Monday, August 18, 2014

House Moving Part III: Clarke House, 1977

Last week, we looked at the first move of Chicago’s historic Clarke house in 1872.  This week we will examine the second move of the house in 1977.

After the 1872 move, the house continued to serve as a private family residence for generations of the Chrimes and Walters families.  In 1941, it was sold to Bishop Louis Henry Ford and the St. Paul Church of God in Christ.  They used the building for church purposes and the Bishop’s residence for the next 35 years.  Respectful of its history, they celebrated the birthday of the house each year.

Discussions surrounding the creation of the Prairie Avenue Historic District were underway by 1970 when both the Clarke and Glessner houses were designated landmarks by the city of Chicago.  Within two years, the city began negotiations to purchase the Clarke house from the church and move it from its location at 4526 S. Wabash Avenue, where it had stood for 100 years, back to its original neighborhood.

The move almost stopped before it started.  On Monday January 31, 1977, fire broke out in the basement of the building.  Fortunately there was no major structural damage, and the many layers of paint on the interior moldings protected them from the blaze.  Three days later, an article in the Chicago Tribune announced that the city was continuing its negotiations to purchase and move the house, in spite of the fire.

In late August, detailed plans were announced for the move of the house later in the year.  Wilbert Hasbrouck, a respected preservation architect was retained by the city to oversee the move and the restoration of the house at its new site at 1827 S. Indiana Avenue.  He undertook an extensive analysis of the house and its structure, to determine exactly how the house could be moved, and how it would be restored to its original 1836 appearance. 

Ironically, the 1977 move proved much more difficult that the earlier move, due to the presence of power lines, street lights, and most significantly the elevated train tracks.  The tracks of the Englewood-Jackson Park L (a.k.a. the Green Line) stood a few blocks east of the house and would have to be crossed.  Numerous moving techniques were considered and dismissed – dismantling the building into three layers; utilizing the railroad rights-of-way; and using a barge on Lake Michigan for part of the move.

Ultimately it was decided to raise the house 25 feet and slide it above the el tracks using an elaborate combination of jacks and support cribbing.  The diagrams above, which appeared in the Chicago Tribune on August 20, 1977 showed the basic steps:
-remove the cupola, porches and other small parts of the house;
-place the house onto a 64-wheel trailer, pulled by a 1-1/2 ton truck;
-move the house onto jacks and support cribbing on the west side of the el tracks which crossed 44th Street between Prairie and Calumet avenues and raise it a foot at a time to a height of 25 feet;
-winch the house across the tracks on rollers along steel I-beams to the support cribbing on the east side of the tracks, and then lower the house a foot at a time back down to the ground and onto the 64-wheel trailer;
-complete the move via trailer to the new site.

The proposed route for the move, as shown in the map above, covered 32 blocks:
-north on Wabash to 44th Street;
-east on 44th Street to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Drive;
-north on King Drive to 31st Street;
-west on 31st Street to Michigan Avenue;
-north on Michigan Avenue to Cermak Road;
-east on Cermak Road to Indiana Avenue;
-north on Indiana Avenue.

It was anticipated that the move would take approximately 12 days.  On the first day, the building, which weighed 120 tons, would be placed on the trailer and moved at a walking speed to the west side of the tracks.  Five days would then be needed to jack up the house to a height of 25 feet – one foot higher than the tracks.  The next day, the house would be winched across the tracks, a move that would only take about 30 minutes.  Then five more days to move the house back down to the ground, and finally one more day to complete the move onto extra-wide footings at its new location.

November 18: Removal of the cupola

The move began on Wednesday November 23, 1977, the day before Thanksgiving, at which time the house was moved as far as the tracks on 44th Street.  Everything proceeded accordingly to plan (although small pieces fell off the house at various points along route) and the structure was ready to be winched across the tracks.  At one minute after midnight early on Sunday December 4th, the electric power was shut off on the el tracks and the house was slowly pulled across the tracks.  A crowd of 2,000 people gathered to watch the event, despite the bitter cold temperatures.

December 4: The move over the Green Line tracks

The temperature created a problem.  After the house was move onto the cribbing on the east side of the tracks, it was discovered that the hydraulic jacks had frozen.  The house would sit suspended in mid-air for the next two weeks, surprising commuters who encountered the house at eye level as they crossed the bridge at 44th Street.

December 12:  Trimming trees on 44th Street

December 18:  On King Drive at 41st Street

December 18: Crossing the Michigan Avenue bridge
over I-55 at 25th Street

Finally, on Sunday December 18th, the house was moved the last leg of its journey and placed on to its new foundation.  The final cost of the move was $410,000.  An extensive restoration was undertaken over the next 4-1/2 years, in a partnership between the City of Chicago which owned the building, The National Society of The Colonial Dames of America in the State of Illinois which agreed to furnish the house to the time period, and the Chicago Architecture Foundation which would operate the tours in conjunction with Glessner House Museum, which they owned and operated at the time.  Robert Furhoff undertook an extensive analysis of the interior of the house, uncovering original paint layers and wallpapers which were replicated in the restoration.  One of the most significant projects was the recreation of the east portico, based on the one historic photograph that survived showing the house during the occupancy of the Clarke family, dating to the mid-1860s.

The house opened to the public as an historic house museum in 1982.  In 2004, additional restoration work was completed including the recreation of the matching portico on the west side of the house.

Photos courtesy of Clarke House Museum.

Monday, August 11, 2014

House Moving Part II: Clarke House, 1872

Clarke House at its original location on the east side
of Michigan Avenue in the 1860s
(Courtesy of Clarke House Museum)

The move of the Clarke House to its current location in 1977 is well documented.  This, of course, was the second time the house had been moved.  In this article, we will examine the first move of the house in the spring of 1872.

After the death of Caroline Clarke in January 1860, her children continued to reside in the house.  This included daughter Mary, and her husband Frank Williams, who moved back into the house so that Mary could care for her younger siblings.  The Great Chicago Fire in October 1871 spared the house and surrounding neighborhood, but within months, the family decided to sell the family homestead.

The three acres of land on the east side of Michigan Avenue south of 16th Street on which the house stood were sold to St. Paul’s Universalist Church.  Their building had been lost in the Fire, and like many congregations, they were looking to rebuild farther from downtown and within the growing residential district on the south side.  The house itself was sold to John Chrimes, a tailor, who also purchased an empty lot nearly four miles to the south at 4526 S. Wabash Avenue on to which he would move his house.

St. Paul's Universalist Church, built on the
original site of Clarke House

The house had been a prominent and familiar landmark in Chicago since the time it was built in 1836.  As such, its relocation was the source of great interest, and the Chicago Tribune published a lengthy article about the history of the house and the period in which it was built.  Excerpts of that article entitled “The Clarke House.  Another Old Landmark About to Pass Away,” published May 26, 1872 follow.

“Thirty-six years ago Henry B. Clarke was building a $10,000 house on the southern lake shore.  It was a great feather in the cap of the South Division, then very much crowed over and overslaughed by the domineering North Side.

“So it was timely and helpful, from a South Side point of view, that Henry B. Clarke commenced his ten thousand dollar house on the lake shore.  The house, so long a landmark is now being removed to give place to a stylish city church, that of St. Paul’s Universalist Society, which is to adorn the east side of Michigan avenue, in the block between Sixteenth and Eighteenth streets.

“The Clarke homestead originally fronted east, looking out on the lake.  A picket fence and a cordon of tall poplars made the inclosure, of which the entrance was near what would now be the extension of Prairie avenue.

“And now the Clarke home is to be replaced by the Universalist Church, that twenty years ago was in the residence suburbs of the city on Washington street, between Dearborn and Clark.”

In the mid-1850s, when improvements were made to the house, the west facing side of the house became the main entrance to face Michigan Avenue, and a large portico, to match the original east facing portico, was constructed.  In preparation for the move, both of these porticos were removed.  A second lengthy article in the Chicago Tribune dated June 9, 1872 and entitled “The Clarke House. Discovery of Interesting Papers” detailed the discovery of a time capsule Henry B. Clarke had placed inside one of the columns as the east portico was being completed in January 1839.  The article read in part:

“When Henry B. Clarke was building the Clarke House, the well-known landmark, now on its way to Forty-seventh street from its site, since 1836, on Michigan avenue, at Eighteenth street, it will be remembered, from our recent sketch, that the crash of 1837 had some influence in the way of postponing the completion of the structure, and it was not until the winter of 1838-9 that Mr. Clarke finished the handsome full portico on his east front.  It was not for many years later, until Michigan avenue was opened in the rear of the house, that this portico was exactly repeated on the west, and, as it proved subsequently, principal front.

“Upon the sustaining core timber of one of the large fluted columns, it has, within a few days past, been discovered that Mr. Clarke spiked solidly, with two tenpenny nails driven straight through the package, a bundle of papers that now, for the first time in over thirty-three years, has seen the light of day.  The location was high and dry, and all the papers are as bright and clear as on the day they were wrapped up in this memorial.  It may be readily imagined that the Clarke family opened these papers with a vast deal of interest.  The packet consists of manuscript, currency, a tax-receipt, family memoranda, a memorial to Martin Van Buren, and a selection of newspapers of the day.

“In Chicago, since these tenpenny nails were driven, on a prairie, with scarcely 2,000 inhabitants, the children named in the Clarke family memoranda have lived to see a city of 300,000 send its outposts six miles below their once isolated suburban home.  Why will not the house-builders of to-day imitate the excellent example of Henry B. Clarke, and seek some means for the preservation of our current memoranda? . . . Mr. Clarke’s package has taken its place in the family archives as a relic it will not be easy to equal in interest or value.”

The items enclosed included a letter recommending Clarke’s appointment for the office of “receiver of Public Monies at the Land Office in Chicago, in the event of a vacancy occurring in that office.”  Clarke also included a tax receipt showing that he had paid his taxes in the amount of $7.50 for the year 1838.  A handwritten memorandum listed the members of the Clarke family along with a notation “My dislike for paper-promises to pay, I desire to be known.  I inclose one of the coots.” 

This latter statement referred to a $5.00 paper bank note issued by the Kirkland Safety Society of Kirkland, Ohio – the Mormon financial institution of Joseph Smith.  The notes had been issued in connection with the construction of the Mormon’s $60,000 Kirkland temple, but not being backed by hard currency, were rejected by Chicago banks and merchants. 

The house after its move to 4526 S. Wabash Avenue
with members of the Chrimes family in the foreground
(Courtesy of Clarke House Museum)

The house was placed on its new foundation in June 1872.  There were a few significant changes to the house as a result of the move.  The new foundation was a bit taller than the original, as indicated by the fact that the front entrance was reached by a flight of eleven steps, as opposed to eight as originally built.  In addition, the two porticoes were not rebuilt at the new site; they were replaced by open porches, and small entry vestibules were constructed at both ends of the main hall.  And the house was painted brown.  The most interesting change involved the orientation of the house.  Since it now sat on the west side of the street, the original east facade once again became the main front entrance for the house.  Three generations of the Chrimes family occupied the house until it was sold in 1941.

Next week:  The second move of the Clarke House in 1977

Monday, August 4, 2014

Moving a House on Prairie Avenue - 1891

The subject house where it was stopped on
Prairie Avenue just south of Twenty-first Street

The landmark Harriet F. Rees house, designed by Cobb & Frost, was built at 2110 S. Prairie Avenue in 1888.  Later this month, plans call for lifting the four-story masonry structure off of its original foundation and relocating it one block to the north where a new foundation will be prepared at 2017 S. Prairie Avenue.  All of this is being done in preparation for construction of the new DePaul Arena which will occupy the entire block on which the house currently sits.

Although the idea of moving a house is intimidating, the practice was actually quite common in the late 19th century.   In 1891, another house was moved along the 2100 block of Prairie Avenue and the episode created quite a stir amongst the residents at the time.  The long forgotten controversy is recorded for posterity in two articles published in the Chicago Tribune that year.

On September 14, 1891, the Tribune reported the situation in an article entitled “Prairie Avenue Residents Up In Arms – A House-Mover’s Disrespect for Stately Old Elm Trees.”  In this particular situation, Prairie Avenue was merely being used as the route between the original site of the house on Michigan Avenue and its new site at 46th Street and Indiana Avenue.  The article read:

“A dilapidated wreck of an old frame house completely blockades Prairie avenue, so far as traffic concerned, just south of Twenty-first street.  It has been standing there, covered with dirt and cobwebs, a very beggar of a house among the handsome residences of John B. Sherman, P. D. Armour, Eugene S. Pike, R. W. Roloson, M. M. Rothschild, and Mrs. E. J. Kimball, for the last three days.  It would have been out of this neighborhood long ago, but Mr. Armour, Mr. Pike, et al. will not permit it.  Not that they admire the old hulk, but they do not desire to have the stately old elms in front of their homes ruined.

“It had hardly passed Twenty-first street before a number of branches of the trees in front of Mr. Pike’s residence, No. 2101 Prairie Avenue, were broken off.  It is still jammed hard against the limb of another of Mr. Pike’s trees, where it was stopped by order of the Street Department in response to angry remonstrances of Phillip D. Armour of No. 2115.  Mr. Armour didn’t want to have his trees torn down by the building and he called on Commissioner Aldrich to protest against the further progress of the house in that direction.  Superintendent of Street Obstructions Bell ordered the house-mover to take the house down Twenty-first street to some street where it will cause less trouble.

“The building is owned by Tim Keefe, and was being taken from No. 1833 Michigan avenue by Building Mover William Kruger.  The permit was issued Aug. 15 to expire Aug. 31 and he did not secure its renewal until Sept. 11, a day after the injury to Mr. Pike’s trees was done.  The permit was for a house twenty-two feet wide, but one of the residents of the avenue who went to the trouble of measuring the building found that it is twenty-nine feet four inches wide, while the street is but thirty-two feet from curb to curb.

“’The City of Chicago,’ he declared, ‘had grown so large that we should no longer permit the removal of frame buildings over our streets.’” 

This photograph shows where the house was stopped during its move.  Shown from left to right are the houses of Max Rothschild (2112), Harriet Rees (2110), Mark Kimball (2108), John B. Sherman (2100) and Ebenezer Buckingham (2036).  The image dates to the early 1890s, so may well show the trees after they were damaged by the house move.

Troubles continued for Mr. Keefe, the owner of the house in question, as indicated by a second article entitled “Objects to Official Interference” which appeared six weeks later on October 27, 1891:

“Thomas H. Keefe bought a frame house at No. 1833 Michigan avenue, and hired William Kruger, a house mover, to transfer the building to Forty-sixth street and Indiana avenue.  The Street Department gave permission to move the house along Prairie avenue, but at Twenty-sixth street objections were made, and the building was turned back and sent down a side street.  Since then Keefe says progress has been stopped every few blocks by either the police or other city officers, and the building now blocks traffic on Forty-sixth street within a stone’s throw of its destination.  Yesterday Keefe and Kruger went into the Superior Court and sought to restrain further interference by asking an injunction against J. Frank Aldrich, Hempstead Washburne, Richard W. McClaughry, Nicholas Hunt, James E. Burke, and the city.”

No further information appears in the Tribune about the house, but presumably it was soon after moved the last few feet to its new location on Indiana Avenue, and the matter was finally put to rest.   

Next week:  The first move of the Henry B. Clarke house in 1872

Monday, July 28, 2014

July 28, 1914: The Start of World War I

Serbian troops at the outbreak of the war

Today marks the 100th anniversary of the start of World War I, known at the time as the World War or the Great War, or in the United States initially as the European War.  Triggered by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria one month earlier, the conflict began on July 28th when the Austro-Hungarians fired the first shots in anticipation of their invasion of Serbia.   By the time of the armistice on November 11, 1918, more than 16 million soldiers and civilians had been killed and four empires – German, Russian, Ottoman, and Austro-Hungarian – ceased to exist. 

The Glessner journal, by this time being written by John Glessner, contains numerous references to the start of the war, as well as letters from friends and family who were in Europe at the time.  We present a few excerpts to provide insight to the reactions of these individuals, who, of course, had no way of knowing they were witnessing the beginnings of a war that would last more than four years.

Nathalie Sieboth Kennedy

The first letter was written from Milan, Italy on August 2, 1914 by Nathalie Sieboth Kennedy, the paid reader for Mrs. Glessner’s Monday Morning Reading Class.   She wrote, in part:

“We were ordered out of Austria yesterday, and after a pretty rough journey arrived here where everything is still at peace, but we are told we cannot go on to Switzerland as we expected to do.  I feel that we are safe personally, having our passports and being American citizens, but that is about all I am sure of.  Every man in Austria was ordered to report for service: every waiter, every porter, every proprietor under old age.  Even the horses were requisitioned and we had to walk to the station and have our luggage carried by hand.  The scenes of confusion were indescribable at the station, as they had been for two days in the town.  All the women had red eyes from weeping, and the departing men were sad and serious. . . So far, Italy has not taken steps to break her neutrality but, of course, she is the ally of Austria and Germany, and may be made to maintain it.  Tomorrow morning we shall consult the American consul as to what we had better do.”

Frederick Stock

The Glessners also received several letters from their dear friend Frederick Stock, conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, who was returning from Europe when the war broke out.  Stock was most apprehensive because his wife and daughter Vera were still in Europe and he worried for their safety.  The war would have an enormous impact on Stock’s life and career.  He was still a German citizen, and in the wave of anti-German feelings that swelled as the war progressed, he was ultimately forced to step down as conductor of the orchestra in 1918 when numerous patrons and supporters made it clear they did not wish to support an orchestra led by a German conductor. 

In a letter to Mrs. Glessner, written in Boston and dating to early August 1914, Stock noted:

“Up to the present I am still without any definite news regarding Mrs. Stock and Vera’s whereabouts; I presume that they are in Switzerland, and hope they are, because there they would be fairly comfortable and safe.  I tried to get in touch with them through my music agent in Berlin, sent several cables to different places in Switzerland, etc. etc. but so far no reply has reached me.  I hope everything is all right with them. . . It will take a few more days for me to get over one of the worst experiences I ever faced, and this, together with an overdose of anxiety and disappointment has put my mind into a rather gloomy frame.  I feel as ‘blue’ and sad as the saddest of all ‘poles’, our good friend Paderewski, for I am afraid that the end of the German Empire is at hand.”

In a letter dated August 29 from the Hotel Puritan in Boston, Stock notified Mrs. Glessner that he had received word that his wife and daughter were safe and hoped to sail shortly for the U.S.:

“Let me begin this by telling you that at last I have had news from Mrs. Stock; a cable arrived yesterday, notifying me that they expect to sail from Rotterdam, that they were in need of money, which she wanted me to cable to her care of American Express co., Rotterdam.  I think that they will try to sail from Rotterdam at first chance, and I am glad of it.  Isn’t this war the most frightful thing imaginable, and does it not seem to get worse from day to day!  What will the end be!”

Other letters reported the return of various members of the symphony, many of whom had travelled to Europe for the summer.  The good news of the safe return of Mrs. Stock and daughter Vera was conveyed to Mrs. Glessner in a letter from New York City dated October 3:

“Just a line or two to say that Mrs. Stock and Vera arrived yesterday from Rotterdam; they both look well, and of course are more than glad to be back again; both send their best wishes to you and Mr. Glessner and regret very much that the delayed arrival makes it impossible for them to pay you a visit at The Rocks, as they very much should like to do. . .  They suffered but very little inconveniences in Europe on account of the war, and could not tell me enough of the wonderful spirit among the German people in all the towns they passed through on their way to Rotterdam.  In Cologne, for instance, they were having concerts, opera, everything quite as usual, people crowded restaurants and cafes, and there was nothing else but the greatest confidence and enthusiasm for the German cause, and they were greatly surprised over the attitude of our American newspapers, which they cannot understand.  Let’s hope that the whole business soon will end, one way or the other, it’s a terrible strain on ones nerves.”

George B. Glessner

John Glessner’s brother, George, was staying at the Hotel Konigsvilla in Carlsbad, Austria when war broke out.  In a letter dated July 29, just one day after the war began, he reported:

“The announcement of Austria’s position towards Serbia, and the calling out of the Bohemian troops on Sunday last, together with Cook & Sons bulletin especially, Monday afternoon that trains for Berlin and Vienna would cease on Wednesday 29th, and for Paris and also to Ostend (the latter our route and for which our tickets have been purchased for leaving Aug. 6th to London), on Thursday the 30th, threw Frank into quite a panic and he was for immediately getting out of town, or into Germany, the very next day and out of this country, and to England as soon as possible.  My arguments to the contrary did not avail much . . . If matters came to the worst my suggestion was to get Mr. Chalmers to send us and our trunks in his automobile, if necessary, to Eger, 15 to 25 miles off – which is on the border and in Germany – where we get our through train anyhow, or hire a machine to do it.  It seems that, to mobilize the Austrian and Bohemian troops etc. it is necessary to annul the passenger trains for 2-3 or 4 days.”

George Glessner was still in Carlsbad as of August 12 when he wrote a letter to his other brother, William:

“We are still unable to leave here, and, if we could, would not know where to go for probably every seaport is now closed, or, would be, if we could reach any of them soon. . . Our present hope of leaving Europe and going home depends upon what arrangements the American Government can make with the different countries to open some free ports for ships to sail under the American flag – which ships it must send over for us – and also obtain railroad service and safe conduct of us Americans through to some open port to take us home.  For 10 days or more all the railroads have been used almost entirely for the mobilization of troops, but that must be nearly finished now.  Our Consul, the Ambassadors at Berlin and Vienna have tried, but, so far failed, to charter or get special trains to take the Americans to some open ports.  Pass this letter on to brother John when you have read it.”

A newspaper clipping from the Ohio newspaper, the Springfield Daily Sun, dated August 22, 1914, pasted into the journal, indicated that George Glessner was still in Carlsbad as of that date.  The headline of the article reads:

“GLESSNER – Safe in Carlsbad Reports Chicago Man – THOUSANDS ARE HELD – In Austrian Resort With No Means of Escape”

The report was provided by William J. Chalmers of Chicago, mentioned in George Glessner’s letter above, who arrived in London on August 21 after a sixteen day motor trip from Carlsbad to Buch.  After a lengthy description of his harrowing journey, the article concludes with the following:

“George Glessner, of this city, who is said to be in Carlsbad, according to William J. Chalmers, makes his home at the Arcade hotel.  At one time he was a member of the Warder, Bushnell and Glessner company.  For some time he has been travelling abroad.”

On August 27, John Glessner noted that “word came that my brother George had reached London.”  A letter sent from London September 1 provided additional details:

“This is the day we expected to arrive in Boston on the S.S. Amerika, but we now hope to sail next Saturday, the 5th, on the Menominee of the Atlantic Transport Line – a small 5800 ton steamer, slow, but considered a good, safe, smooth-sailing vessel – leaving Tillbury Docks on the Thames and landing in New York in about 10 days time.  All cabins are called first-class.  Most of the steamers of this line carry cattle, and consequently are steady, and have only first class cabins.”

Elizabeth Glessner (far right) with her siblings John, Frances, and Emily
and their maternal grandmother Elizabeth Hamlin, c. 1914

Violette Scharff's villa in Lausanne, Switzerland

Perhaps the Glessners’ greatest concern was for their 14-year-old granddaughter, Elizabeth Glessner, who had gone to spend the summer in Switzerland with Violette Scharff, Fanny's paid companion in the 1880s and 1890s.  Elizabeth and Miss Scharff sailed from New York on July 2, 1914.  There are no letters from Elizabeth, so not as much is known about how the war impacted her stay in Switzerland, but a journal entry dated August 27 indicated “Word came that Elizabeth would sail from Rotterdam for home on Saturday.”  On September 3, John Glessner noted “Alice and Mrs. Hamlin (her mother) went to New York by train to meet Elizabeth returning from Europe.”  The next day he wrote, “Wireless message came from Elizabeth that her steamer, Rotterdam, will dock in New York today.”

Monday, July 21, 2014

Maier and Pattison, the "Piano Twins"

As two of the most ardent supporters of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra from the times of its inception in 1891, John and Frances Glessner were afforded the privilege of meeting many of the greatest composers and performers of their day.  A tradition that evolved under the conductorship of Frederick Stock was for these musicians to dine with the Glessners on Friday evening, when in town performing with the Orchestra.  During the 1920s, the famous two-piano team of Maier and Pattison were invited guests at 1800 S. Prairie Avenue on at least three occasions. 

Lee Pattison was born on July 22, 1890 in Grand Rapids, Wisconsin and studied piano under Carl Baermann (a pupil of Franz Liszt) at the prestigious New England Conservatory of Music in Boston.  Upon his graduation in 1910, he was offered a position on the faculty.  Guy Maier was born on August 15, 1891 in Buffalo, New York.  Showing talent at an early age, he also enrolled at the New England Conservatory of Music where he, too, studied under Baermann, and became acquainted with Lee Pattison.  After his graduation in 1913, the two set out for Europe where they studied under the eminent pianist Arthur Schnabel in Berlin.  They returned to Boston in 1914, and Maier made his solo debut as a concert pianist soon after.

After hearing a two-piano performance by Harold Bauer and Ossip Gabrilowitsch (both of whom would also later be guests of the Glessners), Maier and Pattison began to perform together with two-piano compositions and arrangements.  During World War I, Maier volunteered with the YMCA as an entertainer and Pattison joined the infantry, and they continued to perform together, giving two-piano recitals for the American troops in Paris.  After the armistice in 1918, they performed at a recital in Paris that was attended by both President Woodrow Wilson and the French Premier Georges Clemenceau.  They returned to the United States and began concertizing extensively across the country playing classical works written for two pianos as well as writing two-piano arrangements of other works.  Pioneers in acoustic recording, they produced numerous popular recordings for the Victor Talking Machine Company.  Their reputation grew through the 1920s and they were dubbed the “Piano Twins.”

Chicago Tribune, February 10, 1924

Frances Glessner recorded that Guy Maier and Lee Pattison were guests for dinner in their Prairie Avenue home on February 15, 1924.  The Piano Twins were in Chicago to perform Bach’s Concerto for three pianos with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the third pianist being Arthur Shattuck (also a frequent guest at the Glessner home).  It was the first performance of the Bach concerto by the symphony.  In addition, Maier and Pattison performed another work, Carl Philip Emanuel Bach’s Concerto for two pianos, the score of which they were said to have discovered in the basement of a Chicago music store the previous fall.  They also performed a new work, “King Estmere,” by Leo Sowerby, based on an old English ballad of the same name. 

On February 16, 1924, the Chicago Tribune music critic Edward Moore wrote the following about Maier and Pattison’s performance:

“Out of a considerable cargo of two and three piano music of the oldest and newest composers, each item a first performance on the Chicago Symphony orchestra programs, two facts swung into plain view at Orchestra hall yesterday afternoon.  One is that Leo Sowerby belongs in the front row of modern composers.  The other is that Guy Maier and Lee Pattison in conjunction with Frederick Stock and the orchestra make an ideal combination to show where he is.”

Maier and Pattison were guests of the Glessners again on May 13, 1925.  Although they were not performing with the orchestra at the time, they were in Chicago as Pattison was teaching masters classes at the Gunn School of Music, located in the Fine Arts Building, 410 S. Michigan Avenue.

The “Piano Twins” returned to Chicago in March 1928 as part of a national tour, performing a recital at the Studebaker Theater on March 11 and then with the Chicago Symphony later in the month.  Of the Studebaker recital, Tribune music critic Hazel Moore wrote:

“Maier and Pattison, those famous duo artists of the piano, timed their recital at the Studebaker theater yesterday afternoon to ride in on the pianistic wave of the last few days.  That the wave had not subsided was amply shown by the large audience that greeted their coming.

“Excepting for the presence of Belle Tannenbaum Friedman, who ably assisted from a third piano the Bach concerto in D minor for three pianos, their program was of the general variety and quality that these artists always choose.

“The familiar Mozart sonata in D major sparkled lightly on its way, the Bach already mentioned was clearly welcome, and the Stravinsky ‘Three Little Pieces,’ written for teacher and pupil, in which Mr. Pattison would impersonate the teacher and Mr. Maier the pupil, were entirely amusing.  Mr. Pattison was an exacting teacher and Mr. Maier a pat pupil.  Certainly they were Stravinsky in facetious mood.

“Quite another mood was that of Henry Eichheim’s ‘Siamese Sketch,’ written for this pair of seekers for the light of new music.  Perhaps it was a little long, but the mood and the bells, no clear, now blurred and mingled with other sounds of the orient, were there.  Mr. Maier’s clever arrangement of the two Chopin etudes, the familiar ‘Butterfly’ and ‘Black Key’ etudes, was received with the delighted applause that it deserves.  The wave of the Maier and Pattison popularity is a long one, with no rocks ahead.”

Chicago Tribune, March 24, 1928

They dined with the Glessners on March 23, 1928, the same date they began their weekend performances with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  Those concerts included a performance of Mozart’s E flat concerto and a reprise of the Sowerby “King Estmere” that they had first performed with the orchestra four years earlier.

In 1931, the pair embarked on a farewell tour of the United States and pursued separate careers, although they did appear together again March 1937 during a reunion concert on the stage of the Works Progress Administration Theatre of Music in New York.

Maier gave recitals for children at schools, coupled with his “musical travelogues,” sometimes as a soloist, and at times with his wife, Lois, also a talented pianist.  Of these concerts, the Los Angeles Times reported, “He is not only clever as a pianist, but the way he keeps the attention of a grammar-school audience of squirming, tired-at-the-end-of-the-day youngsters is nothing short of miraculous.  It is all fun to him and he makes the children ‘see into’ the music he plays with brief and witty words.”  He taught at the University of Michigan for ten years beginning in 1921, and later taught at the Juilliard School in New York, and the University of California at Los Angeles, also writing regular monthly columns for the musical publication The Etude.  In 1937, he was appointed the regional director of the WPA music project in New York, a position held by Pattison two years earlier.  The Sherwood Music School in Chicago awarded him an honorary doctorate in 1940.  He died in Santa Monica, California on September 24, 1956.

Pattison performed as a soloist and also with the violinist Jacques Gordon and the Gordon String Quartet.  In addition to composing and arranging classical works for piano, two pianos, voice, and choral groups, he taught at Sarah Lawrence College and Columbia University.  In New York, he also served as the General Director of the American Lyric Theatre and as manager of the spring 1937 season of the Metropolitan Opera.  In 1941, he was appointed Professor of Music at Scripps College in Claremont, California, a position he held until he retirement in 1962.  The trustees later named the Lee Pattison Recital Hall in his honor.  He died on December 22, 1966 in Claremont.

Monday, July 14, 2014

The Second Chicago Fire - July 14, 1874

Aerial view of Chicago in 1874
Burnt district shown left of center

Today marks the 140th anniversary of the forgotten second Chicago Fire of 1874.  That fire began about 3:30pm on Tuesday, July 14th with the first alarm raised near the northeast corner of Clark and 12th Street (now Roosevelt Road).  The point of origin was a small wooden shanty and barn occupied by a Jewish immigrant, Nathan Isaacson, located next to an oil factory.  By the time the fire stopped around 10:00pm, approximately 60 acres in the “South Division” of downtown, which had escaped the Fire of 1871, had been totally destroyed, causing nearly $5 million in damage. 

The “Great Fire” was still fresh in people’s minds, and this second fire was a reminder that the threat of fire was very real.  At the same time, there was a general feeling that, although the fire brought hardship for many, it also rid the city of a section that would continue to be susceptible to fire.  The account of the 1874 fire in the Chicago Tribune stated in part:

“It has come to complete in part the work left undone in 1871, and to scoop out of existence another broad belt of wooden buildings which menaced the new structures which have sprung up in the business quarter of the South Division.  It has shaken hands with the fire of 1871, and reaching the ground its predecessor conquered, has stopped, not satiate, and yet satisfied.  Well it may be for the palaces that line Madison street that yet another strip of brick and stone is to be piled up between them and the menacing frame structures that lie beyond, and yet we cannot help reflecting that this security of the future has brought by too great a sacrifice in the present.

“Nature said to us, ‘Beware of the repetition of 1871;’ but man, so cautioned just after a fire, is brutally heedless when its memory has faded away.  Even the insurance men, of all others most sensitive to the approach of such a calamity, seemed to have no forebodings that there was no special vigilance, no particular care, against possible disaster.”

The circumstances surrounding the 1874 fire were similar to the first – dry conditions, a “fatal southwest wind,” and an abundance of wooden buildings to fuel the conflagration.   The 1871 fire resulted in new regulations being implemented which prohibited the construction of any wooden buildings in the area bounded by 22nd Street on the south, the Chicago River on the north, Halsted Street on the west, and Lake Michigan on the east.  However, wooden buildings standing within those boundaries at the time were, of course, allowed to remain, and temporary wooden structures could be built until more permanent structures were completed.  The “temporary” buildings were to be razed within a year of construction, but they often remained standing much longer.

The section of the city burned in the 1874 fire was immediately south of the downtown core rebuilt after the earlier fire but could not have been more different in character.  A Tribune described a portion of the area as follows:

“The fire commenced in that portion of the city known as Cheyenne, between Taylor and Twelfth and Clark street, and Fourth avenue (now Federal).  This part of the city consists of the worst rookeries imaginable, most of which are occupied as houses of ill-fame.”

It was estimated that nearly 500 prostitutes were left homeless as a result of the fire.  In addition to the “houses of ill-fame” which quickly reestablished themselves south of 18th Street (in the area that would soon evolve into the infamous Levee), the neighborhood was home to many poor immigrants, including Eastern Europeans and Jews, and was also the center of a small but growing community of African-Americans.  Wabash Avenue had been a fine upper-class residential street, and many larger homes and churches remained, but the character of the street was changing rapidly as the original residents and congregations moved to the district farther to the south in and around Prairie Avenue.

The First Baptist Church on Wabash Avenue was the most prominent building
destroyed in the 1874 fire; although the building was only ten years old,
the congregation was already considering a move farther south

Wabash Avenue north from Peck Court (now 8th Street)
This section of the avenue was destroyed in the fire

Wabash Avenue south from Eldredge Court (now 9th Street)
This section was spared in the fire

The Church of the Messiah on Wabash Avenue had been converted to a
carriage shop by the time it was destroyed in the fire of 1874

Map showing the 1874 burnt district in yellow
Area burnt in the 1871 fire shown in gray

The fire proceeded in a generally northeast direction from its point of origin to State Street where it continued north to three doors north of Van Buren.  (The fire stopped at this point, not because of the efforts of the Fire Department, but rather because it had reached the rebuilt section of the city, and the new stone and brick structures did not burn).  It extended as far east as Michigan Avenue for the half block north of Congress, but otherwise did not extend east beyond the alley between Michigan and Wabash Avenues as far south as Peck Court (now 8th Street).  From there the southern border of the burnt district followed a line heading southwest back to the point of origin, just missing St. Mary’s Catholic Church at Wabash and Eldredge Court (now 9th Street).

The former Wabash Avenue Methodist Episcopal Church 
at Harrison and State was used as the main post office after the fire in 1871;
it was destroyed in the 1874 fire

In the aftermath of the fire, there was a demand for additional reform to prevent another calamity of this scale from occurring again.  The Citizens’ Association of Chicago was formally chartered later that month with a Constitution that stated their purpose in part “to insure a most perfect administration in our municipal affairs; to promote the general welfare and prosperity of the city.”  The Association was largely responsible for revisions to the Fire Limits Ordinance which was expanded to encompass the entire city, and also worked closely with insurance companies to expedite settlements with property owners.

Chicago Fire Department officials, 1874

The Fire Department was highly criticized during the 1874 fire and there had been unresolved issues ever since the Great Fire three years earlier.  The Citizens’ Association brought General Alexander Shaler to Chicago to aid in remedying this situation.  Shaler, a decorated Civil War veteran, had served as the head of the New York City Fire Department from 1867 to 1873, and his visit to Chicago brought about important reforms in the management of the Department as well as restoring public confidence.

NOTE:  Nathan Isaacson, the “Mrs. O’Leary” of the 1874 fire was arrested and charged with arson, but was never found guilty.  The account of his trial would seem to indicate that he was the innocent victim of racial prejudice against the Jewish residents of the neighborhood.

Monday, July 7, 2014

The Chicago Museum, Part II

In our article from June 23, 2014 we examined the history of the first “Chicago Museum” which opened in December 1874.  In this installment, we shall examine the career of its architect, Thomas Tilley, as well as the second Chicago Museum.

Architect Thomas Tilley was born in Cambridgshire, England in 1834 and came to Chicago at the age of three in 1837 with his mother, who had been recently widowed.  She remarried, and Tilley grew to adulthood on a farm at Northfield.  By 1856, he had established himself as a carpenter and builder, headquartered on Fulton Street.  He travelled extensively in the South teaching architectural drawing and stair building until the start of the Civil War when he returned to Chicago.

In 1862 he enlisted in the Third Board of Trade Regiment, and as a result of severe exposure suffered months of illness, which resulted in paralysis and his subsequent discharge and return to Chicago.  After he recovered, he resumed his building business, forming a partnership with J. M. Armstrong known as Tilley and Armstrong.  By 1866, he abandoned building and focused solely on architecture.  He entered several prominent competitions including those for the War Department building in Washington D.C., the State Capitols in Illinois and Iowa, and for the wings of the County Courthouse in Chicago.  Among his early works was the Dearborn Street Theatre, which was lost in the fire of 1871.  Tilley formed a new partnership with William Longhurst in the spring of 1871; they lost everything in the Chicago Fire.  Immediately they moved into the Nixon building, the only building remaining standing in downtown, and they were quickly inundated with business.  They designed many buildings constructed in the burnt district prior to the dissolution of the partnership in 1872.

Late in 1872, Tilley began to work on his design for the new County Courthouse which was submitted in March 1873 as part of a major competition.  Nearly twenty plans were submitted including those by Burling and Adler, William LeBaron Jenney, Henry Lord Gay, Wheelock and Thomas, and Armstrong and Egan.  Tilley’s plan, known as the Eureka plan and illustrated above, won third prize in the competition and Tilley was given the commission over Otto Matz, who had submitted the winning design.  Tilley however was asked to make significant modifications to his design, which he estimated would cost $2.8 million.  He drew up specifications for the excavation and supervised the beginning of construction.

In August 1873, the Chicago City Council adopted Tilley’s plan for their half of the new complex.  In what became a very complicated ordeal, Tilley was ultimately removed as architect for both halves of the building.  James J. Egan, whose design did not win a prize in the County competition, was named architect for the county building, and John Van Osdel was hired as architect of the new City Hall, which was designed to match Egan’s building.  By the time the entire building was complete, the cost surpassed $4 million.  Tilley sued the city in 1880 and was awarded one-third of his total fees, amounting to $13,000.

It was in 1874 that Tilley was given the commission for the first Chicago Museum.  Tilley remained active as an architect for several years following, and in spite of his considerable output, no buildings of his are known to be standing today.  He died in 1908 just before his 74th birthday.

The new Chicago Museum was announced in an article in the Chicago Tribune on November 18, 1883.  No indication was given that it was connected with the first Chicago Museum in any way other than in a common name.  The opening was scheduled for November 26th, with the enterprise located in McCormick Hall.  That building was constructed in 1873 from plans by W. W. Boyington and stood at the northeast corner of Clark Street and Kinzie Street.  The frame structure measured 80 by 120 feet and was four stories in height, with full basement.  (Although it was built after the Fire, it was a frame structure as the new fire regulations forbidding frame construction did not extend north of the river until 1874).

The article announcing the opening provided potential visitors with a view of what they might expect when they visited:

“The new museum which is to open Monday, Nov. 26, at McCormick Hall, will occupy nearly all of the building, with the main entrance on the ground floor.  It seems that it is not be a low-priced institution, but a regular legitimate museum, with its own dramatic company and orchestra, and two regular performances daily.  The auditorium as remodeled is one of the largest and most commodious of any museum in the world, containing about 1,800 folding opera-chairs, elegant stage appointments, etc.  The means of exit in case of fire are excellent.  The company has already been secured, the orchestra engaged, and many of the curiosities are already here, rendering it certain that the opening will positively take place Monday evening, Nov. 26.  The main entrance is being beautifully decorated.  Sixteen electric lights are being placed in position inside and outside the building, and large pictorial signs will nearly cover the whole outside of the building within a day or two.  Mr. W. C. Coup, who built the hippodrome and aquarium in New York, and has an established reputation as a circus-owner and manager, has never been connected with anything but large enterprises, and his name at the head of the venture indicates that Chicago will have in the new museum one of character and magnitude.” 

A second article, which appeared in the Tribune the day before the opening provided further information:

“Those people who have visited old McCormick Hall will be greatly surprised at the change it has undergone if they visit it when it is reopened as the Chicago Museum by Messrs. Coup & Uffner. . . The front of this store has been torn out and the entrance partition set back about twenty feet, while the rotunda thus formed has been tastefully decorated.  In the centre of the entrance partition is the box-office, and on either side are swinging double doors leading into the first exhibition hall, which occupies the entire length of the store and is filled with glass cases of various things belonging to the collection of Prof. Worth. 

“Leading up from this is a wide is a wide stairway into the second exhibition hall, on the second floor, where the human curiosities will be shown and the lectures delivered.  Off from this are two other exhibition halls, a chamber of horrors, and the museum offices.  The museum occupies the entire second floor with the exception of two or three offices on the Clark street side, which will be acquired in time.

“Two wide stairways, one on either side of the building, lead up to the auditorium, and here the changes made are most apparent.  The shallow platform from which local orators have been used to spout politics has been changed into a roomy stage, fitted up with well-painted scenery and accessories.  A neat proscenium area has been erected, and on either side of the stage are five dressing-rooms, fitted up with all conveniences. 

“It is proposed to put upon the Clark-street front of the building a sign, bearing the word ‘Museum,’ which occupies 3,000 square feet of canvas, and to put between the windows all around the building immense pictures of curiosities.”

The museum was well received by the public, and over 10,000 people attended performances there during the first week.  The newspapers were filled with regular advertisements for various performances and “curiosities.”  An example is the illustration above depicting “Sir Alex. Cooper, The Great English Giant” with the challenge “Here I stand, the tallest man on Earth!  The $100 bill is yours if you can reach it.”

In March 1884, one particular curiosity attracted a great deal of attention:

“Barnum’s Old Woolly Horse – Manager W. C. Coup, of the Chicago Museum, has secured what is claimed to be the original woolly horse which did a great deal to build up Barnum’s reputation as a showman.  The animal is said to be 43 years of age, and certainly looks it.  Of a light bay, the horse’s hair all over his body is from three to seven inches in length, and it curls in a manner which gives the brute a very bulky appearance.  His mane and tail will be decked out with colored ribbons, and he will be placed on exhibition at the museum today.  This is the same horse so well advertised and exhibited by Barnum many years ago.”

Other attractions during 1884 included a baby show, where babies were put on display and visitors could vote in many different categories.  A “Bazaar of Nations” featured people from remote corners of the world placed on display in native costume for all to see.  Advertisements for the Museum continued on a regular basis through 1885 but it closed soon after and by mid-1886, the building was occupied by the Casino Theater.  In October 1889, H. R. Jacobs' Clark Street Theater opened in the building.  It was subsequently known as the Kinzie, Star, Victoria, and American Theater, and final Sid Euson's Burlesque House.  Euson closed the theater in 1910 at which time he became a Christian Science practitioner.  The building was subsequently torn down and replaced with a parking lot.

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