Professional Documents
Culture Documents
The Marseilles of
Lake Michigan
THEODORE J. KARAMANSKI
C
hicago’s nickname—before the “windy city,”
“the city that works,” or “the city with big
shoulders”—was the “Queen of the Lakes.”
In 1871, more ships arrived in Chicago than
in New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Baltimore,
Charleston, and Mobile combined. The port of Chicago
was the entrepot of the Great Lakes and one of the
greatest ports in the world. As a port city, Chicago grew
to prominence and its maritime industries shaped its
nineteenth-century character. Milwaukee and Racine,
Green Bay and Muskegon, and other ports of Lake
Michigan, while significant in their own right, took a
back seat to Chicago’s port in shipping on Lake
Michigan. Three-quarters of all cargoes shipped out of
Lake Michigan came from the Chicago harbor. Historian
James Parton accurately, if rather grandly, captured the
nature of this relationship when he referred to Chicago
as the “Marseilles of our Mediterranean.”
Chicago’s geographic position, where the prairie and
the lake meet, shaped the city’s economic destiny. The
schooner’s humble maritime technology allowed those
opportunities to be realized. Other types of sailing ships
frequented the port, but schooners—vessels with two or
more masts rigged with sails parallel to the hull of the
ship—outnumbered them all. The mast and sail arrange-
ment of the schooner made for a maneuverable vessel
that a small crew could man. Although steamboats fre-
quented Chicago after 1833, neither they nor the rail-
road dislodged schooners from their niche in interstate
commodity commerce. Schooners were to nineteenth-
century Chicago what tractor-trailer trucks are to today’s
city: ubiquitous, indispensable, and ignored, except
when they caused a traffic jam.
Nineteenth-century Chicago stood first and foremost Ships and grain elevators crowded the Chicago River in 1869 (left).
as a schooner port. Chicago’s enduring commodity mar- This 1892 view of the Chicago River entrance (below) shows stacks
kets grew from the city’s ability to provide cargoes for of lumber waiting to be shipped.
sailing ships. The need to manage the flow of scores of
ships daily, in and out of the Chicago River, challenged
the city’s young infrastructure. Supplying sailors, steve-
dores, drovers, and railroaders with shelter, refreshment,
and entertainment made Chicago the vice capital of the
lakes as well. Chicago’s status as a port contributed to
the city’s frantic, intense nineteenth-century image.
“Here on the shores of Lake Michigan,” wrote a much
impressed visitor, “has risen a great and growing city,
worthy to bear the title of the Empire City of the West.”
The key to the port of Chicago lay in the Chicago
River, which Theodore Dreiser praised as “the smallest
and busiest river in the world.” Dredging throughout
the nineteenth century, along the short main branch of
the river and up the north and south forks, increased
the port’s ample sheltered dockage. The Chicago River
wove its way through the heart of the city: ships could Some Chicagoans took foolish risks to avoid bridge
sail right up to grain elevators, lumberyards, or railroad delays. It became common for pedestrians to remain on
sidings; sailors could make a dash for hundreds of the bridges as they swung open, which reduced their
saloons and bordellos, or the YMCA and a complete delay somewhat, as they could at least walk to the other
range of churches. The river was the hub on which life end of the bridge while the ships were passing. Last-
revolved in nineteenth-century Chicago, but moving a minute leaps from the street to the turning bridge were a
hundred or more ships a day in and out of the bustling regular part of a nineteenth-century Chicagoan’s com-
city invited chaos. mute to work.
Above: Before the fire, the sturdy State Street Bridge boasted brick streets and a C. H. Dupee & Co. butcher stand. Below: A conglomeration
of cattle, horses, carriages, and cabs crowded downtown city bridges during rush hours.
Yesterday’s City | 43
Left: The opening of a bridge, such as
the Michigan Avenue Bridge shown
here, could tie up traffic considerably,
and many pedestrians went to foolish
lengths to avoid getting “bridged.”
Below: This view of the Madison
Street Bridge just after the turn of
the century shows the frantic bridge
traffic, with carriages and cabs in the
middle and pedestrians sticking to
the outer walkways, just as they do
today. Opposite: Too much traffic—
including a herd of frightened
cattle—resulted in the collapse of the
Rush Street Bridge in 1863.
Yesterday’s City | 45
Above: Before the skyscraper era, grain elevators dominated Chicago’s skyline. Below: In his 1908 report to the Chicago Harbor Commis-
sion, George Sikes complained about traffic stand-offs between bridges and boats in the Chicago River.
This engraving from an 1857 issue of Chicago magazine displays a schooner in front of Munger & Armour’s Grain Warehouse at the north
end of the river, between Franklin and Wells Streets. A schooner could load three hundred thousand bushels of grain in an hour.
Yesterday’s City | 47
Several thousand Lake Michigan sailors based in the city
and as many stevedores made up the core group of
rough and ready clients for the city’s gamblers, saloon-
keepers, and prostitutes. From the notorious “Sands,”
Chicago’s first vice district, to the “Levee,” arguably the
city’s last true red-light commune, Chicago vice was tied
to its river port.
Chicago’s wide-open port posed more than a moral
threat to incautious sailors. The infamous Micky Finn, an
unsavory barman of the Levee who was part pickpocket,
part thug, and part publican, developed a special
knockout concoction composed of grain alcohol, snuff
water, hydrate of chloral, and reportedly morphine. With
the help of streetwalkers and party girls, Finn set up
sailors and other newly paid men to drink the knockout
Yesterday’s City | 49
Above: Captain Herman Schuenemann (center), c. 1909, sold
Christmas trees off of the deck of his ship docked in the harbor.
Right: This 1902 Century magazine illustration shows an old boat
shop under the Wells Street Bridge. Skippers spent the off season
repairing their damaged ships.
Yesterday’s City | 51
Above: When Daniel Burnham’s Plan of Chicago called for beachfronts instead of red light districts, Chicagoans clamored to get rid of the
vice-ridden harbor. Kaufmann & Fabry photograph of Oak Street Beach, 1922. Below: Sailors eventually opted for the wider Calumet River
over the crowded Chicago River. Bird’s eye View of East Side and Calumet River, South Chicago.
Yesterday’s City | 53