Urbanization
1870-1900
Assignment:
1. Watch the Adam Norris review videos for Ch.18 and 19 in the textbook below.
2. Read through and watch the video clips below.
3. Answer the four questions for each section:
2. Read through and watch the video clips below.
3. Answer the four questions for each section:
- Make sure that you fill in each comment field and after you type your response for each question, you need to push the submit button. DO NOT type all the questions at once and click the submit button. Just do them one at a time. You may need to refresh the webpage after each question submission.
APUSH: Due Tuesday, 10/20
Adam Norris
Ch.18 Overview |
Adam Norris
Ch.19 Overview |
I. The Rise of the City
The industrialization of the late nineteenth century brought on rapid urbanization. The increasing factory businesses created many job opportunities in cities, and people began to flock from rural, farm areas, to large urban locations. Minorities and immigrants added to these numbers. Factory jobs were the only jobs some immigrants could get, and as more came to the cities to work, the larger the urbanization process became.
In 1870, there were only two American cities with a population of more than 500,000, but by 1900, there were six. Three of these—New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia—had more than one million inhabitants. Roughly 40 percent of Americans lived in cities, and the number was climbing. These large city populations caused crime rates to rise, and disease to spread rapidly. As a result of unsanitary living conditions, diseases such as cholera, dysentery, and typhoid fever struck urban areas with increasing frequency. Cities responded by paving streets, digging sewers, sanitizing water, constructing housing, and creating public transportation systems.
Not only did urbanization cause cities to grow in population, but it also caused buildings to grow higher and larger. Skyscrapers were being built in the cities and the idea of mass transit had begun to take root. Mass-transit systems allowed people to commute to work from farther distances. Suburbs were beginning to form as upper class families began to move out of the overcrowded cities.
The period between 1865 and 1920 was marked by the increasing concentration of people, political power, and economic activity in urban areas. New large cities, such as Denver, Chicago, and Cleveland, developed inland along new transportation routes. The first 12 presidents of the United States had all been born into farming communities, but between 1865 and 1912, the presidency was filled by men with backgrounds representing businesses and cities.
In 1870, there were only two American cities with a population of more than 500,000, but by 1900, there were six. Three of these—New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia—had more than one million inhabitants. Roughly 40 percent of Americans lived in cities, and the number was climbing. These large city populations caused crime rates to rise, and disease to spread rapidly. As a result of unsanitary living conditions, diseases such as cholera, dysentery, and typhoid fever struck urban areas with increasing frequency. Cities responded by paving streets, digging sewers, sanitizing water, constructing housing, and creating public transportation systems.
Not only did urbanization cause cities to grow in population, but it also caused buildings to grow higher and larger. Skyscrapers were being built in the cities and the idea of mass transit had begun to take root. Mass-transit systems allowed people to commute to work from farther distances. Suburbs were beginning to form as upper class families began to move out of the overcrowded cities.
The period between 1865 and 1920 was marked by the increasing concentration of people, political power, and economic activity in urban areas. New large cities, such as Denver, Chicago, and Cleveland, developed inland along new transportation routes. The first 12 presidents of the United States had all been born into farming communities, but between 1865 and 1912, the presidency was filled by men with backgrounds representing businesses and cities.
Tenements and Overcrowding
As the United States became more industrialized during the 1800s, immigrants and workers from the countryside increasingly lived in former middle-class houses and other buildings such as warehouses, which were bought and divided into small dwellings. Additionally, beginning as early as the 1830s on the Lower East Side in New York City, people lived in jerry-built three- and four-floor “railroad flats” (so called because the rooms were linked together like a train) with windowless internal rooms. The adapted buildings also were known as “rookeries,” and were particularly concerning as they were prone to collapse and fire. Mulberry Bend and Five Points were the sites of notorious rookeries that the city worked for decades to clear. In both rookeries and purpose-built tenements, communal water taps and water closets (either privies or “school sinks,” which opened into a vault that often became clogged) were squeezed into what open space there was between buildings. In parts of the Lower East Side, buildings were older and had courtyards, which were generally occupied by machine shops, stables, and other businesses.
Such tenements (or “walk-ups”) were particularly prevalent in New York, where in 1865, a report stated that 500,000 people lived in unhealthy tenements, whereas in Boston in 1845, fewer than a quarter of workers were housed in tenements. One reason New York had so many tenements was the large numbers of immigrants; another was that the grid pattern on which streets were laid out and the economic practice of building on individual 25-by-100-foot lots combined to produce extremely high land coverage, including back building.
Such tenements (or “walk-ups”) were particularly prevalent in New York, where in 1865, a report stated that 500,000 people lived in unhealthy tenements, whereas in Boston in 1845, fewer than a quarter of workers were housed in tenements. One reason New York had so many tenements was the large numbers of immigrants; another was that the grid pattern on which streets were laid out and the economic practice of building on individual 25-by-100-foot lots combined to produce extremely high land coverage, including back building.
How the Other Half Live
How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York (1890) was an early publication of photojournalism by Jacob Riis, documenting squalid living conditions in New York City slums in the 1880s. It served as a basis for future “muckraking” journalism by exposing the slums to New York City’s upper and middle classes. Immediately after publication, this work inspired many reforms of working-class housing, and it continues to make a lasting impact in today’s society.
In January of 1888, Jacob Riis bought a detective camera and went on an expedition to gather images of what life was like in the slums of New York City. This not only involved Riis taking his own photos but also his using the images of other photographers. On January 28, 1888, Riis presented “The Other Half: How It Lives and Dies in New York” using his images on a projection screen and taking the viewer on a journey by describing the images. In February 1889, Riis wrote a magazine article based on his lectures in Scribner’s Magazine, which was a resounding success. The book version of Riis’ work was finally published in January 1890 as How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York.
The following is an example of Riis’s description of the New York City tenements:
Enough of them everywhere. Suppose we look into one? No.–Cherry Street. Be a little careful, please! The hall is dark and you might stumble over the children pitching pennies back there. Not that it would hurt them; kicks and cuffs are their daily diet. They have little else. Here where the hall turns and dives into utter darkness is a step, and another, another. A flight of stairs. You can feel your way, if you cannot see it. Close? Yes! What would you have? All the fresh air that ever enters these stairs comes from the hall-door that is forever slamming, and from the windows of dark bedrooms that in turn receive from the stairs their sole supply of the elements God meant to be free, but man deals out with such niggardly hand. That was a woman filling her pail by the hydrant you just bumped against. The sinks are in the hallway, that all the tenants may have access—and all be poisoned alike by their summer stenches. Hear the pump squeak! It is the lullaby of tenement-house babes. In summer, when a thousand thirsty throats pant for a cooling drink in this block, it is worked in vain. But the saloon, whose open door you passed in the hall, is always there. The smell of it has followed you up. Here is a door. Listen! That short hacking cough, that tiny, helpless wail–what do they mean? They mean that the soiled bow of white you saw on the door downstairs will have another story to tell–Oh! a sadly familiar story–before the day is at an end. The child is dying with measles. With half a chance it might have lived; but it had none. That dark bedroom killed it.
In January of 1888, Jacob Riis bought a detective camera and went on an expedition to gather images of what life was like in the slums of New York City. This not only involved Riis taking his own photos but also his using the images of other photographers. On January 28, 1888, Riis presented “The Other Half: How It Lives and Dies in New York” using his images on a projection screen and taking the viewer on a journey by describing the images. In February 1889, Riis wrote a magazine article based on his lectures in Scribner’s Magazine, which was a resounding success. The book version of Riis’ work was finally published in January 1890 as How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York.
The following is an example of Riis’s description of the New York City tenements:
Enough of them everywhere. Suppose we look into one? No.–Cherry Street. Be a little careful, please! The hall is dark and you might stumble over the children pitching pennies back there. Not that it would hurt them; kicks and cuffs are their daily diet. They have little else. Here where the hall turns and dives into utter darkness is a step, and another, another. A flight of stairs. You can feel your way, if you cannot see it. Close? Yes! What would you have? All the fresh air that ever enters these stairs comes from the hall-door that is forever slamming, and from the windows of dark bedrooms that in turn receive from the stairs their sole supply of the elements God meant to be free, but man deals out with such niggardly hand. That was a woman filling her pail by the hydrant you just bumped against. The sinks are in the hallway, that all the tenants may have access—and all be poisoned alike by their summer stenches. Hear the pump squeak! It is the lullaby of tenement-house babes. In summer, when a thousand thirsty throats pant for a cooling drink in this block, it is worked in vain. But the saloon, whose open door you passed in the hall, is always there. The smell of it has followed you up. Here is a door. Listen! That short hacking cough, that tiny, helpless wail–what do they mean? They mean that the soiled bow of white you saw on the door downstairs will have another story to tell–Oh! a sadly familiar story–before the day is at an end. The child is dying with measles. With half a chance it might have lived; but it had none. That dark bedroom killed it.
--Jacob Riis, How the Other Half Live, 1890
The "old" law and the "new" law
The Tenement House Act of 1867, the state legislature ‘s first comprehensive legislation on housing conditions, prohibited cellar apartments unless the ceiling was one foot above street level; required one water closet per 20 residents; required fire escapes; and began to delineate space between buildings. The Tenement House Act of 1867 was amended by the Tenement House Act of 1879, also known as the “Old Law,” which required lot coverage of no more than 65 percent. The New York City Board of Health declined to enforce the regulations, and as a compromise, the “Old Law” tenement became the standard. It had a “dumbbell” shape, with air and light shafts on either side of the center, usually fitted to the shafts in the adjacent buildings, and typically covered 80 percent of the lot. James Ware is credited with the design; he had won a contest the previous year held by “Plumber and Sanitary Engineer” magazine to find the most practical yet profitable improved tenement design.
The 1890 publication of Jacob Riis’s How the Other Half Lives stirred public concern about New York tenements. The New York State Assembly Tenement House Committee report of 1894 surveyed 8,000 buildings with approximately 255,000 residents and found New York to be the most densely populated city in the world, at an average of 143 people per acre, with part of the Lower East Side having 800 residents per acre, an area denser than Bombay. The committee used both charts and photographs in their report (it was the first official use of such photographs). Together with the U.S. Department of Labor, the committee published The Housing of Working People in 1895 , a special report on housing conditions and solutions elsewhere in the world. This publication ultimately led to the passage of the Tenement House Act of 1901. Known as the “New Law,” this law implemented the Tenement House Committee’s recommendation of a maximum of 70 percent lot coverage (with strict enforcement); specified a minimum of 12 feet for a rear yard; required six feet for an air and light shaft at the lot line or 12 feet in the middle of the building (these numbers increased for taller buildings); required running water and water closets in every apartment; required a window in every room; and instituted fire-safety regulations. These rules are still used today as the basis for New York City law on low-rise buildings.
The 1890 publication of Jacob Riis’s How the Other Half Lives stirred public concern about New York tenements. The New York State Assembly Tenement House Committee report of 1894 surveyed 8,000 buildings with approximately 255,000 residents and found New York to be the most densely populated city in the world, at an average of 143 people per acre, with part of the Lower East Side having 800 residents per acre, an area denser than Bombay. The committee used both charts and photographs in their report (it was the first official use of such photographs). Together with the U.S. Department of Labor, the committee published The Housing of Working People in 1895 , a special report on housing conditions and solutions elsewhere in the world. This publication ultimately led to the passage of the Tenement House Act of 1901. Known as the “New Law,” this law implemented the Tenement House Committee’s recommendation of a maximum of 70 percent lot coverage (with strict enforcement); specified a minimum of 12 feet for a rear yard; required six feet for an air and light shaft at the lot line or 12 feet in the middle of the building (these numbers increased for taller buildings); required running water and water closets in every apartment; required a window in every room; and instituted fire-safety regulations. These rules are still used today as the basis for New York City law on low-rise buildings.
II. Machine Politics
During the Gilded Age, politics were characterized by “political machines.” A political machine is a organization in which an authoritative boss or small group commands the backing of a corps of supporters and businesses (usually campaign workers), who then receive rewards for their efforts. The machine’s power is based on the ability of the workers to get out the vote for their candidates on election day.
Although these elements are common to most political parties and organizations, they are essential to political machines, which rely on hierarchy and rewards for political power, often enforced by a strong party whip structure. Machines sometimes have a political boss, and often rely on patronage, the spoils system, “behind-the-scenes” control, and longstanding political ties within the structure of a representative democracy. Machines typically are organized on a permanent basis instead of for a single election or event. The term may take on a pejorative roll when referring to corrupt political machines.
When a political machine won an election, it could remove all appointed officeholders, leading to a change in the makeup of the body as well as in the heads of government departments. At that time, many political offices also were elected. Many officials were elected to represent their ward, and not by the entire city. This system led to the election of people personally known to their communities, as opposed to people voters had heard of but didn’t know.
The machines in the cities tended to be controlled by the Democratic Party, which allied with new immigrants by providing jobs, housing, and other benefits in exchange for votes. This was a challenge to the power of the old elites, whose families had lived in the United States for generations. Political machines routinely used fraud and bribery to further their ends. On the other hand, they also provided relief, security, and services to the crowds of newcomers who voted for them and kept them in power. By doing this, they were able to keep the people’s loyalty, thus giving themselves more power.
The political machines gave lucrative government contracts and official positions to supporters. One of the most well-known machines was that of Tammany Hall in New York, long led by William Tweed, who was better known as “Boss Tweed.” In addition to rewarding supporters, members of the Tammany Hall machine saw themselves as defending New York City from the residents of upstate New York and from the New York state government, who saw New York city as a ready source of funds to benefit upstate New York.
Theodore Roosevelt, before he became president in 1901, was deeply involved in New York City politics. In the following quote, he explains how the machine worked:
The organization of a party in our city is really much like that of an army. There is one great central boss, assisted by some trusted and able lieutenants; these communicate with the different district bosses, whom they alternately bully and assist. The district boss in turn has a number of half-subordinates, half-allies, under him; these latter choose the captains of the election districts, etc., and come into contact with the common healers.
Although these elements are common to most political parties and organizations, they are essential to political machines, which rely on hierarchy and rewards for political power, often enforced by a strong party whip structure. Machines sometimes have a political boss, and often rely on patronage, the spoils system, “behind-the-scenes” control, and longstanding political ties within the structure of a representative democracy. Machines typically are organized on a permanent basis instead of for a single election or event. The term may take on a pejorative roll when referring to corrupt political machines.
When a political machine won an election, it could remove all appointed officeholders, leading to a change in the makeup of the body as well as in the heads of government departments. At that time, many political offices also were elected. Many officials were elected to represent their ward, and not by the entire city. This system led to the election of people personally known to their communities, as opposed to people voters had heard of but didn’t know.
The machines in the cities tended to be controlled by the Democratic Party, which allied with new immigrants by providing jobs, housing, and other benefits in exchange for votes. This was a challenge to the power of the old elites, whose families had lived in the United States for generations. Political machines routinely used fraud and bribery to further their ends. On the other hand, they also provided relief, security, and services to the crowds of newcomers who voted for them and kept them in power. By doing this, they were able to keep the people’s loyalty, thus giving themselves more power.
The political machines gave lucrative government contracts and official positions to supporters. One of the most well-known machines was that of Tammany Hall in New York, long led by William Tweed, who was better known as “Boss Tweed.” In addition to rewarding supporters, members of the Tammany Hall machine saw themselves as defending New York City from the residents of upstate New York and from the New York state government, who saw New York city as a ready source of funds to benefit upstate New York.
Theodore Roosevelt, before he became president in 1901, was deeply involved in New York City politics. In the following quote, he explains how the machine worked:
The organization of a party in our city is really much like that of an army. There is one great central boss, assisted by some trusted and able lieutenants; these communicate with the different district bosses, whom they alternately bully and assist. The district boss in turn has a number of half-subordinates, half-allies, under him; these latter choose the captains of the election districts, etc., and come into contact with the common healers.
--Teddy Roosevelt, 1901
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Larger cities in the United States—Boston, Chicago, Cleveland, Kansas City, New York City, Philadelphia, St. Louis, etc.—were accused of using political machines in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Each city’s machine lived under a hierarchical system with a “boss” who held the allegiance of local business leaders, elected officials and their appointees, and knew the proverbial buttons to push to get things done. Benefits and problems both resulted from the rule of political machines.
Before the 1930s, the Democratic Party in Chicago was divided along ethnic lines—the Irish, Polish, Italian, and other groups each controlled politics in their neighborhoods Under the leadership of Anton Cermak, the party consolidated its ethnic bases into one large organization. With the organization behind, Cermak was able to win election as mayor of Chicago in 1931, an office he held until his assassination in 1933. The modern era of politics was dominated by machine politics in many ways. The New Deal of the 1930s and the Great Society of the 1960s gave the Democratic Party access to new funds and programs for housing, slum clearance, urban renewal, and education, through which the party could dispense patronage and maintain control of the city. Machine politics persisted in Chicago after the decline of similar machines in other large American cities. During much of that time, the city administration found opposition mainly from a liberal “independent” faction of the Democratic Party.
Many machines formed in cities to serve immigrants to the United States in the late nineteenth century who viewed machines as a vehicle for political enfranchisement. Machine staffers helped win elections by turning out large numbers of voters on election day. But even among the Irish, continued help for new immigrants declined over time. It was in the party machines’ interests only to maintain a minimally winning amount of support. Once they were in the majority and could count on a win, there was less need to recruit new members, as this only meant a thinner spread of patronage rewards to be shared among the party members. As such, later-arriving immigrants, such as Jews, Italians, and other immigrants from southern and eastern Europe between the 1880s and 1910s, rarely saw any reward from the machine system. At the same time, most of political machines’ staunchest opponents were members of the established class (nativist Protestants).
Before the 1930s, the Democratic Party in Chicago was divided along ethnic lines—the Irish, Polish, Italian, and other groups each controlled politics in their neighborhoods Under the leadership of Anton Cermak, the party consolidated its ethnic bases into one large organization. With the organization behind, Cermak was able to win election as mayor of Chicago in 1931, an office he held until his assassination in 1933. The modern era of politics was dominated by machine politics in many ways. The New Deal of the 1930s and the Great Society of the 1960s gave the Democratic Party access to new funds and programs for housing, slum clearance, urban renewal, and education, through which the party could dispense patronage and maintain control of the city. Machine politics persisted in Chicago after the decline of similar machines in other large American cities. During much of that time, the city administration found opposition mainly from a liberal “independent” faction of the Democratic Party.
Many machines formed in cities to serve immigrants to the United States in the late nineteenth century who viewed machines as a vehicle for political enfranchisement. Machine staffers helped win elections by turning out large numbers of voters on election day. But even among the Irish, continued help for new immigrants declined over time. It was in the party machines’ interests only to maintain a minimally winning amount of support. Once they were in the majority and could count on a win, there was less need to recruit new members, as this only meant a thinner spread of patronage rewards to be shared among the party members. As such, later-arriving immigrants, such as Jews, Italians, and other immigrants from southern and eastern Europe between the 1880s and 1910s, rarely saw any reward from the machine system. At the same time, most of political machines’ staunchest opponents were members of the established class (nativist Protestants).
III. Boss Tweed & Thomas Nast
William Tweed (1823-1878), more commonly known in American history as “Boss Tweed,” was an object of scathing criticism by Thomas Nast. Tweed was a New York City politician who led a group of corrupt politicians who gained power in the Democratic party in 1863, when Tweed was elected “Grand Sachem” of Tammany Hall. Originally a fraternal organization formed in 1786, the Society of Tammany grew more political in the nineteenth century and its building became the site where the Democratic party activists often met. Although he held minor elective offices, Tweed primarily exercised power through his control of patronage, the ability to appoint supporters to jobs in New York City government. For instance, after he was appointed commissioner of public works, Tweed enlarged the street maintenance crew to include twelve jobs as “manure inspectors.”
Not only did Tweed maintain and increase his power by rewarding his supporters, he also profited personally from business conducted by the city of New York. For a company to receive business contracts with the city, it had to inflate its prices and kick back a portion of its income to Tweed and his closest associates in local government. This coterie of corrupt politicians enriching themselves at the public’s expense was known at the time as the Tweed Ring.
The Tweed Ring was successful in part because it was popular among many voters, especially the Irish immigrants who had flooded the city in search of a better livelihood. Tweed and his friends ensured that Irish-American supporters received jobs and other assistance from the city government and from companies doing business with the city.
For Nast, Tweed personified two great evils afflicting American society after the Civil War: corruption and greed, on the one hand, and the influence of Irish immigrants on the other. Harper’s Weekly and the New York Times crusaded against corruption in city government in 1870 and 1871. Nast used his talents in a campaign to undermine Tweed and rally good government forces to overthrow the boss. Cartoon after cartoon pictured Tweed as a thief. In addition to his caricatures of Tweed, Nast created the Tammany Tiger as a symbol for the Ring, and sometimes he used it as a more general symbol for the Democratic Party.
Nast succeeded in creating a negative image of Boss Tweed but was less successful in turning him out of power. Eventually, rivals in the Democratic Party, who sought the spoils of office for themselves, turned on Tweed. They provided evidence of his corruption to local newspapers, which eventually gave prosecutors the proof needed to convict Tweed. Businesses hoping to recover money extorted by the Tweed Ring also sued the fallen boss. He eventually fled the country, but was captured and returned. Tweed died in prison.
Not only did Tweed maintain and increase his power by rewarding his supporters, he also profited personally from business conducted by the city of New York. For a company to receive business contracts with the city, it had to inflate its prices and kick back a portion of its income to Tweed and his closest associates in local government. This coterie of corrupt politicians enriching themselves at the public’s expense was known at the time as the Tweed Ring.
The Tweed Ring was successful in part because it was popular among many voters, especially the Irish immigrants who had flooded the city in search of a better livelihood. Tweed and his friends ensured that Irish-American supporters received jobs and other assistance from the city government and from companies doing business with the city.
For Nast, Tweed personified two great evils afflicting American society after the Civil War: corruption and greed, on the one hand, and the influence of Irish immigrants on the other. Harper’s Weekly and the New York Times crusaded against corruption in city government in 1870 and 1871. Nast used his talents in a campaign to undermine Tweed and rally good government forces to overthrow the boss. Cartoon after cartoon pictured Tweed as a thief. In addition to his caricatures of Tweed, Nast created the Tammany Tiger as a symbol for the Ring, and sometimes he used it as a more general symbol for the Democratic Party.
Nast succeeded in creating a negative image of Boss Tweed but was less successful in turning him out of power. Eventually, rivals in the Democratic Party, who sought the spoils of office for themselves, turned on Tweed. They provided evidence of his corruption to local newspapers, which eventually gave prosecutors the proof needed to convict Tweed. Businesses hoping to recover money extorted by the Tweed Ring also sued the fallen boss. He eventually fled the country, but was captured and returned. Tweed died in prison.
IV. Fire!
Great Chicago Fire, 1871
OCTOBER INFERNO
On the night of October 8, 1871, fire spread across Chicago. While the cause of the blaze is unknown, its origin was at 558 West DeKoven Street—an address that today is home to a Chicago Fire Department training facility. An estimated 300 people died and 100,000 were left homeless by the three-day inferno that erased 2,100 acres of the city. The center of Chicago and the heart of the business district were wiped out. Yet, just 20 years after the fire, the city’s population had grown from 300,000 to 1 million people.
Historians love to debate the impact of the Great Fire on Chicago’s development. Would Chicago have developed in the same way without the fire? As author and Chicago historian Neal Samors told CAF and WBEZ’s Curious City, had the fire not occurred, “Chicago would probably have been a much smaller metropolis and not the second largest city in the United States.”
While many wooden houses and businesses were leveled by the fire (plus 500 miles of wooden sidewalk!), some multi-unit residential and institutional buildings were already being built using solid masonry construction. And because much of the city’s major industries were not destroyed in the fire, those economic engines continued to fuel the city’s growth and rebuilding. Booming industries such as the Union Stockyards and lumberyards were located outside of the burn zone, which was roughly Halsted Street east to Lake Michigan and Roosevelt Avenue north to Fullerton Parkway.
Timing is everything. By 1871, Chicago had already claimed a central role in the U.S. economy. It was the most important processing point for raw materials heading east from the frontier and the biggest interchange in the new national railroad system. Timber and paper industries took hold first, then came meat packing and steel production. Chicago’s old wooden infrastructure may have slowed industrial growth and the development of lands for residential and commercial use. But within months of the fire, a land rush began. Following another destructive fire in 1874, new building codes were written to ensure that most new construction contained more fire-resistant brick and stone.
On the night of October 8, 1871, fire spread across Chicago. While the cause of the blaze is unknown, its origin was at 558 West DeKoven Street—an address that today is home to a Chicago Fire Department training facility. An estimated 300 people died and 100,000 were left homeless by the three-day inferno that erased 2,100 acres of the city. The center of Chicago and the heart of the business district were wiped out. Yet, just 20 years after the fire, the city’s population had grown from 300,000 to 1 million people.
Historians love to debate the impact of the Great Fire on Chicago’s development. Would Chicago have developed in the same way without the fire? As author and Chicago historian Neal Samors told CAF and WBEZ’s Curious City, had the fire not occurred, “Chicago would probably have been a much smaller metropolis and not the second largest city in the United States.”
While many wooden houses and businesses were leveled by the fire (plus 500 miles of wooden sidewalk!), some multi-unit residential and institutional buildings were already being built using solid masonry construction. And because much of the city’s major industries were not destroyed in the fire, those economic engines continued to fuel the city’s growth and rebuilding. Booming industries such as the Union Stockyards and lumberyards were located outside of the burn zone, which was roughly Halsted Street east to Lake Michigan and Roosevelt Avenue north to Fullerton Parkway.
Timing is everything. By 1871, Chicago had already claimed a central role in the U.S. economy. It was the most important processing point for raw materials heading east from the frontier and the biggest interchange in the new national railroad system. Timber and paper industries took hold first, then came meat packing and steel production. Chicago’s old wooden infrastructure may have slowed industrial growth and the development of lands for residential and commercial use. But within months of the fire, a land rush began. Following another destructive fire in 1874, new building codes were written to ensure that most new construction contained more fire-resistant brick and stone.
SLOW RISE OF SKYSCRAPERS
The myth is often told that the fire cleared the city—wiping the slate clean so tall new skyscrapers could be designed and built. But in reality, a different story unfolded. Immediately after the fire, both downtown and in the neighborhoods, new construction looked very similar to what was built before the fire. With time and money at stake, as often happens after a natural disaster, business owners quickly rebuilt what they knew. Typical four-story downtown commercial buildings were often a hybrid of brick, stone and iron construction. It would be another 10-15 years before the earliest skyscrapers—8 to 10 stories, with structural steel frames, elevators and innovative foundations—would come to replace those first post-fire buildings.
Old Town gives us a glimpse of what pre-fire Chicago looked like. Although the neighborhood was nearly leveled in the fire, it was immediately rebuilt in a similar style and scale. Old Town avoided (through a strong-arm political deal) the new boundaries that dictated fireproof construction. As a result, the two-story wood-frame cottages in the area resemble the Italianate homes and humbler two-story worker’s cottages found throughout the city prior to the fire.
Still more questions remain. How many of the 18,000 structures vanquished in the fire would have outlasted the twin threats of growth and neglect to reach the present day? Would the mansions along Monroe Street, Michigan Avenue and Wabash Avenue have survived the early skyscraper boom? Would creative new skyscrapers have been designed as early without a push from skyrocketing land values downtown?
The myth is often told that the fire cleared the city—wiping the slate clean so tall new skyscrapers could be designed and built. But in reality, a different story unfolded. Immediately after the fire, both downtown and in the neighborhoods, new construction looked very similar to what was built before the fire. With time and money at stake, as often happens after a natural disaster, business owners quickly rebuilt what they knew. Typical four-story downtown commercial buildings were often a hybrid of brick, stone and iron construction. It would be another 10-15 years before the earliest skyscrapers—8 to 10 stories, with structural steel frames, elevators and innovative foundations—would come to replace those first post-fire buildings.
Old Town gives us a glimpse of what pre-fire Chicago looked like. Although the neighborhood was nearly leveled in the fire, it was immediately rebuilt in a similar style and scale. Old Town avoided (through a strong-arm political deal) the new boundaries that dictated fireproof construction. As a result, the two-story wood-frame cottages in the area resemble the Italianate homes and humbler two-story worker’s cottages found throughout the city prior to the fire.
Still more questions remain. How many of the 18,000 structures vanquished in the fire would have outlasted the twin threats of growth and neglect to reach the present day? Would the mansions along Monroe Street, Michigan Avenue and Wabash Avenue have survived the early skyscraper boom? Would creative new skyscrapers have been designed as early without a push from skyrocketing land values downtown?
A PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES
It’s interesting to speculate on how the city would be different without the Great Fire of 1871. Many historians agree that the city that rose like a phoenix from the ashes would likely have kept growing without the fire. Perhaps it would have done so without the grand plans and large population boom that fueled commerce, construction and innovation into the 20th century.
Nearly 150 years later, few people can doubt the significance of the fire in Chicagoans’ minds. Today, it’s remembered as the second of four stars on the Chicago flag. The next time you see the flag fluttering on the side of a building, you may recall the story of a windy day in 1871 when Chicago changed forever.
It’s interesting to speculate on how the city would be different without the Great Fire of 1871. Many historians agree that the city that rose like a phoenix from the ashes would likely have kept growing without the fire. Perhaps it would have done so without the grand plans and large population boom that fueled commerce, construction and innovation into the 20th century.
Nearly 150 years later, few people can doubt the significance of the fire in Chicagoans’ minds. Today, it’s remembered as the second of four stars on the Chicago flag. The next time you see the flag fluttering on the side of a building, you may recall the story of a windy day in 1871 when Chicago changed forever.
Great Boston Fire, 1872
In 1871, a Boston fire department engineer name John Damrell traveled to Chicago to examine the smoking ruins of the Great Chicago Fire. He realized the probability of a catastrophic Boston fire. In a little over a year, his fears were realized.
For months before the fire he worried about Boston's susceptibility to a catastrophe. He did manage to persuade the city to invest in the first fireboat and to let him inspect buildings. But there was little he could do about the many new buildings that crowded Boston's narrow, crooked streets. Nor was there much he could do about building owners who over-insured their buildings, which gave them little incentive to make them safe from fire.
Damrell worried especially about the city's leaky old water mains, which couldn't create enough water pressure to reach the tops of the new buildings.
For months before the fire he worried about Boston's susceptibility to a catastrophe. He did manage to persuade the city to invest in the first fireboat and to let him inspect buildings. But there was little he could do about the many new buildings that crowded Boston's narrow, crooked streets. Nor was there much he could do about building owners who over-insured their buildings, which gave them little incentive to make them safe from fire.
Damrell worried especially about the city's leaky old water mains, which couldn't create enough water pressure to reach the tops of the new buildings.
THE GREAT BOSTON FIRE
In October 1872, an outbreak of distemper sidelined many of the Boston Fire Department’s trained fire horses. So the ever-vigilant Damrell hired 500 extra men to pull fire trucks to fires. Later, a city investigation of the fire found the lack of horses only delayed the firefighters' response by a few minutes.
The fire started around 7 pm on November 9 in the basement of a dry goods store at the corner of Kingston and Summer streets. Flames raced through the wooden elevator shaft and spread to cloth, hoop skirts, hosiery and gloves before setting the roof on fire. Onlookers stood watching for 20 minutes before the alarm sounded. Fire alarm boxes had been locked to prevent false alarms.
Every Boston fire company arrived at the scene by 7:45 pm, but flames fully engulfed the building. Firefighters could do little to contain it because of the weak water pressure.
The fire raged through the commercial district gobbling blocks at a time. The fire consumed the Boston Globe building, the Herald, Shreve, Crump and Low and the Carter’s Ink Co. Wind and updrafts spread the flames even faster. Gas lines exploded, streetlights popped and the city glowed like an ember. Sailors could see the fire from the coast of Maine.
In October 1872, an outbreak of distemper sidelined many of the Boston Fire Department’s trained fire horses. So the ever-vigilant Damrell hired 500 extra men to pull fire trucks to fires. Later, a city investigation of the fire found the lack of horses only delayed the firefighters' response by a few minutes.
The fire started around 7 pm on November 9 in the basement of a dry goods store at the corner of Kingston and Summer streets. Flames raced through the wooden elevator shaft and spread to cloth, hoop skirts, hosiery and gloves before setting the roof on fire. Onlookers stood watching for 20 minutes before the alarm sounded. Fire alarm boxes had been locked to prevent false alarms.
Every Boston fire company arrived at the scene by 7:45 pm, but flames fully engulfed the building. Firefighters could do little to contain it because of the weak water pressure.
The fire raged through the commercial district gobbling blocks at a time. The fire consumed the Boston Globe building, the Herald, Shreve, Crump and Low and the Carter’s Ink Co. Wind and updrafts spread the flames even faster. Gas lines exploded, streetlights popped and the city glowed like an ember. Sailors could see the fire from the coast of Maine.
DRUNKS AND LOOTERS
As many as 100,000 spectators, some drunk, came to watch the spectacle as the fire didn't spread to the residential districts. Businessmen interfered with the firefighters as they tried to salvage their goods, even as looters were stealing them. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.,watched the fire from Beacon Hill and wrote a poem about it. Alexander Graham Bell submitted an eyewitness account to the Boston Globe, but the editors rejected him.
For 17 long hours, firefighters from 27 towns pumped weak streams of water on the fire. Some came from as far away as Providence and New Haven. But because the fire broke out on Saturday, many telegraph offices had closed and it took longer to summon help.
Civilians tried to stop the spread of fire by blowing up buildings with gunpowder, which did more harm than good.
Efforts to save the Old South Meeting House finally put out the fire. Some credit the timely arrival of a Kearsarge Steam Fire Engine from Portsmouth, N.H., with saving the landmark.
In the end, at least 30 people died, including 12 firefighters. The Great Boston Fire consumed 65 acres and cost over $1 billion in today’s dollars. The city used the rubble from the fire to build Atlantic Avenue.
Because most businesses had plenty of insurance they rebuilt quickly. Some of the city’s architectural gems, like Trinity Church, grew from the ashes of the Great Boston Fire of 1872. So did a lookout tower and headquarters for the Boston Fire Department, now the Pine Street Inn.
John Damrell came under heavy criticism for the fire, despite his efforts to prevent it. He lost his job in 1874 and went on to campaign successfully for a national building code.
As many as 100,000 spectators, some drunk, came to watch the spectacle as the fire didn't spread to the residential districts. Businessmen interfered with the firefighters as they tried to salvage their goods, even as looters were stealing them. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.,watched the fire from Beacon Hill and wrote a poem about it. Alexander Graham Bell submitted an eyewitness account to the Boston Globe, but the editors rejected him.
For 17 long hours, firefighters from 27 towns pumped weak streams of water on the fire. Some came from as far away as Providence and New Haven. But because the fire broke out on Saturday, many telegraph offices had closed and it took longer to summon help.
Civilians tried to stop the spread of fire by blowing up buildings with gunpowder, which did more harm than good.
Efforts to save the Old South Meeting House finally put out the fire. Some credit the timely arrival of a Kearsarge Steam Fire Engine from Portsmouth, N.H., with saving the landmark.
In the end, at least 30 people died, including 12 firefighters. The Great Boston Fire consumed 65 acres and cost over $1 billion in today’s dollars. The city used the rubble from the fire to build Atlantic Avenue.
Because most businesses had plenty of insurance they rebuilt quickly. Some of the city’s architectural gems, like Trinity Church, grew from the ashes of the Great Boston Fire of 1872. So did a lookout tower and headquarters for the Boston Fire Department, now the Pine Street Inn.
John Damrell came under heavy criticism for the fire, despite his efforts to prevent it. He lost his job in 1874 and went on to campaign successfully for a national building code.