City, port of entry, commercial metropolis of
Illinois, and second city in the
United States in point of population according to the census of 1900.. It is not only the largest city on the
Great Lakes, but is also the largest interior
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Chicago art Institute. |
city in the country.
In 1900 it had an estimated area of 190 1/2 square miles.
The equalized valuation of all taxable property in 1899 was $345,196,419, and the net debt was $14,529,042. The city owned
real estate and buildings valued at $67,230,742, including a waterworks plant that cost $28,216,399. In the calendar year 1900, the foreign trade of the city was: Imports, $15,272,178; exports, $8,843,603. The population in 1890 was 1,099,850; in 1900 it had reached 1,698,575.
Early history.—The site of
Chicago was a favorite rendezvous for several tribes of Indians in summer.
Its name signifies, in the Pottawatomie tongue, wild onion, or a polecat, both of which abounded in that region.
Of the skin of the polecat the Indians made tobacco-pouches.
The spot was first visited by
Marquette, a
French Jesuit missionary, in 1673, who encamped there in the winter of 1674-75.
The
French built a fort there, which is marked on a map, in 1683, “Fort Checagou.”
When
Canada was ceded to
Great Britain this fort was abandoned.
The United States government built a fort there in 1804, and named it
Dearborn, in honor of the
Secretary of War.
It was on the south side of the
Chicago River, near its mouth.
In the War of 1812-15.
This fort was evacuated by its garrison in 1812, when the troops and other white inhabitants there were fallen upon by hostile Indians and many people murdered—Aug. 15.
The garrison of the fort was commanded by
Capt. N. Heald, assisted by
Lieutenant Helm.
The young wives of both officers were in the fort.
The garrison and the family of
Mr. Kinzie, living near by, were on friendly terms with the surrounding
Indians, until the spring of 1812, when the hostile feelings created by British emissaries first became slightly manifest.
A scalping party of Winnebagoes made a raid on a settlement near
Chicago in April, and during the early part of the ensuing summer the inhabitants saw, with alarm, the continual gathering of
Indians.
On Aug. 7, a friendly
Pottawatomie chief arrived with a letter from
General Hull, notifying
Heald of the declaration of war and fall of
Mackinaw, and advising him, if expe-
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dient, to evacuate the fort and distribute all the
United States property there among the neighboring
Indians.
Heald was advised by this chief and by
Kinzie to leave the fort and let the Indians distribute the property themselves.
“While they are doing this,” they said, “you and the white people may reach
Fort Wayne in safety.”
Heald, soldier-like, resolved to obey his orders.
He called them to a council the next day (Aug. 12), told them to come and receive the property, and accepted their offer to escort the white people through the wilderness to
Fort Wayne.
It was a fatal mistake, soon perceived.
Black
Partridge, a friendly chief, unable to control his warriors, came quietly to the commander, and said, “Father, I come to deliver to you the medal I wear.
It was given me by the
Americans, and I have long worn it in token of our mutual friendship.
But our young men are resolved to imbrue their hands in the blood of the white people.
I cannot restrain them, and I will not wear a token of peace while I am compelled to act as an enemy.”
This warning was strangely unheeded.
The less
honorable Indians promised good conduct, but there were unmistakable signs
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Medal given to Black Partridge by the Americans. |
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of treachery, and when the morning arrived for the departure of the white people (Aug. 15), it was clearly seen that the hostiles intended to murder them.
With that conviction, the garrison and white settlers went out of the gate of the fort in procession, like a funeral march.
The band struck up the “Dead March in
Saul.”
The wives of
Heald and
Helm rode on horseback by the side of their husbands; the former, a good shot, was armed with a rifle.
They had not gone far when their savage escort, 500 strong, fell upon them, and a sharp and bloody conflict ensued.
Rebecca.
Heald behaved bravely.
She received several wounds, but, though bleeding and faint, she kept her saddle; and when a fierce
savage raised his tomahawk to slay her, she said, in a sweet voice, in his own language, and with half a smile, “Surely you'll not kill a squaw!”
The appeal saved her life, and she lived until 1860.
A young savage attempted to tomahawk
Mrs. Helm.
She sprang to one side, receiving the blow on her shoulder, and at the same instant seized the
Indian around his neck aid endeavored to get hold of his scalping-knife.
While thus struggling, she was dragged from her antagonist by another Indian, who bore her to the shore of the lake and plunged her in, at the same time saving her from drowning.
It was a friendly hand that held her —the Pottawatomie
chief Black Partridge, who would have saved the white people if he could.
He gave
Captain Heald such warning as he dared.
On the night before the evacuation of the fort he had said to him, “
Linden birds have been singing in my ears to-day; be careful on the march you are going to take.”
On that bloody field, now in the suburbs of the great city of
Chicago, other women performed acts of heroism.
Meanwhile,
Captain Heald had made terms for surrender, and the massacre was stayed.
The prisoners were distributed among the captors, and were finally reunited or restored to their friends and families.
In this affair, twelve children, who were in a wagon, all the masculine civilians excepting
Mr. Kinzie and his sons, three officers, and twenty-six private soldiers were murdered.
On the following day the fort was burned by the Indians.
Among the slain was
Captain Wells,
Mrs. Heald's uncle, who came from
Fort Wayne with some mounted Miamis who were friendly.
He knew the danger, and had hastened to
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attempt to divert it. He was too late, for the fort was abandoned when he arrived.
His cowardly
Miamis fled at the first onset of the Pottawatomies, and he was crushed by overwhelming numbers.
The fort was re-established in 1816, and was occupied until 1837.
The last vestige of it—a block-house—was demolished in 1856.
A town was laid out near the fort in 1830, which embraced threeeighths of a square mile.
In 1831 it comprised twelve families, besides the little garrison of
Fort Dearborn.
The town was organized in 1833, with five trustees, when it contained 550 inhabitants.
It was incorporated a city March 4, 1837, when it contained a population of 4,170.
Its growth has since been marvellous.
A great fire occurred Oct. 9 and 10, 1871, by which the city was almost destroyed.
More than $200,000,000 worth of property was consumed, and 100,000 people were made homeless.
This, however, seemed not in the least to check its wonderful progress.
See
Columbian Exposition. 
