the whole network, reaching millions of Americans. These early and somewhat primitive broadcasts stimu lated listeners' imaginations and gave Chicago dance bands widespread exposure. Wayne King was more than just the orchestra playing at the Aragon Ballroom; through the magic of radio, he became the "Waltz King'.' A young Earl Hines, band leader at the South Side's Grand Terrace Cafe, was thought to be much older by his radio audience because the announcer on his nightly BC broadcasts introduced him as Earl "Fatha'' Hines. Dance bands and dancing began to catch on in the city shortly after the turn of the century. Brass bands and orchestras were particularly popular at that time, especially in amusement parks and beer gardens. Creatorc, Bonhumir Kryl, Arthur Pryo1; and other brass band leaders, many of them from Europe, enthralled crowd at White City and Riverview Park. They performed mostly concerts, while people picnicked or

strolled through the grou nds. Only a limited number of park patrons took part in ballroom dancing, which did not become fashionable until about a decade later when dancers Vernon and Irene Castle captured the imagination of Americans and Europeans with their dazzling terpsichorean exhibitions. The most popular band leader in Chicago during this early period was probably the venerable Johnny Hand. An immigrant German cellist and Civil War bandmaste1; Hand organized a superb orchestra in 1869 which performed for all kinds of occasions. He was as popular with the working class (for his concerts in Lincoln Park) as he was with tbe city's society crowd (be played for most of their major functions and social gatherings). As a band leader he never achieved the popularity and national acclaim of those who followed him thirty years later, but locally he was revered as a great musical patriarch. When he died in 1915, thousands of Chicagoans followed

Charles A. Sengstock, J1: is director of corporate public relations at Motorola, Inc. 23

his funeral procession from his home in Lincoln Park to Graceland Cemetery. Succeeding Hand as the reigning king of Chicago music was Edgar Benson, another cellist. Benson began a booking business in 1897 and soon had most of the better locations in the city contracted to hire his musicians. As the city's major booking agent, he dominated Chicago's musical entertainment world by the teens and early 1920s. A 1923 agency brochure boasted that he employed 500 musicians who played in more than 30 orchestras and musical combinations, ranging from small string ensembles to symphonic brass bands and everything in between. All of Benson's bands and orchestras, although fronted by some well-known Chicago leaders, were booked simply as "Benson Organizations'.' But by the mid1920s, an aggressive young Chicago booking agency called the Music Corporation of America (MCA) recognized the power of radio to popularize musical personalities and began to book their bands under the leaders' names. By booking bands for long engagements at Chicago ballrooms and other locations wired for broadcasting, MCA developed name recognition of its band leaders through radio exposure. The agency later booked these same "musical celebrities" for one-night engagements in smaller communities throughout the Midwest within listening range of Chicago radio stations. Both band leaders and booking agents began to appreciate radio's selling power and used it to advance musical careers. In the meantime, Edgar Benson's business went into decline. 24

During this same period, theater orchestras fulfilled a somewhat different role than dance bands. Unseen in the orchestra pits, they accompanied silent films, creating the moods for the dramas and comedies played out on the screen. Between films they accompanied vaudeville acts. But in the mid-twenties, the theater bands were moved from the pits to the stage, where they became backdrops for the acts that followed the films. ln addition, the leader acted as a master of ceremonies, introducing each act. The stage band concept was born, and the audiences loved it. The Balaban & Katz theater chain in Chicago was first to adopt the idea locally. They imported a handsome and personable leader named Paul Ash from San Francisco, where the concept had originated. Within weeks after arriving in Chicago, Ash had become a matinee idol of outstanding proportions, playing from the stage of the McVickers Theater on Madison Street. That was in 1925. By the following year, Ash was installed in the newly completed Oriental Theater on Randolph Street, where he continued this new form of musical entertainment. Balaban & Katz and other Chicago chains soon were using stage bands at many of their major theaters in the city The introduction of talking pictures in the late 1920s put many of the estimated 2,000 theater musicians in Chicago out of work. And during the depression years, the entertainment industry suffered generally hard times. But dancing remained popular and the number of dance bands increased. By the middle of the thirties, swing music had injected

new life into the band business, and groups like those led by Chicagoan Benny Goodman rose high on the popularity charts through their many broadcasts and hit records. Swing was essentially orchestrated jazz music played by a large band. nlike jazz of the 1920s - and much of the then-current dance music - swing was arranged so that the tonal instruments produced a strong pulse. The rhythm instruments also were played with more intensity. This driving quality inspired new, more athletic dance steps. But Chicago was not really a swing-band town, and only a few places in the city regularly featured these "hot" bands. Midwestern dancers seemed to favor the so-called "sweet bands," which emphasized melody and an uncluttered twobeat rhythm. Although some feel that the band business was waning as World War II loomed, we may never know for certain. The bustling wartime economy and the need for morale-boosting entertainment for both military personnel and war workers stimulated the music business to a fever pitch. Demand even exceeded supply; so many musicians were being drafted that most of the band had trouble keeping their chairs filled. Traveling was complicated by gas rationing and the shortage of new cars, trucks, and buses. The bands enjoyed one last burst of popularity when the war ended, but changing tastes and television combined to bring an end to it all. Some dance bands still play in Chicago and the Midwest but they are only an echo of the sounds from a grander era when aU America danced.

Johnny Hand Johnny Hand was Chicago's musical man for all seasons at the turn of the century. As a society favorite (Mrs. Potter Palmer referred to him as "one of the institutions of Chicago"), he played for the weddings of generals Philip Sheridan and Frederick Dent Grant, Potter Palme1~ George M. Pullman, and Levi Z. Leiter. But Hand also wanted to bring music to all Chicagoans and succeeded in initiating free public concerts in Lincoln Park. Although Hand did not live to see the rise of dance bands as popular musical entertainment (he died in 1915), he had made his mark in Chicago as the city's pre-eminent tum-of-the-century band leader.

= ::..,

White City and Riverview Ballrooms White City and Riverview amusement parks had two of the first large ballrooms in the city. Built around 1905, both remained open year-round even though the amusement parks closed during the winter. The orchestras of Ralph Foote, Charles "Doc" Cooke, Elmer Kaiser, and Frank Schmidt played the Riverview Ballroom at

Belmont and Western avenues. At White City, located at 63rd Street and South Parkway (now Martin Luther King Drive), couples danced to bands such as Eli Courlande1; Cope Harvey, Sig Meyer, Doc Cooke, and Al Lehmas through the years. Although large, spacious, and scrupulously managed, both ballrooms were soon

outclassed by the new breed of dance palaces introduced in the 1920s. Nevertheless, they continued to operate through the thirties. Riverview Ball room remained open into the forties and was patronized in large part during the war years by the many servicemen and women stationed at military posts in the Chicago area.

Benson Orchestra of Chicago Although nationally famous since 1920 because of its many Victor recordings, the Benson Orchestra of Chicago was somewhat of an anomaly because Edgar Benson, its founder; was not its

Charles Elgar Charles Elgar led the house band at the Dreamland Ballroom from 1916 to 1922. Elgar had been a well-known musical personality on the South Side since 1902, and his band played for summer dancing on Municipal (now Navy) Pier in the 1910s and 1920s. He later performed at Harmon's Arcadia Ballroom, the Green Mill (Lawrence Avenue at Broadway), and, in tandem with Clarcnee Black's Orchestra, played for the opening of the new Savoy Ballroom in 1927 at

leader. Instead, a succession of talented Chicago musicians beginning with Roy Bargy, and followed by Don Bestor and Herb Carlin, conducted this flagship of the Benson Organization. Bestor, who like Bargy went on to form his own band, is seated at the piano in this 1924 photograph. Saxophonist Art Kassel (front row, far left) also became a very popular leader in Chicago.

The best of Benson's 500 musicians played in this orchestra. The younger; jazz-inspired musicians in town frequently razzed them for their conservative and often archaic style. At the peak of his success, Benson maintained offices at 64 W Randolph Street. His musicians would come in on Monday mornings and receive their performing assignments for the week on small slips of paper.

47th Street and South Parkway. Musicians who played with Elgar over the years included Darnell Howard, later a great jazz clarinetis~ Hugh Swift, who led his own band in the 1920s; Joe Sudler, credited with co-inventing what later became known as the Harmon mute for brass instruments; Clifford "Klarinct" King, who took over the Dreamland orchestra in the late 1920s; and Walter Gossette, who used to swell the volume of the Dreamland pipe organ to drown out the loud rumbling of the ele\'ated trains passing overhead.

.John ~tciner

Rainbo Gardens Fred Mann built bis handsome and classy Rainbo Gardens at 4812 N. Clark Street in 1922 to replace the beer garden be had bought in 1918. Frank Westpbal's

Orchestra played for the club's opening in December 1922 and had recorded earlier that year fo r Columbia as the Rainbo Orchestra. Colorful band leader and entertainer Ralph Williams (pictured here) was popular

with the crowds and enjoyed a long run at th e gard ens from 1923 to 1925. Charl ey Straight, Jack Chapman, and [sham Jones also occupied th e Rainbo bandstand. Jones and a seven-piece orchestra had played fo r Mann at his old place in 1918, then returned in 1927 (with an enlarged and very popular group) to help him open th e new indoor jai alai court built behind the Rainbo Gardens. In later years, th e building was intermittently called the French Casino (1933-34, and, under promoter Mike Todd in 1940--12) and the Rainbo Ballroom (19-16) and featured a parade of popular local and big name dance bands. During the late 1940s, the jai alai court became a boxing and wrestlin g arena from which the early television networks broadcast matches. .Jospph K Kayser

RdlPh VillibmS AnD J-115 NAUTl~AL UR~l-l&;STRA A 13Efl.50N Vl?6Att/ZAT!fl/Y.

Isham Jones Saxophonist and songwriter Isham Jones was probably the best-known band leader in Chicago in the early 1920s. He was certainly the most successful. One newspaper reports him having made $800,000 in salary and royalties between 1917 and 1920. In 1922, at age twenty-eight, he and his band earned $3,500 per week playing at the Sherman Hotel's College Inn, where this photograph was taken. Seated at the far right is trumpeter (and future band leader) Louis Panico, who was featured on the Jones band's hit recording of "Wabash Blues'.' Jones had begun recording for the Brunswick label in 1920, and his genius for writing and performing hit songs made

ISHAM JONES ORCHESTRA ANO HIS

BENSON Ol:iGANIZATION. -

,Jos,â&#x20AC;˘ph It Kayser

him a national celebrity. His bestknown songs included "I'll See You In My Dreams," "It Had To Be You," "The One I Love Belongs To Somebody Else," "Swinging Down The Lane," and "Among My Souvenirs'.'

Jules Herbuveaux Before completion of the west wing of the Palmer House in the late 1920s, the Victorian Room was the hotel's posh main dining room. Playing for diners was the orchestra led by Jules Herbuveaux (seated at piano). Herbuveaux had begun his career as a leader at Guyon's Paradise Ballroom on the West Side. He later moved into the radio studios, first at KYW, then located in Chicago, and later at NBC where he founded that network's first Chicago studio group. Many of the musicians in this photograph went to NBC with Herbuveaux who moved up through the network's executive ranks to become vice-president for Midwest Operations. A trend -

.Jules Herhuveaux ('ollertiou

setter in early television, he developed shows such as "Garroway At Large." "Kukla, Fran and Ollie," and "Zoo P.arade" with Marlin Perkins. 29

Dell Lampe and the Trianon Orchestra Shortly after the Karzas brothers opened the architecturally innovative and plush new Trianon at 62nd Street and Cottage Grove Avenue in 1922, they decided they needed a special house orchestra. Dell Lampe organized

this group in New York, and they opened at the South Side dance palace in the spring of 192;3. The orchestra became an incubator for early Chicago leaders: Al Morey (back row, extreme left), Charlie Agnew (front row, third

from left), Wayne King (front row, third from right), and Harold Stokes (back row, second from right), all went on to lead popular groups in Chicago and elsewhere. The Lampe organization remained at the Trianon until 1929.

Arcadia Ballroom

CH S. IC'Hi-20220

West Side promoter Patrick T. "Paddy" Harmon operated the Arcadia Ballroom (Broadway at Montrose Avenue) and the West Side Dreamland (Paulina and Van Buren streets) during the early 1920s. Both properties were owned by the Chicago Rapid 1)Âˇansit Company. Harmon's flare for promotion and publicity attracted big erowds to both locations, where patrons might roller skate to live music rath er than dance. The Arcadia closed in the late 1920s and fell into disrepair. Several other enterprises occupied the site but in early 1949, a fire ripped through the aging structure, and it was demolished the following year.

Louis Armstrong Jazz artist Louis Armstrong began playing in Chicago in 1922 as second cornetist in the .Joseph "King" Oliver band then playing at the Lincoln Gardens Cafe on East 31st Street. The two men became an unmatched brass duo and attracted many musicians and jazz aficionados to their South Side location. Armstrong later eclipsed his boss and became a success-

ful star in his own right. His many recordings with small groups on the Okeh label are considered to be some of the finest examples of traditional jazz ever made. As much an entertainer as a jazz musician in later years, Armstrong was in constant demand for movies, records, television shows, and personal appearance tours worldwide until his death in 1971.

Charley Straight The profusion of instruments in this traditional 1920s photograph of the Charley Straight Orchestra was meant to convey the musicians' versatility. Straight, a graduate of Wendell Phillips High School, was an exceptional pianist. He began his career in the teens on the vaudeville stage as part of a two-piano team and made piano rolls for the famous QRS label. Best known for its long stays at the Rendezvous Cafe (Diversey Parkway at Clark Street) and the Lincoln Tavern (in Morton Grove) in the 1920s, Straight's group also played the College Inn of the Sherman House and other hotels. He recorded on the Paramount and Brunswick labels and can be heard on several of the early Benson Orchestra of Chicago records playing piano ducts with director Don Bestor. CMS Prints <1nd l'hoto~raphs l'ollctlion

.Joseph H. Ka)srr

Paul Ash and the Oriental Theater Marcel-haired maestro Paul Ash was probably one of Chicago's first matinee idols. Leader of stage bands first at the McVickers

Theater on Madison Street and later at the bigger Oriental Theater on Randolph Street, Ash was dubbed the "Rajah of ,Jazz:' He led a talented group of musicians and many fine vaudeville acts through a procession of extravagant stage shows ranging in title from "Insultin' the Sultan" to "Rah, Rah Rajah'.' Newspaper stories of the mid-twenties reported to a host of awestruck fans that Ash had signed a fiveyear, $1 million contract, and that Balaban & Katz, the theater owners, had insured him for $750,000. But his stay in Chicago was short - 1925 to 1930. He left to conduct music for sound movies in New York. Later music director at both the Paramount and the Roxy theaters, he never again achieved the popularity of his days in Chicago. Kaufmann & Fabry. Cit~ Prints and Photographs l'ollcetion

Wayne King and the Aragon Ballroom Band leader Wayne King and the mammoth Aragon Ballroom at Lawrence Avenue and Broadway were practically synonymous in Chicago between 1927 and 1935. His was unquestionably one of the city's most popular and successful orchestras. King became a national celebrity through his Lady Esther (a cosmetics company) Serenade broadcasts heard several

times weekly over the NBC radio network, emanating from the Merchandise Mart. According to one newspaper, he was earning as much as $10,000 to $14,000 a week in 1935 for these broadcasts and his weekend appearances. As a captain during World War II, he was stationed in the Chicago area. His popularity with dancers endured, and he quickly moved into an

engagement at the Edgewater Beach Hotel as soon as he was released from service. He continued to record and tour with his orchestra until 1983.

. .,.. .

,.i

. - · - -----'··-•.~.J ~ ..

...

•

. ·:··. '

•

.... :__. ·_ :.. -

,_...._ 4

____

. -~~,,.~

Stanlt•) llanr,• ('ollt•rtion

Earl "Fatha" Hines and the Grand Terrace Cafe The Earl Hines band became an institution on the South Side and over the late-night airwaves through its many broadcasts from the Grand Terrace Cafe. 34

The first Grand Terrace was located at 3955 South Parkway; the second, at the site of the Sunset Cafe, 313 E. 35th Street. In later years, as a pre-eminent

piano soloist and leader of small jazz combos, Earl Hines went back to a more traditional style. He is recognized as one oft.he most influential jazzmen of his time.

Kay Kyser at the Blackhawk Restaurant Kay Kyser's nightly broadcasts from the BlackJrnwk and a weekly quiz program that later became known as "Kyser's Kollege of Musical Knowledge" propelled

the maestro to wealth and stardom. Here, Kyser (standing left) and WGN announcer Pierre Andre (standing right) welcome comedian Joe E. Lewis to the Black-

hawk Restaurant around 1935. Andre was also known to radio audiences as the announcer on "Little Orphan Annie" and "Captain Midnight'.'

Dan fil'rbert

Coon-Sanders Nighthawks The enormous success in Chicago of the Coon-Sanders Nighthawks demonstrated the power of radio. Late-night radio listeners in the Mid west had heard the band from Kansas City via station WDAF in the early 1920s. Smiling, personable drummer Carlton Coon and the witty ,Joe Sanders, a gifted pianist, made an unbeatable team, especially when they sang duets. During their shows at the Lincoln Tavern in the summer of 192-l and the following season at the Congress Hotel, their many Chicago fans crowded in to listen and dancr. 13ut they triumphed at the

13lackhawk Restaurant on Wabash Avenue, where the band played nearly every season between 1925 and 1931. Broadcasting nightly from there over clear channel WGN, the Nighthawks's music reached millions of listeners. A proliferation of Victor recordings and regular one-night tours to the radio listening area brought them both fame and fortune. But this musical magic spell was broken in 1933 when co-leader Carlton Coon died suddenly. Shaken by this loss, the band struggled until the following Easte1: when they broke up while on tour in Indianapolis. 35

1111 Club Band Interest in traditional jazz music revived in the late 1930s. Many of the early jazz musicians reunited to play in clubs from coast to coast. This "Dixie Revival" continued through the mid-1950s at Chicago clubs such as Rupneck's (1127 W Thorndale Avenue), the Beehive (55th Street at Harper Avenue), Jazz Ltd. (11 E. Grand Avenue, later at 164 E. Grand Avenue), the Preview Cocktail Lounge (7 W Randolph Street), and the 1111 Club (1111 W Bryn Mawr at the elevated). Originally jazz had been dance music, but during the revival, people appreciated it more as a listening experience. Jazz clubs did not encourage dancing and often prohibited it (due in part to federal

excise taxes on dancing levied during World War II but not rescinded until much later). ln this early 1950s photograph, trombonist Georg Brunis, a member of the 1ew Orleans Rhythm

Kings of the early 1920s, teams up at the l111 Club with drummer Claude "Hey-Hey" Humphrey, pianist Floyd Bean, trumpeter Nappy Trottie1; and clarinetist Charlie Clark.

Ton~ Barron

Art Kassel

and the Bismarck Hotel 36

The quintessential hotel orchestra in Chicago was probably Art Kassel and his "Kassels in the Air." Borrowing heavily from Guy Lombardo's sweet style, Kassel played the Bismarck Hotel's Walnut Room in 1930

and returned there for long annual engagcmrnts off and on for the next twenty-two years. Kassel began using his "Kassels in the Air" tagline about 192~), while broadcasting from Al Tierney's Supper Club on South Michigan Avenue. From the Bismarck his hand often broadcast several times a night, at least once over the Mutual or CBS radio networks. This radio exposure quickly turned him into a popular personality throughout the Midwe:t. He made several annual tours, ranging from West Virginia to Colorado, bringing with him a bit of sophisticated entertainment and music from the Windy City. A composer, Kassel wrote several very popular tunes through the years: "Doodle Doo Doo," "Hells Bells," "Sobbin' Blues,"' and "You ever Say No, You Never Say Yes'.'

Guy Lombardo Few people know or remember that Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians, an obscure regional band from London, Ontario, made it big in Chicago through nightly WBBM broadcasts in 1927 from the Granada Cafe on Cottage Grove Avenue. After two seasons at the Granada (and some very lucrative one-night tours) , Lombardo moved to New York, where he became a musical legend. Brother Carmen Lombardo's many hit songs ("Sweethearts on Parade," "Boo Hoo," "Seems Like Old Times," and others) and the band's annual New Year's Eve appearances on radio,

'-' IH~R Charhâ&#x20AC;˘s ,\. St'n~sloek .. Jr.

and later television, made it one of the best-loved organizations in modern popular music history. Lombardo is seen here during a 1967 appearance at the Willowbrook Ballroom in Willow Springs. ,Jul(â&#x20AC;˘s ff('rbuveaux Collc('tiun

Radio Orchestras The small dance hands that mowd into Uw radio studios in the late twenties grew over the next deeade into symphony-sized organizations like the NBC-Chicago

Orche tra, shown here under the direction of Roy Shield. Top musicians from Chicago and elsewhere played in these fine orchestras featured on radio shows like "The Carnation Hour:" Many stations and networks continued

using these large groups into the early years of television. But as programming shifted from Chicago to ew York and Hollywood, the studio staff orchestras were eventually disbanded. 37

Frederick Harter served as the buglerfor his unit, Cont/Jany D of the Eighth Illinois Cavah)' Regime:nt, which included volunteers from Chicago and the surrounding countryside.

"Those Exciting Times" Translated by Frederic Trautmann

A soldier from the Eighth Illinoi,s Cavalry Regiment recalls hi,s experiences while camped outside of Washington, D.C., during the Civil War:

The wave of German immigrants that swept the United States in the 1840s and 1850s consisted lwgely of those disillusioned by the failed Revolution of 1848. This al/empt at a democratic revolt, which began in France and quickly spread to Belgium, Italy, and Austria, had the greatest influence in Germany. But the Revolution did not unite the German people, many of whom surrendered lo conservative and reactionary elements in the counlly during that time. Consequently, many German political refugees sought liberty, democracy, and national unity in America. The Midwest, a rapidly industrializing region in the mid-nineteenth century, attracted immigrants who came to farm the land and to work in the factories of larger cities. By 1860 the German population of Illinois was nearly 140,000. And when President Abraham Lincoln called for volunteers at the outbreak of the Civil War in April 1861, thousands responded. Several regiments, such as the 24th and 82nd Illinois Volunteers, were entirely Gennan. Many of the older immigrants who had served in Germany '.s standing army were highly skilled in military arts. Friedrich Karl Franz Hecker, one of the leaders of the Revolution of 1848, commanded first the 24th and later the 82nd regiments. A number of all-German companies, later incorporated into existing regiments, sprang up in Chicago. Six months after the declaration of war, the Union Army included 6,000 Germans from Illinois. One of these German volunteers, eighteen-year-old Frederick Adolph Harter of Chicago, joined the Eighth Illinois Cavahy Regiment which mobilized in Kane County in the fall of 1861. Harter served as a bugler for Company D of the Eighth Regiment, which became part of General George B. McClellan'.s Army of the Potomac. Harter'.s unit camped outside of Washington , D.C., near Alexandria, Virginia. Winter rains made camp life difficult and Frederic '/i"rmlmann is associate /Jrofessor of rhetoric and communications at TempiR University.

uncomfortable, and clothing and other basic provisions were in short supply. "Many of them were reduced to their drawers," noted the regiment'.s surgeon after a promised shipment of overalls Jailed to arrive in November. Men and horses wallowed in the mud, and by January 1862, more than 200 men had contracted typhoid fever. The Army found vacant buildingsfor the unfortunate soldiers in Alexandria, where they waited out the winter. But as Harter notes in his memoir, a soldier'.s life was not all unpleasantness. To relieve their boredom while awaiting orders, they often visited back and forth with the men ofother regiments, and they took frequent trips to Washington. The troops entertained themselves with songs and storytelling, and they witnessed new technological clevelopments such as balloon flight. In the following spring of 1862, the men of the Eighth l llinois Cavalry Regiment engaged in their first action at the second Battle of Manassas, fought in Virginia about thirty miles west of Washington, D. C. They joined the rest of the Army of the Potomac as it advanced toward Richmond along the peninsula between the York and the James rivers. Harter and his comrades fought in the battles of Antietam and Gettysburg, as well as in a number of skirmishes, before the regiment was mustered out of service in July 1865. Harter returned to Chicago, where he established a book dealership with his brother, Emil. He lived in the Gennan neighborhood of Lake View with his wife Emma and his five children, and hejoined the Washington Post No. 573 of the GAR veterans' 01ganization. After a long bout with canw; Harter died at age sixty-two on February 5, 1906. In 1895, Harter published his Civil War memoirs, written in Gennan, under the title Erinnerungen a us dem Amerikan ischen Burgerkriege: Ernstes und Heite res a us Bewegter Zeit (The American C ivil War: My Reminiscences, Serious and Com ic, of Those Exciting Times). The following chapter, which covers the first several months Harter spent in the Army, has been Ira 11Slated from German. 39

Chicago History, Spring 1987

Anticipating that the South would rrly heavily on cawhy i11 the guen'illa mgagnnenLI of the wm; Union strategisLf hegan deploying mounted Lmo/1s in th1! summer of 1861. In Seplember 2,000 cavah)' /mops joined with eight bat/1'1-irs of artille,)'for a grand review pamde in \Va1hinglon, /).C.

General McClellan, fortifying Washington [in 1861], ringed it with armed camps, some sixty in all. He had organized his huge anny and was training it. In every quarter of the orth the drum thundered, J'vlobiliu! Mobiliu! Regiment after regiment fell in and dressed the ranks. Infantry and artillery had gotten nearly all the [Union's] attention until now. The enemy meanwhile bet on cava lry, a fact recognized but lately in the North. Men of vision in the North predicted that the South would [use cavalry to] fight many a guerrilla engagement. The Union decided it too must deploy cava lry and began to mobilize some. Congressman John T. Farnsworth, among the first to go to Washington to ask Presidential approval for mounted troops, formed the 8th Illinois Cavalry Regim ent and took command as colonel. A few weeks sufficed; many applications must have been ignored, so great the rush to join when muster sounded on the 18th of September. !joined a little late,~ What a motley group we were! Locomotive drivers and pharmacists, typesetters and farmers, carpenters and locksmiths, lawyers and tanners, millers and masons, engineers and paperhangers, students and shop clerks, newspapermen and

engravers, musicians and architects, barbers and merchants, and even some individuals innocent of occupation or trade. In tough situations in the field we soon learned the worth of such an assembly of knowledge and skill. Merely to witness the talents of this college of science would inspire its every member-a value in itself. Our station for mobilization and training-Camp Kane in St. Charles, [llinois-little resembled a military post. L1eking tents, most of the men lodged e lsewhere. Those who, before enlistment, lived in the little town or its environs, simply stayed home. Ot11ers put up at inns or in fuctories or private houses. Nobody must go hungry-miss a meal in one place, eat one in another-the kettle was on, the door open, the soldier welcome, hospitality lavish, everywhere. Patriotism united the people and made them feel good [and therefore generous, forthcoming, and accommodating]. Moreover, no Copperheads or other traitors skulked hereabouts. And then many a dear mother probably wondered, sadly, about the young stranger she took into her home: Will here/urn from the war? Will he hug his own mother again? So she gladly served him her tastiest dishes. On a red-letter day [wit11 public ceremonies] for

"Those Exciting Times" us at the beginning ofOctobe1~ ladies of St Charles gave the regiment a beautiful silk flag. They had made it with scrupulous care; the embroidery could not have been finer. The fatal moment arrived, the flag about to unfurl! Thousands of eyes fixed on the pretty young Miss holding the symbol of freedom. The sun smiled. Then a gust of wind and-the proud banner ripped! "A sign, an omen," timid souls said . "The regiment will be wiped out. Nothing will be seen of it again, except mourning." The festivities continued unabated. The orators repaired the damage, to the extent that eloquent phrases could repair a flag. An excellent meal, eaten alfresco, allayed dread and restored high spirits. Plans had been made to close with a salute of ordnance. A small cast-iron cannon stood primed. What remarkable thing happened? As the flag had torn [before being fairly unfurled], so the cannon burst at the first shot. The cannoneer touched fire to the flash hole. With a muffled bang, pieces of the barrel flew in every direction.

'-FW \(11:t,;_ ~\'fl 1 ">\Y .l\'1 .\I"\

Yet-all the more remarkable-not one of the thousands of spectators was hurt, not a hair disturbed. "People differ; experience shapes them many ways." Impressions determine thoughts and feelings. Diel the torn flag bode ill? Then what just occurred boded well; it practically guaranteed happy consequences. We heard one clay that our horses would arrive soon. They arrived that evening. In those times Uncle Sam paid $ll0 for a cavalry mount. Ours seemed good, some even excellent. How, we wondered, could such examples of first-rate horseflesh be bought at that price? Time brought the answer. Clever farmers, who knew what's what in these deals, sent us their bad actors: recalcitrants that bucked, rolled, kicked, and bit. We had been but a few weeks in Washington and twenty-three of us lay in hospital, injured by kicks . In a word, some of those beasts were abominable. Time and "the milk of human kindness" tamed them. Indeed, after a "proper education," the wildest often became the best; they proved staunch in adverse circumstances. (Docile animals do not resist hardship. They yield or-let's face it-they drop in their tracks because they lack the guts to continue.) We left Camp Kane on October 14th. Ordered to Washington we were bound for the seat of the war. The regiment assembled in long ranks at headquarters. Thousands of people had come to see us off and wave farewell. A few minutes past 9:00 the column moved out. We went to Geneva, about two miles from St. Charles, to board a train. The sad and somber hour of true good-byes followed. The person ignorant of such an occasion cannot know its power to stir emotions. What pain, such sorrow, in that grieving mass, the suffering of those thousands together! Let the following scene represent the mournfulness of the moment. Here an old man extends both hands to his son and stares at him long and hard. There an old woman clasps her loved one, as if she cannot let him depart. Husbands and wives separated, and brothers from sisters, and fiances and fiancees. A young wife shuffles along the siding, two little boys ahead of her. The boys' father appears. He kneels before them, he hugs them, he hugs and hugs! She sobs. He must struggle to suppress tears. Many, General George lJ. McClellan-sometimes called "Lillie Mac" because of his short stature-commanded the Army of the Potomac for the Union. flisfortificationofWashington, D.C., in 1861 includedsome sixty armed camps.

Chicago History, Spring 1987

--=- --- --- ThR U.S. government paid between $1 IO and 160 for a good rnva/,)' mount. Unfortunately, IIWll)'ftmn ers <old their most ill-belwvetl horses to the ami), causing a numbrr of injuries among novice cavabymen.

so many, wou ld not see one another again; the fact cannot be denied. An impatient Iron Horse sounds a shrill whistle. The conductor shouts, "1\vo minutes more!" He takes his own son by the hand, a boy who recently donned the blue. The two minutes pass in a flash. Another blast of the whistle, then a clang of bells, and the train struggles out of the station amid a toITent of cheers and a roar of blessings and a thunder of farewells. At Turner junction we met other trains. They caITied troops from Utah and tl1e prairies, commanded by officers who would earn fame later: Major [Alfred] Pleasanton and Captain Uohn] Buford. The men of Utah shouted, "Hurrah for the Union!" We answered, "HuITah for the boys of the West!" We paused in Chicago, the "Garden City," and used the interval to improve our rations. This man grabbed a knackwurst That man snatched a bottle of something strong. A third, seeing nothing but shortage ahead, gathered his favorite treat. Comestibles assembled-and after a few Chicago friends shook our hands-we continued east into tl1e forests of Indiana, gloriously painted with the colors of autumn. They, and the night, suITounded us. To our surprise next morning, enthusiasm giÂˇeeted us on either side. Handkerchiefs fluttered in all directions. HuITahs welcomed us at every station. Not a few beauties blew kisses. Ifat first, we

made light of them , we changed our minds when we saw a Miss blO\v kisses and dab tears at the same time. People in smoky Pittsburg greeted us with fervor that might have been heated at the fires that produced the smoke. Our hosts astonished us witl1 a meal to satisfy the most-discriminating gourmand. Something boiled and something fried, something baked and something froten, from oysters to pastries. Women were attentiveness itself. Men spared no pains to be cordial. As long as we remember the occasion, it shall remind us what hospitality means. Pennsylvania showed us nothing of war. Maryland , the moment we entered, asserted entries with fixed bayonets on guard at bridges while patrols kept watch on the roads. How, we fretted, would Baltimore greet us? We recalled the way the 6th Massachusetts had been recei\Âˇed. Everytl1ing remained quiet-calmer than we expected. Several companies of infantry, near the station, seemed ready to move on command. The man in charge strode up to them and barked, "Forward, march!" They marched. About a dozen of their voices intoned 'John Brown's Body." Every throat belted out "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!" The songs roared and echoed in the streets. Four days out of Camp Kane we gained Washington. It looked so strange. Miles around, on every hill, in each open space: tents, only tents,

"Those Exciting Times"

1\11/zough food and other basic supplies for the Army of the Potomac poured into \Âˇ'w1Shington from all over the North, these provisions were in slzort mpply during the cold, rainy winter of 1861-62.

nothing but tents. A spectacle, this panorama, engross ing, and all the more amazing because new to us; none had seen its like. Units of troops, moving everywhere, sp lashed still more color upon the sce ne and made it more astounding with piping and drumming and the intermittent ca lls of bugles. We detrainecl at the station and went at once to "Soldier's Rest," a giant wooden ban-acks. Each of us received two slices of bread, a slice of bacon,

and a mug of coffee. Then to Meridian Hill, to encamp. On the way we passed the White House. Lincoln stood on the verandah. We gave him three cheers. He supposedly therefore nicknamed us "Farnsworth 's Big Abolition Regim e nt." At the Hill we set to work. We lacked skill, we lacked grace-with droll results. First we pitched tents, then cooked the even ing meal, our first outdoors. What wondrous scenes occun-ed, such grand little dramas. This man's fire would not

r- - -

W@hingto11, D. C., in the early 1860s offered countless diversiom for the soldie1J encamped outside its borders. Harter and his companions enjoyed visiting the Smithsonian Institution, the US. Patent Office. and the botanical gardens; he observed that "the view from Capitol Hill is splendid of Washington and environs:Âˇ

Chicago History, Spring 1987

Hrauy min and snow in Dewmber 1861 and Janumy 1862 fumed the camps oul1idl' \\ashing/on into giant 111udlw/e;, forcing tft,, soldier.1 lo tak,, refuge in the uacant ho11Ses, sheds, and factories of AIPxandria, Virginia.

burn, his wood too wet, of course. That man's coffeepot tipped over, because the wood of his fire caved in, unfortunately. A third screamed bloody murder when he roasted his finger. A fourth smoked himself into the most terrifying of blackamoors and didn't know it. Time for coffee! The brew varied from man to man, astonishingly. One concoction amounted to an essence of the bean so thick and strong a person could dance on it. Another potion resembled rainwater and tasted like it. Yes, culinary art and everything else remained to be learned. We did learn (in time). Mark my words-Listen hou ewives!-ex-soldiers make today's best coffee and the tastiest and most satisfying bean soup. There: I've said it, I mean it, and that's that! Our horses appeared, and our weapons, and we got down to the brass tacks of drill. Ugh! Those days were grim. A little attorney hissed, "What fool dreamed up horseback riding?" Some fun! A budding cuirassier snarled, "These stupid sabers might as well break your arm!" Most of the horses had never been saddled. Some allowed riders willingly enough. Others, merelyatsightofasaddle, bucked and pitched and slashed with all fours. Farm boys

did best. Equestrian dilenantes, clinging to defective habits, remained worst: the nemesis of the veteran cavalrymen who instructed us. "Reins in the left hand ," they said. "Quit holding feet and legs wrong." Former "Sunday riders" interpreted this lesson as treason. Hence they lost aplomb and, one after the olhe1~ every man jack flew into tJ1e sand. Butlike cooking, like horsemanship-in time we learned to ride. They, the would-be cavaliers who once dishonored Sunday with their jaunts, soon stopped past abominations and did their nerves, and the nerves of their horses, a world of good. They wanted the doctor less, too, begging decreasingly for salve at the point of cavalry irritation (which differs from the point of infantry irritation). They, like everyone else, developed the natural armor. I've used the salve, so let me enter the recipe here and help riders who bum for relief: eight parts glycerin and two parts colloclion. That's it. If you don't have the salve, and can't get it, rub with unsalted bacon or tallow and, rest easy, you'll soon be as good as new. Gradually the days grew boring. Feed, water and curry the horses, and shovel their manure,

"Those Exciting Times" and nothing else except drill, drill, drill. A miserable state, this soldier's life, lived as if there were no war. But wasn't Washington a rich diversion on our doorstep? Let's visit Washington! Whenever we could get passes we walked into the nation's capital, a Babel in those times. We liked best to stroll by the White House and if possible look at the President. How peculiat~ Lincoln's power to attract us! If we wanted to meet this or that famous person representing one or another way of life, surely we desired to behold "the Great Rail Splitter." We went miles to see him; neither wind nor rain could divert us. Lincoln-exceptionally tall, rawboned, wiry, haggard. Many called his unattractive face ugly. But the face registered nothing disagreeable, nothing unpleasant. With any gift for reading personality from countenance, you knew at once that you confronted rare character. Every feature radiated veracity and compassion. A firm mouth and chin brought decision to melancholic eyes that seemed of unique benevolence yet impressive for calm studiousness and serious reflection. An original soul sparkled there. It gripped us, it stamped itself almost indelibly in our memories. Many fears about the welfare of his country produced the figure described here. He was no sad dream ct~ however, but a keen observer, a bright spot in company, and a coiner of trenchant witticisms. He told stories as expertly as he gave speeches. Many of his stories still circulate. An original, incleecl, this Lincoln. Search history and review the great men. How often does his equal occur? In what man do such purity, integrity, sincerity, candor, manliness, and love of justice coincide? He wanted the Good and the Right, the highest of aspirations. For "the spirit that moves us counts mo t" and "an honest man is the noblest work of Goel." Oh, yes, we tried to glimpse and approach him but seldom succeeded. Of Washington's [other] sights we prefeJTed the cap itol , the patent office, and the "Smithsonian In titute." The view from Capitol Hill is splendid of Washington and environs: the broad Potomac and hundreds of vessels plying it in sail and in steam; Alexandria in the distance; across the river, almost due west, Arlington; farther northwest, Georgetown; and in various directions: naval munitions, the patent office, the insane asylum, the arsenal, the uÂˇeasury, the post office, the botanical

gardens, the observatory, the Smithsonian, and the White House. Few municipal panoramas are nicer. We spent entire days in the patent office and the Smithsonian. The beauty of the capitol fascinated us too: the imposing structure with superb and massive columns and the grand dome, sights indeed to behold, along with the equally magnificent interior so richly decorated. In 1862, besides its usual purposes, the capitol served a practical one. Part of the basement and several sections of the wings housed bakeries. Fourteen ovens and over 100 bakers produced the a rmy's tasty brown bread. Though many were merely common soldiers, the assembled bakers constituted another of the city's sights, wrapped in white aprons and with paper hats clapped on their heads. Daily, 250 banels of flour became loaves stacked in rows and loads. From the little room where John Quincy Adams had lain in state the bread went into army wagons waiting for it in long lines on the suÂˇeet: canvas-covered vehicles, each pulled by four or six mules. Thanksgiving brought a delightful surprise. Several wagons rolled into camp, contents concealed. Even our nosiest Nosy Parkers paid little attention. Could the wagons be carrying anything worth noting? Wait! What's up? Why are those fellows walking like that? Aha! Now we knew. Colonel Farnsworth had given his regiment 100 bushels of oysters, herewith delivered. A Scotsman, who spoke frightfully through his nose, clapped his companion on the shoulder: The anny made good use of spare room in the Capitol Building by installing bakeries. More than a hundred soldier-bakers worked at fourteen ovens to produce brown bread and hardtack for the troops.

Sakini h r-1,1> t.nÂˇead.

Chicago History, Spring 1987

J. ) yt 11 :1 .I ,-11 1, ,

, - , 1. ,

ii ( ,

, r aJ .li~C

,11 hen,; tv

"1 1(it Âˇt1 1cc ,,,,

l,'uh 111 11d .'"

Till! Union Anny used the balloon, a relatively newdevelo/>mml in war technology in the 1860s,Jor observing enemy movements. This cartoon suggests an even more daring use for it.

"Look, Charley, that's what happens when the men take a shine to somebody and serve him well. Mind what I say-and get your share-understand?" Let's not beat around the bush. We welcomed such a gift. (I'll add that it boosted esteem for our colonel.) At the end of December we obeyed orders ("Strike your tents!") and moved to Camp California in Virginia, beyond Alexandria. We followed 14th Street and crossed "the Long Bridge." Crowds gathered. Nobody here had ever seen so much cavalry at once. Eighty-one wagons accompanied us, to haul everything we needed (or thought we needed). A few years later, after we learned the art of war firsthand,fifteen sufficed. But Alexand1ia received us coldly. Rebels behind shuttered windows probably compared us with the ir own mounted forces. We didn't care. On to Camp California! One day we watched a balloon ascend. Hmmm, how practical. From it a city could be set afire and an army blasted to bits, while the balloonist remained invulnerable. Doggone! "Charley," said the Scot through his nose, "you

must take a balloon ride. McClellan would be happy to oblige. I'll ride over to see him tomorrow. I'll bring a rocking chair for you, and a box of cigars, so you'll be comfortable in your laundry basket in the sky." But Charley feared that the basket might desert. "I'd rather not bother McClellan." Steady rain and persistent snow made a morass of Camp California, turning it into our Camp Anguish. Tents stood in mud. Horses stood in mud . When we lay down on our straw for the night, water shot into the air. What a joy to be ordered to Alexandria! On an inclement morning in January we moved tJ1ere. By then, rampant illness mandated change. Empty sheds, houses and factories offered protection, a comfort like the sun after a night of storm. Alexandria, one of the oldest settJements on the Potomac, looks nothing like cities of the West. Square, antiquated buildings impart a feeling of tranquility and leisure usually absent from newer cities. Everything about Alexandria recalls English rule, especially street names: King, Queen, Prince, Duke, etc. George Washington attended Christ Church on Washington Street. The visitor notices many a change to tJ1e interior of the church, but the Washington family pew remains preserved in original condition. The small silver plaque on the gate bears the name Washington. The patriotic [Elmer Ephraim] Ellsworth died in the simpl e three-story frame Marshall House on Prince. On the road to Fairfax glowers the slave pen , a big brick building enclosed by twelve feet of high wall. This emporium served the prewar trade in "living merchandise." What scenes of horror it must have witnes ed! The sign of the former proprietors remain above the door of this Hell: "Price, Byron & Co., Dealers in Slaves." Old General [William R.] Montgomery, regulararmy \'eteran and [Union] military governor of [Alexandria] Virginia during our stay there, clung to ideas more fit for the days of the Flood than for our modern times. "Old Man font" we usually called him. His "love affair with the past" displeased us; but we disliked more the way he flirted with Rebel women, an awkward, unfortunate, and embarrassing practice. They brought him roses and carnations, and asters and lilies. He, in his chivalry, responded exceedingly to these favors. Thus, in deference to the women and obliging to all Alexandria's Rebels, he did not fly the Ameri-

"Those Exciting Times"

_.r1-... _,,,--..\ .

Al/hough the North and South were officially al war during thefall and winter of 186 1- 62, the soldiers in the two annies spent most of their time in /acliral training ratha than in combat. This car/oon dej1icls Union and Confederate soldiers engaged in a snowball fight while their respective commanders 17e each other suspiciously across the Potomac River.

ca n fl ag at headquarte rs but ke pt it half-hidde n be hind his d e k. This gesture a nn oyed us, o ur oppositio n to it irritated him , and we o ften clash ed. Our side acted bravely and asserted its po int o f view wh e never possibl e. Now th e Alexandria Cilium, a Re be l newspaper o f th e basest sort, braze nl )' printed articl es so execrabl e as Lo provo ke myriad co mpl aints fro m Uni o n so ldi e rs. Mo ntgo mery did nothing wh e n he o ught to have co ntroll ed or eve n sil e nced th e pa pe r. Com p la ims alm ost dail y to him bro ught no response. One day the Citizen's o ffi ces caught fire-by accide nL, o f co urse. Hu ndreds o f olcli ers gathe red Lo wa tch fl ames rage in P1ince Street. Not o ne so ldier lifted a fin ge r to extingui sh th e m. A loca l reside nt, running d own th e stTeet toward th e blaze, ho uted fro m afar: "The Ge neral comma nds eve1ybod y he re to help pu t it o ut!" "Everybod y?" Th e qu esti o n ca me fro m a n o ffi ce r of th e 88th

Pe nnsylva nia. "Yes." 'The n I order you to stay and becom e th e first firefi ghte r!" Mr. Solid Citize n wanted to obey. By some re markable co in cid e nce, soldi e rs always blocked him. H e tried he re, he headed th e re, but he inevitably collided with th em. He could have done nothing, a nyhow, eve n had this "one rous mob" not stopped him . F01~ to everyone's astonishme nt (!), all ho es had bee n slash ed . H ow co uld this offe nse be committed in broad daylight a nd unde r Re be l noses? Th e Re bels neve r solved th e riddle. Moreover, th ey must accept th e inevita bl e and let the fire burn. It burned until th e last board and everything insid e th e building we nt up in flam es. T he Citizen became a thing of th e past. O ld Ma n Mo m , e ntertaining whims of how th e fire started , ann oyed us even more th a n before. We usuall y got th e be tter o f him in th e e ncl ,

Chicago History, Spring 1987 howeve1~ because our orders came mainly from General [Samuel P.] Heintzelman [commander of Heintzelman's Brigade, Division of the Potomac]. When an odd epidemic of measles broke out, our regimental physician requested a building in Prince Street for a second hospital. Old Man Mont rejected the request: "We are here to protect the rights of citizens, not violate them." We brought the facts before General Heintzelman and he decided in our favor. Old Mont, in a huff, took revenge. In those days the fact had become notorious that a Copperhead, one Pastor Stewart, preached inflammatory sermons in the Episcopal church every third evening. Worse, he omitted the prayers his Church prescribed for the President and Congress. One of our captains and several men went to watch the fellow and if possible stop his malfeasance. "Worshippers" filled the church, mostly Rebels of course. Stewart not only skipped the prayer; he went further this time. He said Bishop [William] Meade[e] of [the Episcopal Convention of the Diocese of Virginia in] Richmond had directed him to start praying publicly for Jefferson Davis and the army, navy and congress of the South. Saying he dare not risk it openly here, Stewart asked the congregation to join him in silent prayer for them. He had gone too far. "You're undera1Test," our captain said. "Take off your vestments:' Hearing those words the congregation rose to free their minion. Our men, though pressed, held firm. Rev. Stewart nonetheless refused to disrobe. Wanting to play the marty1~ he thought he would look more like one ifhe left his vestments on. He got his wish. This desecrator of the house of Goel had used the pulpit for vulgar political ends and downright treason. We wanted to send him to Washington. But the federal authorities would not have him. They refen-ed us to General Montgomery; the case was in his jurisdiction. Old Man Mont must have laughed when he heard that. Graciously he accompanied Stewart to court and graciously set him free. Old Man Mont had put one over on us. By March of 1862 our reconnaissances seemed about to end. They had taken us as far as Fairfax Court House but we wanted more than to chase and capture enemy scout . We wanted the battlefield: we craved action. We soon got it. McClellan's general order of the 17th said he had kept us, his 50

Army of the Potomac, quiet in preparation for the decisive assault. The necessary force of fearsome artillery had been assembled. Truly an army now, we were superbly armed and outfitted. The time had come to act, he said. Ordered to advance before the publication of tl1ose words, we were underway on tl1e 10th, toward a famous place called Manassas. For Further Reading A good source on German immigration to America at mid-century i The Forty-Eighters: Political Refugees of the German Revolution of 1848, edited by A. E. Zucker (New York: Russell & Russell, 1967). On Germans in the Union Anny, see.Jo eph George Rosengarten , The German Soldier in the \!\i:irs of the United States (Philadelphia: .J.B. Lippincott Company, l890), and Ella Lonn, roreigners in the Union Army (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1952). For more on Frederick Haner's unit, see Abner Hard , History of the Eighth Cavalry Regiment Illinois Volunteers, During the Great Rebellion (Aurora, Ill inois, 1868).

Illustrations All illustrations come from the CHS Library. 38, from Erinnerungen aus dem Amerikanischen Biirgerliriege: Ems/es und Heiteres cws bewegter Zeit (1895); 40, from Hmper's l'\0ekly, October 12, 1861; 41, from Hmper's Weekly.January 25, 1862; 42-43, from Ha,per'. Weekly, June 27, 1861; 43 bottom, from Hmper's Heekly, November 2, 1861; 44-45, from Hmper's Hi'ekly,.June 27, 1861; 46, from Harpers Heekly, .January 18, 1862; 47, from Harper's \!\eekly, November 2, 1861; 48, from Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newsfx1per, Fcbruarr 22, 1862; 49, from Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, February I, 1862.

Homeless Children, Childless Homes by Paula F Pfeffer

As agencies devoted to the welfare of orphaned and illegitimate children were established in late nineteenth-century Chicago, divergent philosophies of adoption began to emerge.

Mrs. Irene Drew, assistant director of The Cradle, 1935.

Paula F PfeJ/er is associate professor of hisl1J1y al Mund.elein Collegt' and pa.st president of the Illinois A~sociation for the /\dvancemenl of !1isto1y.

The Cradle Society, an Evanston, Illinois, adopLion agency, subscribed to a philosophy that did not "e ncourage unmarried mothers to keep their children, for it believes, with accepted society, that marriage provides the best home for childhood growth and for good future citizenship and that every child born into the world has a right to that foundation." What seems a simple policy statement in reality represents one of two diametrically opposed points of view regarding adoption. Founded and staffed by volunteer workers in 1923, The Cradle remained a voluntary operation until 1945. In contrast, the Illinois Children's Home and Aid Society (ICHAS), founded by Rev. Martin Van Buren Van Arsdale in 1883, became professionalized early on with the appointment of Superintendent Hastings Hornell Hart in 1898. While its primary purpose was "the welfare of neglected and dependent children in the state," inevitably some of those children were adoptable orphans. Run by career social workers, the ICHAS philosophy of adoption conflicted with that of The Cradle: the unwed mother and her chi ld alone constituted a family and, therefore, the mother should give up her child for adoption only under exceptional circumstances. either agency had a religious affiliation. Nevertheless, their divergent attitudes separated The Cradle Society and the Children's Home and Aid Society from each other and caused dissension between paid staff workers and voluntary board members within the IC HAS. How did these two Chicago-area agencies, both engaged in adoption work, develop such antithetical ideas? Their histories as well as the intenelated issues of adoption, the professionalization of social work, attitudes toward illegitimacy, and the funding of social welfare agencies all have a bearing on this question. The state of Illinois did not recognize a legal theory of child adoption prior to the passage of the 51

Chicago History, Spring 1987 Illinois Adoption Act of 1867. Before Lhat, privately sponsored "orp han homes," many of them affiliated with religious institutions, took in the increasing numbers of children left homeless by an expanding population and a series of cholera epidemics. Chicago's first orphanage, the Chicago Orphan Asylum, was founded in 1849. One way of solving the problem of homeless children was to bind them out by indenture as apprentices or servants for a period of service without Lheir conent. This practice became eve n more widespread when the Revised Statutes of Illinois defined the laws governing apprentices in 1845. Indenture continued to be a favorite means of providing for the custody and instruction of orphaned or otherwise destitute children until about 1875. But the recurrence of cholera epidemics encouraged some families to seek a child to "take the place ofa lost loved one." While legal adoption did not exist, a kind of guardianship developed. Distinct from indenture because it did not include service but instead provided for inspection of the recei\'ing home, guardianship lasted until the child came of age. The rules of both indenture and guardianship strictly dictated that the natural parents must never

be told the whereabouts of Li1eir child, nor were the wishes of the child to be considered. Formulated to provide greater safeguards for homeless children, the Illinois Adoption Act of 1867 bomnved liberally from those of other states, including Massachusetts, Wisconsin , and Pennsylvania. The statute set forth the principles of the Li1eory of adoption, pro po eel an adoption procedure, and placed it under the jurisdiction of Lhe court. The court claimed to place primary importance on the welfare of the child; however, the court alone determined the reputability of the adopting parents. Furthermore, to qualify as a resident oflhe state the petitioner need have only temporary residence in Illinois. This provision encouraged some prospective parents to e nter the state solely for the purpose of adoption. While they wamed to help dependent children, the main goal ofnineteemh-century philanthropists was merely "to prevent starvation and death from exposure as economically as possible." Opposed to greater taxation, philanthropic entrepreneurs preferred to relieve uITering in an efficient, economical, and bu inesslike manner by means of voluntary contributions and services.

.,--

I__

ORPHAN ASYLUM BUILDING.

The Chicago O,phan Asylum, the city sfirst o,phanage, erected its first pmnanent building with support from the communil)Âˇ in 1854. According to lhe annual repo,Âˇt, ofseventy-eight children received /hat )'f!a.i; forty-five were placed "by indenture, in good families where it is supposed they will receive proper care, and be fitted lo become useful members of society."

Homeless, Childless

Hl'v. ,\tar/in \hn NimÂˇn \cm Arsdali', rfolrrwâ&#x20AC;˘d by the plight ofrhildrm in almslwmes. began hischild-sav111gwork in 1883. His oim was lo ''educate chiulren and _1v1wg u~mw1 for the rn111pletme~1 of life." Till' !Cl /It grew Olli of his work in lllinois and nationwide ovPr the next fifteen years.

Chicago History, Spring 1987

.,.._

_________

·~--•1-•---·-·

167 Dearborn :it. Room 71~. GEt-i\ OrracE. .CHICAGO•

,1.~ • ._.,., ... r_..1..u • -.,,,, .,.,,, a,;, ~-..----u••~-·

T/.e Children's Home Societ)\ a forerunner of the IC/ IAS, Jmblished this magazine in the /890s to J>romote its wor'1 and mcourage adoption among prospective parmts around the co1111h)'·

They founded a number of charitable organizations based upon these principles, all of which dispatched volunteers, or "friendly visitors," to call upon, counsel, and instruct the poor about cleanliness, moral values, and abstinence from alcohol, and to determine if they were "deserving" of aid, that is, if they were likely to become self-supporting. Founded on a more humane basis, the lllinois Children's Home and Aid Society was the creation of Rev. Martin Van Buren Van Arsdale, a Presbyterian minister concerned with the plight of children in almshouses. He believed that placing homeless children in Christian homes would be a better solution to dependency than asylums. Meeting with indifference or outright opposition, Van Arsdale at first took the children into his own home . He dreamed of establishing a national organization with branches in every state but succeeded in only a few; some states formed independent associations while others prefe1Ted the traditional asylum to home placement. The ICHAS attained its present structure when Hastings Hart took over in 1898. Dissatisfied after two years as a Congregational minister, Hart decided his true 54

vocation lay in social work. He spent lifieen years as secretary of the Minnesota State Board of Charities and Correction before his appointment as superintendent of the IC! IAS. Under Hart's tenure , which lasted until 1909, the I lome and Aid Society became one of the nation's most renowned children's agencies. The scope of the agency's work was expanded while still adhering to Van Arsdale's belief that a home en\'ironment was superior to that of an institution. Branches were organi1ed throughout the state, each with its own local ad\'isory board. Three recei,·ing homes were established in different areas to provide temporary shelter until 1he children could be placed in private homes. The work of the ICHAS was supported locally by concerned citizens and statewide by a sixty-three member board of directors, the majority of whom came from Chicago. They shared a belief that, uncared for, children became delinquents, and they attempted to convince prominent businessmen of the community that placing children in families could be done "at a quarter to half the expense to the city of the arrest and conviction of these children as criminals."

Home/,ess, Childless

In 1898 the Society assumed its modem structure, and Hastings Hart was ap/1oinled superintendent. Over the next nine years he succeeded in ex/1anding the Society's reach and professionalizing its operations.

At first, the Society used volunteers from the upper classes to find and supervise home placement of the children in its care. Its reliance on these volunteers soon became a problem, however, because they were undependable and likely to leave the hot city for their country homes during the summer. By the turn of the century, developing social work methods and an increasing emphasis on professional training provided even more compelling reasons to replace volunteer help with trained personnel. The ICHAS was not alone in making the transition from voluntary management to a professional staff; most social welfare agencies underwent the same process early in the century. Several characteristics distinguished the professionally run agencies from the oldervolunteerrun organizations and the paid from the non-paid social workers. Professionals and volunteers generally differed in class and income, in attitudes and approaches toward their work, and in ideas about funding their activities. Volunteer workers, on the average, were about ten years older and more likely to be married than career social workers. They were usually members of the upper classe , and their social welfare activity was merely a productive way to pass leisure time and fulfill their sense of noblesse oblige. By contrast, paid employees' income derived solely from their po ition with the welfare agency. Their elite counterparts

did not share employee' concerns with working conditions, salary scales, perpetuating their positions, and guarding their rights. Professionally run organizations learned to live with government funding and even began to welcome the restrictions imposed by such funding on the assumption that state regulation would bring higher standards. The professionals hoped that the influx of government money would relieve them of continuous fund raising so that energy could be concentrated on improvement in the delivery of care to their clients. The voluntary agencies, on the other hand, resisted government intervention in any form. The most important contribution professional social workers made to the social welfare field was their development of the "case method" technique. In an effort to help individuals adjust to their environment, social workers attempted to treat each family or individual as a unique case and to discover the data pertinent and significant to that particular family's history. Adherence to casework principles became another is ue that separated paid from non-paid workers. The managing board of the ICHAS, as distinct from the agency's salaried employees, was composed of volunteers; men and women prominent in Chicago business and society. Beginning in 1926, however, what one observer for the Council of Social Agencies described as the "somewhat self-perpetuating" managing board together with the superintendent began to make policy decisions jointly with the professional staff, at least insofar as the details of the operations were concerned. As they grew in number, the full-time staff won greater supervisory and executive responsibilities. But communication problems developed that led to growing animosity between the paid staff and the volunteer board members. These rifts remained internal, however, and the public did not distingui h between professionals and volunteers through the 1920s. By the 1910s, increasing professionalization may have encouraged the ICHAS to shift its emphasis from suiting the child to the home to a policy based on the theory that the most important requirement for a good adoption was a home that met the needs of the adopted child. The Society did not provide institutional care for infants prior to adoption but instead placed them temporarily in private homes. In conuÂˇast to the early days 55

Chicago Hist01y, Spring 1987 when children had been placed without court sancLion sLrictly on the wrilten consent of one or both parents, in 1914 the ICHAS professionals formulated a set of standards for child placement in adoptive homes. Included were investigation of the adoptive parents and a six-month trial period before adoption could be finalized. Their quest for higher standards culminated in passage of the revised Adoption Act of 1925 which provided for the court appointment of a guardian ad lilem to consent to the adoption of an illegitin1ate child, even when the natural molher gave her consent, a provision that remains in effect to this day. In addition, ICHAS staff members came to believe that iffund raising was severed from childsaving more attention could be paid to the clients and care would be improved. In the beginning the Society had been suppo1ted almost entirely by membership clues and conuibutions personally solicited by members oflocal advisory boards. Fund-raising agents were paid on a commission basis, and while addiLional money was raised through direct maili11gs, the use of paid agents proved to be both expensive and questionable and was abolished by

1900. But Lhe ICHAS found its activities hampered by an almosl continuous deficit. Although il still looked Lo socially prominent board members for large contributions, by 1913 Lhe agency began receiving some public funding Lhrough appropriations made by the various counties it served and from which it accepted children for placement. In contrast to the ICHAS, The Cradle operated under its volunleer founder Florence Walrath for twenty-seven years. Even tl1ough it was not founded until 1923, long after most social welfare agencies had made the transition to professional staffing, The Cradle remained outside the general trends in adoption work. Walrath wa. in many ways a woman ahead of her time , and her powerful personality dominated the organization. She had no professional social work training but became involved in adoption work in 1914 by finding a baby for her sister who had lost a newborn child. After this experience, Walrath found a career tl1rust upon her as word of her abi Ii ty to locate adoptable Begin11111g i11 191-1 the IC/-IASJJ11blished I lorn c lifi.' l\laga1inejor iL1 .rnjJ/Jorters a11d potential adoptive parents. l~arh i,\\1/e /i'atured information about the Soriety, stories ofsuccessful ado/J/ions, and galleries of adoptabhâ&#x20AC;˘ rhildrrn like thi1 one from lhP Oecn11ber 1924 edition.

Homeless, Childless

Carloonisljohn T i\lcCutcheon created this logo for the /CHAS in the 1920s.

children spread throughout her fushionable North Shore circle of friends. The number of couples who wanted to adopt usually exceeded the number of available babies. Initially Walrath personally paid for infant care at Evanston Hospital, which provided three beds. By 1918 she had established an "Emergency Fund," to which her friends contributed, to help defray the mounting costs. When Evanston Hospital found that its charter did not permit the care of healthy babies, Walrath decided Lo establish a separate, permanent adoption nursery. She incorporated The Cradle Society "for the purpose of receiving and preparing for adoption babies deprived, by whate\'er circumstances, of the love and care which is their clue." She wheedled financial backing from fi\'e prominent Chicago-area businessmen, including Henry Dawes of the Pure Oil Company, Frederick Scott of Carson Pirie Scott & Company, Frank Cunningham of Butler Bros., and Sewell Avery of Montgomery Ward. Walrath, together with these men and others all closely related by blood, ma,ital, or social tie , constituted The Cradic Society's first board of twelve directors. Walrath

and her assistants, all of whom lacked specialized uÂˇaining in child welfare work, believed adoption was the only wise solution to the stigma of illegiti macy. They stressed that the unwed mother who kept her baby had little chance of leading the life of a normal single woman, while the child, growing up in an abnormal home environment, was deprived from the start. Even as the new agency was organized, career social workers were acting to eliminate the lax adoption practices and philosophy upon which it was based. Intent upon gaining greater legitimacy and recognition by emphasizing credentials and standards, professional social workers in the Chicago area succeeded, in 1923, in having a special committee appointed by the Council of Social Agencies to study adoption procedures and report to the Cook County courts. Committee members were distressed by the findings of their investigation which demonsuÂˇated that applicants refused a baby by accredited agencies because of moral unfitness had no difficulty in securing a child from an unaccredited agency if, as frequently happened, the courts did not check their petition. In some cases fumilies unknowingly adopted children of"bad" heredity who later developed insanity, epilepsy, or "feeble mindedness." In still other cases adoptive parents were unaware that their newly acquired child was of different racial descent Finishing its investigation in May, the committee called for the application of standard casework p1inciples. It further recommended that the Courts ofjurisdiction consult members of the Council of Social Agencies to provide information on the backgrounds of the natural and adopting parents which the career workers claimed was essential in order to prevent such problems.

Chicago History, Spring 1987 Influential Cradle supporters condemned the committee report as maligning The Cradle. The Illinois Children's Home and Aid Society, however, maintained that the founding of The Cradle had not prompted the appointment of the committee; it was "unfortunate" that its memorandum was issued at about the same time The Cradle opened. Still, the ICHAS emphasized the committee's finding that "some children are adopted into family homes with less ceremony than would have been in the transfer of a piece of property." The ICHAS recommended changes in the law identical to those for which professional social workers had been lobbying in an effort to freeze out their non-professional colleagues. The professionals wanted to require an investigation to determine the desirability of separating a child from its natural parents as well as an investigation of the fitness of the adopting parents, and a u-ial period in the prospective home before the consummation ofan adoption. But any statements by ICHAS staffers about their prefe1Ted policy were "construed by proponents of The Cradle Society as direct attacks upon the institution." Th us no sooner did The Cradle open the doors of its new building in Evanston, Illinois, than it sparked conilict over philosophy and method with established adoption agencies, particularly the ICHAS. Walrath believed her organization was an improvement over existing adoption agencies because prospective parents were not allowed to pick over the babies like "strawbe1Ties," but instead had to accept the baby Walrath decided was best suited to their needs. The ICHAS staff, however, was alarmed by the fact that the "excellenL wealthy Evanstonians" who established The Cradle thought that investigation of the child's antecedents was needless. But ICHAS professionals felt powerless to make any public objection because "Several of the most active persons connected with The Cradle are also members of our North Shore Advisory Board:' For that reason the Society's superintendent, Clarence V Williams, was "convinced that it would be a mistake ... to oppose tl1e work of The Cradle," although he complained privately about "the type of interference" that The Cradle practiced. Even when Cradle workers "invaded" cases the Society was working on and took babies they thought properly theirs, Society staffers tried to be "exceedingly patient" Because its overarching goal was to provide

adoptable babies for middle- and upper-class homes, The Cradle kept the names of unmarried parents secret. Professional caseworkers at tl1e ICHAS, on the other hand, believed that the preservation of natural family ties should be the overriding principle in adoption and illegitimacy casework. Professionals either rejected or failed to consider adoption as the solution in illegitimacy cases. Believing that the mother and her child alone constituted a family, they concluded that unwed mothers, except in extreme cases, should not surrender their babies for adoption. Citing psychiatric studies, they argued that giving up her child could cause a mother permanent emotional damage. Profes ionals and non-professionals in the two agencies were further divided over paternity issues. Paid social workers believed that the complete social and eco11omic status ofan unmanied mothe1~ together with her family background and that of the alleged father, should be known before making permanent disposition of her child. One reason for establishing paternity, of course, was to force the father to support his child. The nineteenth-century philosophy of public relief "to prevent starvation and death from exposure as economically as possible," still weighed heavily on the social workers of the !CHAS. Nevertheles , they were uncertain about the parameters of their investigations to establish the paternity of illegitimate children. Should their records carry the names and addres es of alleged fathers without due notice to the accused and the opportunity for them to deny the charge ? Could a ocial work agency with limited means, one that made public appeals for funds to aid and place dependent children,justify spending its money and workers' time to establish the paternity of illegitimate children? Opposing points of view on the paternity issue partly reflected social class differences. Although they acknowledged the clanger of false accusations and blackmail, paid social workers did not wish to see the culpable sons of elite families get off scot-free. "The young man who seduces an innocent girl ought not to escape the consequences of his own thoughtless and cruel act," one professional maintained. He should be held responsible for "the protection of other girls," othenvise "he is likely to repeat the offense. This is especially true of young men of wealth and leisure, who

Homeless, Childless delight in making conquests and boast of their achievements among their fellows," this career agent argued, unconsciously revealing his resentment of upper-class prerogatives. Professional social workers were also concerned with the development of "character" and could not resist the opportunity to impress their own middle-class values on their working-class clients. Speaking o[ the unmarried mother, one said, "It is no kindness to help her to deceive her father and mother, and after relieving her of her maternal obligation, to send her back to her home with a lie in her mouth. You cannot build character on a lie:' Moreover, professionals interested in saving the public's money wanted to hold a girl's parents responsible. They should not "aba ndon their daughter in the time of her need" and "cast upon strangers the burden of giving her the help and moral support which she so much needs," they argued. The problem stemmed from the hundreds, or even thousands, of unmarried mothers sent from their small rural communities to the great cities each year "to get rid of unwanted babies." Professional social workers believed that charitable societies and private individuals should not be asked to assume the financial burden of raising these children on behalf of strangers without first ascertaining if friends and relatives could provide for them. To relieve the girls' families of all responsibility was "an encouragement to vice," according to the career agents. Cradle volunteers, on the other hand , did not have any interest in establishing an adoptive child's paternity; instead, they absolved the unwed father of all responsibility. The Cradle only provided babies for couples who wished them and found homes for illegitimate children. The officers emphasized, "We believe that there IS no way except through adoption to insure the future of the normal infant for whom no nat1.1ral home is available:' While Walrath made every effort to match religion, nationality, physique, and eye and hair coloring, as a private agenqÂˇ, The Cradle had the luxury of turning away cases such as obviously handicapped children who might be difficult to place. Because they did not investigate the child's background or the home of th e adoptive parent , Cradle staff members remained ignorant of po sible problems, such as a history of mental illness, in the natural parents' fumily.

Finances were no problem for The Cradle, which was backed by generous, wealthy patrons and contributions from adopting parents. In her first year, Walrath projected an annual budget of $10,000. She resisted public funding, even refusing to share in the Evanston Tag Day Fund which raised money for local charities. The Cradle catered primarily to the upper classes; a brochure advised that "The Cradle avoids the low economic brackets where hardship would handicap both parents and child." Cradle workers insisted that they did not pressure girls to give up their babies, and that during he r stay in the hospital or at The Cradle's facility "a mother can make any proper provision for its care herself(by marrying the father, etc.)." Indeed, Walrath claimed that they encouraged her to do so. Professional social workers, however, doubted the sincerity of this statement and insisted that Cradle workers pressured new mothers, while still weak and vulnerable, to surrender their children for adoption. Skeptics also questioned The Cradle's policy of requiring adopting parents to assume all the risks of the child developing a hereditary physical or mental illness as if the baby had been born to them. Was depending on chance that the adoptive child would be normal and healthy good sportsmanship, as the agency claimed, or was it rather caveat emptor? Professional social workers further faulted The Cradle for using its funds solely to insure pleasant surrotmdings and good medical care for the unwed mother and her child. Rather than allocating monies for scientific studies of its placement policie , the private agency assumed that placements made in financially secure homes with receptive parents would succeed. Such ideas were anathemas to the professionals who thought social welfare should extend further than mere infant placement; it was also necessary to provide adequate safeguards for the child, the family into which the child was born , and the home into which the child was adopted. To prove their point the ICHAS staff compiled a list of children for whom lack of investigation and hasty placement had proven detrimental. The professionals, however, could not deny The Cradle's pioneering advances in institutional care and its superior record on infant mortality: it boasted the lowest death rate of any nursery in the world. An infant dysentery epidemic swept the nation in 1927, causing the deaths of many Cradle 59

Chicago History, Spring 1987

Th e Child Placing Departm ent Receives Ho n1eless Childre n .. , er urciu' c ,nsH er.m n , t t~e ca c. Selects hnme'i 0·1 ren)lllllll' miario:1 cf l Jc:1I hoards alrt"r a, hit ' \ u1 t-•

IH.'

·1

at,!Cllt.

Supen·i:,;es children h,· corre,pondencc, , isits oi agc·nts ,tn

h) lucal

oards.

I::1nploys at d \

1s1

tt:

district supenntende11ts tu hc.-frn.-111.., reet· ,·e, place nt t,

tiren

Transfers children from the homes first selecte.l, ,i necessary Has cared for 5300 child ren in: 1 yea rs; 5 28 differe nt cases la,t year.

AN ADOPTED BOY'S BIRTHDAY PARTY

A 1906 bmrhurr 11111111,arru•_s thr pro) Ps11mwl ajJ/m1ach tahm by lh1• IU lt\S III its

child /1/ar inff

babies. Walrath appealed to Dr. Gladys H. Dick, a Cradle direct01~ Working with her husband and an assistant, Dr. Dick discovered the epidemiccausing germ in the powdered milk used for the babies' formula. In response, researchers produced boilable powdered milk that could be sterilized without curdling and which eventuall y led to the formula sterilization process in common use today. Dr. Dick also pioneered an antiseptic technique to prevent cross infection within the nursery. Babies were kept in individual glass cubicles within small units containing their own supplies. urses were not permitted to leave their units and had to change their gowns and sterilize their hands as they went from one baby to another. These aseptic techniques so dramatically controlled infant epidemics that they were copied by hospitals and other institutions that could afford the elaborate precautions. Cradle successes in the medical field , however, did not assuage career agents opposed

to the voluntary agency's promotion of adoption. Thus the paradox: The Cradle used scientific methods in health care ll'hile the ICHAS employed scientific methods in its child placement practices. In addition to class antipathy and divergent adoption philosophies and techniques, volunteer and professional organizations held opposing ,·iews as to how their agencies should be funded. Not only did paid workers want to see social work professionalized. but they also came to favor professional fund raising as a way to keep social welfare agencies operating. Experience selling war bonds during World War I had demonstrated the efficacy ofjoint fund raising. After the annistice, "war chests" were converted into community chests in which all the local social welfare organizations joined together in a federated movement that coordinated, rationalized, and systematized charitable giving. For the ICHAS, the determination to turn to Chicago's federated Community Chest

Homeless, Childless came easily, precedent having been set by the earlier decision to accept public funding. By 1939 the Community Chest was contributing 37.4 percent of the Society's budget. For her part, Walrath knew that accepting community chest largess meant also accepting community chest control. Indeed , most affiliated organizations manipulated their figures since the fund cut back on its contributions if an agency raised either too large or too small a percentage of its annual budget. When the country p lunged into economic depression late in 1929, the ICHAS made a valiant effort to continue its child-saving work. But the magnitude of the suffering and the shortage of funds during the depression years made casework a luxury. Like other social welfare agencies, the IC HAS found its function reduced to one ofreliefgiving. When it became clear that the relief task was too monumental for private philanthropy, and even for the states, the bulk of the burden of welfare work was transferred from private agencies to the federal government by the Roosevelt administration's ew Deal. The fact that the federal government employed only professionals led to the imp licit assumption, both among paid staff members and the general public, that volunteer workers did not possess expertise. But even during the depression The Cradle maintained its policy of refusing funds from either the community chest or the government. Cradle staff members continued to come under intense criticism from career social workers because of their adherence to "unprofessional" practices. The IC HAS found itself split by dis ension, however, as paid staff workers and elite board members took contrary positions over relations with The Cradle. Accustomed to voluntary philanthropy, Society board members like Mrs. John Borden, Mrs. Charles Dawes, and Chauncey McCormick could not understand their paid superintendent's commitment to "standards." Knowing only of their influential friends' support and failing to see The Cradle's shortcomings, they subjected Superintendent Clarence V. Williams to constant pressure for an alliance, or at least active cooperation, with The Cradle. Al the same time, laudatory acco unts of The Cradle's techniques began to appear in national publications such as Time and tJ1e Saturday Evening Post, causing even loyal members of the board to question ICHAS methods . Forced to defend the Society's practice of placing babies

awaiting adoption in private homes rather tJ,an maintaining them in "scientific" facilities as did The Cradle, the superintendent explained that ICHAS staff members supported the use of p1;vate families as "a much more economical and satisfactory method" of caring for infants. McCormick and other socially prominent members of the ICHAS board decided to take matter

Throughout the /9 ]Os and 19-IOs The Cradle pioneered antiseptic nrmery techniques to prevent the s/Jread of disease among its charges. Top. nurses adhered strictly to aseptic procedures in their handling of the infants. Bollom, babies W!'re isolated in wbicles to diminish the threat of cross infection.

Chicago History, Spring 1987

[I+lJ o,.-:}~•••s

bd • ,. ~)~~:: ,., ( CUBICLE

LIGHT

CRIB WITH CLOSED LINEN COMPARTMENT

ANO SHELVES

RECEPTACLE !'"OR

w .... sTE

In a /947 brochure, The Cradle described its modem. antiseptic facilities. t•:ach sterile cubicle, aboVI', contained supplies for one baby. Dijfn-e11t mirses fad and diapered the babies, and all /mlonnel were instructed in thorough scmbbing /1rocedures. "Curtains of germicidal light"separated the cubicles from IIIP main corridor of each unit, below.

SIN't ,..,oc_ ... ,..,:..,.•

.,_,,Dao-o,s.,,t-..6,1;11 ,.u;.o....,._o,s,,u,,KIO

.... ............ ••ot•,,.= ..n•,..,..-u.. 1,.,nuocro-cos G - t:LCCTA•C

STt:IIH.1%.t."

succue,c~

into their own hands and arranged a reconciliation meeting with their counterparts at The Cradle in July 1935. The ICHAS's paid staff found the reso lution that came out of that luncheon meeting unsatisfactory, however, because it implied that the physical care given children at The Crad le was superior to that at the ICHAS. The staff was appal led that the resulting memorandum stated a desire "to find a method lo make availab le the sp lendid infant care of The Crad le Society to those infants of the Illinois Children's Home and Aid Society," without at the same time expressing the reciprocal desire of finding "a way by which the exce ll e nt social service work of the Illin ois Children's Home and Aid Society cou ld be avail able to The Crad le's infants:' From the standpoint of the professionals, "The two groups were not speaking the same language" and would continue to be "friendly enemies." The upper-class board members of both organ izations, however, agreed among themselves that none of the individuals working toward reconciliation "should be a member of the paid staff. That of course is understood between us." So matters stood until 1939 and the appearance of an article in Collier's magazine purporting to expose the "Traffic in Babies." While The Cradle fared better than some other adoption agencies charged witJ1 obtaining and selling babies for profit, the article put The Cradle on the defensive. Paid social workers took advantage of this opportunity to charge Walrath and her co horts witJ1 running a "closed corporation" primarily to secure adoptable babies for friends of the agency's directors. The fact that six out of eight Cradle presidents were also Cradle parents seemed, on the surface, to lend credence to critics' charges. Because it accepted contributions from adopting parents, The Cradle was accused of participating in an adoption racket, selling babies, and giving preference to those on their long waiting list who made the largest contributions, all charges WalratJ1 vigorously denied. She could not so easi ly dismiss the accusation of favoring those who boasted famous Hollywood names, however: AlJolson and Ruby Keeler, George Burns and Gracie Allen, the Bob Hopes, and the Pat O'Briens were but a few of the many movie stars who obtained babies from The Crad le. Professionals continued to denounce Crad le staff for its lack of experience and training in the chi ldplacement field, for playing favorites by giving

Homeless, Childless more than one child to a family, and for not attending professional conferences. (Volunteers were, in fuct, not invited to professional conventions, and paid workers often used these forums to denigrate the ideas and methods of the nonprofessionals.) Divergent attitudes and interests led to unbefitting conduct on both sides and, according to one observer, "a degree of bitterness and animosity in the Chicago social worker and The Cradle that is most regrettable." In 1940 The Cradle responded to the intense criticism on several fronts: it requested that the Council of Social Agencies make a study of its activities, it endeavored to inaugurate standard casework practice in its adoption work, and it strove for cooperation by inviting the ICHAS to use its facilities without expense or obligation. Yet it was difficult for Cradle workers to re-orient their methods while they remained isolated from other social work agencies. Instead of hiring its own professional social workers to investigate receiving homes in other states, The Cradle risked whatever good will it had built up by continuing to ask out-of-state agencies to make studies of local homes in their vicinity for its child placements. Such long distance interstate placements made a mockery of investigation and contributed to the perception that The Cradle was still violating sound child welfare work principles. State law, however, required of adoptive parents only temporary residence in Illinois, and the court needed only to pass on their qualifications to finalize the adoption. Illinois, and particularly The Cradle, attracted couples who were anxious to adopt a child but who lived in states with stricter laws. According to the general director oft.he I CHAS, Florence Walrath, the quintessential volunteet~ impeded a good working relationship between The Cradle and the ICHAS because she interfered "with the activities of the case work department." The Cradle had had four directors of casework between 1940 and 1945 because they found it difficult to maintain standard as long as Walrath remained active. Cradle board members, however, who came from the same voluntary philanthropic tradition as tl1eircounterparts at the ICHAS, were unwilling to remove Walrath because they agreed with her. !CHAS staff workers, on tl1e other hand, felt they "could not trust Mrs. Walrath." They feared that if they tried for agency cooperation by placing babies at The Cradle, Walrath

might use this fuct in her fund-raising campaign by indicating the need for money to care for I CHAS children placed there without charge. When Walrath finally retired to become managing director emeritus of The Cradle in 1950, an era drew to a close, the conflicts never completely resolved. Upon her death in 1958 Walrath was credited with finding homes for 6,000 foundlings, a large number of whom went to the rich and famous. In its heyday The Cradle placed an average of250 babies a year. Wal rat.h's task had become steadily more difficult in the years following World War II, however, as the spread between the number ofapplications from couples seeking to adopt and the number of babies available for adoption steadily increased. While she said publicly that the gap widened because the stigma connected with adoption had been overcome, privately Walrath admitted that the increased use ofbirthcontrol measures had contributed to the shortage of adoptable babies. As the demand for babies fur exceeded the supply, despairing couples tended more and more to bypass the licensed adoption agencies in favor of independent adoption, which, because it was totally unregulated, left them without even the minimal protection provided by private agencies like The Cradle. Although they had been fighting for "standards" since the 1920s, it seemed that the professionals had failed in their efforts. As late as 1940 the Child Welfare League estimated that only about 10 percent of the approximately 16,000 adoptions consummated in the United States each year were safeguarded by sound placement methods. Yet the philosophy and methods of the professionals ultimately prevailed in the postwar era. Many volunteers were forced from child placement work becau e their ideology became passe as changing social mores helped salaried social workers win their campaign for stricter legal statutes regulating adoption. Career agents finally won their battle for standard in Illinois with the passage of the adoption law of 1945 which mandated most oft.he measures they sought, including investigation and a six-montl1 residency requirement before an adoption could be finalized; the latter, however, could be waived at the discretion of the court. Professionalism came to prevail in agency adoptions; no longer would Illinois be a primary link in baby trafficking; no longer would 63

Chicago History, Spring 1987

florence \\'almth, right, was credited with finding homes for 6,000 children througho11t her carePr; <LS director of The Cradle 1he made all placemmls personally, Today The Cradle places abo11t seventy babies annually.

The Crad le be celebrated in national magazines as the supplier of babies for out-of-state couples who flew in childless and left a short time later as parents, Beginning in 1945 The Cradle would also adhere to professional agency standards by, in addition to other changes, instituting a program to investigate its own interstate placements in compliance with the new law. Major social changes in the 1960s had repercussions for adoption practices. Liberalized attitudes toward illegitimacy and single parenthood were reflected in the statistics, In 1968, 80 percent of unwed mothers gave up their children for adoption. By 1978 the situation had reversed, and 80 percent of unwed mothers kept their babies to raise themselves, With so many single mothers electing to keep their children, the insistence of Walrath and her volunteer colleagues "that every little human soul born into this world" should have the "care of two loving, intelligent parents in

a normal home and a legalized position in society." seemed an old-fashioned definition ofa family, Ironically, where once professional social workers accused their volunteer colleagues of unduly influencing unwed mothers to give up their children for adoption, today interested observers are accusing the career social workers themselves of pressuring unman-ied mothers to keep their babies. Likewise, the belief held by Walrath and other non-professionals that the adopted child's antecedents should remain anonymous also fell into disfavor during the 1970s as a growing number of adopted children opted to search for their natural parents (and new agencies arose to help them). The legalization of abortion in 1973 reduced even further the number of babies available for adoption, White babies became a saleable commodity and a lucrative source of income for unscrupulous, entrepreneurial baby brokers. Desperate couples began turning to Latin America and Korea

Homeless, Childless in their search for children to adopt. Independent or nonagency adoptions are regulated by the Illinois Adoption Act which has been amended several times to plug loopholes in the 1945 act. Prior to adoption, the act requires that the Cook County Department of Supportive Services reLUrn a "social study" to the court to determine if the ch ild would receive good care. The court also endeavors lo make sure the fees charged are reasonable. In theory it is unlawful to profit from adoption placement in Illinois. But the shortage of ava il ab le babies has given r ise to "gray" market adoption; babies are such a valuable commodity that women are tempted to conceive children so le ly for the purpose of putting them up for adoption knowing they can claim excessive expenses. Because of this deplorable situation, some professionals want to go further and outlaw independent adoptions. Total abo liti on of private placements, however, would unfairly restrict the right of the natural mother to decide the future of her chi ld and to choose adoptive parents from among people she knows. The scarcity ofadoptable white babies has caused many adoption agencies to close their doors. Both the Illin ois Chi ldren's Home and Aid Society and The Crad le, having earlier amended their policies to accept chi ldren of different races, sti ll exist. The ICHAS, however, now concentrates more on its other child-saving functions such as the placing of foster children. As a single purpose agency, The Crad le, currently ope rating on an annual budget 0[$700,000, continues to place about seventy babies a yeac Because of its strong financial pos ition, The Cradle is ab le LO offer counseling, medical care, and housing for the unmarried mother at the same time tJiat cutbacks in govern ment funding have made it impossible for public agencies to provide such help. This exp lains why mothers who decide to give up their children for adoption are likely to choose The Crad le. Controversial issues surrounding adoption still abound: conflicts over the now-popular philo ophy that unwed mothers hould keep their babies, debate between those fuvo 1ing closed records and those who want open adoptions, and problems lemming from the new technology of surrogate motherhood, to name just a few. The old battle over professionalization, however, has long since been forgotten.

For Further Reading Florence Walrath's papers are found at the Evanston Historical Societ)', and the records of the Illinois Children's Home and Aid Society arc housed in the Special Collections department of the Main Library at the Univers ity of Illinois at Chicago. The C HS Archives and ManusCJipts Collection contains the papers of the Welfare Council , which include studies of The Cradic made in 1940. Sources on tJ1e deve lopment of adoption philosophy and child welfare include Elinor Nims, Illinois AdojJtion Law and i ts Administration (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1928); Susan Tiffin, in Whose Best Interest? Child Welfare Reform in the Progressive Era (Westport, Conn .: Greenwood Press, 1982); Roben H. Brcmne1~ From the Depths: The Discovery of Poverty in the United States ( ew York: New York niversity Press, 1956); and Peter Romanofsky, "Professionals Versus Volunteers: A Case Study of Adoption Workers in the 1920s" (journal of Voluntary Action Research 2, April 1973). The author has wrillen on "The Transition From Volunteerism to Professionalism in Social Welfare Agencies," in a paper delivered at the 17th Annua l Duquesne History Forum , Pill burgh , October 1983.

111 ustrations 51, from the Chicago Sunday 7hbune,September22, 1935, Evanston Historical Society; 52, from Chicago Orphan Asylum Third Annual Report ( 185'-I), CHS Library; 53, C HS, ICHi-20357; 5-1--57, 60, Illinois Chi ldren's Home and Aid Society Records, Specia l Coll ections, the Main Library, University of Illinois at Ch icago; 6 1 top, from '17w Cradle, 1937, and bottom , from 77ze Cradle: A Case Tlw.t BecamP a Cause, c. 194 7, Evanston Historical Societ)', reprinted with penni sion from The Cradle Society; 62 top and bottom , from Aseptic Nursny 7eclmic As Used at The Cradle, 1946, Evanston Hiscorical Society, reprinted with permission from The Cradic Society; 64, from the Saturday Evening Post, Apri l 9, 1938, Evanston 1listorical Society.

YESTERDAY'S CITY BY PERRY R. DUIS Elisha Gray, the "wizard of Highland Park," invented his own telephone, but the patent for this invention went to his rival Alexander Graham Bell.

Elisha Gray in 1878. From "Banquet to Elisha Gray, Ph.D. ," November 15, 1878, CHS Library.

No one kept an exact count of the crowd, but severa l hundred friends, neighbors, and adm irers filled Highland Hall in Highland Park on the night of November 15, 1878. Ostensibly, the event was to bid a temporary farewell to Elisha Gray and his fumily, who were about to depart for an extended business trip to ew York. However, its real purpose was to express moral support to a beleaguered inventor who was embroiled in one of the most fumous patent battles in American history. Speaker after speaker arose from the banquet table to deliver flowery tributes and to quote from newspaper and magazine accounts of his accomp lishments. The central attractions of the evening were displays of his many inventions and a huge floral anangement in the shape of the French Legion of Honor, to which he had just been admitted. Who was Elisha Gray? Most recognize him, ifat all, as the unfortunate man who was on ly two hours behind Alexander Graham Bell in patenting the telephone. His career, however, was much more comp lex and interesting than that single incident. It demonstrates several themes in late nineteenth-century American history, including the emergence of the inventor as hero, the business acumen necessary to be a success, and the growth of regional pride among those settling the West. Elisha Gray was born on August 2, 1835, in Barnesville, Ohio, the son ofa rather unsuccessful furmer. Forced to leave public school after his father's death, he became a blacksmith to support tl1e family. Too frail for that trade, he became a carpenter and boatbuilder. An Oberlin College instructor recognized his talents and encouraged him to resume his education. At the age oftwentytwo Gray entered preparatory school. By working as a school janitor and building models for science classrooms, he managed to comp lete two years of college before ovenvork endangered his healtl1 once more. By this time he had acquired a basic knowledge of electricity, sufficient to inspire ideas for several new communications devices. Now calling himself a professional invento1~ he patented an "annunciator" for use in summoning domestic help and maids in hotels and p1ivate mansions. His greatest interest focused on telegraphy, for which he perfected several device , including a printer that produced a permanent record of incoming messages. In 1869 Gray bought an interest in a small

manufacturing shop in Cleveland operated by a telegrapher named Enos Barton. The pair attracted the attention of Gen. Anson Stager, the head of the Union Army Signal Corps during the Civil Wai~ As an officia l of Western Union, Stager was especia ll y interested in seeing that company develop its own manufacturing capability. Recognizing the inventor's talent, Stager offered $150,000 to buy into the firm of Gray and Barton and bring it to Chicago in 1870. The three renamed their firm the Western Electric Manufacturing Company two years later. The move to the ri ing metropolis of Chicago led to a bifurcation of Elisha Gray's life. As one of Highland Park's first citizens and biggest boosters, he imm ediately realized that the emerging suburban rail network created choice opportun iti es in North Shore real estate. He bought several acres from the new Highland Park Building Association and erected one of the first four houses in town. A reflection of his prosperity, it was a large structure with enough room for a family and the solitary quiet necessary for deep thought. He used tl1e building's decorative tower as his first laboratory but later erected workshops among the ponds and gardens of the landscaped grou nds. A devout Presbyterian, he took an active role in the community's civic affairs. Gray a lso spent much of his time in Chicago. Like many otl1er late nineteenth-century inventors, he took an active part in the production and marketing of his creations. Despite the bitter depression of the 1870s, the Western Electric Manufacturing Company prospered, add ing employees, increasing its capitali zation to $200,000 in 1877, and opening sales branches in seven other cities. According to S. S. Schoff's The Industrial Interests of Chicago (an 1873 booster book). "This is the only establishment of the kind in the Northwest." The company absorbed the patents and shops of other inventors and sold a few items manufactured by others, including the Scholes and Glidden typewriter and Edison's Electric Pen, which produced etched stencils similar to today's mimeograph. But the supplies and apparatus that were built in the Chicago plant-wire, batteries, insulators, and tool -made up tl1e core of the firm's business. Pnry R. Duis is associate projfssor of histo1y at the University of Illinois al Chirngo and a regular contributor lo Chicago History.

Chicago History, Spring 1987 "Gray's Auto mati c Printe r," introd uced in 1872, was wide ly ad o pted by a variety of busin esses for th eir pri vate te legraph lin es. Western Electri c's products were practi ca l ap pli catio ns of th e many pote nti al uses of e lectri cityite ms like a fire alarm conn ecting the su bscri ber's "mercurial" thermostats wi th a cenuÂˇal station o perated by Ame rican Distri ct Te legraph , and a simila r serv ice fo r burglar alarms that we re activated wh e n e ntry bro ke a circu it. Such d evices as "Galvan oscopes, Po lech arge rs, and Co mmutator Boards" refl ected th e new fasc in atio n with th e possib iliti es of e lectri city as a the ra pe uti c too l !o r h ea ling. By th e late 1870s, Western ElecuÂˇic Manu fac turing was ma king railway signa ls a nd lighting fi xtures, th e la tte r including a devi ce th at used a spark to light gas la mps. Th e company's 1878 catalog also boasted : "By th e payme nt of high wages and by affording a n oppo rtunity fo r th e investm e nt o f sav ings in the stock o f th e company, a cho ice of workm e n has bee n possibl e, resulting in maintaining a large bod y o f th oroughly skilled mechani cs wh o have many years expe1ie nce in th e manu fac ture o f electri cal in strum e nts." Bes id es its publi c re latio ns tone, th is state ment also expresses th e stro ng se nse o f cama rad erie amo ng in ve ntors. Contrary to th e po pul ar image, veJ)' few in ve nto rs a nd tinke rers

we re lo ne ly cra nks liv ing in ga1Te ts. Instead , th ey were quite sociab le and q ui ck to form o rganizati o ns to facilitate th e excha nge o f id eas. Gray was acti ve in th e Ame rican Electri ca l Associati on, but he also felt th a t Chicago a nd th e rest o f th e West risked being cut off from the easte rn centers of techno logical innovation . Regi onal seH~consciousness, an importa nt topi c of discussio n during th e last d ecad es of th e ce ntUI)', led to th e fo unding o f th e Weste rn Associati on o f Architects a nd th e Weste rn Society o f Engi n eers, a mo ng oth e r gro ups. Electri ca l e ngin ee rs fo ll owed suit by fo rming th e Am e ri can Electri cal Society. Th e Inter-Ocean noted during th e summe r of 1876:" earl y 1,000 inte lli ge nt citi ze ns o f this city are e ngaged in e ith e r ma nu fac turin g or ma nipul atin g th e a ppli a nces o f o ne of th e greatest o f all . . . scie nces." By th e earl y 1870s Gray had also begun a se ries of experim e nts that wo uld lead him into what wo uld beco me Am erica's most fa mo us pate nt contest. T h e obj ect of his research was to find a way to tra nsmit mo re th a n o ne message th ro ugh a telegra ph wire at th e same tim e, a discove t)' tJ1at wo uld be of obvious valu e to Weste rn Uni on. Quite by accid e nt, Gray discove red a law o f vibrati o n by whi ch a sound produ ced next to a magne t will ma ke an id e ntical magn e t respo nd to its to ne if tJ1ey are e ith er next to each o th e r o r co nn ected by wi re. Fro m his findi ngs h e d eve lo ped th e th eory of"e lectroharmo nic te legraphy:â&#x20AC;˘ He exp lain ed his discovery to a conventi o n of th e Ame rican Electri ca l Society in 1875: rvl y nep hew was p laying with a sma ll indu ctio n coil "taking shocks" U)r the amuseme nt or th e yo un ge r chil d re n. He had conn ected o ne e ncl of th e secondary co il to th e 1,inc liningofth e bath tu b [in Gray's ho me], whi ch was dry. l lo lding th e othe r e ncl o f the co il in his left hand he to uched th e li ning o f the tub with th e right. In making contact, his hand wo ul d glide alo ng th e side for a short d ista nce. At this time I noticed a so u nd proceeding !Tom under his hand at th e point or contact having the same p itch a nd q uali ty of the vibrati ng electrotome . .. . I th e n changed the pitch of the vibrati o n, a nd fo und that the pitch of tJ1 e so un d un de r my ha nd also changed , agreeing witJ1 th at of th e vib ratio n.

Cray's Automatic Printe,; introduced in 1872, was adopted by a number of businesses for their private telegraph lines, as well as by police forces and other municipal bodies. From the \1estem Electric Company Catalogu e ofTelegraph lnstru111cn1s and Supplies, 1876, CHS U braiy.

By discovering th at te legraphic messages co uld be simul taneously tra nsmitted through a single wire if each were at a diffe re nt pitch, Gray had inve nted th e multiplex telegraph. But he had also discovered th e basic pre mise of th e tele ph o ne. T hat was in J a nuary 1874, and during th e next year h e d eve loped a d evice that h e called a "tele ph on e" which

Yesterday~ City used a violin with the strings removed as a receiver of musical tones sent through a wire from miles away. On December 29, 1874, he demonstrated the device at the Highland Park Presbyterian Church, and the following April 21 the attendants of a meeting of the American Electrical Society heard a "concert." The tones were barely recognizable, and the Inter-Ocean complained that it all sounded like a barrel organ. Gray's defenders pointed out that the violin "telephone" was merely a novelty and that the multiplex telegraph was the development of greatest importance. Gray was certainly not alone in his discovery. At least halfa dozen inventors were conducting similar experiments, garnering press notices for demonstrations, and often corresponding with each other. Among these friendly rivals were the lesserknowns Amos Dolbear, Philip Reis, Antonio Meucci, Daniel Drawbaugh, and Alexander Graham Bell. The latter, a teacher of the deaf and a tinkerer, realized that his work followed most closely that of Elisha Gray. Years later, Bell remembered that in August of 1875, "I had allowed myself to entertain dangerous thoughts of Mc Gray and believed him capab le of spying upon me. Indeed this idea led me to remove my apparatus entirely ... to p1ivate rooms:' The critical day in this invention epic came on Valentine's Day, 1876, when Gray and representatives of Bell arrived at the U.S. Patent Office in Washington to file papers to protect their respective discoveries. Gray entered a caveat, essentially a claim that his invention was near perfection and a statement of how the device would work. Bell's representatives had apparently filed a complete patent application a few hours before. Later, Gray's lawyers would claim that a nefarious clerk in the Patent Office had both switched the order of the filings and had warned Bell's representatives of Gray's impending arrival. The two inventors met later that year at the Centennial Expo ition in Philadelphia, where Gray exhibited his telegraph apparatus and tJ1e full range of products sold by the Western Electric Manufacturing Company, and Bell made a famous day-long demonstration of his telephone. Their relationship remained openly cordia l, ifreserved, and Gray even assisted in Bell's display. Al this point neither man thought that the telephone had any marketable value, and both assumed that it would remain secondary to the telegraph as a

means of communication. Western Union, in fuel, turned down an offer lo purchase Bell's patent for $100,000. During the next two years the associates ofbotJ1 inventors, along with at least a dozen other tinkerers, realized the commercial possibilities of the telephone. Western Union acquired Gray's caveat and established ilie American Speaking Telephone Company to challenge the growing Bell company head-on. This forced Bell to sue for patent infringement. Although Gray no longer had a direct financial interest in the telephone, he did want to protect his reputation. His counter complaint against the Patent Office charged that Bell's representatives had been allowed to remove their app lication from its wrapper and alter it to include features iliat had been unique to Gray's caveat. Although the Bell patent remained intact, Western Union could claim a partial victory in the settlement, which gave ita portion ofilie Bell company revenues. Gray received a reported $100,000 to drop his claims. Elisha Gray's national reputation had expanded considerably during ilie Bell affair, and respected journals such as Popular Science carried feature articles giving him credit for inventing the telephone. Fame and money allowed him to wiilidraw to his Highland Park laboratory. After tJ1e famous "bathtub" experiment ofl874, he had moved from ilie superintendency ofilie Western Electric Manufacturing Company to ilie position of "Electrician," or chief inventor. Eight years later, a major reorganization and recapitalization of the company caused Gray to sell his share of tJ1e partnership. The firm, which dropped "Manufacturing" from its name, ilien pursued a course of expansion that would later lead ironically to its acquisition by the Bell System. Gray moved on to oilier pursuits, devoting much of his time to the development of a system that would transmit boili telegraphic and Âˇoice messages simultaneously on ilie same wire. He also began experiments wiili illumination. The 1881 Lakeside Directory of Chicago listed him as "inventor, new electric light." He also served briefly as president of a pressed brick company and president of anoilier company iliat buried telephone and telegraph wires in underground conduits. In 1881 Gray became a major stockholder and incorporator of a new Postal Telegraph Company. By employing a form of his multiplex telegraph and

Chicago History, Spring 1987

::.1-~

-i !

' .A

0 Grc:yfiled lhiscawat-a diagram oflww his LPlepho11e inw11tion would work-011 /<i'lmwry 1-1, 1876,jw,I a few hours behind Alexmuler(;raham Bell. Highland Park Historical Soriety.

a cheaper, stronger wire made of copper-coated steel, ratJ1er than brittJe solid coppe1~ the firm hoped to lure business away from Western Union by offering far lower rates. But experimenting on a number of projects which failed prevented the company from growing. Gray also took time off from work to teach part-time at his alma mater, Oberlin College. In 1886 the Highland Park inventor revived once more the contest with Bell by incorporating the Gray Telephone Company. A national climate of discontent with high rates and excessive corporate power renewed the hope among Bell's competitors that his patents might be overturned, and Gray did not want to be left out. Gray first tried to alter the wording of his caveat so that it de c1ibed his device more accurately. In doing this he broadened his description to include the concept of Bell's invention, thus claiming that the basis of the idea of the telephone was entirely his. Gray then revived the charges of malfeasance within the Patent Office, adding to it the claim that if the various papers were placed in a pile as they arrived, the fact that his was on the bottom was proof that it was he, not Bell, who had been there first on the

conlToversial Valentine's Day. The case moved slowly th rough the federal j ucliciary. Between January 24 and Februat)' 8, 1888, the United States Supreme Court heard the arguments, and on March 19 it pronounced its opinion . By a vote of 4 to 3 the justices upheld the Bell patents and dismissed the otJ1er claims. The book-lengtJ1 decision also exonerated the Patent Office in the filing dispute. By this time Gray had exhausted his finances and had to take in boarders in Highland Park to meet his expenses. But he was occupied with what would be his last major invention, the TelAutograph. He had long realized that if tones and impulses could be transmitted through a wire , then the movement of a pen could be reduced to signals that a receiving device could reproduce in a distant place. In 1887 he completed the first working model; but the operator could not lift the pen to leave space between words, and the paper would not advance on the receive1~ Later versions were eid1er too difficult to operate or too delicate for commercial application. Gray finall y perfected the TelAutograph in 1892 and received great publicity in newspapers and magazines throughout the counU)'. Because the

Yesterday '.5 City machine could accurately reproduce a signature, it would be useful in banks and courtrooms. Corporations and newspaper artists could use it to transmit facsimiles of drawings and plans. It had a capacity of thirty to thirty-five words per minute , a reasonable speed, but, most important, it was so simple to use that it did not require a professional operator. Any office could own and use one. Gray founded the new Gray Electric Company and began to manufacture his invention. Ordinarily, Highland Park had little interest in attracting industry, but Gray was a founding citizen whose telephone battles had made it famous. Soon a new three-story factory appeared on Beech Street, and seven brick cottages were built nearby to house employees. Gray opened a New York office and had thousands of advertising brochures printed. The Te!Autograph put Elisha Gray in tl1e ranks of leading American inventors once more. He quickly saw the opportunity to vindicate his career at the approaching World 's Columbian Exposition. Although he applied for 10,000 square feet of exhibition space, fair officials gave him considerably less; but his new "facsimile telegraph" did garner much attention and win a medal. However, more important recognition came with his appointment as chairman of the World's Congress ofElectricians. As such, he presided over professional papers, discussions, and demonstrations on the leading edge of a new technology that was a major focus of the entire exposition. Gray occupied his later years with several major projects. One was his town. He had long served on the school board and been active in community projects. In 1890 he and Arthur McPherson, another Highland Parker, jointly built the town's electric plant, one of the first all-steam generators in tl1e Midwest. Gray continued to experiment with his version of the incandescent light, but his work was overshadowed by that of Thomas Edison. Meanwhile, tl1e TelAutograph brought him distinction in the form of the coveted Elliott Cresson Medal of the Franklin Institute in 1896. But, sadly, the device \\'as never much of a financial succes . The ma rket among banks and courts proved small, and newspapers were less interested in reproducing artists' sketches from miles away than they were in adopting the new halftone illustrations. ln the business world handwritten co1Tespondence was giving way to typewritten communication. Thus, Gray had devised a new technology for a declining

RECEIVED.

Gray perfrrted the 7NA ulogmph, which could transmil writing by wire, 1892. The invention was used to reproduce signatures in banks and rourtroo111s, and by arti5ts and corporalio11s to send fiicsimilies of drawings a11d plan1. Top,jrom --c;ray National TP/Autograph ComjJ1111y "; bollom, from an advnlisi11g flyn; c. 189-1. l lighland Paril I /istorical Socit'ly. 111

Chicago History, Spring 1987

Music by Telegraph ! T ~El

TILl'8~NI ! The greatesr wonder of the age.

LEC'TUR.E

PBOF. GRAY, Thf' ht1t'ttfor, oudi-r thl'i \ ll'lt'i•·..,

or lht'l

Am erican Electri ca l Society,

McCormick Hall, Tuesday Evening, Feb. 27th, \f .m , I' '!"I LH 1ir•. l'l"~•••I ill LI, .\111V1 -1,q).,. !Ill,•,- ,. ,II I .. , .. u,,·~••I t11 n , •I• i;il,

,r , , ,,., 1, .• ,

,t ,

•.. , .. ,,

1 .. ,1

-h•Uud ly I,

jt , J

' •\

'°

r,,, ,: 1 11 ,I

q, I

1, ...

RESERVED SEATS. 75 CENTS, \I .I\ ,,1 ,. H, 4 I.I 1:1; ,\ I II·,.

/11 1875 Cray gave demonstrations of hi:, invention by transmilling musical sou11(l5 long-distance over wires. f-lighland Park /-listorical

Society.

market of practical uses. Amid these disappointments, he turned to writing. In 1899 he published the first of what would be three volumes entitled Nature's Miracles: Familiar Talks on Science. In these very popular non-technical volumes Gray attempted to explain basic natural laws. In the third, he could not pass up the opportunity to restate his claim of inventing d1e telephone. "The history ofd1e telephone will never fu ll y be written," he noted. "It is pardy hidden away in twenty or thirty thousand pages of testimony and partly lying in the hearts and consciences of a few whose lips are sealed-some in death and others by a golden clasp whose grip is even greater." Elisha Gray never lived to see all of the reviews of Nature's Miracles. His interest in a new project, an underwater warning system to prevent ships from running aground in fog or at night, had taken him to Boston to work with another inventor. On January 21, 1901, he died of a heart attack on a street in suburban Newtonville, Massachusetts. Dwing the fo llowing weeks his face appeared in numerous national magazines as the nation paid homage to one of its most versati le inventors. H istorians have not been kind to Elisha Gray. In 72

his day he enjoyed the acclaim of many influential scientists and writers. DuMonce l's The Telephone, the Microphone, and the Phonograph ( 1879), the leading French work on the subject, gives Gray credit for inventing the te lephone, as d id severa l American autJ1ors. Many seemed sure that history would vindicate his claim, but the evidence has tended to support Bell. Yet the career of the wizard of Highland Park is instructive for other reasons. In his seminal article on the Gray-Bell controversy, David Hounshell maintains that Gray was a professional inventor, working toward specific corporate research goals and not easi ly inclined to work in vo ice transmission. Like most scientists of the time, Gray considered the telephone secondary in importance to the telegraph. Bell, by contrast, was a free-ranging amateur inventor whose primary interest in the telephone stemmed from his work witJ1 the hearing-impaired. The story of Elisha Gray also reveals much about tJ1e nature ofd1e invention process during the nineteentJ1 century. Instead of being isolated geniuses unconcerned about the marketability of their projects, inventors formed a community of people working on similar ideas, simultaneously secretive and yet anxious to share their findings. An element of Western consciousness pervades Gray's work. The press accounts and the words of support from his friends are tinged with the feeling that Gra)', like Chicago, represented tJ1e nation's maturing midsection in a struggle against the East for recognition . Most important, this inventor's slot)' demonstrates that history remembers winners and often the egregious losers, but it is prone to forget those who nearly succeed. Although few Highland Parkers know of Gray, reminders of him and his career linger in his hometown. His house, though heavily remodeled, still stands. The fuctOJ)' he built was razed many years ago, but the workers' cottages survive and the electric plant has been remodeled into offices and shops. The company he founded , Western Electric, is still vet)' much in business, ald1ough the closing of the Hawthorne Works has reduced its significance to d1e area's economy. Ironically, more than two decades after his death and four decades- after he severed his ties with the company, Western ElectTic created a subsidiary to market d1e inventions of its employees. The name chosen was Graybar Electric, honoring Elisha Gray and Enos Barton-the men who started it all.