History of Chicago from Trading Post to Metropolis
External Studies Program | University College

Module 1 Chapter 4
Unprecedented Growth and Unprecedented Destruction

  

 

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The Fire

As we have seen in the preceding lessons Chicago grew rapidly during the 19th century. Much of this growth--physical, social and moral--was rather haphazard. Housing, streets, sanitation, and even the schools and law enforcement gave evidence of the quick and unplanned growth of the city.

The impact of population growth on the original settlement itself was a cause of concern. Because wood was cheap and could easily be used to construct the famous Chicago balloon frame house (see Mayer, Wade & Holt p. 20 and p. 257; also, Duis p. 14) wooden housing spread all over the city. Along with the wooden residential structures stood the wooden plank roads, and the streets and sidewalks also made of wood. In every respect Chicago was a city made of wood.

Wood was also the predominant building material and this was true for the original central business district, which skirted the river down Lake Street, and the newer central retail district that was beginning to develop down State St. (see Mayer, Wade & Holt pp. 54-59.) Although some of the newer structures did claim to be fireproof many of them were little more than frame buildings with a brick facade. A lack of housing codes and a general noninvolvement in the life of citizens made the city government incapable of dealing with what was becoming a crisis situation.

It should be pointed out that the concept of city services was not one that was completely worked out yet in the mind's of the citizens of much older cities, much less Chicago. The idea of the city as a big employer or even as an employer at all was not common to Americans at the time. There was, for instance, no municipal fire department, but rather a host of volunteer companies that were often more like street gangs than fire fighting companies. And once a fire department was established, in 1858, it was rather poorly equipped. The police force was likewise undermanned and underpaid giving Chicago the reputation of being a wide-open town. Even the water was provided by private companies rather than the city. Garbage pickup was often the duty of hogs and other animals who were allowed to forage as they pleased down the city streets. Slowly Chicago would begin to realize the importance of maintaining efficient city services. Just prior to the Fire the city took on the magnificent engineering task of reversing the flow of the Chicago River in the hope of cleaning up the slow moving stream which had become the city's open sewer. But the movement to more efficient municipal services was slow and was only speeded up by disaster.

The summer and early fall of 1871, was an especially dry one for Chicago and fires had been frequent throughout the season. On Saturday night October 7, a large fire had consumed much of the West Side, only to be stopped by some fireproof buildings and by the Chicago fire department. The damage of the Saturday night blaze was estimated at $1,000,000 and the exhausted firemen hoped that the danger of the dry summer had passed. As Chicago went to Sunday services the worst had seemed to have passed the city by.

Sunday night was another warm, dry night with an exceptional wind coming across the prairie from the southeast. At about 8:30 p.m. a fire broke out on the West Side in the immigrant section that adjoined the downtown district. According to reports from the area the fire had begun in the barn behind Pat O'Leary's house at 137 DeKoven (the present site of the Fire Academy). Legend has it that Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicked over a lantern, which began the blaze, though it may, in fact, have been someone sleeping in the barn who carelessly discarded a match. While the O'Leary house did not burn, the fire spread to the northeast of the home and the neighborhood known as Conley's Patch was destroyed before midnight, as the fire was fanned by the 20 mile per hour wind.

At 9:30 p.m. the bell on the courthouse warned the city of the fire. A new telegraph fire warning system had failed and the rest of the city did not know of the fire until the watchman in the courthouse tower spotted it. Here, too, a mistake was made that cost the city valuable time. The warning sent firefighters to a location about a mile from the origin of the fire. Still most Chicagoans believed the fire would spend itself at the South Branch river. At midnight, with Conley's Patch destroyed, the fire, boosted by the ever-present, wind crossed the river. Once across the river the fire reached the lake within a matter of hours and by 4 a.m. it had crossed the river again and was torching Chicago Avenue. Thousands fled before the fire, some swimming out into the lake and drowning, others crossing the wooden bridges that connected the North Side with the central business district. At this point there were no physical obstacles to stop the fire; all that lay before it were the wooden buildings of the neighborhood south of Lincoln Park. (See the map on p. 108 of Mayer, Wade & Holt.)

The reading that follows is a letter written by Mrs. Aurelia King shortly after the fire to some of her friends. It is a graphic description of the fire and the terror which accompanied it. After reading King's account look at the Mayer, Wade & Holt book, pages 102 to 116.

Mrs. Aurelia R. King wife of Henry W. King, wholesale clothing merchant, 4 and 6 Lake Street, to friends in the East. The King residence stood on Rush Street near Erie. Elmhurst, Du Page County, Illinois Oct. 21, 1871, Saturday My Dear Friends All, Your kind and sympathizing letter reached us last evening, and I should not have waited to receive it before telling you of our fearful experiences, only to tell the truth, I have been and still am so bewildered, I can neither think nor write. It seems a year since the fire, and it will be only two weeks tomorrow evening since it occurred. We had just moved to the city and had settled ourselves for the winter. I had just laid in all my household supplies of every kind, including every winter garment for my children. We were never so comfortably situated in our lives--our new barn completed, our new house nearly done,--in fact we were on the high tide of prosperity a fortnight ago today. Sunday was an uncommon day with us. We had just finished repairs in our church, had a new organ, a new choir, and two wonderful sermons from our beloved pastor, Mr. Swing, had a delightful communion season, and when we went to our beds, were talking of our joys in rather an exultant manner. At one o'clock we were wakened by shouts of people in the streets declaring the city was on fire--but then the fire was far away on the south side of the river. Mr. King went quite leisurely over town, but soon hurried back with the news that the courthouse, Sherman House, post office, Tremont House, and all the rest of the business portion of the city was in flames, and thought he would go back and keep an eye on his store. He had scarcely been gone fifteen minutes when I saw him rushing back with his porters, bringing the books and papers from the store, with news that everything was burning, that the bridges were on fire, and the North Side was in danger. From that moment the flames ran in our direction, coming faster than a man could run. The rapidity was almost incredible, the wind blew a hurricane, the air was full of burning boards and shingles flying in every direction, and falling everywhere around us. It was all so sudden we did not realize our danger until we saw our Water Works (which were beyond us) were burning, when we gave up all hope, knowing that the water supply must soon be cut off. We had just time to dress ourselves, tie up a few valuables in sheets and stuff them into our carriage, when we had to deliberately leave our home and run for our lives. It was two o'clock in the morning when I fled with my children clinging to me, fled literally in a shower of fire. You could not conceive anything more fearful. The wind was like a tornado, and I held fast to my little ones, fearing they would be lifted from my sight. I could only think of Sodom or Pompeii, and truly I thought the day of judgment had come. It seemed as if the whole world were running like ourselves, fire all around us, and where should we go. The cry was "North! North!" So thitherward we ran, stopping first at Mr. MacGregor Adams', (you perhaps remember Mrs. Adams was formerly Mrs. Charles King) where we found many fugitives like ourselves, tarrying to take breath, every one asking every other friend: "Are you burned out?"--"What did you save"?--"Where are you going?" then running on further north up Dearborn Street to the house of another friend, followed ever by the fire. On, on we ran, not knowing whither we went till we entered Lincoln Park. There among the empty graves of the old cemetery we sat down, and threw down our bundles until we were warned to flee once more. The dry leaves and even the very ground took fire beneath our feet, and again packing our few world effects into our closed carriage we got into a wagon and traveled with thousands of our poor fellow mortals on and on, at last crossing a bridge on North Avenue and reaching the West Side, where we found a conveyance at noon on Monday which brought us out to Elmhurst--the Adamses and ourselves. I wish I could give you an adequate idea of that flight, but it is impossible. The streets were full of wagons transporting household furniture, people carrying on their backs the little bundles they had saved. Now and then we would pass a friend seated on a truck or a dray huddling her children together and her two or three little treasures snatched from the burning. It was only by some look of the eye or some motion [that] we could recognize friends--we were all so blackened with dust and smoke. The ladies, many of them, [were] dressed in a nightgown and slippers with the addition of a sacque or a petticoat. Half of the gentlemen were in nightshirts and pantaloons. We reached our home at Clover Lawn at six o'clock Monday night, finding Mother and kind neighbors with open arms and sweet sympathy waiting for us. We had had nothing to eat since Sunday at four P.M., and when I said to my little children: "Won't you be glad to get an apple?" they said: "Why, Mamma, haven't we had anything? We didn't know we were hungry." The alarm and strain upon our feelings was so intense that none of us, not even the children, knew what we wanted or what we had been through. The next day came the anxiety as to the fate of friends, the thrilling accounts of different friends, inquiry into losses, etc., and to this day the excitement increases rather than diminishes. There is so much to see and hear. Our house is full--people coming all the time to talk over respective losses--seamstresses, teachers, workwomen whom we have known, following us out to know what they shall do, what we can do for them. We are much more fortunate than most of our friends in having a roof to cover us, and thankful are we for it, though when we go to Chicago and see the desolation there, see the houseless, homeless creatures there, we feel almost ashamed to be so comfortable. It is a wonderful change to step from a home where not only every want was satisfied, but luxuries abounded, to a place where we have not the necessaries of life, no pins or needles, not a brush or a comb, a knife or a fork--what a contrast! It would have been hard to bear, only that we are every moment seeing or hearing of some much poorer than we, that we are in comparison nabobs. Then too, there is a little touch of the ludicrous now and then which cheers us. Imagine your friend Aurelia, for instance, with a thousand dollar Indian shawl and a lavender silk with a velvet flounce, and not a chemise to her back! --not a pocket handkerchief to wipe the soot from her face. A friend of mine saved nothing but a white tulle dress. Another lady has a pink silk dress but no stockings. I went to town yesterday, and was the envy and admiration of my Chicago friends because I had clean cuffs and a collar. I had to own at last that they were stolen. It was said that when the fire was raging, one citizen left his house and family, and fled on horseback down Michigan Avenue with his portrait under one arm and his lecture, "Across the Continent," under the other. So, you see, we laugh a little, just enough to keep alive. It seems to me I can never resume the even tenor of my way, my nerves are so unstrung. I do not sleep at night--when I lose myself for a little while I start up, forever running from fires with my children and a bundle. Yet we are so thankful that if we were to be afflicted, it is only by the loss of property. Our dear ones are all alive and well and we are happy. The hope and cheerfulness which our business men preserve is wonderful. The whole business portion of the South Side is in ashes--there is nothing to be seen from the river to Congress Street, that is, two blocks beyond where Mr. Williams used to live. The North Side is entirely destroyed. There is only one house, Mr. Mahlon Ogden's, between the river and Wright's Grove. The fire stopped at Judge Peck's old house-- you will remember Jule going there to a party with me. Such destruction is almost incredible. I suppose such a conflagration was never before known. The sympathy of sister cities and towns is very sweet. Quantities of provisions, clothing, and money are coming in, but the sufferers are so numerous it is hard to meet their wants. Wooden buildings are going up by hundreds, stoves and bedding etc. are coming by thousands. The work of dispensing is in itself stupendous as I have reason to know, as Mr. King is President of the Relief and Aid Society. He has been obliged to delegate his work in measure to Mr. Dexter and others now, for his business demands much of his time. His personal losses are large, he thinks not less than $200,000 though he may get more insurance than he expects. He is irrepressible however, full of hope and vim, has taken a store on the West Side, and will open it on Monday next. Mr. Browning, his partner, had been here, and is hopeful and encouraging. I have sent by him to New York for supply of our present needs, and we shall soon have some blankets, pillows, towels, handkerchiefs etc. Clothing will be easily supplied, but I can't help mourning over my household goods, the dear things that can never be replaced--my books, the gifts of dear friends, the treasured lock of hair, my Mother's Bible, relics of my daughter Fanny, my wedding dress, and a thousand things I had saved for my children. My pictures too, and my beautiful statue of the Sleeping Peri that I did delight in--all gone in a minute, and I can't help a little heart-aching, though they are but the things that perish. Why Jule, I haven't a book in the world, not even a Bible. My children grieve over their little treasures and their books, and I cry with them. I saved my baby's portrait and my Mother's and husband's--my silver, my India and lace shawls, and a few silk dresses, my photograph album, and a little jewelry. The above is my stock in trade, and I feel as if I am going to spend next week in going into the city daily to distribute clothing and food to the suffering, and I want to say to you that if you will have your Blooming Grove contribution sent directly to me, I will distribute to the needy that I know personally. I have already received money and other things from different places which I divided and apportion exactly as I see most pressing need. In so large a work as the present Chicago Relief, there must of course be some donations misapplied. Mr. King feels this, and I thought perhaps it might please your Society to send their supplies where they would reach some of the sufferers directly. I only suggest this, but you may think it wiser to send to the general fund. If you send a letter or anything to me, direct it to Elmhurst, Du Page County, Illinois. I enjoyed the visit of your two brothers amazingly, and grew young in talking of old times. If my house were not already crowded, I would ask you to come out here and look upon the state of things, the like of which was never before known. If either of your brothers has curiosity to come and see, I can give him a lounge to sleep on, and plenty of bread and butter. It is almost impossible to get accommodation in the city, it is so over-crowded. Stores are now re-opening, so we shall, within a week, be able to supply ourselves with shoes and stockings, necessary clothing, and other provisions. We are having delightful weather, which is a great blessing as it gives time for building shanties for the poor, and temporary houses for business. We are all cheerful and hopeful. I have seen only one complainer and that was a millionaire. Now I have spun you a long yarn without saying much that I wished to, but you must imagine what I had not words to say. With much love to all your family, I am, Your loving friend Aurelia R. King

The Aftermath

By late Monday night, the fire had run its course in Lincoln Park. Luckily a rain shower had tamed it and it spent itself in the open recesses of the former graveyard. By this time, the fire had laid waste to about 2,000 acres of the central city. Nearly 18,000 buildings were destroyed and roughly 90,000 people were left homeless.

Before the fire ended, city officials and leading citizens met to establish a general relief committee to take care of the victims of the fire. The city also adopted other measures that paved the way for the modernization of the city government. The Common Council set the price of bread in the city at eight cents for a twelve ounce loaf. The mayor also pledged the credit of the city to pay for necessities for the stricken. By other proclamations the fares of taxi cabs were regulated and public buildings were open for use by the homeless. The city government then closed saloons for one week at 9 p.m. and asked for volunteers to help maintain order. Finally, the city government entrusted the maintenance of order to the U.S. Army under Lieutenant General Philip H. Sheridan. Once order had been established the colossal task of simply maintaining life had to be begun.

On October 14, the Chicago Relief and Aid Society which had been founded in 1857, took over the responsibility of relieving the victims. By November 18, over 5,000 cottages were in the process of being built to house the homeless. This housing was to provide for twenty-five to thirty thousand people and out of necessity was also built of wood like the pre-fire housing.

Aid for the city came from all over the country. The city of Brooklyn sent $100,000 in cash and equipment. Other cities made comparable donations. Even before all the people who had been displaced by the fire could adequately be taken care of, the city made the decision to rebuild.

The losses of the fire were mainly in buildings and goods in the central retail district. The basis for Chicago's economic strength was not destroyed. Only about 24% of the grain and about 21% of the grain storage facilities were lost in the fire. The packinghouses and stockyards on the South Side were not even touched by the catastrophe. The factories of the West Side remained intact for the most part, as did the rolling mills of the city. What had been destroyed were the immigrant shanty towns and the central business district and some middle-class housing.

On October 10, before the ashes had even cooled, the Chicago Chamber of Commerce resolved to rebuild at once, and on October 13, Jonathan Scammon announced that ground had been broken for a store and an office block in the burned out district. For eighteen months reconstruction went on at a fierce pace, being slowed only by the recession of 1873-74. In the first year, 598 permanent buildings were erected and in the period of 1872-73, 10,200 construction permits were issued. The quick response of Chicagoans and of Eastern capital to the fire was amazing. Within four weeks of loosing everything the firm of Field and Leiter opened for business in temporary quarters to the south of the fire district. It was also announced that the Palmer House was to be rebuilt according to the original plans. The fire, in fact, increased the movement of the original retail business district from Lake Street to Potter Palmer's State Street. The debris that was left from the fire was dumped into the lake where it was used as land fill upon which much of Chicago's beautiful lake front was later erected.

Funds for rebuilding the city were scarce. Chicagoans had lost much of their capital in the blaze and out of an approximate loss of $196,000,000, only $96,553,720.94 was covered by insurance. Fifty-eight insurance companies based in Illinois and in the East went bankrupt because of the fire. The disaster upset the money market and doubts existed as to the city's ability to recover. As before in the period of initial growth Eastern capital was to play an important role in building the city.

William Bross of the Chicago Tribune made convincing appeals to Eastern bankers in private as well as in his newspaper. The railroads were among the first private corporations to show faith in Chicago. Railroad investment and increased bank deposits from Chicago's hinterland gave proof of the solvency of the urban economy. In one year, a new city was built out of the ashes of the old.

In a way the Fire was a blessing. The destruction of the old wooden structures accomplished in one night what it would have taken years of urban renewal to do. The Fire created an unprecedented opportunity for architects who came to the city and helped to create a new tradition in American architecture called the Chicago School. The fireproof buildings that appeared in the central business district were among the finest in the nation. An opportunity for urban planning presented itself and the mistakes of the haphazard growth that Chicago had witnessed before the Fire could now be corrected. A new and bright downtown was created with buildings that were taller and with a tradition that would introduce the skyscraper to the world.

With the development of the elevator the possibility of taller buildings presented itself to architects. Chicagoans in particular took fancy to the elevator building after the Fire. The first steam-driven elevator was introduced to Chicago in 1864. This was replaced in importance by the hydraulic elevator which appeared a year before the Fire. The 1870's saw elevator buildings being constructed throughout the city.

While the elevator liberated people from walking up stairs, architects had not developed a way of building really tall structures. Architects generally felt that at least a twelve-inch-thick wall was necessary to support a one story structure and the base thickness had to be increased four inches for each additional story with ten stories being the limit to the height of any building. Burnham and Root's Monadnock Building was the exception that proved the rule. The sixteen story structure had a base thickness of seventy-two inches. (See Mayer, Wade & Holt pp. 128-130.)

ANSWER QUESTION 9 IN THE REPLY BOOKLET. (Provided after registering for courses through the External Studies Program.)

The New City

Besides the development of architecture and the rebuilding of the retail business district the Fire had a profound influence on the lives of the everyday people of Chicago who survived the disaster. The more than 90,000 citizens made homeless by the fire had to find new homes and they generally crowded into the parts of the South and West Sides that had not been touched by the blaze. This movement caused overcrowding in these districts and in some cases created slums in what were once middle-class areas of the city. The vice district of the city was destroyed by the Fire and after the Fire it moved just south of the central business district to the area known as the Levee. The area on the edge of the burned over district depreciated in value rapidly. In fact, conditions became so bad that another fire situation soon presented itself in the district. In October of 1874, a fire broke out on the South Side, consuming about thirty square blocks and its result was to move the vice district even further to the south.

The Fire of 1871, increased the movement of ethnic groups away from the inner city. The Yankees had to a large part already begun to leave the city by 1871, congregating in Evanston, Oak Park, and for the really rich, Prairie Avenue on the South Side. Other ethnic groups displaced by the Fire now began to follow the Yankees to the outlying districts. One of the reasons for this was the post-Fire ordinances restricting new construction in the fire district to fireproof materials. Many of the immigrants were poor and could not afford to construct nonwooden buildings, so they were forced to move out of the area covered by the fireproofing ordinances. Also a fear of a reoccurrence encouraged people to move away from the more crowded districts, and this led to the creation of Chicago's bungalow belt farther out from the city.

This dispersal of the population was also mirrored in the further dispersal of industry. The movement of industry into the outer neighborhoods was increased and the creation of working class neighborhoods on the outskirts of the city resulted. As the city spread, public transportation increased and the development of Chicago's "El" helped to continue the outward movement of people.

Reform was also a result of the Fire. The most obvious reform was that of the fire department. The Chicago Fire Department quickly became the best in the country after the reform of 1875. The Fire also increased urban services in Chicago, including the establishment of a building inspections department and experimentation with different methods of street paving.

ANSWER QUESTION 10 IN THE REPLY BOOKLET. (Provided after registering for courses through the External Studies Program.)

Summary

In this module we have discussed the rapid growth of Chicago and the geographical and technological basis for the growth. We have also discussed some of the early human input into the city. Finally we discussed the Fire of 1871, and its effect in determining the development of the modern city.