Thursday, December 27, 2012

Discoveries in the Chicago History Museum – Part I


Whenever you plan a research trip, time is a very big factor – there never seems to be enough time to visit all the places of interest, and this is especially true in Chicago. When I was making my itinerary, I was trying to choose between the Chicago Public Library and the Chicago History Museum. I only had time for one. I am fortunate that I decided to follow someone’s suggestion and chose the Chicago History Museum because that happened to be the place where one of my mysteries was solved. 
Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license
Who led me to the Chicago History Museum? Some months ago, Jacqi Stevens , a fellow genealogy blogger, made a comment on my blog, asking if I knew about a locally-focused family history group called Chicago Genealogy. I didn’t. Jacqi said it was a Facebook group.
Facebook logo, facebook.com, 2006, Wikimedia
Fortunately, I had opened a Facebook account some time ago for genealogy purposes. I requested admission to the group and began receiving members’ postings.

As I came close to leaving on my trip to Chicago in September 2012, I asked the group for their suggestions on the best places to do research in the city. One of the members said that I should definitely not miss the Chicago History Museum. I am so grateful that I heeded this advice. After spending two days at the Newberry Library, (see Oct 31st post) I headed over to the Chicago History Museum.

One caveat about visiting the Museum for research is that the Research Center doesn’t open until 1:00:
September - May
Tuesday through Friday: 1 - 4:30 pm
Saturday: 10 am - 4:30 pm
Somehow despite all my planning, I had forgotten the 1:00 opening time. I arrived at a few hours early, but that turned out to be a good thing because I was in time for a tour and lunch in the Museum cafeteria where you can eat a tasty meal in the sun room overlooking the Museum grounds.

The tour takes place in The Exelon Wing, “Chicago: Crossroads of America.” This glimpse into nineteenth and twentieth century Chicago, including an authentic elevated railroad car, really puts you in the mood for some more exploration upstairs in the Research Center. 
South Side Elevated Railroad car 1, built 1892. On display at the Chicago History Museum, 25 October 2007; Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license

At l:00 sharp I was waiting at the door. As you know from visiting different libraries and research facilities, each one has its own set of rules for protection of its precious documents, photographs and other historical memorabilia. At the Research Center, you are asked to lock your purse in a locker, to use only pencils for writing, and to wear white gloves  when handling photographs.
Two archivists/librarians were at the front desk to greet me and asked what I was looking for. I was interested in finding a Sanborn map of Chicago that might show three cottages that my great grandmother, Mary Kearney/Carney Kries Lauer owned. The addresses of these cottages were 125, 127, and 129 South Irving Avenue. I knew about these properties because they were listed in the divorce record of Mary Kearney/Carney Kries Lauer and Otto Lauer in 1925 in Chicago, Cook County.
I had hired Kim Stankiewicz, a researcher at Genlighten, to look for land records on these South Irving cottages and to search for the property chain of ownership. Although Kim contacted several sources who might have had access to property records, none responded to her inquiries. However, she consulted a criss-cross or reverse directory from 1928 which listed Mary Kearney/Carney Kries Lauer as the occupant and owner of 125 South Irving Avenue between Monroe Street and 118th  Street.
I was very happy when one of the librarians located a Sanborn map from 1917 that showed the three dwellings right where they were supposed to be on South Irving:
Sanborn, Chicago, 1917 Vol. 7, p. 2
However, the librarian also produced a second Sanborn map from 1950 where the cottages had vanished. So now I knew that sometime between 1928 and 1950, the cottages were torn down.
My visit to the Chicago History Museum was very profitable. In addition to the Sanborn maps that verified the location of my ancestral cottages, I also found a history of the Near West Side that gives an incredible look into how the inhabitants of that area lived. Look for more on this amazing historical study in a future post.

Categories: genealogy groups, genealogy tools

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Stepping back to Nineteenth Century Chicago



You’re invited on a trip back to nineteenth century Chicago. We’ll drop in on the Near West Side around Halsted and Maxwell Streets. Your ticket for this adventure is an almost forgotten nineteenth century novel, Just Folks by Clara Elizabeth Laughlin, first published in 1907.
Inside cover of Just Folks, available through InterLibrary Loan

I was introduced to Just Folks when I was preparing for my research trip to Chicago in September of 2012. I was googling sources about life in the 1870s in the Near West Side, the neighborhood where my Carney/Kearney family lived. I happened upon the website for the Northern Illinois University Libraries’ Illinois Periodicals Online(IPO) project. The goal of IPO is to digitize Illinois-based magazines so that the public will have easy access. 

When I googled for “life in 19th century Chicago,” one of the hits was an article by Robert Bray, “The Chicago Novel, 1890-1915.”  Mr. Bray mentioned two novels that I was quite familiar with from high school and college: Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser and The Jungle by Upton Sinclair. But Mr. Bray also discussed several novels about life in late 1800s Chicago written by women, one of which was Just Folks. Although the book is hard to find, the complete text of  Just Folks is available on-line.

The main character in the novel is Beth Tully, a young woman who has just arrived in Chicago from a small Illinois town to be a juvenile probation officer on the Near West Side, which is shown in the map below:
1876 map of Chicago from davidrumsey.com, wikimedia


Laughlin’s opening lines plunge the reader into the environs of the Near West Side, mentioning two neighborhood streets, a government building, and America’s first settlement house, Hull House:

“On her way over from the Juvenile Court building, on Ewing Street east of Halsted, Beth Tully stopped at the arched entrance to Hull House….” (p. 1)

This building at 771 West Ewing Street  has the distinction of being the first juvenile court building in the world. Later in this posting, we'll see why this court devoted to juveniles was placed on the Near West Side.

In the latter part of the nineteenth century, the Near West Side was one of the most crowded, poverty-filled areas in Chicago. The Chicago Fire of 1871 was a large contributing factor to the gross overcrowding as people who lost their homes to the flames fled to the Near West Side. Also, before and after the fire, a continuing stream of new immigrants came to this part of town because of the proximity to factory jobs and the availability of low rent housing. 

The housing stock in the Near West Side may have been cheap and plentiful, but there was a downside – people were packed into flimsy tenement buildings that were dark, had no running water, had few privies for the number of tenants, and were prone to fires.
Photo Courtesy Chicago History Museum Archive, Slums Exteriors

Laughlin does a good job of describing the interior of a tenement: 

“The house was of a familiar type, two tenants on each floor and four rooms constituting each tenement. The kitchens were in the middle of the house and off each kitchen was a tiny bedroom. The ‘front room’ of the rear dwellers overlooked the back yard, the alley, and the backs of houses on the next street; and off it was a small bedroom. The front room of the other tenants on each floor …overlooked Maxwell Street; and off it was a small bedroom.” (p.8)

Laughlin captures the overwhelming presence of poverty that permeated every square inch of the Near West Side:

“Beth followed the woman through the ‘front room’…into the kitchen, which was stifling with heat and damp and that peculiar acrid odor – compounded of mustiness and personal uncleanness and stale odors of strong cooking – which every visitor to the homes of the poor knows as ‘the poverty smell.’”  (p. 27)

Now that we are familiar with the scent of poverty in 19th century Chicago’s Near West Side, we are treated to a word picture by Laughlin of some of the busiest streets in that area:

“(from Henry Street)They went over to Halsted…and walked slowly up to Madison on the east side of the street where, for some occult reason, the five-cent theatre does not flourish. From this comparatively sedate side, they looked over to the gaudy other side where penny arcades and saloons with free vaudeville, and nickelodeons, and gaudy Greek candy parlors, vie with the groggeries (saloons) and the pawnshops in number.” (p. 95)

Following  Laughlin’s verbal description of Madison Street, here is a photograph of Maxwell Street, that is mentioned often in Just Folks, to give you a visual impression of the area:
(Credit: Photo Courtesy of Barnes Crosby and Chicago Historical Society; found on http://www.chicagotribune.com/topic/services-shopping/maxwell-street-PLTRA0000133.topic)

Laughlin not only gives us a geographic grounding in the Near West Side, she also gives us a glimpse of the basic institutions in the people’s lives. Just Folks began with the Juvenile Courthouse which played a big part in the day-to-day life of the people because poverty can spawn hopelessness, and without hope the young can turn to crime as a way out.

One institution that worked to bring hope to its neighbors on the Near West Side was Hull House.

Hull House, Smith Hall, view north on South Halsted, 1910, wikimedia, from
The American Memory Collections, Library of Congress
Jane Adams established Hull House in 1889 because she wanted to provide help to the very poor in this area. In Laughlin’s book, Beth Tully thought that she could learn how to help the people by living amidst them rather than on the grounds of Hull House. Through the sentiments of Tully (p.4), Laughlin presents the mission of Hull House from the viewpoint of the people it served: rather than asking what the people wanted, those in charge of the House gave what they thought was needed. And sometimes these were the same and other times they were not.

Another institution that brought hope to its members on the Near West Side was the Catholic Church. In his book The Irish Americans: A History pgs 111-115, which can be found on books.google, Jay P. Dolan discusses the community, educational, and spiritual roles that the church played in the daily lives of its members. And it was the church that helped lift the second generation of Irish children out of poverty by teaching them the mores of America and by giving them the skills they needed to get better jobs in the parish schools, such as at Holy Family Catholic Church: 

Holy Family Church (1857) and St. Ignatius College Prep High School, (not pictured), 1869, Chicago IL, wikimedia, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

The Catholic Church was there at the beginning of a person’s life to administer baptism, as Laughlin describes: 

“He was to be christened on Tuesday…in the Holy Family Church.” (p. 215)


Due to the unsanitary conditions, the lack of medical treatment and poor nutrition because of poverty, many young children died very early on the Near West Side. My great, great grandparents, John Kearney and Mary Duffy, faced this tragedy when their son, Patrick William Kearney, died at age two in 1879. The Catholic Church was also present at the end of life when people were given the last rites and buried in a Catholic cemetery, as Laughlin describes:

“…in two days after he was christened, wee Patsy was dead….They owned a single grave in Calvary (Cemetery); in it were the two children that were dead these many years….”  (p. 216-217)

In Laughlin’s book, we have seen where and how people lived on the Near West Side, where they were baptized, worshipped, went to school, and were buried (the Catholics, that is.)

One last aspect of life that was still in existence when I was growing up in Chicago in the 1950s was where they played – the amusement park of Riverview.  The Park didn’t actually open until 1904 as Riverview. Before that in the late 1800s it was called German Sharpshooter Park with picnic grounds and swings. Below is the front entrance to Riverview:

Postcard photo of the entrance of Riverview Park, Chicago circa 1908.

One of my favorite rides at Riverview was Shoot the Chutes
Postcard photo of the Chutes ride at Riverview Park, Chicago, wikimedia.
where you were carried up a tower in a small boat (kind of like an elevator.) At the top of the tower, the boat came out onto a large slide. And you shot down the “chute.”
Postcard photo of the Chutes at Riverview Park, Chicago, wikimedia

It looks like the characters in Just Folks also enjoyed riding the chutes:

“…an’ be taking’ ye t’ shoot th’ chutes.” (p. 142)

We have come to the end of our visit to the Near West Side of Chicago in the 19th century. A branch of my family started their life in Chicago right there, but fortunately the next generation was able to move out from the deep poverty. It was only a move of a few miles north to Chestnut and Wells for them, but it was a huge step in improving their quality of life.

Categories: genealogy tools