It’s official. Today is the 186th birthday of the City of Chicago. Must be.
It says it right there on the official
seal, “Incorporated March 4, 1837.” Well, that just makes it the birthday of an official municipal incarnation. Other
dates could also be the occasion for breaking out the birthday cake, depending on your
taste.
The City, being the City, of course
prefers the date when the Illinois
General Assembly issued it official letter
or marque granting it exclusive
rights to legally fleece the
citizenry within its boundaries. In the good
ol’ days, say back in the reigns
of Jane Byrne or Daley the Younger the anniversary would
be the occasion of a massive party—fireworks, light
shows, parades, balls, celebrity stunts, the whole
nine yards.
But these are days the city is in a much
less expansive mood despite finally emerging from Coronavirus
pandemic shutdowns and isolation. Street crime is rife with shootings, car
jackings, and brazen gang robberies spilling out of the slums and ghettos and into previously “safe” white working class
neighborhoods, the Mag Mile, hip new shopping
districts, the gentrified neighborhoods filled with hipsters and young professionals. Just
this week a young Chicago Police
Department patrolman was shot and
killed in a shootout in public school playground
with children present.
Too familiar an image in 2023--Police conduct an investigation of a South Side homicide.
A bruising nine candidate mayoral
primary ended with Lori Lightfoot ousted—a remarkable outcome for the mayor who swept all fifty wards just
four years ago. Former school chief Paul Vallas,
a corporatist technocrat who
ran on crime scare and who struggles to convince voters he is really a Democrat, will duke out an April run-off
against Brandon Johnson, a Black Cook County Commissioner and former Chicago Teachers Union organizer. Vallas seems to be a heavy
favorite gobbling up endorsements and campaign funds unless
Johnson can unite the fractured Black vote, woo Latino voters who backed Congressman Chuy Garcia, and get the support of white liberals and progressives panicked by crime.
Sports
mad Chicago usually finds solace in
its favorite pro teams. But
all the major franchises are mired in mediocrity and rebuilding after dumping long-time heroes.
If you look hard enough, you can find events at Public Libraries, schools, and the Chicago History Museum. As far as I can tell there will be not dancing in the streets.
Chicago exists as an accident of geography. The area around the mouth of a short river feeding into a mighty lake
was a particularly unappealing boggy
mess. The area got its name from a French attempt at a Miami name for the place which has been
variously translated, most commonly
as stinking onion, which is probably
a good indication of what they
thought of the place.
None of the various tribes in the region
seem to have made the inhospitable
spot a permanent home. They saw it as somewhere on the way to somewhere else. The swamp,
it turned out, was a short portage
from streams connecting to the Father of Waters and a great inland sea and thus at the crossroads of a trading system
that encompassed half a continent.
This did not escape the attention of the venturesome
French. Louis Jolliet and Père
Jacques Marquette noted its usefulness.
The Jesuits 1696 even established one of their mission outposts in the area but were driven out by 1720 by tribal warfare while eastern Pottawatomi pushed the Sauk, Fox, and Miami west.
The first permanent settler that anyone knows about was Jean
Baptiste Point du Sable, a Black
man of murky origins—perhaps Haitian—who had previously been
living near what is now Crown Point, Indiana. During the Revolutionary War he was suspected
by both British and Colonial authorities of being a
spy. Indeed, he may have worked for both depending on their fluctuating fortunes. In
1790 he built a cabin,
cleared a small farm, and began a brisk trade with the
natives for furs. He stayed only
10 years, selling his land in 1800 and moving on to Missouri where
he died. Du Sable is thus credited
with having “founded” Chicago.
In 1804 the U.S. Army constructed Fort Dearborn on the site, a remote and exposed
outpost of the new nation in territory where the British were still
stirring up local tribes. How exposed became clear during the War of
1812. The post was ordered
evacuated but the most garrison, their families, and civilians
with them were massacred in ambush by the Pottawatomi on August 15,
1812. The event is commemorated as the first
of five stars on the Chicago flag.
After the war the Pottawatomi ceded their lands and the Army rebuilt the Fort in 1816. Now secure, a minor village grew up outside
its walls. The chief
character of the village was John
Kinzie. Kinzie had arrived as a trader/farmer in 1804 outside the
original fort. He escaped harm in the massacre by being on the lam at the time on murder
charge. He returned and was soon involved in the most American of occupations—land speculation.
The fort was abandoned on account of peace
breaking out with the natives for a while in the 1820’s,
then re-garrisoned following the
outbreak of war with the Winnebago. In the Black
Hawk War, it was reinforced with troops from the east
under General Winfield Scott. The troops brought cholera with them not only decimating
their own ranks but ravaging the civilian settlers in the neighborhood.
None the less, the village, usually
called after the Fort, thrived. In 1829
the General Assembly, recognizing the
potential ordered the area surveyed for a canal to link Lake Michigan with the Mississippi
drainage and incidentally to platt a town around the fort at the
mouth of the Chicago River.
Surveyor James Thompson filed his Platt on August 4, 1830, for the Town of Chicago.
On August 12, 1833, the Town of
Chicago was officially incorporated
with a population of 350.
It would not stay that small for
long. Eastern investors quickly realized that with the opening of the Erie Canal, the town became the terminal port for a long, but functional water trade route from New York. Sharpies began speculating on Chicago lots and ambitious men with an eye
out for a fast dollar got off the first steamboats unloading in the
village. Pretty soon the older
inhabitants would groan for the first time that perennial Chicago complaint—“There goes the neighborhood.”
Three years later the state upped Chicago’s status to City. By 1840 there were 4,000 residents jamming
bustling streets and the first waves of immigrants—Irish laborers brought in to build the canal to complete the connection of the inland water way—were shocking the sensibilities of established good citizens.
For the rest of the century despite
an epic fire and bloody class war, Chicago was the marvel of the world—the fastest growing city in the history of the planet.
So Happy Birthday, Chicago, warts
and all.
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