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What police department served the Kenwood neighborhood in Chicago in 1907?

What police department served the Kenwood neighborhood in Chicago in 1907?

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Today it's the 2nd District Police Department on Wentworth, but the building is new. Can anyone tell me (or recommend sources that might tell me) where the nearest police department was at the turn of the century? Thank you.

"A Wall Around Hyde Park": The History and the Future of the UCPD

Hyde Park is one of the safest neighborhoods in Chicago.

In 2012, there were 506 murders in Chicago—more than any other city in the United States. The national media quickly dubbed the city “the murder capital of America.”

Even as Woodlawn endured twenty-one homicides and Washington Park recorded the highest murder rate in the city, Hyde Park reported a decrease in violent crime, with a lower rate than North Side neighborhoods like Lakeview and Logan Square.

This year, Chicago has seen over 820 shootings, but only one in Hyde Park and two in Kenwood.

The neighborhood owes much of its safety to a highly unusual police force. With over one hundred full-time officers, the University of Chicago Police Department (UCPD) is one of the largest campus forces in the country.

It patrols much of the South Side, covering all of Hyde Park and Kenwood, as well as parts of Bronzeville and Woodlawn. The force does more than simply patrol this zone the UCPD boasts plainclothes officers and investigative squads, going far beyond the campus guards most universities employ.

A plaque hanging in the lobby of the UCPD headquarters on 61st and Drexel serves as a daily reminder of the risks faced by officers: the annual Steven Mitchell Award honors the force’s best member it is named for a university officer killed in the line of duty in 1983.

Unfortunately, the UCPD’s stellar record of crime reduction has come at a heavy cost.

Brandon Parker, an eighteen-year-old Woodlawn resident, is careful not to cross 59th Street, where he says that university police “stop and check you.”

Christian Clark, a high school sophomore who lives in Kenwood, complains that UCPD officers “harass people for no reason.” Once, while biking through campus, an officer pulled him over and asked, “what are you doing over here?”

Andre Harmon, a twenty-one-year-old art student, avoids biking through the university after being pulled over several times by the university police. He built his bicycle himself, but UCPD officers have repeatedly asked him to explain where it came from, a question he views as accusatory and racially motivated.

The stories of these young men are not unusual. Since its creation in the late 1950s the UCPD has been dogged by accusations of racial profiling, leveled by both University of Chicago students and community members, primarily African Americans. Today, policing tactics are hotly debated around the country New York City has witnessed a powerful backlash against the practice known as “stop and frisk.” Though the case of the UCPD is different in many ways, it raises similar questions about the use of police power. Even as Barack Obama sits in the White House, students of color still report unwarranted police stops at the university where he taught, and many black teens refuse to even cross into his neighborhood for fear of the police.

U. of C. Officer in Chase Trips on Kenwood Couple's Stairs, Sues for $500K

KENWOOD &mdash Two years ago, University of Chicago police chased and arrested a suspected armed robber after she fled to Ezra and Betty McCann&rsquos backyard in Kenwood.

Now, the couple is fighting off a $500,000 lawsuit filed recently by one of the officers involved in the arrest who claims he fell on a set of steps in their yard and injured his back.

The lawsuit stunned Ezra McCann, a retired Chicago firefighter who said he's at a loss for how he could be sued for the chase that unfolded in front of him in his yard at 4832 S. Dorchester Ave.

&ldquoThere was no mention to me that someone fell on my property, and then two years later I get a summons saying I&rsquom being sued,&rdquo said McCann, who has lived at the home for 25 years.

University of Chicago officer Larry Torres claimed he fell down three limestone stairs onto his backside and is seeking $500,000 from the homeowners. View Full Caption

But U. of C. officer Larry Torres claims in Cook County Circuit Court that the McCanns should have marked as a tripping hazard the three stone steps that sit on a grass embankment between their lawn and their driveway. Torres said the couple could have put up a sign, installed railings or shone a light on the steps.

He is seeking the maximum the McCanns' homeowner&rsquos insurance will pay, $500,000, for the "severe and permanent personal injuries" the suit says he suffered from falling down their stairs while pursuing the suspect in an armed robbery.

Sam Cholke explains why the officer feels he has a right to sue:

&ldquoI didn&rsquot invite him onto my property, so from my perspective he was trespassing,&rdquo said Betty McCann. &ldquoHe had no business on my grass there is a sidewalk and a driveway.&rdquo

For Ezra McCann, it&rsquos even more befuddling. The longtime firefighter said he had always assumed the university police were subject to the same rules as city police officers and firefighters.

The &ldquoFireman&rsquos Rule&rdquo case law sharply limits when firefighters and police officers can sue for the injuries they suffer while performing their official duties in an emergency.

&ldquoIn my service, I got hurt four or five times, but I never thought about suing the public I served,&rdquo said McCann, who was a captain in the Chicago Fire Department for nearly 30 years.

According to police reports, University of Chicago police officers were in the McCanns' yard on Oct. 16, 2012, chasing three girls involved in an armed robbery.

Two of the girls reportedly approached two people walking in the 5600 block of South Blackstone Avenue, and one of the girls pointed a handgun at them. They took one of the victim&rsquos backpacks and smacked the other in the head with the gun when she refused to give up her backpack, police said. The gun went off, and the two girls fled in a car with a third girl, according to police reports.

University police spotted the three girls just after midnight when they crashed the car in front of 4814 S. Dorchester Ave. while speeding the wrong way down the street, according to police reports.

Ezra McCann said he woke up after hearing the crash and went to his front window and saw a U. of C. officer running up the driveway after a woman and yelling, &ldquo'Halt! Stop!'&rdquo

&ldquoI don&rsquot think he fell I saw the chase,&rdquo said McCann.

He said he watched the officer lead the girl out of his backyard in handcuffs.

Torres declined to comment.

But Torres' attorney, John Grazian, claimed that McCann was actually watching Torres&rsquo partner at the time.

Grazian said Torres looped back from chasing one of the other girls north of the McCanns' home and was cutting across the yard to help his partner when he tried to navigate the three limestone steps in the dark.

&ldquoIt was his intention to put on the brakes,&rdquo Grazian said, but he said Torres' foot got caught in a 6-inch hole at the top of the steps when he tried to slow down. He twisted around and landed on his back on the driveway, Grazian said.

He attributed the long delay in filing suit to a two-year statute of limitations on personal injury claims.

Grazian said the McCanns had an obligation to fix the hole, which could have just as easily injured a dinner party guest or someone invited onto the property. He said that because the couple were allegedly negligent in the upkeep of the property, the fireman&rsquos rule doesn't limit Torres' right to sue.

The McCanns' attorney denied the property was unsafe.

&ldquoI disagree the conditions are safe,&rdquo said Joseph Wilson, the couple's lawyer through Traveler&rsquos Insurance. &ldquoHundreds, if not thousands, of people have gone through that property without an incident.&rdquo

He said he wasn&rsquot sure whether a judge would consider a university officer to be similar legally to a city officer under the fireman&rsquos rule when the case goes to court.

&ldquoI don&rsquot believe the appellate court has ever addressed that,&rdquo Wilson said. &ldquoThat issue is out there.&rdquo

Grazian said he didn&rsquot plan to push that argument as the case approaches depositions on Dec. 3. He said he believed the rule did apply to university police, just not in this case.

Christopher Johnston, an attorney with Querrey & Harrow who has handled cases involving the fireman&rsquos rule, said the case law limits firefighters and other public servants from suing for injuries caused by the emergency they are responding to.

He said the law allows firefighters to sue if anyone entering the property would have encountered the same danger, and it was unrelated to the fire. He declined to comment on Torres&rsquo case because he said he was not an expert on how the law affects police officers.

He said the cases are rare because workers' compensation, disability and other benefits will often suffice.

&ldquoIf they feel their benefits are fine, then it&rsquos fine with them, that&rsquos why these cases don&rsquot come up that much," he said.

U. of C. officials would only confirm that Larry Torres was an officer with the university police force.

Betty McCann said whatever happened with the case, the couple might have to move because their homeowner&rsquos insurance was scheduled to triple next year to nearly $15,000 a year.

&ldquoI told Ezra, we&rsquore going to have to sell the house because we can&rsquot afford that,&rdquo she said.

Neither of the McCanns said they believed the lawsuit was personal. Ezra McCann said he did not think it was related to his clashes as a fire captain in the 1990s with the firefighters union or City Hall over discriminatory hiring practices at the Fire Department.

While Ezra McCann said he&rsquos applauded the quick response times of university police in the past, he said now he won't call them until he&rsquos sure they have to abide by the fireman&rsquos rule when they&rsquore on his property.

&ldquoI don&rsquot want them doing anything for me at 48th and Dorchester,&rdquo McCann said.

He said the lawsuit has left him feeling like he&rsquos guilty until proved innocent and that he can&rsquot help but view university police differently now.

&ldquoIt&rsquos not a sound feeling to know you have an officer in the neighborhood who&rsquos not happy with you,&rdquo McCann said.

For more neighborhood news, listen to DNAinfo Radio here:

University of Chicago Police No Longer Allowed to Monitor Its Own Ranks

The University of Chicago has hired a new adminstrator to take over investigating complaints against university police officers. View Full Caption

HYDE PARK &mdash The University of Chicago Police Department is taking the role of policing the rank and file out of the hands of officers.

A new director of professional accountability will start on Monday and take over the process of investigating complaints against the 100 officers on the private force, according to Gloria Graham, assistant chief of the university police.

If residents have a problem with a university officer, they must now take that complaint to a uniformed officer who will investigate whether his colleagues stepped out of line.

The current process has faced criticism repeatedly in the past as being too intimidating for people making complaints.

&ldquoIt does show the university recognizes that there is a problem, but it is a far cry from what real accountability would look like,&rdquo said Emma LaBounty, a student organizer with the group Coalition for Equitable Policing.

Last year, LaBounty served on the Independent review committee, a provost-appointed board charged with monitoring the complaint process, and reviewed firsthand the confidential investigations officers conducted when a complaint was made. She said she felt the investigating officer was frequently too light when questioning an officer and overly critical when interviewing the complainant.

LaBounty and other students from Coalition from Equitable Policing staged a protest on Friday on campus, pushing the university to address accusations of racial profiling by officers and a lack of transparency from the private force.

Graham denied the police department engages in racial profiling.

&ldquoAs a department, we often and openly discuss our policing strategies to ensure our officers are not engaging deliberately or inadvertently in bias-based policing," she said.

Calmetta Coleman, a spokeswoman from the university, said the more watchful eye by university administrators has been in the works for a year.

She said the new accountability position will still report to university Chief of Police Marlon Lynch, but will not be a uniformed officer and will not be an employee of the police department.

The job has been filled, but Coleman declined to specify by whom.

The university force is a fully sanctioned police force with all the rights of the Chicago Police Department, including the ability to detain suspects and send officers undercover.

The force has faced criticism because it is not subject to many of the laws that force municipal and state police forces to publicly release information on complaints against officers, data on whom officers are choosing to stop and what sort of calls officers are responding to.

The university police releases a daily incident report on its website at

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Share All sharing options for: South Side home of blues legend Muddy Waters a step closer to city landmark status

The home in the South Side North Kenwood neighborhood where blues legend Muddy Waters lived is a step closer to becoming an official city of Chicago landmark. The Landmarks Commission on Thursday granted preliminary landmark status to the property at 4339 S. Lake Park Ave., which a great-granddaughter is converting into The MOJO Muddy Waters House Museum. Ashlee Rezin Garcia/Sun-Times

McKinley Morganfield was born in rural Issaquena County, Mississippi, in 1913, the son of a sharecropper who played guitar on weekends.

His mother died not long after he was born, and he was raised by his grandmother.

She’s the one who gave him the nickname “Muddy,” stemming from his “muddying” for fish in a nearby creek. And when he picked up his first musical instrument, the harmonica — moving on to guitar in his teens — no one could have predicted Morganfield was destined to become the international blues legend “Muddy Waters.”

That would come after he headed north in the Great Migration, settling in Chicago.

And on Thursday, the home in the South Side North Kenwood neighborhood where the blues icon lived and raised his family moved a step closer to becoming a city of Chicago landmark, granted preliminary landmark status by the Commission on Chicago Landmarks.

“Muddy Waters was one of the most important figures in the development of the distinctive electrified sound that came to be known as the ‘Chicago blues.’ Muddy Waters skillfully married the raw acoustic Delta blues he learned in Mississippi, with amplification, to create a powerful new urban sound,” Kendalyn Hahn, project coordinator at the Chicago Department of Planning & Development told the commission.

Courtesy of Chicago Department of Planning and Development

“This 1891 structure served as the home of the blues musician and his family from 1954 to 1973. And musicians who came to record or perform in Chicago made the home an unofficial center for the Chicago blues community, a community largely composed of African Americans whose gifts to the world not only shaped American popular music and subsequent generations of musicians, but one which gave the world a uniquely American art form, which speaks to the incredible resilience of the human spirit,” Hahn said.

The property at 4339 S. Lake Park Ave. is owned by Waters’ great-granddaughter, Chandra Cooper, who is converting the brick two-flat — where Waters lived on the first floor, rented out the top floor and had his recording studio in the basement — into The MOJO Muddy Waters House Museum. The preliminary designation passed unanimously.

The project is among burgeoning efforts to honor Black history in a post-George Floyd era, and part of a wave of house museums — including those honoring Emmett Till and Mamie Till Mobley, Phyllis Wheatley, and Lu and Jorja Palmer — that nearly got blocked by a failed ordinance earlier this year by Ald. Sophia King (4th) to limit them.

Courtesy of Chicago Department of Planning and Development

The Waters house is in the 4th Ward, and while Cooper and King have sparred over roadblocks in recent months, King on Thursday spoke ardently in support of the designation.

“My family comes from the Mississippi Delta. And so this is truly personal for me as well. My grandfather would be proud of me, because he taught me to drive in the backwoods of the Mississippi Delta. My mother picked cotton there. My uncle had to flee there when he was 16 because of fear of lynching,” King said.

“So I lived these stories. To have somebody like Muddy Waters who really put the blues and rock ’n’ roll on the stage, not just here in Chicago but across the country and the world, I’m personally proud. All of the challenges I know he was faced with to break down such barriers and do such significant things — this is a no-brainer for me.”

Courtesy of Chicago Department of Planning and Development

Arriving in Chicago in 1943, Waters played house parties at night for extra money, eventually becoming a regular in local nightclubs. By 1948, Chess Records released his first hits, “I Can’t Be Satisfied” and “I Feel Like Going Home,” and his career took off.

By the early 50s, his blues band, which at one time or another comprised musicians who went on to make their own mark — Otis Spann, Little Walter Jacobs, Jimmy Rogers, Elgin Evans, Sonny Boy Williamson, James Cotton — had become one of the most acclaimed in history.

Waters’ classics topped charts, becoming standards in the repertoires of English rock ’n’ roll bands of the ’60s, including The Beatles. The Rolling Stones took their name from Waters’ single, “(Like a) Rolling Stone.”

“On behalf of the family of McKinley Morganfield, we believe it essential for the legacy of African American history that this home be designated a landmark,” Chandra Cooper told the commission, accompanied by her mother, Waters’ granddaughter, Amelia Cooper.

Muddy Waters’ granddaughter, Amelia Cooper (l), who grew up with her grandfather, blues legend Muddy Waters, in his home in the North Kenwood neighborhood and Waters’ great-granddaughter, Chandra Cooper, spoke in support of preliminary landmark status for the home, granted Thursday by the Commission on Chicago Landmarks. Sun-Times Media

Amelia Cooper lived in the home with her grandfather from 1956 to 1973. Waters moved his family there in 1954, purchasing it in 1956. Independent record companies like Chess, King, Vee Jay, Chance and Parrot, and distributors like United and Bronzeville were then headquartered around Cottage Grove from 47th to 50th streets, and the home became a gathering place for musicians welcomed at all hours.

At one time or another, legends like Otis Spann, Howlin’ Wolf and Chuck Berry stayed on the top floor. Waters lived there until after the death of his wife in 1973. He moved to suburban Westmont, where he lived until his death on April 30, 1983.

“I didn’t think I was going to be that emotional, but just seeing the pictures, and thinking of him and the struggle we went through, it was overwhelming,” Amelia Cooper said later.

“When I was born in 1956, my mother brought me home to that house. When Chandra was born in 1970, I brought her home to that same house. We have a lot of love and pride for that house. This has been a hard fight, and I’m proud of Chandra for not giving up.”

Sears Stores

As increasing numbers of Americans moved to cities in the twentieth century, Sears faced the loss of rural consumers. City dwellers with easy access to a variety of stores had little need for huge mail order catalogues.

The company responded by opening its first brick and mortar department store in 1925 on Chicago’s West Side.

Early Sears department stores typically opened in working class neighborhoods outside of the major city shopping districts.

Sears was one of the first department stores to cater to men as well as women by selling tools and hardware. Its merchandise emphasized durability and practicality over fashion, and its store layout allowed customers to select goods without the aid of a clerk.

In the 1950s and 1960s, Sears began to shift its focus from urban to suburban markets. The Sears name soon became synonymous with the suburban shopping experience. Their large department stores anchored shopping malls all over the country, and Sears catered to suburban motorists by expanding their automotive services.

The Invention of the Police

Why did American policing get so big, so fast? The answer, mainly, is slavery.

To police is to maintain law and order, but the word derives from polis—the Greek for “city,” or “polity”—by way of politia, the Latin for “citizenship,” and it entered English from the Middle French police, which meant not constables but government. “The police,” as a civil force charged with deterring crime, came to the United States from England and is generally associated with monarchy—“keeping the king’s peace”—which makes it surprising that, in the antimonarchical United States, it got so big, so fast. The reason is, mainly, slavery.

“Abolish the police,” as a rallying cry, dates to 1988 (the year that N.W.A. recorded “Fuck tha Police”), but, long before anyone called for its abolition, someone had to invent the police: the ancient Greek polis had to become the modern police. “To be political, to live in a polis, meant that everything was decided through words and persuasion and not through force and violence,” Hannah Arendt wrote in “The Human Condition.” In the polis, men argued and debated, as equals, under a rule of law. Outside the polis, in households, men dominated women, children, servants, and slaves, under a rule of force. This division of government sailed down the river of time like a raft, getting battered, but also bigger, collecting sticks and mud. Kings asserted a rule of force over their subjects on the idea that their kingdom was their household. In 1769, William Blackstone, in his “Commentaries on the Laws of England,” argued that the king, as “pater-familias of the nation,” directs “the public police,” exercising the means by which “the individuals of the state, like members of a well-governed family, are bound to conform their general behavior to the rules of propriety, good neighbourhood, and good manners and to be decent, industrious, and inoffensive in their respective stations.” The police are the king’s men.

History begins with etymology, but it doesn’t end there. The polis is not the police. The American Revolution toppled the power of the king over his people—in America, “the law is king,” Thomas Paine wrote—but not the power of a man over his family. The power of the police has its origins in that kind of power. Under the rule of law, people are equals under the rule of police, as the legal theorist Markus Dubber has written, we are not. We are more like the women, children, servants, and slaves in a household in ancient Greece, the people who were not allowed to be a part of the polis. But for centuries, through struggles for independence, emancipation, enfranchisement, and equal rights, we’ve been fighting to enter the polis. One way to think about “Abolish the police,” then, is as an argument that, now that all of us have finally clawed our way into the polis, the police are obsolete.

But are they? The crisis in policing is the culmination of a thousand other failures—failures of education, social services, public health, gun regulation, criminal justice, and economic development. Police have a lot in common with firefighters, E.M.T.s, and paramedics: they’re there to help, often at great sacrifice, and by placing themselves in harm’s way. To say that this doesn’t always work out, however, does not begin to cover the size of the problem. The killing of George Floyd, in Minneapolis, cannot be wished away as an outlier. In each of the past five years, police in the United States have killed roughly a thousand people. (During each of those same years, about a hundred police officers were killed in the line of duty.) One study suggests that, among American men between the ages of fifteen and thirty-four, the number who were treated in emergency rooms as a result of injuries inflicted by police and security guards was almost as great as the number who, as pedestrians, were injured by motor vehicles. Urban police forces are nearly always whiter than the communities they patrol. The victims of police brutality are disproportionately Black teen-age boys: children. To say that many good and admirable people are police officers, dedicated and brave public servants, which is, of course, true, is to fail to address both the nature and the scale of the crisis and the legacy of centuries of racial injustice. The best people, with the best of intentions, doing their utmost, cannot fix this system from within.

There are nearly seven hundred thousand police officers in the United States, about two for every thousand people, a rate that is lower than the European average. The difference is guns. Police in Finland fired six bullets in all of 2013 in an encounter on a single day in the year 2015, in Pasco, Washington, three policemen fired seventeen bullets when they shot and killed an unarmed thirty-five-year-old orchard worker from Mexico. Five years ago, when the Guardian counted police killings, it reported that, “in the first 24 days of 2015, police in the US fatally shot more people than police did in England and Wales, combined, over the past 24 years.” American police are armed to the teeth, with more than seven billion dollars’ worth of surplus military equipment off-loaded by the Pentagon to eight thousand law-enforcement agencies since 1997. At the same time, they face the most heavily armed civilian population in the world: one in three Americans owns a gun, typically more than one. Gun violence undermines civilian life and debases everyone. A study found that, given the ravages of stress, white male police officers in Buffalo have a life expectancy twenty-two years shorter than that of the average American male. The debate about policing also has to do with all the money that’s spent paying heavily armed agents of the state to do things that they aren’t trained to do and that other institutions would do better. History haunts this debate like a bullet-riddled ghost.

That history begins in England, in the thirteenth century, when maintaining the king’s peace became the duty of an officer of the court called a constable, aided by his watchmen: every male adult could be called on to take a turn walking a ward at night and, if trouble came, to raise a hue and cry. This practice lasted for centuries. (A version endures: George Zimmerman, when he shot and killed Trayvon Martin, in 2012, was serving on his neighborhood watch.) The watch didn’t work especially well in England—“The average constable is an ignoramus who knows little or nothing of the law,” Blackstone wrote—and it didn’t work especially well in England’s colonies. Rich men paid poor men to take their turns on the watch, which meant that most watchmen were either very elderly or very poor, and very exhausted from working all day. Boston established a watch in 1631. New York tried paying watchmen in 1658. In Philadelphia, in 1705, the governor expressed the view that the militia could make the city safer than the watch, but militias weren’t supposed to police the king’s subjects they were supposed to serve the common defense—waging wars against the French, fighting Native peoples who were trying to hold on to their lands, or suppressing slave rebellions.

The government of slavery was not a rule of law. It was a rule of police. In 1661, the English colony of Barbados passed its first slave law revised in 1688, it decreed that “Negroes and other Slaves” were “wholly unqualified to be governed by the Laws . . . of our Nations,” and devised, instead, a special set of rules “for the good Regulating and Ordering of them.” Virginia adopted similar measures, known as slave codes, in 1680:

It shall not be lawfull for any negroe or other slave to carry or arme himselfe with any club, staffe, gunn, sword or any other weapon of defence or offence, nor to goe or depart from of his masters ground without a certificate from his master, mistris or overseer, and such permission not to be granted but upon perticuler and necessary occasions and every negroe or slave soe offending not haveing a certificate as aforesaid shalbe sent to the next constable, who is hereby enjoyned and required to give the said negroe twenty lashes on his bare back well layd on, and soe sent home to his said master, mistris or overseer . . . that if any negroe or other slave shall absent himself from his masters service and lye hid and lurking in obscure places, comitting injuries to the inhabitants, and shall resist any person or persons that shalby any lawfull authority be imployed to apprehend and take the said negroe, that then in case of such resistance, it shalbe lawfull for such person or persons to kill the said negroe or slave soe lying out and resisting.

In eighteenth-century New York, a person held as a slave could not gather in a group of more than three could not ride a horse could not hold a funeral at night could not be out an hour after sunset without a lantern and could not sell “Indian corn, peaches, or any other fruit” in any street or market in the city. Stop and frisk, stop and whip, shoot to kill.

“Do you like creepily polite children of strangers?”

Then there were the slave patrols. Armed Spanish bands called hermandades had hunted runaways in Cuba beginning in the fifteen-thirties, a practice that was adopted by the English in Barbados a century later. It had a lot in common with England’s posse comitatus, a band of stout men that a county sheriff could summon to chase down an escaped criminal. South Carolina, founded by slaveowners from Barbados, authorized its first slave patrol in 1702 Virginia followed in 1726, North Carolina in 1753. Slave patrols married the watch to the militia: serving on patrol was required of all able-bodied men (often, the patrol was mustered from the militia), and patrollers used the hue and cry to call for anyone within hearing distance to join the chase. Neither the watch nor the militia nor the patrols were “police,” who were French, and considered despotic. In North America, the French city of New Orleans was distinctive in having la police: armed City Guards, who wore military-style uniforms and received wages, an urban slave patrol.

In 1779, Thomas Jefferson created a chair in “law and police” at the College of William & Mary. The meaning of the word began to change. In 1789, Jeremy Bentham, noting that “police” had recently entered the English language, in something like its modern sense, made this distinction: police keep the peace justice punishes disorder. (“No justice, no peace!” Black Lives Matter protesters cry in the streets.) Then, in 1797, a London magistrate named Patrick Colquhoun published “A Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis.” He, too, distinguished peace kept in the streets from justice administered by the courts: police were responsible for the regulation and correction of behavior and “the PREVENTION and DETECTION OF CRIMES.”

It is often said that Britain created the police, and the United States copied it. One could argue that the reverse is true. Colquhoun spent his teens and early twenties in Colonial Virginia, had served as an agent for British cotton manufacturers, and owned shares in sugar plantations in Jamaica. He knew all about slave codes and slave patrols. But nothing came of Colquhoun’s ideas about policing until 1829, when Home Secretary Robert Peel—in the wake of a great deal of labor unrest, and after years of suppressing Catholic rebellions in Ireland, in his capacity as Irish Secretary—persuaded Parliament to establish the Metropolitan Police, a force of some three thousand men, headed by two civilian justices (later called “commissioners”), and organized like an army, with each superintendent overseeing four inspectors, sixteen sergeants, and a hundred and sixty-five constables, who wore coats and pants of blue with black top hats, each assigned a numbered badge and a baton. Londoners came to call these men “bobbies,” for Bobby Peel.

It is also often said that modern American urban policing began in 1838, when the Massachusetts legislature authorized the hiring of police officers in Boston. This, too, ignores the role of slavery in the history of the police. In 1829, a Black abolitionist in Boston named David Walker published “An Appeal to the Coloured Citizens of the World,” calling for violent rebellion: “One good black man can put to death six white men.” Walker was found dead within the year, and Boston thereafter had a series of mob attacks against abolitionists, including an attempt to lynch William Lloyd Garrison, the publisher of The Liberator, in 1835. Walker’s words terrified Southern slaveowners. The governor of North Carolina wrote to his state’s senators, “I beg you will lay this matter before the police of your town and invite their prompt attention to the necessity of arresting the circulation of the book.” By “police,” he meant slave patrols: in response to Walker’s “Appeal,” North Carolina formed a statewide “patrol committee.”

New York established a police department in 1844 New Orleans and Cincinnati followed in 1852, then, later in the eighteen-fifties, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Baltimore. Population growth, the widening inequality brought about by the Industrial Revolution, and the rise in such crimes as prostitution and burglary all contributed to the emergence of urban policing. So did immigration, especially from Ireland and Germany, and the hostility to immigration: a new party, the Know-Nothings, sought to prevent immigrants from voting, holding office, and becoming citizens. In 1854, Boston disbanded its ancient watch and formally established a police department that year, Know-Nothings swept the city’s elections.

American police differed from their English counterparts: in the U.S., police commissioners, as political appointees, fell under local control, with limited supervision and law enforcement was decentralized, resulting in a jurisdictional thicket. In 1857, in the Great Police Riot, the New York Municipal Police, run by the mayor’s office, fought on the steps of city hall with the New York Metropolitan Police, run by the state. The Metropolitans were known as the New York Mets. That year, an amateur baseball team of the same name was founded.

Also, unlike their British counterparts, American police carried guns, initially their own. In the eighteen-sixties, the Colt Firearms Company began manufacturing a compact revolver called a Pocket Police Model, long before the New York Metropolitan Police began issuing service weapons. American police carried guns because Americans carried guns, including Americans who lived in parts of the country where they hunted for food and defended their livestock from wild animals, Americans who lived in parts of the country that had no police, and Americans who lived in parts of North America that were not in the United States. Outside big cities, law-enforcement officers were scarce. In territories that weren’t yet states, there were U.S. marshals and their deputies, officers of the federal courts who could act as de-facto police, but only to enforce federal laws. If a territory became a state, its counties would elect sheriffs. Meanwhile, Americans became vigilantes, especially likely to kill indigenous peoples, and to lynch people of color. Between 1840 and the nineteen-twenties, mobs, vigilantes, and law officers, including the Texas Rangers, lynched some five hundred Mexicans and Mexican-Americans and killed thousands more, not only in Texas but also in territories that became the states of California, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico. A San Francisco vigilance committee established in 1851 arrested, tried, and hanged people it boasted a membership in the thousands. An L.A. vigilance committee targeted and lynched Chinese immigrants.

The U.S. Army operated as a police force, too. After the Civil War, the militia was organized into seven new departments of permanent standing armies: the Department of Dakota, the Department of the Platte, the Department of the Missouri, the Department of Texas, the Department of Arizona, the Department of California, and the Department of the Columbian. In the eighteen-seventies and eighties, the U.S. Army engaged in more than a thousand combat operations against Native peoples. In 1890, at Wounded Knee, South Dakota, following an attempt to disarm a Lakota settlement, a regiment of cavalrymen massacred hundreds of Lakota men, women, and children. Nearly a century later, in 1973, F.B.I. agents, SWAT teams, and federal troops and state marshals laid siege to Wounded Knee during a protest over police brutality and the failure to properly punish the torture and murder of an Oglala Sioux man named Raymond Yellow Thunder. They fired more than half a million rounds of ammunition and arrested more than a thousand people. Today, according to the C.D.C., Native Americans are more likely to be killed by the police than any other racial or ethnic group.

Modern American policing began in 1909, when August Vollmer became the chief of the police department in Berkeley, California. Vollmer refashioned American police into an American military. He’d served with the Eighth Army Corps in the Philippines in 1898. “For years, ever since Spanish-American War days, I’ve studied military tactics and used them to good effect in rounding up crooks,” he later explained. “After all we’re conducting a war, a war against the enemies of society.” Who were those enemies? Mobsters, bootleggers, socialist agitators, strikers, union organizers, immigrants, and Black people.

To domestic policing, Vollmer and his peers adapted the kinds of tactics and weapons that had been deployed against Native Americans in the West and against colonized peoples in other parts of the world, including Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines, as the sociologist Julian Go has demonstrated. Vollmer instituted a training model imitated all over the country, by police departments that were often led and staffed by other veterans of the United States wars of conquest and occupation. A “police captain or lieutenant should occupy exactly the same position in the public mind as that of a captain or lieutenant in the United States army,” Detroit’s commissioner of police said. (Today’s police officers are disproportionately veterans of U.S. wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, many suffering from post-traumatic stress. The Marshall Project, analyzing data from the Albuquerque police, found that officers who are veterans are more likely than their non-veteran counterparts to be involved in fatal shootings. In general, they are more likely to use force, and more likely to fire their guns.)

Vollmer-era police enforced a new kind of slave code: Jim Crow laws, which had been passed in the South beginning in the late eighteen-seventies and upheld by the Supreme Court in 1896. William G. Austin became Savannah’s chief of police in 1907. Earlier, he had earned a Medal of Honor for his service in the U.S. Cavalry at Wounded Knee he had also fought in the Spanish-American War. By 1916, African-American churches in the city were complaining to Savannah newspapers about the “whole scale arrests of negroes because they are negroes—arrests that would not be made if they were white under similar circumstances.” African-Americans also confronted Jim Crow policing in the Northern cities to which they increasingly fled. James Robinson, Philadelphia’s chief of police beginning in 1912, had served in the Infantry during the Spanish-American War and the Philippine-American War. He based his force’s training on manuals used by the U.S. Army at Leavenworth. Go reports that, in 1911, about eleven per cent of people arrested were African-American under Robinson, that number rose to 14.6 per cent in 1917. By the nineteen-twenties, a quarter of those arrested were African-Americans, who, at the time, represented just 7.4 per cent of the population.

Progressive Era, Vollmer-style policing criminalized Blackness, as the historian Khalil Gibran Muhammad argued in his 2010 book, “The Condemnation of Blackness: Race, Crime, and the Making of Modern Urban America.” Police patrolled Black neighborhoods and arrested Black people disproportionately prosecutors indicted Black people disproportionately juries found Black people guilty disproportionately judges gave Black people disproportionately long sentences and, then, after all this, social scientists, observing the number of Black people in jail, decided that, as a matter of biology, Black people were disproportionately inclined to criminality.

More recently, between the New Jim Crow and the criminalization of immigration and the imprisonment of immigrants in detention centers, this reality has only grown worse. “By population, by per capita incarceration rates, and by expenditures, the United States exceeds all other nations in how many of its citizens, asylum seekers, and undocumented immigrants are under some form of criminal justice supervision,” Muhammad writes in a new preface to his book. “The number of African American and Latinx people in American jails and prisons today exceeds the entire populations of some African, Eastern European, and Caribbean countries.”

It's Complicated: The University Of Chicago's Relationship With Its Neighbors

When Sean Hudson moved from Tuscaloosa, Alabama to the Woodlawn neighborhood five years ago, he says he noticed a divide in the community.

"The block that I stayed on was actually university-owned apartments, and so most of the people on my block were white cause most of them either had some relationship with the university or they had recently moved to the area," Hudson says.

Sean, who is African-American, had moved to Chicago to attend graduate school at the University of Chicago. He says his white neighbors didn't have much to say about the U of C and didn't seem aware of any tensions between the school and some African-American residents living in the nearby communities.

But as he traveled south on Cottage Grove Avenue, he says he found more long-time African-American residents who had a negative opinion of the prestigious university.

"You got a sense that they just have this precarious relationship with the university," Hudson says. "And I used to always hear people in the community say, 'You know I just don't trust U-Chicago moving more south of their campus.'"

Which is why he turned to Curious City with a question:

What is the relationship like between the University of Chicago and the residents that live nearby?

"The relationship and tension goes back a long time," says WBEZ's South Side reporter Natalie Moore.

In the early 1930s and '40s, the university supported what's known as restrictive covenants to keep black residents from living near campus, Moore says.

In fact, Chicago writer Lorraine Hansberry's famous play A Raisin in the Sun is based on her family's experience trying to buy a home in West Woodlawn during this time.

The relationship between the university and the neighboring communities was tested again in the '60s and '70s when the U of C wanted to expand its campus south — prompting protests by community activists. Even though the school ultimately decided not to expand past 61st Street, the community remained distrustful.

In the 2000s, residents in nearby neighborhoods fought a years-long battle to get the university to reopen an adult trauma center. U of C closed its hospital's trauma center in 1988 to save money. The university said it was losing millions treating patients without health insurance. But this left victims of gun violence and car accidents without nearby access to trauma care. The death of 18-year old Damian Turner, who was shot just a few blocks from the University of Chicago hospital in 2010 but driven nine miles to Northwestern Memorial Hospital for treatment, helped push the school to reopen an adult Level 1 trauma center last spring.

Today, community groups are pushing for the university to back a Community Benefits Agreement, or CBA, related to the Obama Presidential Center that's going to be built in nearby Jackson Park. These groups are worried the development will drive up rent prices and force longtime residents out of the neighborhood.

To better understand how this history has shaped the current relationship and to learn what residents and the university believe will help improve that relationship, Curious City brought together representatives from both the neighboring communities and the university for a conversation.

The discussion included Derek Douglas, the man leading the university's efforts to improve relations community activists Jawanza Malone, the executive director for the Kenwood-Oakland Community Organization and Anton Seals Jr., executive director of Grow Greater Englewood.

Here are some highlights from their conversation, which has been edited for brevity and clarity.

To understand U Chicago's relationship to neighboring communities, Curious City facilitated a discussion with Derek Douglas (left), Anton Seals Jr. (middle), and Jawanza Malone (right). Katie O'Brien/WBEZ hide caption

How a history of tension informs today's relationship

Jawanza Malone, Kenwood-Oakwood Community Organization: The support for restrictive covenants that kept black people in 'place,' making sure that black people weren't allowed on the university and couldn't buy homes within a mile of the university, just looking at the history of racial profiling from the U of C police department . the trauma center closing. These are all things that people point to as reasons why there is this level of distrust of the university and why people are skeptical of some of the things that are happening now. We see progress being made and we encourage that but we're still fighting right now for the university to support a Community Benefits Agreement related to the presidential center — but if there aren't clear provisions to protect people from being displaced, it's bound to happen.

Derek Douglas, University of Chicago: The concern about displacement is a well-founded concern. Communities are facing challenges and you have a university there, well-resourced, that creates a dynamic that leads to tension. But if you look at the things we're doing, we try to find things where there's a mutual benefit. A few years ago, we created a program called the Community Programs Accelerator. The whole point of the program is to invite non-profit organizations from the South Side at all stages: You could be an entrepreneurial person with an idea to create a new non-profit, you could be a non-profit that's small but you're looking to scale or you can be one that's going well but you have some aspect of your organization that you want to enhance. We've worked with over 200 organizations over the last four years.

Anton Seals Jr., Grow Greater Englewood: I think it's not just the University of Chicago, I think part of the issues we're bringing up is dealing with the issue of things that have not been reconciled within our culture, within our city. And this becomes just another part of it — there has not been a reckoning. So some of the things in particular that black people are talking about on the South Side of Chicago is there's no acknowledgment of the truth and harm. On paper, yes, but then the intention and the spirit to say "OK let's not other, each other." And that is something that I think, our children are still going to have to deal with in terms of how do we reconcile those things?

The University of Chicago hospital closed its trauma center in 1988 to save money. Community activists fought a years-long battle, and the center finally reopened in spring of 2018. Courtesy/Chicago Sun-Times hide caption

How a battle over the trauma center changed the dynamics

Douglas, University of Chicago: A key breakthrough in all of this was we actually started talking to each other with respect. The lesson I took from that is the importance of the conversation and we're trying to do that right now with respect to the issues of displacement and things that people are concerned about. We formed some working groups on the university side to look at what we're doing around housing, small business, workforce development, ways in which we can do better . And I think that the trauma center is an example, even though it took too long, it's an example of conversation, construction, learning and understanding leading to a positive result.

Malone, Kenwood-Oakwood Community Organization: It's a shame that it took five years to get to this point. It's wonderful what we're seeing now. I think that what we're seeing coming from this trauma center being put in place, where there's actual intentionality, not just in terms of stitching people up and sending them back out on the street but also playing a role in seeing how we can prevent violence in the first place. That's phenomenal. And that's what we were advocating for five years. But what about all the lives that have been lost that could've been saved if the university had just reopened the trauma center it shouldn't have closed in the first place.

Jennifer Maddox (center) was able to expand her nonprofit after-school organization Future Ties through programs led by the University of Chicago's Office of Civic Engagement. Courtesy/University of Chicago hide caption

Where the relationship stands now

Seals Jr., Grow Greater Englewood: It's like a wild onion: There are a lot of layers, it's kind of funky and can be sweet in certain spots. I think I would describe the relationship as one that's sometimes acrimonious between communities. Also, I think people are usually going to, trying to engage the university but are also very distrustful of the university, with great reason.

Malone, Kenwood-Oakwood Community Organization: When we think about the role the university has played in the community historically, it is fraught with tension. There's been a host of things that the university has led or supported that has had a deleterious impact on the community surrounding the university.

Douglas, University of Chicago: Current day, I actually think it's an improving relationship. And improvement means that it has been in a place we wanted to grow from and get better. There was that period though, a long period, where the university was more focused on its own interest, and that's some of the stuff that Anton and Jawanza were referring to.

Community groups are pushing for the University of Chicago to back a Community Benefits Agreement, or CBA, related to the future Obama Presidential Center in Jackson Park. These groups are worried the development will drive up rent prices and force longtime residents out of the neighborhood. Nam Y. Huh/AP Photo hide caption

What work still needs to be done?

Seals Jr., Grow Greater Englewood: It just begs the question the juxtaposition of this huge international university and like four blocks down for the last 30 years there has been some of the worst poverty in the city. So I think figuring out how to attract and keep black families in these spaces is something that should be common ground.

Douglas, University of Chicago: I think if we have this kind of dialogue, we're going to find more common ground then we certainly have in the past and we may even find more common ground then we imagine we can. And I think that trust only comes through relationship. My view is that the university has to broaden and deepen its relationship with the community in order to get to a more trusting kind of relationship.

Malone, Kenwood-Oakwood Community Organization: How many relationships would you stay in if harm continues to happen? Our community is a very forgiving community, right? And so I have no interest in antagonizing anybody. My interest is making sure the people I represent, the people who I look at every single day are able to stay in the community that they call home and have called home for generations now. When black people came to this city, we found home where we were able to find home. The city was not a welcoming place to us. We have an opportunity to make sure the low-income families, working families and more affluent families are able to live in community together. We can make that happen. We can. And the only thing that's going to stop that is just us simply not having the will to do it.

At a July 2018 Obama Center CBA Summit, Jawanza Malone urged audience members to sign statements in support of a Community Benefits Agreement. "They say the prices going up and people are benefiting. If we got to move to another neighborhood, are we benefiting?" he said. Marc Monaghan /Hyde Park Herald hide caption

The conversation continues

Seals, Douglas and Malone say they plan to continue the conversation.

"You have to engage, you have to talk, you have to communicate. We have to embrace that dialogue if we want to see progress," Douglas says.

Seals and Malone say they want to focus the conversation on the Community Benefits Agreement, a legally binding contract to guarantee jobs and contracts connected to the construction of the Obama Presidential Center.

In February, the majority of voters in precincts around the future Obama Presidential Center voted in favor of a non-binding resolution in support of a CBA ordinance.

"The black community is suffering — they may be trying to look good but they're afraid, it's not a place that you want to raise black women or black young men — it's not the oasis that it was," Seals says.

"I think the next steps is a push for a broader CBA. If the CBA is an outdated model, then us coming together to figure out — since it's the University of Chicago — what are some of the new ways we can push to make sure we have this kind of equity around what development looks like."

Douglas says the university agrees that "we need to make sure that the benefits — the economic benefits and social benefits — that derive from the Obama Center are shared or inclusive of the community."

Malone believes it's important the University backs the CBA: "It would signal to the community a recognition of the significant stake the university has in the community, and the willingness to not just work to address past missteps, but to go a step farther to create new pathways to prevent future missteps from occurring."

More about our questioner

Questioner Sean Hudson moved to Chicago to attend graduate school at the University of Chicago. Sean Hudson /Courtesy hide caption

Sean Hudson is an education researcher and evaluator who focuses on secondary and post-secondary education and workforce preparedness. He's an avid yogi and believes he has the most friendly cat the world has ever known.

When it comes to University of Chicago's relations with neighboring communities, Sean is encouraged that the sides are talking at all. Turns out, he's from Tuscaloosa, Ala., which is also a university town.

"It's also surrounded by a lot of impoverished and disadvantaged communities," he says. "I think the major difference between this area and where I've come from is that this area's not afraid to have that conversation. Where, back at home, the University of Alabama really doesn't talk about that they refuse to have that conversation as if it doesn't exist."

Katie O'Brien is a freelance reporter based in Chicago. You can follow her @katieobez.

Old Town Hall District Police Station To Close

CHICAGO (CBS) – The 103-year-old old Town Hall District police station is set to close its doors, as the district officers move down the street to a new, state-of-the-art facility.

The police station was built in 1907. It was constructed from remnants of the old Lake View Town Hall and Courthouse, which was constructed in 1872 at the same northwest corner of Halsted and Addison streets to serve what was then the suburb of Lake View. The suburb was annexed to Chicago in 1889.

Since it opened, the police station has survived several attempts to replace it or shut it down.

When district were consolidated in 1959, the Town Hall police station served the 19th District, which extended from Lawrence Avenue on the north to Fullerton Avenue on the south, and from Lake Michigan on the east to the Chicago River&rsquos North Branch on the west.

&ldquoThe new 19th combines the old 37th, 38th and 39th districts…. On the lake shore are the harbors at Montrose, Belmont, and Diversey. Riverview Amusement Park and Wrigley Field are both in this district, as is the House of the Good Shepard (sic), where girls who are wards of the juvenile court stay,&rdquo a 1962 Chicago Police newsletter said in describing the district.

But in 1966, then-police Supt. O.W. Wilson said the old station could not provide the &ldquospace and modern equipment&rdquo needed for modern policing, the Tribune reported.

A new 19th District police station, at 2452 W. Belmont Ave., was later constructed on the former site of the aforementioned Riverview Amusement Park. But rather than having the new station supplant the Town Hall District station, as past published reports have said was the intention, police officials instead split the district in two. The Belmont District became the 19th District, while the Town Hall District became the 23rd District, with Clark Street as the dividing line between the two districts.

In 2004, there were rumors of a plan to recombine the districts. That year, the Town Hall District lockup was closed, and ever since, prisoners who were arrested in the district have instead been taken two miles west to the Belmont District lockup.

But through it all, the Town Hall station has remained. It has survived 15 mayors and 26 top cops, the Tribune reported.

In the past few decades, the neighborhood surrounding the Town Hall District station has been transformed into one of the nation&rsquos best-known gay nightlife districts. The Boystown neighborhood became the first officially recognized gay village in the country in 1998, and most of its nightclubs are located Halsted Street near the police station.

The relationship between the police district and the gay community in Boystown has had its well-documented ups and downs. Last year, many in the community were infuriated by allegations that a district officer, Richard Fiorito, had been falsifying police reports and making up DUI charges against drivers in the area, and specifically targeting gays and lesbians. Fiorito was placed on desk duty, but the Cook County State&rsquos Attorney&rsquos office declined to press criminal charges.

However, Gay Chicago Magazine points out, the role of the police liaison to the gay and lesbian community was originated in the Town Hall District by former Cmdr. Joseph DeLopez in the 1990s. A group picture of officers in front of the police station led the magazine’s “Now in Gay Chicago” news Web site Thursday.

The new Town Hall District station is located at 850 W. Addison St., directly behind the old one. The fate of the old building has yet to be determined, but among the ideas are using it for as office space for city Department of Revenue, Ald. Tom Tunney (44th) told the Tribune.

Chicago in the 1890s

Click on the links below to access scans of some of the sheet maps of Chicago in the 1890s that are held at the University of Chicago Library's Map Collection.

The 1890s were an extraordinary decade for Chicago, perhaps the only period in the city's history when its status as a "world city" would be disputed by few. The World's Columbian Exposition was held in 1893. "Prairie-school" architects like Frank Lloyd Wright began to acquire a measure of fame. Novels like Sister Carrie were inspired by the city's peculiar mixture of wealth and squalor--and by its astonishing growth. It is often said that Chicago grew more quickly in the second half of the 19th century than any large city in the modern history of the Western world. In the 1890s alone its population increased by 600,000. In 1900, with 1.7 million people, Chicago was, by some measures, (briefly) the fifth or sixth largest city in the world.

Transportation was inevitably a problem in the newly gigantic city, but the adoption of "electric traction" in the 1890s eased the strain. Horse and cable cars began to be replaced by electric streetcars, and the first lines of the elevated railway system opened. At the very end of the decade, plans were made for interurban lines to join steam railroads in connecting the city and its suburbs. Other infrastructure changes were also associated with rapid growth. The Sanitary and Ship Canal, constructed between 1889 and 1900, reversed the flow of the Chicago River (and its industrial wastes) away from rather than toward Lake Michigan. In addition, the bicycle boom of the 1890s stimulated the construction of paved roads into the countryside.

The maps are (with one exception) commercial maps. Their makers were not primarily interested in creating a carefully dated record of the built environment for future generations they wanted to sell maps. Their market consisted of Chicago's inhabitants and visitors, who used the maps to get around. Hence, the focus of most of the maps is infrastructure. Visitors to the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition made up the market of several of the maps such maps inevitably focus on the Exposition more than on the city.

The maps were scanned at 400 dpi using NextImage software and were saved as tiff files

You can access these files in two different ways:

[1] Click on the thumbnails below to see the files in a program called Zoomify. Zoomify breaks the original tiff files into tiny jpegs, so you can zoom in and out and move around quickly and efficiently. Zoomify requires Flash and so won't work on many mobile phones.

[2] You can also see the files through Luna. Luna, like Zoomify, allows you to zoom in and out and to move around. It also allows download of jpeg versions of the files (click "Export"). To access the Luna files, click on the "Click here for Luna version" button.

The original tiff files are also available. E-mail from the "Questions about this page?" button below.

Downloaded files are freely available for personal or scholarly use. If you use the images in a publication, we expect that you will mention that the original maps--and the files--are from the University of Chicago Library's Map Collection.

Several of the maps have tears or holes. We have resisted the temptation to do serious digital restoration work.

Several people contributed to the construction of this Web site. Justin Rounds of the Digital Library Development Center helped with the programming. The Digital Media Laboratory let Map Collection staff use its new Contex scanner, and Dale Mertes of the Digital Media Lab provided an enormous amount of assistance. Joost Dupon of the Map Collection did most of the scanning. Bobby Butler of the Map Collection did some light editing of a few of the files in 2015. Bridget Madden of the University of Chicago's Visual Resources Center and Charles Blair of the Library's Digital Library Development Center developed a protocol in 2015 that allows access via Luna. And Bobby Butler edited these pages to point to the Luna versions..

Additional maps of Chicago in the 1890s (and in the preceeding and following decades) can be found elsewhere on the Web. Topographic and other maps from this period are available through the University of Illinois Historical Maps Online project. The Library of Congress' Panoramic Maps Website contains several bird's eye views of 1890s Chicago. The digital Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps (available by subscription only) include building-by-building maps of late 19th-century Chicago. Northwestern University's Homicide in Chicago, 1870-1930 Website includes pdf versions of the Hull House maps, building-level thematic maps focusing on a few West Side blocks. The Encyclopedia of Chicago Website includes several 1890s maps (among them an alternate version of the Hull House maps and the 1886 Robinson atlas). See also the companion Website, Chicago, 1900-1914.

It is likely that most paper maps and atlases showing Chicago in the 1890s have never been scanned and made available on the Web. The largest Chicago-area collections of such maps are at the Newberry Library and the Chicago History Museum.

The maps are listed below in chronological order.

ImageTitle InformationSubject HeadingsDescription
Map of Chicago and suburbs. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps. Scale [ca. 1:50,000]. Chicago : Charles T. Gilbert Real Estate, 1890. 1 map : col. 89 x 59 cm.

Rand McNally and Co.'s standard map of Chicago. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps. Scale [ca. 1:20,000]. Chicago, Ill. : Rand McNally & Co., 1892. 1 map on 4 sheets : col. 190 x 112 cm.
Map of Cook County, Illinois, showing Chicago, its suburbs, and railroad connections / compiled by F.C. Rossiter. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps.
Cook County (Ill.)--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:170,000]. Chicago : F.C. Rossiter, 1893. 1 map 45 x 39 cm.
World's Columbian Exposition, 1893, Chicago, Ill., U.S.A. : bird's eye view, area 260 acres. (See note.) World's Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.)--Aerial views. Not drawn to scale. Chicago : Kurz & Allison, c1891. 1 view 64 x 97 cm.
[World's Columbian Exposition]. World's Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.)--Maps. Scale [1:7,008]. Chicago : Rand McNally, 1892. 1 map : col. 36 x 49 cm.
Map of the World's Columbian Exposition grounds and vicinity, Chicago, Illinois, 1893 / prepared expressly for Raymond & Whitcomb's Exposition Tours. World's Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.)--Maps. Scale [ca. 1:8,450]. [Chicago] : Raymond & Whitcomb, 1893. 1 map 31 x 45 cm.
Chicago Tribune's Columbian souvenir map of Chicago and the World's Fair / [by Rand, McNally and Co.] copyright by the Chicago Tribune. World's Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.)--Maps.
Central business districts--Illinois--Chicago--Maps.
Scale 1:47,520. Chicago : Rand McNally and Co., c1893. 1 map : col. 60 x 45 cm.
Rand McNally & Co.'s handy map of Chicago and the World's Fair, 1893. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps.
World's Columbian Exposition (1893 : Chicago, Ill.)--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:42,000]. Chicago : Rand McNally, 1893. 1 map : col. 49 x 32 cm. Alternate title: Rand McNally & Co.'s indexed guide map and key to World's Fair buildings, grounds, and exhibits with handy map of Chicago.
Lake Michigan coast chart. No. 5, New Buffalo to Chicago. Michigan, Lake--Maps.
Nautical charts--Michigan, Lake.
Scale [1:80,000]. [Detroit : Lake Survey, 1894]. 1 map 66 x 106 cm.

The Sanitary District of Chicago : a map / prepared by the Sanitary District. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps.
Chicago Region (Ill.)--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:31,680]. Chicago : Sanitary District of Chicago, 1895. 1 map 199 x 150 cm.
Nationalities map no. 1[-4], Polk St. to Twelfth . Chicago. Ethnology--Illinois--Chicago--Maps.
Near West Side (Chicago, Ill.)--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:1,865]. New York : Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1895. 4 maps on 1 sheet : col. sheet 36 x 112 cm.
Cook and Du Page Counties. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps.
Chicago Region (Ill.)--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:72,500]. [Chicago] : Rufus Blanchard, 1897. 1 map : col. 100 x 88 cm.

New map of Chicago showing street car lines in colors and street numbers in even hundreds / Rufus Blanchard. Local transit--Illinois--Chicago--Maps.
Local transit--Illinois--Chicago Metropolitan Area--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:21,000]. Chicago : Rufus Blanchard, 1897. 1 map : col. 216 x 118 cm.

New map of Chicago showing location of schools, street car lines in colors and street numbers in even hundreds / Rufus Blanchard. Schools--Illinois--Chicago--Maps.
Local transit--Illinois--Chicago--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:21,000]. Chicago : Rufus Blanchard, 1897. 1 map : col. 216 x 118 cm.
Street guide map of Chicago. Chicago (Ill.)--Maps. Scale [ca. 1:31,500]. [Chicago] : Rand, McNally & Co., [between 1897 and 1899]. 1 map : col. 67 x 49 cm.
New bicycle map showing carriage roads, also railroads, junction points, stations, post offices & villages. Bicycle trails--Illinois--Chicago Metropolitan Area--Maps. Scale [ca. 1:190,000]. [Chicago] : Rufus Blanchard, 1897. 1 map : col. 62 x 50 cm.
New bicycle map showing railroads, junction points, stations, postoffices & villages, also carriage roads. Bicycle trails--Illinois--Chicago Metropolitan Area--Maps. Scale [ca. 1:175,000]. Chicago : A.M. Askevold, 1898. 1 map : hand col. 72 x 56 cm.
Rand McNally & Co.'s railway terminal map of Chicago and its environs. Railroads--Illinois--Chicago--Maps.
Chicago (Ill.)--Maps.
Scale [ca. 1:100,000]. [Chicago] : Rand McNally & Co., 1899, c1893. 1 map : hand col. 114 x 90 cm.
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Watch the video: Chicagos Greater Grand Crossing neighborhood. (May 2022).