West Side Family History Finds (pt 1)

On Chicago's West Side, North Lawndale is a neighborhood between Garfield Park and Little Village. It's a largely Black community today, known for being the spot where Martin Luther King Jr. stayed in the 60s to bring attention to housing inequality. After the riots of the 1960s, the closure of local factories, and years of historic disinvestment, the neighborhood lost a lot of population and is still working to recover. I've known some of this chapter of Chicago history, and I knew my mom’s side of the family had West Side Mexican roots too. But I didn't realize how much of my dad’s family had connections to the area, with generations living in North Lawndale for nearly 50 years. I decided to learn more about their story. Multi-part series, here we go!

1910

Pat & Anna were 26 years old when they moved to 1449 S. 41st Ave (today Karlov) street with 5 year old Mildred (Mim). Pat was born in Illinois from Irish parents, but I don't know a whole lot about his backstory. 

Anna's family moved to Chicago in 1889 when she was just 5, as the second of four kids. She grew up on 18th street in Pilsen in a building shared by six households, and she was already working full time as a "Tailoress" by age 17. Her census records list "Aust Bohemian" because Bohemia, today called the Czech Republic, was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire at the time. 

Left photo shows the rear house where Anna's family lived when she was growing up on 18th, middle shows their census record, right shows the building in front that faced the street.

I don't know how my great-grandparents Pat & Anna met, but they were married at age 20 in 1904. By the time they ended up in North Lawndale, he was working as a "factory buffer" and they'd carved a path for the family to follow west. See a photo of Pat to the right, helping build a Chicago garage. There were a number of factories and other jobs in the area, such as the Western Electric plant on Cermak & Cicero (see image below) to the Sears & Roebuck facility by Homan square. I wonder what "factory" Pat worked at?

It's interesting to see that their street wasn't named Karlov yet when they moved in (Elburn at the time). After streets were renumbered in 1909-1911, there was a big Chicago street name revamp in 1913. Theirs would soon become one of a series of streets named alphabetically on the West Side (K, L, M streets, etc.). This series is the namesake for the K-town historic district just south of them in North Lawndale.

 Metropolitan west side elevated trains, today's CTA Blue, Green, & Pink Lines (map on left). Pat & Anna lived just a mile and a half from the Western Electric plant (photo to right)

This is a time period when the neighborhood was very Czech, so it may have felt like a natural move from Pilsen (also very Czech) to follow their neighbors west and look for more space in their own rented home. Chicago itself was the hub of Czech-American life at the time, and "by 1910 more peoples of Czech extraction from Bohemia and Moravia lived in Chicago than in any city in the world except Prague or Vienna." But Bohemians aren't the only characters in this story, let's check in with the other side of the family.

1912

Tim & Bridie grew up in Kerry, Ireland. The family story is that they met on the ship coming over to the US - perhaps the Caronia (if I'm looking at the right Tim Murphy naturalization record). I've always been thankful that they weren't on the Titanic, given that they traveled that very same year, but I just learned the Caronia is the ship that tried to warn the Titanic about "bergs, growlers and field ice!" Imagine if Titanic's captain taken it more seriously...

(left) The Caronia ship that Bridie & Tim may have taken to the US. (middle) 1920 census record shows Bridie as one of five maids for the Dickenson family of five. (right) The house on 1518 Astor Street where Bridie worked in the Gold Coast.

Going to town to catch the ship was the first time Bridie had ever left her small rural town of Ballinskelligs (see image to right), it had to be such a whirlwind! 

Bridie & Tim may have met on the ship, but they wouldn't have the chance to really be together for some time. Bridie soon found a job working as a maid for a rich family on Chicago's Gold Coast (see census record & photo above). In the meantime, Tim may have lived off Taylor Street and worked as a freight handler (again, assuming I'm looking at the right Tim Murphy).

 1917

The US declared war against Germany in April of 1917, and when Tim stepped up to serve he was sent to Siberia. He continued to send letters to Bridie on Astor street, but avoided mentioning specifics to prevent the troop's location from falling into enemy hands.

Pat listed a new address on his draft card at 1510 S. Komensky (see image to right), a tall brick building with more room for Pat & Anna's growing family. In December of 1917, the US also declared war against the Austro-Hungarian empire. I wonder how Anna and her family felt about that, or if they were treated any differently as former subjects of the empire. Local German culture was severely curtailed in the states during the war, language classes and newspapers shuttered and organizations disbanded. But Bohemia was hardly a major power on for the Axis side, as they were subjects of a bigger empire. Were Chicagoans discerning enough to know the cultural distinctions, or were they lumped in as enemies as well? I read that the first American to lose his life in the war was a Texan-Czech named Dominik Paplava, who wrote about being proud to serve to free the Czech people from the Habsburg Dynasty. Did Anna's family feel similarly about potential freedom for their former homeland?

1920

With the war over, the 20s were an optimistic time for Chicago, prompting a building boom across the city. Pat and Anna had three kids by now: Mim (14), George (7), and my grandfather Edward (1). Pat began working as a bailiff at the municipal court, and Mim worked as a mail opener at a mail order house. They now shared the rented house on Komensky with the Kafka family of three, who also had Czech roots. Anna's birthplace on the census is now listed as Czechoslovakia, reflecting the post-war shift in world politics and national names.

Bridie was still working on Astor Street in 1919, when she was recorded for the 1920 census. But Bridie & Tim's time finally came once he came back from the war. They got married at Holy Family Church (see image to right) in 1921 and were able to start a family together on the West Side. Their oldest, my dad's uncle Daniel, was born in 1922. 

Funny enough, my mom's Mexican family was also connected with Holy Family church, and my mom attended elementary school there after the family's main parish (St. Francis down the block) stopped running its own elementary school. There would be a few points of overlap between my family over the years, Chicago's West Side can be a small world sometimes!

West Side Family History Finds (pt. 2)

This is the second in a series about Lena's family history on Chicago's West Side, primarily North Lawndale in the early 20th century. Find Part One (1889-1920) here.

1930 - Pat & Anna

Sometime in the 20s, my great-grandparents Pat and Anna bought a new house in North Lawndale. They're listed as property owners of 1814 S. Komensky by the time of the 1930 census, which must have been an important piece of financial stability to have in the Depression. They even rented a unit to the Picka family of 4. Unfortunately the house isn't there anymore, but in this photo you can see it would have stood between a couple of similar workers cottages.

1930 Census record shows the Reynolds and Wiswald families next door on Komensky

George was 17, working as a clerk at an insurance office, and my grandfather Ed was 11, still in school. Mim was 24 and independent, having married William, the son of the Wiswald family next door (brick house in image above). Pat was still working as the municipal bailiff, and the census even notes that they owned their own radio, which seems to be a rare thing among their neighbors. The family was involved with St. Finbar's Church, which was about four blocks north at Harding & 14th. The church was originally built in 1901 as a small frame building, but in 1930 it was renovated into a three-story brick building (pictured right).

Ed was an athletic guy growing up in the 30s. He always said he invented 16-inch softball, though that's highly debatable lol. In the winter he was a speed skater, and even competed in the famous Silver Skates competition in Garfield Park. Chicago had the most urban ice rinks in the country, with over six hundred dotting the parks and neighborhoods by the 20s. In the 20s and 30s, the Silver Skates competition attracted up to 60,000 spectators! (see Tribune photo below) Chicago may not have mountains or abundant wooded trails for skiing, but we have flat spots and water, so it makes sense that skating took off as the flat-lander's winter sport.

 

1930 - Bridie & Tim

Bridie & Tim moved west when they got married, but not straight to North Lawndale. Their first home listed in the 1930 census is a frame house in the near suburb of Cicero, at 1340 48th Ct (right), where they did not own a radio. They rented their unit for $35/month from the Lithuanian Laemont family of four, whose father and son worked in a nearby factory. Bridie & Tim's eldest, Daniel, was now 8 and joined by my grandmother Mary Ellen (6) and Vincent (4).

In 1930 census, Bridie & Tim's birthplace was listed as “Irish Free State," no longer under the English empire as another reflection of changing world politics.

1930 census records show Tim, Bridie, Daniel, Mary E., and Vincent rented for $35. Listed categories are sex, race, age, marriage status, literacy, birthplace, & parents' birthplaces. Second screenshot shows language spoken, year of immigration (1912), naturalization status (Na), employment info, and WW indicates he's a veteran of the great World War.

By this time Tim had started his career as a conductor on the Chicago Surface Lines. In a famous family tale, Bridie had always dreamed of her own sewing machine. So as a wedding present, Tim brought a Singer home for her on the streetcar. But this was no desktop device, it was a massive cast-iron treadle machine, with a beautiful Egyptian painted motif. That's like bringing a huge wooden desk on the bus today! 

He must have had a friend help him or something, but it also may have been completely normal. Like many neighbors, the family never owned a car. They took transit and walked everywhere in those days. Chicago's streetcar ridership was 1,517,510,661 in its peak year, 1926, with over 280 rides per citizen for just streetcars! I wonder where he bought the sewing machine, and what streetcar line he might have taken to get home. Was it Cicero? Roosevelt? 16th street?

 

Ida B. Wells Avenue - it's about time

Preservation Chicago shared link about Ida B. Wells street being renamed

First comment: 

Timothy Eischen "“Street names should reflect the population,” Duster said. “There needs to be more proportional representation. It helps people to see themselves in public spaces, and it helps others to learn and be inspired by people who don’t look like them.” - I disagree. This very statement is itself 'racist', because it perpetuates the idea that we, as a people, are forever divided by skin color. And the very concept that place names ought to continually change to reflect the changing racial demographics of an area is also hugely problematic and a very dangerous slope. Nothing at all against honoring Ms. Wells - but the way to do so is by naming something new in her honor and not by replacing what already is.

My response:

A) Congress parkway didn't honor anyone in particular, it's a thing not a person, so nobody's getting bumped. Are you still outraged that 12th street got renamed Roosevelt? or that 22nd became Cermak? We chose to honor Roosevelt & Pulaski for their contributions to upholding our collective values, for shaping the country we love. Ida B. Wells is a Chicago hero that we can all find pride in, who fought for people's civil rights and their very lives. Naming a street after her is a no-brainer and a win for all. Nobody is hurt by this, it's not even a very long stretch of road. Maybe you should think a little deeper about why this stirs such discomfort in you.

B) Nobody is trying to divide people by skin color here, it's not a street only black people can drive down or anything. I suppose you think it's somehow "creating division" just because Duster is acknowledging that Chicago's demographics don't match the demographics of street honors. But simply seeing that our society is currently divided by skin color (as it has been historically) is not racist. It's factual; we live in a segregated city (sources below). It would be racist if someone were saying they wanted our society to remain divided, wished it were more divided, or wished it could be downright only one skin color. The definition of racism is to believe one group of people is superior or inferior to another, but ignoring the fact that racism has ever existed just allows it to perpetuate, because a lot of racism is built into our institutions, our assumptions, and unconscious biases.
All groups of people have an equal capacity for brilliance in a variety of forms, so if there were no divisions or no racism we would already see proportional representation in our street names and other such honors. It's because of racism that we don't, because lots of Chicagoans unabashedly believed black folks were inferior, so Ida B. Wells could never be a hero in their eyes. Honoring her now is righting that wrong, and has nothing to do with separating people, since it's a street traversed by all kinds of Chicagoans who can all share in being proud in the memory of Wells. By inviting all folks to enjoy black history together we're bringing racial groups together, the opposite of being "forever divided by skin color."

C) Racism is fueled by lack of information. When you've never seen anyone of that race be doctors or lawyers or heroes, then maybe you think they just don't have the capacity. That leads to less people from that group being hired or being honored, meaning they have less financial stability, less inclusion in society, and perpetually less visibility. If you look at the historical record, our heroes are diverse. Queer folks, immigrants, people with disabilities, and people of all skin colors from every continent built this city, kicked ass, and make it amazing. But everyday Chicagoans aren't digging into historical documents everyday, and they don't see that diversity because it was actively hidden from them by racist policies, historians, teachers, and politicians of the past. Naming a street may seem like it's not a big deal, but it's part of how the public learns about history and it's how we build collective identity around values that will ultimately combat racism in everyday actions beyond the confines of one street. Acknowledging Wells now isn't some slippery slope towards chaos or some fad. Black people are integral to Chicago history and always have been. It's about time for an Ida B. Wells Drive.

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4886656/
https://chicago.cbslocal.com/2015/05/04/chicago-is-the-most-segregated-city-in-america-analysis/
https://www.wbez.org/shows/wbez-news/new-redlining-maps-show-chicago-housing-discrimination/37c0dce7-0562-474a-8e1c-50948219ecbb

Chicago River introduction

Last October, we hosted a panel discussion at the UIC Latino Cultural Center about the history and future of the Chicago River. As moderator, I had the honor of introducing the panelists and providing students and other attendees with a brief historical overview of the river, to start everyone on the same page with some general information. I thought others might benefit from reading this succinct history.

"Whose River: Culture, Condos, and Controversy Along Chicago's Waterway" program Introduction 

The Chicago River was once a sleepy stream that meandered slowly through the flatland marshes to Lake Michigan. A relatively short stretch of land divided the Chicago River from the Desplaines, which flowed to the Illinois and eventually the Mississippi River. The first nations here (like the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Odawa, plus Menominee, Miami, & Ho-Chunk) used this area as a point of connection between the two great mid-American watersheds: the Great Lakes and the Mississippi river system. The marshland also inspired our name, Shikaakwa, for the skunky stinky onion that grew along the riverbanks. 

As European influence spread into this area, and people came from French, English, & occasionally Spanish colonies, Chicago became a multilingual hub of commerce. Our first non-indigenous settler, Jean Baptiste Pointe DuSable was a black haitian fur trader who, along with his Potawatomi wife Kittahawa, built a cabin on the north bank of the river (where the new Apple store is being built today). Growing American greed and colonialism would overcome the years of relatively peaceful coexistence here, and in the 1830s, the Native Americans were kicked out of Chicago. Their lands were sold to fund a new canal, to slice through the narrow stretch of land dividing these great midwest watersheds, paving the way for barges and shipping infrastructure. 

Chicago boomed in the mid to late 1800s, growing faster than any other city to become the second largest in the country. The freshwater resources were used for industry, as a steel manufacturing coolant, a beer brewing base, and dumping ground for thousands. Generations of immigrants and migrants alike came and interacted with the river over the years, like the Irish who dug the canal, the Mexicans who worked in the riverside railroad yards, and the Cambodian refugees who built a memorial overlooking the north branch at Lawrence. You can’t forget the Germans who fought for immigrant rights in the Lager Beer riot of 1855, pitched into the river by the Clark swing bridge while trying to march to city hall. 

Chicago’s famous stockyards on the south side contributed animal waste from meatpacking to a stream, now appropriately known as “Bubbly Creek.” The waste in the Chicago river no longer filtered slowly through marshland on its way to the lake, but instead seeped in muddy streets and rushed through concrete walls, bringing sewage to taint our drinking water. In response to this public health crisis, the original MWRD, who you’ll hear from later, took a bold step, deciding to reverse the flow of the Chicago river and rehaul the city’s the sewer system. The city streets were raised several feet, bringing Chicago up above the marsh level to provide room for a new sewer system underground. A new canal on the southwest side was dug deeper than the first to encourage water to flow the opposite direction, now drawing water into the city from the lake instead, to flush out the waste. This meant our waste would head south to the Mississippi and eventually the Gulf of Mexico. St. Louis tried to sue to stop it, but was unsuccessful. 

Over the course of the 20th century, MWRD would continue to add to our water infrastructure, with new canals, water treatment facilities, and flood remediation efforts. Begun in the 1970s, the Deep Tunnel or TARP project is now coming to fruition, providing additional space for excess water in deeper tunnels and reservoirs in the metropolitan area in order to prevent flooding and combined sewer overflows. Deindustrialization over the past few decades has sparked new questions for the city about what to do with former factory sites along the riverbanks, and environmental groups like Friends of the Chicago River have worked tirelessly to improve water conditions for waterey life and human life alike. The new riverwalk downtown, the boathouses on the north branch near Lane Tech and the south branch near Chinatown are examples of the river’s new place in our collective conscience. But there are sites still forgotten along our waterways, industrial toxins remain, threats of invasive species knock at our door, and communities are at risk of being displaced by rising rents and fancy condos. 

So today’s panel is a great opportunity to explore some of these questions, but if you want to read more, or share your own stories, I wanted to point out a couple of websites where you can do so. Chicago River Stories is a page I launched with a couple of fellow students, as our Freshwater lab project. The blog hosts lots of stories, but we’ve also got a Facebook page where you can find news and events. If you’re interested in the Great Lakes more broadly, a team in Canada launched a Great Lakes Commons map to share stories across the watershed. And last but not least, the Freshwater Lab has been building a Freshwater Stories website to critically explore some of our midwest challenges and creative ideas for the future. Just beautiful, so check those out after the panel today, and with that I’ll introduce our panelists. 

Speaker Introductions 

Representative Theresa Mah, 2nd District of Illinois General Assembly 

Representative Theresa Mah represents the 2nd district of Illinois in our state General Assembly, a district which includes Back of the Yards, Bridgeport, Brighton Park, Chinatown, McKinley Park, and Pilsen. Mah taught history and ethnic studies as a college professor for 15 years, before working for groups like the Illinois Coalition on Immigrant and Refugee Rights and the Coalition for a Better Chinese American Community. She worked for former Governor Pat Quinn, before running for office herself, and was elected last fall as the first Asian American to serve in the Illinois House. Welcome Representative Mah! 

Commissioner Debra Shore, Cook County Metropolitan Water Reclamation District 

Debra Shore was elected to the Board of Commissioners of the Metropolitan Water Reclamation District of Greater Chicago in 2006, and was re-elected in 2012. A strong advocate for resource recovery and cleaning up the Chicago waterways, she received the Public Officials Award from the Water Environment Federation in 2013. Debra lives with her partner-in-life, Kathleen Gillespie, in Skokie, Illinois. She has climbed 42 of Colorado’s 54 mountains more than 14,000’ high. Welcome Commissioner Shore! 

Director Kimberly Wasserman Nieto, Little Village Environmental Justice Organization 

Kimberly Wasserman Nieto has been the director of the Little Village Environmental Justice Organization (LVEJO) since 2005, where she previously served for seven years as community organizer. Raised in La Villita, she joined environmental activism in 1998 after her son was afflicted with asthma due to air pollution in the community. LVEJO built a community coalition to draw attention to the Fisk & Crawford coal-fired power plants, and successfully pushed them them to clean up or shut down, which they did in 2012. LVEJO continues their work on many issues, including the toxic Collateral Channel, along the south branch of the river. Welcome Ms. Wasserman Nieto! 

Student and Assistant Program Director Edith Tovar, UIC College of Urban Planning & Public Affairs and Latino Cultural Center

Edith Tovar is a staff member here at the Latino Cultural Center, and currently serves as Assistant Program Director. Edith was born and raised in Chicago’s La Villita community and is a first generation grad student, in the College of Urban Planning & Public Affairs, concentrating on Environmental Planning and Policy. She is also an alum of Freshwater Lab course! Her research interests include, cultural planning, Place Lab’s ethical redevelopment, water remediation efforts of the Chicago River, specifically Bubbly Creek in Brighton Park and the Collateral Channel located in Little Village. Welcome Ms. Tovar! Now please help me in welcoming our wonderful panelists!

Architecture and Activism at UIC

I've always loved giving tours, and it's always fun when I'm prompted to research things from a new perspective, and last winter provided an interesting prompt indeed.

In February 2018, I had the joy of collaborating with UIC's Gallery 400 to create a walking tour of campus highlighting themes from their exhibition, Félix Candela's Concrete Shells: An Engineered Architecture for México and Chicago. Felix Candela was an architect who was exiled from Spain after the civil war and rose to prominence in mid-century Mexico City for his remarkable use of concrete in flowing "shell" forms. Amid mid 1960s protest movements, Candela refused to announce allegiance with the government, and took up a new position in Chicago's public research institution amid a radical architectural movement underway in the heart of the midwest.

Although Candela himself didn't create buildings at the University of Illinois at Chicago, the unique brutalist style was akin to his own with its emphasis on concrete, and he fit right in as an inspiration for many emerging professionals. Students inspired by Candela even built a structure in his honor on campus. But UIC was not simply a place of change for design, it was also in concert with universities around the world, like Mexico City, who saw student mobilization en masse. Students have fought for many of the services, spaces, and assets that are taken for granted today on campus, and these stories of the past can remind us to continue fighting for change today.

After exploring the exhibition and discussing with G400 curators and educators, I wrote an hour-long tour highlighting how global themes of protest and innovation intersected with UIC. Using research from an earlier campus tour project, ALTourUIC and historic images from the library archives, I presented with the engaging Megan Moran from the UIC MUSE department. We took a surprisingly large group to trudge through the snow and explore brutalist architecture at its finest, making a pit stop inside the Latino Cultural Center for hot cocoa with the Latinx architecture student organization, Arquitectos, and exploring how the legacy of design continues to impact students to this day.

"When people feel welcome, when they see themselves reflected back in a place they’re part of, it helps them identify with the space and fight for their inclusion in other ways."

If you'd like to read the whole tour, check out the G400 blog post here.

Chicago Irish & the Green River

Growing up in Chicago, you quickly come to learn that the Irish community is a force to be reckoned with, from plumbers to politicians, parades to pastimes. Although I'm half Irish, half Mexican, my parents felt very strongly about not losing either heritage, so we had close ties to the Irish community of our city. I grew up Irish Step dancing and playing fiddle. My brother played tin whistle, joining sessions in the neighborhood pub or the regional Fleadh. My parents passed down a plethora of old folk songs, so I could regale you with anything from a ballad to come-all-ye.
I also grew up helping my dad in the garden, and he'd tell tales of my grandfather's love for roses and my great-grandmother's homemade tea. For me, the luck of the Irish meant searching for shamrocks in our local city park, practicing the gift of gab with friends and family, and enjoying potatoes in any form you can cook em.
However, there's another side to Chicago's Irish culture and traditions, where we're known for dumping dye into our local river, and drinking copiously from dawn til dusk each March. This prompts violence, litter, and debauchery, (where many are protected from serious charges by a shield of white privilege and connections to the police force). My family isn't a bunch of teetotalers by any means, but traditions of moderation and a traditional religious holiday have been altered by American gluttony and excess. We also have long traditions of altering our local ecosystem, from the Irish canal workers who reversed the flow of the river, to the stockyards workers who dumped endless refuse into Bubbly creek, to Irish machine politicians who put toxic industry next to residences, valuing the bottom line over people's health.
Looking back, the Irish have a strong connection to the environment, prompting the original love of all things green. A people in tune with the rhythms of the ocean were drawn to the midwest similarities of our inland sea. Reduced by poverty and English domination to only one variety of potato, the famed Irish potato famine should have taught humanity the important lesson of biodiversity. Growing many varieties of any species, especially food, makes us more resilient when disasters strike. Instead companies like Monsanto have narrowed the range of seeds and foods grown in the US, building monopolies on Roundup-ready varieties, and hurting our resilience in the face of coming climate change. I wonder if Monsanto founder and Chicago-born Irishman John Francis Queeny had really intended a system this short-sighted.
I know the river reversal was a historic necessity in the face of uncontrollable sanitation issues, I know the low-wage stockyards workers didn't have much say in the waste their industry produced, and I know the river dye isn't actually toxic. Local plumbers have used the solution for years to check our pipes for flow problems. But try telling all that to the invasive species currently encroaching on our city and our Great Lakes system, or the people still living on the river watching bubbling methane gas affect their quality of life, or think about the lesson we're showing our youth, that it's ok to dump things in the river if it's all in good fun.
As we prepare for a celebratory season this March, I invite my community to consider what it is we're celebrating when we dye our local waterway, consider how we move forward from the mistakes of our past, and consider the fine line between fun and mockery. I'm not going to go and guilt you for wearing a green glittery top hat or shame anyone for wanting to have a good time. Just know there is much more to Irish culture than St. Paddy's day. We should celebrate the good green earth we were blessed with, rather than trashing our city streets with beer cans. Can't we make the river greener by adding more marshland reserves, trees, and waterside oases? Which elements of our heritage will we pass on to our children? And how can we do justice to our past by being good stewards of this planet for our future?

Want to learn more?
The photos above are from the Vivian Maier exhibit at the Chicago History Museum, taken at the Chicago St. Paddy's Day parade in the 1960s. Check out a video of the river dyeing here.

Want to help contribute to seed biodiversity and get a good start on your garden?
Check out the UIC Heritage Garden's spring seed swap this Sunday at the Hull-House museum

Want to help clean up the river in Chicago? Join the Friends of the Chicago River at LeBagh Woods on Foster this Saturday

Want to see some music and dance and other Irish culture this weekend? Check out the Irish American Heritage center on the North side or Gaelic Park down South

Chocolate: Drink of Gods, Food of Mortals - The Exhibit

Last Spring I had the joy of curating an exhibit for the UIC Latino Cultural Center, based on a series of public programs we hosted exploring the many dimensions of Chocolate. The exhibit was put on display in April 2015 in the UIC Library, where it remains on display until April 2016. Check it out while you have a chance!

So why chocolate? you might ask. Chocolate has its roots in the heart of the Americas, where indigenous communities saw spiritual and cultural importance in this bitter drink. Since the 15th century, when European colonization brought the continents into more contact, Chocolate has spread from its Latino origins around the world, where it has become important to many other cultures as well. Theobroma Cacao (the tree that produces Chocolate's base ingredient) grows only in tropical regions, but the later stages of processing usually happen in wealthier northern industrial countries. This transnational nature of chocolate ties together many people, and many structural systems of labor, environment, and cultural concern. Chicago has also been a hub for chocolate production, reaching its peak as the Candy Capital of America in the mid-20th century.
Chocolate is something that ties us together, but can also help us to see stark differences between our cultural and economic situations. Chocolate growers in Cote D'Ivoire might have never actually eaten the final product they're producing, while factory workers in Chicago might work long hard hours. Indigenous growers in central America recognize the ways Theobroma Cacao is intertwined with the whole rainforest ecosystem, while someone in Japan might marvel at a massive chocolate waterfall in a local mall. Check out the full online exhibit here.

Here's a couple of examples of objects and labels I created for the exhibit:

Theobroma Cacao Tree Replica
Paper Mache; Chicago, USA
LCC Staff, 2015

This replica was made by students at the UIC Latino Cultural Center out of recycled materials, but real cacao trees can grow up to 40 feet tall! The Theobroma (“Food of the Gods”) cacao tree is originally from the rainforests of Central and South America, where shade, heat, and humidity are essential for this sensitive species. Tiny midge flies pollinate the tree’s white flowers, which then fruit into large multicolored cacao pods.
Today, chocolate sales expand around the world, but the areas it can grow are actually shrinking. Climate change and devastating deforestation are threatening the future of the cacao plant, along with many other essential products from the rainforest. This important ecosystem is the source of 80% of foods used by the developed world, from avocados to essential medicines. Be mindful buying tropical resources to help protect the rainforest for future generations.


 
Children in Hull-House Courtyard
Photograph; Chicago, USA
UIC Hull-House Yearbook collection, 1895

“Our very first Christmas at Hull-House, when we as yet knew nothing of child labor, a number of little girls refused the candy which was offered them as part of the Christmas good cheer, saying simply that they “worked in a candy factory and could not bear the sight of it.” We discovered that for six weeks they had worked from seven in the morning until nine at night, and were exhausted as well as satiated. The sharp consciousness of stern economic conditions was thus thrust upon us in the midst of the season of good will.”

– Jane Addams, 20 Years at Hull-House, 1910

Today, UIC stands in a neighborhood that was once dense with industrial factories, sweatshops, and tenement housing. Many children never attended school, but rather worked to support their families. Hull-House advocates like Jane Addams and others made great strides to limit child labor, improve local working conditions, and increase access to education and recreation. Despite this progress, these issues remain relevant in Chicago and around the world.
Was child labor involved with producing your holiday candy?


Molinillo
Wood; Mexico
2006
Early waves of Latino Chicagoans arrived in the 1910s and 20s, bringing with them different cultural practices and chocolate recipes! The 1930s and 40s saw new waves of Latino immigration, drawn by jobs like chocolate production. By the 1950s, the neighborhood around Halsted and Polk streets was the heart of Mexican Chicago. When the University took over in the 1960s, much of the community moved southwest to Pilsen and La Villita, but symbols from the old neighborhood remain, like St. Francis Church on Roosevelt or Cordi Marian Settlement on May Street. This chocolate stirrer (molinillo) could have been purchased at the nearby multicultural Maxwell Street market, alongside other chocolate utensils.


How does chocolate connect to your life? Contribute your own choco-story to the project here.
Want to see the traveling exhibit come to your library or exhibit space? Contact the UIC Rafael Cintrón Ortiz Latino Cultural Center at lcc@uic.edu