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The Arthur W. Mitchell papers in our Abakanowicz Research Center document his time representing Chicago’s First Congressional District from 1935 to 1943, during which he was the only African American member of Congress. In this blog post, learn more about Mitchell’s life and career.

A teacher, lawyer, congressman, and farmer, Arthur Wergs Mitchell was born in Roanoke, Alabama, on December 22, 1883, to Taylor and Ammar Mitchell. Both of his parents had been born enslaved, and his father worked as a farmer. In 1901, Mitchell attended Booker T. Washington‘s Tuskegee Institute for a year, followed by another year at Snow Hill Institute in Wilcox County. In the late 1910s, after opening and operating a series of schools for African Americans, Mitchell was accused of defrauding poor Black people of land to build these schools, and a number of them mysteriously burned down. The mounting legal problems and pending lawsuits likely spurred him to move to Washington, DC, in 1919. There, Mitchell studied law on his own for three years, passed the District of Columbia bar exam despite lacking a law degree, and founded the Mutual Housing Company of Washington, DC, to help secure better housing conditions for African Americans.


Seated portrait of Arthur W. Mitchell, 1912. CHM, ICHi-026226

Mitchell moved to Chicago in 1924 and was admitted to the Illinois bar in 1927. After establishing a law office in 1928, he began to work for the Republican Party. Within a few years, he switched to the Democratic Party, whose positions toward the unemployed and poor aligned more with his personal views.

Mitchell ran for Congress in the 1934 primary election for the Democratic nomination for the Illinois First Congressional District, losing to a white competitor, Harry Baker. When Baker died soon afterward, however, Mitchell was named to run against Oscar De Priest, a Republican, former Chicago alderman, and the first African American elected to Congress since Reconstruction.


Mississippi congressman Sylvester Harris (left) congratulates Arthur W. Mitchell on his election to the House of Representatives after defeating Oscar De Priest, Chicago, 1934. CHM, ICHi-183204; Associated Press, photographer

On November 6, 1934, Mitchell became the first African American Democrat elected to the US Congress. One major factor in his victory was that he emphasized that his duty was to represent all of his constituents, a position that won him the support of many whites. He joined the Post Office and Post Roads Committee soon after his election and remained a member of the committee throughout his years in Congress. Less than one month into his first term, Mitchell fulfilled one of his campaign promises by introducing an antilynching bill. NAACP leaders were dissatisfied with the bill, however, believing its language was too weak. The rift between Mitchell and leaders of the NAACP became even more pronounced when he supported Senator Hugo L. Black for appointment to the Supreme Court despite evidence that Black had previously been associated with the Ku Klux Klan.

Mitchell was elected to a third term in Congress in 1938 and almost immediately introduced a bill to ban discrimination in interstate travel. He also quickly put forth bills against lynching, to reform the United States Civil Service, and to create an industrial commission to help African American businesses. That term, the Anti-Lynching Bill of 1937 passed the House but again died in the Senate.


From left: Illinois congressmen Raymond S. McKeough, Arthur W. Mitchell, and New York congressman Joseph A. Gavagan (right) shake hands following passage of an antilynching bill in the House of Representatives, 1940. It would be the second time the bill passed the House but died in the Senate because of filibusters by Southern Democrats. CHM, ICHi-026235; Acme Photo, photographer

Following his election to a fourth and final term, Mitchell again offered bills on civil service reform, lynching, a commission on “Negro affairs,” and desegregated interstate travel. It was during this term that he also won what he considered to be his greatest victory in a case that went to the US Supreme Court. The congressman had begun his legal battle against Jim Crow in 1937, when he sued the Illinois Central and Rock Island railroads and the Pullman Company under the Interstate Commerce Act (1887), which stated that all passengers on railroads were to be given equal and fair treatment. He had been traveling on a train in Arkansas when he was ejected from a first-class seat and put in a “colored” second-class car. The Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) rejected Mitchell’s appeal, ruling that it could not override Arkansas segregation laws. He vowed to take the case all the way to the Supreme Court, and on April 28, 1941, the high court reversed the ICC ruling.


Arthur W. Mitchell (left) and attorney Richard E. Westbrooke in Washington, DC, to argue before the Supreme Court that African Americans were entitled to equal accommodations on interstate passenger trains, 1941. CHM, ICHi-026227

In spite of the ruling, it took until 1955 for the ICC to ban segregation in interstate railroad transportation. The congressman considered his case to be a major step toward the eventual equal treatment of African Americans in interstate travel. Frustrated over the failure of his bills to be passed and faced with the challenge of a new candidate in his district, Mitchell decided not to run for reelection in 1942. He was succeeded in Congress by Democrat William L. Dawson.

Mitchell retired to his farm in Petersburg, Virginia, returning occasionally to Washington, DC, to serve as an advisor to the US War Department. He also involved himself in the work of the Southern Regional Council, a biracial group that attempted to achieve an unsegregated society in unobtrusive ways. Continuing some work in politics, he supported the Adlai E. Stevenson-John J. Sparkman ticket against Dwight D. Eisenhower and Richard M. Nixon in the 1952 presidential race. On May 9, 1968, Arthur Mitchell died in his Petersburg home at the age of 84.

Additional Resources


The view looking down at the Civic Center Christmas tree after Mayor Richard J. Daley turned on the lights, December 9, 1966. ST-80004582-0005, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

It’s been said a million times. The sequel never lives up to the original. And while that generally holds true, when exceptions happen, they’re particularly noteworthy. When The Empire Strikes Back was released in 1980, it pushed the boundaries of sci-fi films in a way many thought impossible, shattering the precedent set by its predecessor, A New Hope. Similarly, Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight made crowds fall in love and appreciate villains just that much more. In the rapidly forgettable world of holiday film sequels, Home Alone 2: Lost In New York pulls no punches compared to its predecessor, standing as a Christmas movie staple.

Released on November 20, 1992, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York is the sequel to 1990’s iconic holiday box office hit, Home Alone. When it opened, it shattered the record for the largest November opening weekend, with more than $31 million in revenue, and would go on to gross just over $100 million in three weeks. It would ultimately rank as the third-highest grossing film of 1992.

The film takes all the antics and hijinks that made the first a hit and amps them up to the next level, with the lovable Kevin McCallister, played by Macaulay Culkin, outrunning and outsmarting his rivals, the Wet Bandits, after being separated from his family and accidentally landing in New York instead of Florida for the family’s holiday vacation. But while Kevin may have landed in New York, his film was set inside the universe of the late director John Hughes, which often meant one thing. If it could be set in and filmed in Chicago, it would be. So, with a bit of Hollywood camera magic and set design, even the keenest of observers were tricked into believing that Kevin left suburban Winnetka and went 800 miles east to the Big Apple.

Although a good amount of the film was shot on-site and in-studio, some of the most iconic scenes were still cleverly filmed in Chicago. Some of the earliest scenes in the movie were filmed in Winnetka and Evanston and in nearby O’Hare International Airport. The airport actually returns later in the film, serving as the double for John F. Kennedy International Airport in Queens, where Kevin was alerted that he had once again been separated from his family.


O’Hare International Airport’s new international terminal on the day of its ribbon-cutting ceremony, May 27, 1993. ST-30002446-0291, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

While Kevin’s luxurious stay at the Plaza Hotel in New York features the hotel’s lobby and exterior, his iconic penthouse suite was actually located in another hotel that looms large in Chicago history—the Hilton Chicago on South Michigan Avenue. Originally named the Stevens Hotel, the Holabird and Roche-designed building opened its doors in 1927, and it was known as a “city within a city” due to its near-endless amenities and 3,000 guestrooms. At the time, it was believed to be the world’s largest hotel. The business would eventually be acquired by hotel magnate Conrad Hilton, and he would rename the building after himself, highlighting the importance of the building. Kevin, using his dad’s credit card, checked himself into the hotel’s Conrad Suite, also named after the man himself. The pool scene featuring poorly-fitting swim trunks was filmed a stone’s throw away at the Four Seasons Hotel on Delaware Place.


The Stevens Hotel (now the Hilton) along Michigan Avenue in 1927. CHM, ICHi-076260; Kaufmann & Fabry Co., photographer

Since no excursion to Chicago (or “New York”) is complete without some shopping, Duncan’s Toy Chest captured every kid’s dream toy store. The magic behind Duncan’s was created in two parts. The store’s exterior belongs to the historic Burnham and Root-designed Rookery Building on South LaSalle Street in the Loop. Meanwhile, the store’s interior was crafted by making use of a northside movie palace, the iconic Uptown Theatre, originally owned by the Balaban and Katz movie chain. The theatre’s luxurious interior was meant to mimic that of the Palace of Versailles and was one of the first buildings of its size to have air conditioning. Throughout its run, the theater presented everything from silent movies and vaudeville shows to major acts like Prince and The Who. It closed its doors in 1981. What a lucky boy Kevin was to be inside!


Entrance to the Rookery Building at 209 South LaSalle Street, July 30, 1957. CHM, ICHi-093046; Glenn E. Dahlby, photographer

Finally, in what was perhaps the most creative use of Chicago landmarks to double as locations in New York, Kevin’s bird’s eye viewing of the orchestra performing “O Come On All Ye Faithful” again makes a convincing (and we’d argue, better-looking) double of Carnegie Hall by using the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s Symphony Center on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Adams Street in the Loop as the performance space.


Benny Goodman records with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra on the performance stage at Orchestra Hall, 220 S. Michigan Ave., June 18, 1966. ST-19070395-0011, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

Today, both Home Alone films continue to be cult classics. The Hilton Hotel where Kevin stayed even offers a themed stay simply titled “The Kevin Package,” which allows guests to stay in the Conrad Suite and live out their Home Alone dreams, personal cheese pizza included. For those looking to relive even more nostalgia, every December to mark the holidays, Easy Street Pizza in nearby Park Ridge transform into Little Nero’s Pizza, the fictional restaurant from the first installment of the franchise, where no less than 10 pizzas were ordered at a cost of $122.50 in 1990 dollars. Adjusted for inflation, that would be $281.12 today.

Additional Resources

This month, the Chicago History Museum (CHM) is giving fans of Kukla, Fran and Ollie a gift by putting the beloved show on the big screen in the Robert R. McCormick Theater. From December 26 to 31, visitors can enjoy a full week’s worth of episodes from December 1951.


Undated photograph of hand puppets from Kukla, Fran and Ollie. From left: Beulah Witch, Cecil Bill, Ollie, Kukla, Colonel Crackie, Fletcher Rabbit, and Madame Ophelia Ooglepuss. CHM, ICHi-069817

But who were Kukla, Fran, and Ollie and what was their show? Television viewers of a certain age know the answers, perhaps wistfully recalling the puppets Kukla, a clown, Ollie, full name Oliver J. Dragon, and their human pal Fran Allison who visited their homes regularly from 1947 to 1957 via the beloved TV program Kukla, Fran and Ollie. Kukla, Ollie, and their various friends, collectively known as the Kuklapolitans, were the creation of Chicago native Burr Tillstrom, and the program was one of a group called the Chicago School of Television.


A Madame Ophelia Ooglepuss puppet on display in the Chicago School of Television section of Chicago: Crossroads of America, December 2023.

Several shows produced in Chicago during the early years of television ended up being broadcast nationally and made a lasting impact on the medium. What distinguished these shows from those produced elsewhere was a sense of spontaneity, combined with an intimacy and authenticity, that made them feel like an extension of daily life. Chief among the Chicago School was Kukla, Fran and Ollie. It might seem peculiar from our contemporary perspective to describe a program whose main characters were puppets as realistic, but Kukla and Ollie possessed human virtues and vulnerabilities and gave expression to them in ways that resonated with viewers young and old (Tillstrom always maintained it was not a children’s show but rather a show that appealed to children as well as adults).


Undated photograph of Burr Tillstrom behind the set of Kukla, Fran and Ollie. CHM, ICHi-051913

Last year I gave myself the gift of research. I was working on an event for the Museum to mark the 75th anniversary of the broadcast of the first episode of Kukla, Fran and Ollie (then titled Junior Jamboree), on October 13, 1947, on WBKB (today’s WLS-TV). CHM is home to the surviving episodes of the show, currently being digitized and made available courtesy of Kukla.Tv on YouTube, as well as the Kuklapolitans themselves and various props, but I went to the Abakanowicz Research Center (ARC) to explore the Burr Tillstrom papers, a treasure trove of production materials, photographs, and fan appreciation.


A “script” for the December 1, 1948, episode of Kukla, Fran and Ollie. Burr Tillstrom papers (Chicago History Museum), Box 78 (Box FF 78.1).

Within the papers, I discovered original sheet music, lighting plots, and set designs, all of which shaped the 75th anniversary event. The show was improvised before the camera, with the “script” of each episode being typed out by Tillstrom’s assistant as it unfolded in real time, all of them preserved in the archive. At the start of my research, I was aware of pioneering producer Beulah Zachary (for whom Beulah Witch was named) but learned in the papers that WBKB did not have a “cameraman” but a camerawoman named Rae Stewart.


An undated graphic featuring WBKB camerawoman Rae Stewart. Burr Tillstrom papers (Chicago History Museum), Box 6 (Box FF 6.8).

What stuck with me the most, however, was the palpable love from fans of the program, preserved in handmade cards, personal letters, and Western Union telegrams. One thick binder contained viewer responses to a single episode, the final one that aired in August 1957.

In that binder, I found a letter from an older viewer, one who had been suspicious of the newfangled television until she and her husband discovered Kukla, Fran and Ollie and began to watch it daily. “After my husband died a year ago,” she wrote, “you were my real friends. Because you came, I did not need to eat dinner alone; and your gentleness and non-raucous fun made you such welcome dinner guests.” She concluded, “I knew, too, that I could count on you to be as understanding of me and my loneliness as you are of each other’s problems and those of the other Kuklapolitans.” For this viewer and many others, Tillstrom’s creations were real.

In the upcoming year, stop by the ARC, which is free to visit, and get hands-on with Chicago’s history. You never know what you’ll discover.

Additional Resources

In many Western countries, December 6 (December 19 in Eastern Christian traditions) marks the Feast of St. Nicholas of Bari, Bishop of Myra. Known in his lifetime for his advocacy for those experiencing financial need, St. Nicholas’s legacy as the patron saint of children and the poor has become embodied through heritages of gift giving. Different gift giving traditions abound, with many children and families leaving stockings hung on Christmas Eve.

Trowbridge Pictorial, Christmas stockings above fireplace, c. 1923–1936. CHM, ICHi-151110; Raymond W. Trowbridge, photographer

In some European and Euro-American Christian households, this has translated to leaving shoes out on the eve of December 5 in anticipation of St. Nicholas filling them with small gifts and treats the next day—treats including candy!


Christmas advertisement for Overland Candy Co. (division of Leaf Candy), c. 1955. Leaf Brands, Inc., ledgers and promotional materials [manuscript], 1926–1971, 2003.0043.47, box 2, folder 9

Chicago has long been a national leader in candy manufacturing. By the 1980s, nearly a fourth of all candy made in the United States was produced here. Cicero Avenue was once home to many makers of sweet treats, including Tootsie Roll Industries, E. J. Brach, Cracker Jack, Farley Candy Co., and Ward Candy Co., with Mars, Inc. just a few miles away in the western suburb of Oak Park. Another household favorite joined “Candy Row,” as this part of Cicero was known, in the 1940s, taking over a former munitions factory: Leaf Brands.


Leaf Candy factory at Division Street and Cicero Avenue, c. 1955. Leaf Brands, Inc., ledgers and promotional materials [manuscript], 1926–1971.

Though today reincarnated as a large international company, Leaf Brands began with a Jewish family selling candy. In 1907, Louis and Clara Lifschitz arrived in New York from Retchietza, Minsk, then in Russia and today in Belarus, with their children Morris, Harry, Bella, Solomon, and Samuel. Louis initially worked selling dried fruit. By 1920, the family name shifted from “Lifschitz” to “Leaf,” and Louis had established a candy manufacturing business.


Leaf Candy owners Sol and Harry Leaf, from The Leaf Gum Story, Leaf Brands, Inc., ledgers and promotional materials [manuscript], 1926–1971, 2003.0043.47 Vol. 1

In the 1920s, son Sol Leaf made his way to Chicago, marrying Bertha Jaffe and making his own mark on the candy manufacturing industry. He, along with brother Harry, owned companies including the Milko Cone and Baking Co., the Overland Candy Corporation, and the Leaf Gum Company. Initially, they specialized in generic bulk candies (think hard candies you might find in your grandparents’ candy dish), chewing gums, and penny candy.


Leaf Candy’s Root Beer Barrel advertisement, c. 1955. Leaf Brands, Inc., ledgers and promotional materials [manuscript], 1926–1971.

In the 1940s, the companies merged to become the Leaf Confectionary Company (later Leaf Brands International). They would go on to become the makers of many household favorites, including Whoppers malted milk balls, Sixlets, Jolly Ranchers, and Milk Duds.


Leaf Candy’s Whoppers advertisement, c. 1955. Leaf Brands, Inc., ledgers and promotional materials [manuscript], 1926–1971, 2002.0008. 

Their clever seasonal marketing made them a go-to for candy sales, including a number of special holiday lines for Halloween, Easter, and Christmas. 


Leaf Brands, Inc., ledgers and promotional materials [manuscript], 1926–1971.

Through a series of international mergers, by the 1980s and 1990s Leaf had operations in seven countries and claimed a top place in global candy manufacturing. Its North American operations were eventually sold to the Hershey Foods Corporation, with a number of other mergers and acquisitions taking place overseas. A rebranded Leaf exists today with a smaller line-up of nostalgia-driven favorites.

The Leaf family’s arrival to the United States in 1907 coincided with a period of intense anti-Semitism against Jews in Eastern Europe after the assassination of Tsar Alexander II in 1881. Pogroms spread throughout what was then-Russia (today including countries such Ukraine, Belarus, Lithuania, and Poland), with Jewish businesses and homes targeted. European Jewish migration to the United States in this period reached a peak from 1906 to 1908, with most coming first to New York through Ellis Island. While most Eastern European Jews initially stayed in New York, some continued west to Chicago, settling in the city’s near West Side.


Hanukkiah, c. 1900. Metal. B. Buch/W.M.F., Warsaw, Poland. Collection of the Chicago History Museum, gift of Fredi Leaf. 2014.78.1

In addition to the Leaf Brand documents and other archival materials that can be accessed in the Museum’s Abakanowicz Research Center, a personal object from the Leaf family is featured in our exhibition Back Home: Polish Chicago. This hanukkiah was made in Poland c. 1900 and used by the Sol and Bertha Leaf family in their home. A hanukkiah, or nine-pronged menorah, is a special candelabra used during the Jewish celebration of Hanukkah. Bertha brought it when she immigrated to America in 1907. Its style, which represents the biblical Garden of Eden, was popular at this time and features palm trees, grape leaves, and animals. The eight vessel-like pieces along its base are used to hold eight candles—one for each night of Hanukkah—and the single vessel to the right holds the shamash, or “helper” candle, which is used to light the others.

The hanukkiah was passed from Sol and Bertha to their son, Marshall Leaf, and his wife Fredi. Fredi, who donated the hanukkiah to CHM in 2014, noted the hanukkiah was lovingly used by her in-laws for many years until it was later replaced by a midcentury modern design, though this beloved symbol of the old world remained in their home for many decades.

Chicago, a city renowned for its architectural marvels and cultural richness, has a darker side to its history–one that unfolds through infamous true crime cases. In this blog post, Ayah Elkossei of the Chicago History Museum’s Abakanowicz Research Center (ARC) shares about the abundant resources for those fascinated by the city’s criminal past. Content warning: Some of the resources discuss heinous acts of violence and sexual assault, which may be distressing or triggering.

The newly available True Crime LibGuide is a digital treasure trove crafted by ARC staff to help you explore our holdings on the enigmatic world of Chicago’s criminal underbelly.


Al Capone leaving court during trial for tax evasion, Chicago, c. 1931. DN-0096927, Chicago Sun-Times/Chicago Daily News collection, CHM 

The LibGuide has five categories, which will guide users through the various entry points into true crime research. Starting with a list of Specific Cases, it delves into notorious trials that have left an indelible mark on Chicago’s history. From the chilling tales of notorious mobster Al Capone and serial killers, such as John Wayne Gacy, to the complex tapestry of political scandals, this section not only captures the attention of true crime enthusiasts but also serves as a valuable resource for those venturing into the depths of historical research methods. One of the highlights in this category is the Museum’s extensive material on the infamous duo, Leopold and Loeb.


Jacob Loeb, Nathan Leopold Jr., Richard Loeb, and Nathan Leopold Sr. sitting at a long table in a room in Chicago, before Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold Jr. went on trial for the murder of Bobby Franks, June 2, 1924. DN-0078038, Chicago Daily News collection, CHM

In the Archives and Manuscripts section, you can explore primary sources such as firsthand accounts and historical documents. It is a journey beyond the headlines, providing a nuanced perspective that goes beyond conventional narratives. One of our most popular (and heavily restricted) collections is featured in this section, that of the Chicago Police Department’s Red Squad. This section also highlights several of CHM’s collections that reveal insights into unfair murder investigations and judicial misconduct, shedding light on the inequities within the justice system.


Example of a Red Squad record at a press conference held by the Representatives of the Businessmen for the Public Interest regarding the Red Squad at the Executive House Hotel, 71 E. Wacker Dr., Chicago, January 5, 1977. Twenty-four Chicagoans claim they were watched by the Red Squad for years and filed a lawsuit that seeks to end the police surveillance. ST-60002106-0029, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

The next category features essential Published Materials and provides a curated list of books and published materials on various figures and topics. These materials offer not only in-depth insights but also serve as guideposts, pointing researchers toward other relevant sources and avenues of exploration. This section isn’t just books! There are some unique and unconventional materials here such as a scrapbook of miscellaneous Chicago crime stories, cut from 1930s-era detective magazines.


Exterior view of residence of Herman Webster Mudgett, a.k.a. H. H. Holmes, on 63rd Street, Chicago, c. 1896. Published in The Holmes-Pitezel Case: A History of the Greatest Crime of the Century. CHM, ICHi-027827

For those who prefer a strictly visual approach, the category on Image Research offers access to more than 370,000 digital images via CHM Images. Keyword searching will bring up a great deal of material relating to Chicago crime. These images, capturing crime scenes and events that defined Chicago’s past, provide a unique and evocative perspective for researchers. Delving into the Museum’s photo morgue collections, including the Chicago Sun-Times and Chicago Daily News, allows access to an additional 5 million images plus, creating a visual tapestry that recounts criminal activity in the city’s past.

Lastly, the LibGuide highlights Online and Other Local Resources, directing researchers to other institutions in the Chicago area focusing on crime and criminal justice. It is an invitation to further explore beyond CHM’s offerings.

We hope that this resource will help researchers, students, and true crime enthusiasts alike explore Chicago’s enigmatic criminal narratives.

Additional Resources

Happy Halloween! CHM museum specialist Jojo Galvan explores some of the notable markers in Chicago’s Graceland Cemetery.


Close up of Eternal Silence by Lorado Taft in Graceland Cemetery, 4001 N. Clark St., Chicago, May 10, 1977. ST-40001541-0037, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

Graceland Cemetery in the Uptown community area of Chicago is many things. It’s a certified arboretum and a masterclass example of the garden cemetery movement popularized across the United States in the 19th century. But most notably to Chicagoans, the hallowed grounds are the final resting place for an extensive list of Chicago elites and eccentrics. Among its more than 2,000 trees, Graceland’s residents include the builders of the Second City, with graves for individuals like Louis Henri Sullivan, Mies van der Rohe, and perhaps most notable among them, Daniel H. Burnham, designer of the Chicago Plan and head of planning for 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. He is buried alongside his wife, Margaret, on their own private island inside the cemetery.


Burial marker for Daniel Hudson Burnham and Margaret Sherman Burnham in Graceland Cemetery, 4001 N. Clark St., Chicago, May 10, 1977. ST-40001541-0031, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

Beyond architects, visitors to Graceland can also find the opulent and mysterious graves of many of the city’s elite financiers and socialites. Popular stops among the hundreds of notable graves in the cemetery include department store magnate Marshall Field, businessman Charles Wacker, and luxury sleeping car tycoon George Mortimer Pullman. Pullman is notably buried in a grave reinforced with concrete and railroad ties all under a Corinthian column and exedra, because his descendants feared his body would be disinterred and held for ransom by disgruntled employees.

Map of Graceland Cemetery, Chicago, Illinois, circa 1875
Map of Graceland Cemetery, Chicago, c. 1875. CHM, ICHi-027725

One of the most imposing (and certainly the largest) and perhaps eeriest, graves in the cemetery belongs to Potter and Bertha Honoré Palmer, who made their fortune in real estate and the hospitality industry. In line with the opulence of their hotel, the Palmer House on Wabash Avenue, the Palmers are buried in two sarcophagi under an imposing Greco-Roman mausoleum, forever canonized to horror film audiences in the burial scene of Damien: Omen II, which was released in theaters in 1978.

Tomb of Bertha Honore Palmer, wife of Potter Palmer, at Graceland Cemetery, located at 4001 North Clark Street, Chicago, Illinois, 1918.
Tomb of Bertha Honore Palmer, wife of Potter Palmer, at Graceland Cemetery, 4001 N. Clark St., Chicago, 1918. DN-0070162, Chicago Daily News collection, CHM

But beyond the graves of the well-known, the mythos of Graceland Cemetery has been elevated thanks to the folklore associated with a number of the statues adorning its gravesites, the most famous of which is undoubtedly Eternal Silence. The 10-foot-tall sculpture of a brooding, shrouded figure was designed by the renowned American sculptor and Illinois native Lorado Taft. The watchful monument guards the plot of the aptly named Graves family, descendants of Dexter Graves, one of the earliest settlers in Chicago, who arrived in the land that would come to be known as Chicago from Ohio.


Eternal Silence by Lorado Taft in Graceland Cemetery, 4001 N. Clark St., Chicago, May 10, 1977. ST-40001541-0008, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

The most widely shared story connected to Eternal Silence is a grim one. As the story goes, for those curious (and brave enough) to know how their life will come to an end, all they need to do is gaze directly at the cold, unbreaking gaze of the monument, and their fate will be revealed in a vision. Another popular monument with an eerie reputation is known as Inez Clarke. While there is some debate as to the monument’s origins and who is buried in the grave it marks, its story is a sad one. For years it’s been said that every time there’s a thunderstorm, the statue of the young girl disappears entirely from the glass vitrine covering it and returns once the skies clear because, in life, Inez was afraid of storms—a fear that carried over to other side.

Graceland, in all its mystery and beauty, is open to the public and regularly hosts tours of the grounds, both self-guided and in groups.

Additional Resources

CHM curator of civic engagement and social justice Elena Gonzales writes about the history and definitions of various descriptors of people of Latin American heritage and explains why CHM is shifting from using “Latino/a/x” to using “Latine.”


A woman holds up a sign that reads “Senator Stevenson, you represent the Latin Americans also,” Chicago, July 19, 1971. ST-60004929-0350, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

Latinx, Latine, Latino, Latin@, Latin, Brown, Chicano, Hispanic. Over the years, people of Latin American heritage have described themselves in a lot of different ways, and others have described them still differently.


A girl holds up a sign that reads “Chicano Power,” Chicago, July 19, 1971. ST-60004929-0031, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

It can be confusing for everyone and difficult to stay up to date and feel like you’re using the “right” terminology. The fact is that there’s no definitive “right” answer but there are important considerations to make when deciding what word to use.

Most Latinos define themselves in other ways first:

  • By a country (or colony) of heritage (Mexican, Puerto Rican, Guatemalteco)
  • A heritage word that includes race (Afro-Brazileño, Afro-Colombiano)
  • An Indigenous identity (Kichwa Otavalo)
  • A local marker (Chicagoan)

That’s because all of the words like “Latino” are maddingly unspecific and they leave lots of people out, especially Indigenous folks. Just as many Latinos identify first by country of heritage, as described above, many Indigenous people identify first by Indigenous culture–outside the context of a Latin American heritage.


People holding banners during a march for Las Buenas Amigas, a Latina lesbian group in Chicago, c. 1990. CHM, ICHi-176715

We might think of Latinos as being people from Latin America, but that idea has three major problems. The first is the perception of people with Latin American heritage as perpetual foreigners when 80% of Latinos were born in the US. The second is that the very concept of “Latino” is specific to the US. Mexicans in Mexico or Ecuatorianos in Ecuador are not “Latinos.”

Thirdly, the very concept of Latin America is problematic when you really sit down and try to determine which places are “in” or “out.” There is no neat and culturally accurate solution arising from using language, geography, or colonizer as a determinant of what counts as Latin American. What about Brazilians who speak Portuguese? What about speakers of 23+ Indigenous languages in Guatemala alone? What about places such as the Philippines that are very far from the Americas but nevertheless colonized by the Spanish? What about Haiti and Belize? Things get complicated really quickly.

On a historical note, it’s important to keep in mind the context of moments in the past when we’re thinking about how to refer to folks in history. We want to try to use the terms that would best suit historical actors while still making sense today. So, while we might not use the gender-neutral terms Latine or Latinx to describe a group of men in the 1970s, we might use them to describe a group we know to include members who are more gender-fluid.

Keep in mind:

  • This vocabulary is shifting even now, and the terms we like best today will continue to change. We shouldn’t be afraid to make changes in our own vocabularies as our knowledge and expression of identities change.
  • Whenever you have the chance to use a specific word about someone’s heritage rather than one of these general terms, please do!
  • And of course, if you’re talking about someone in particular who you know, please use the terms they prefer, just as you would for their pronouns.

A Latine Glossary for Today

Latin American: This term usually refers to someone outside the US, though, in the 1960s and 1970s it was still used to refer to folks inside the US and was often shortened to “Latin.”

Chicano/a/x: “Chicano” is a specific anticolonial political identity, not a general ethnic category. Through it, (initially young) Mexicans beginning in the 1960s have rejected the US theft of their ancestral homeland, Aztlán, and sought self-determination and solidarity with others seeking liberation.

Raza (race): “La Raza” is one identity term that acknowledges straight away that most Latinos experience race as non-white in the US. Using “La Raza” or “Raza” expresses solidarity through that.

Gente (people): “Gente” or “mi gente” is similar to “raza” in that it expresses solidarity through Spanish language.


A young man holds up a sign (partially out of frame) that reads “Brown Power,” Chicago, July 19, 1971. ST-60004929-0034, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

Brown: When “Hispanic / Spanish language origin” became a category on the US Census in 1980, Latino activists had been agitating for just such a change. But the word they wanted to use was “Brown.” They recognized that it carried specific meaning to identify as a racial category and that the experience of Latinos in the US was based in race. Though the Census Bureau found the addition of a racial category inconvenient, “Brown” continued to find expression in the “Brown Power” movement as well as in solidarity with other people experiencing race in America outside of whiteness. We hear the legacy of this today whenever we hear “Black and Brown people,” even though many people who are not Latino or Black also have brown skin.


Sign for Vasquez Restaurant serving “Spanish food,” along West Willow Street, Chicago, March 20, 1971. ST-10103752-0010, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

Hispanic: Without any disrespect to those who prefer to identify as Hispanic, this is the one identity term listed above that we avoid. Some people find it disrespectful because it means “of Spanish origin” and therefore places a crucial colonizer of the Americas–Spain–at the center of the identity.

Latino/a: This is the most widely embraced identity term that goes beyond country of heritage. It was added to the US Census in 2000. For a while people tried to use “Latin@” to be inclusive of gender.

Latinx: The failing of “Latino/a” is that it leaves out nonbinary folks. “Latinx” is an attempt to be more inclusive of gender nonconforming Latinos, but Spanish speakers have not widely accepted it. The criticisms are that it is difficult to say in Spanish and that people who are used to “Latino” don’t want to change their habit. In addition, despite best intentions, this term also felt like an example of linguistic colonialism–an imposition from the US.

Latine: Though “Latinx” is quite challenging to say in Spanish, “Latine” is easy. Spanish speakers are increasingly adopting this term, which originated in Spanish-speaking countries, to replace “Latinx,” and so will CHM.

Additional Resources

October is Filipino American History Month, which commemorates the first Filipinos to arrive on the North American continent at what is now Morro Bay, California, on October 18, 1587. In October 2009, the US Congress passed a resolution officially recognizing the commemorative month.


Portrait of Manuel L. Quezon, President of the Philippines, standing on the corner of a sidewalk, Chicago, 1917. DN-0067971, Chicago Daily News Collection, CHM

Before the Tydings-McDuffie Act of 1934, which led to the Philippines becoming an independent country, Filipinos immigrated to the States primarily as pensionado and family-sponsored students while the Philippine Islands was a US territory. The Pensionado Act (1903) was a program that Manuel Quezon, who later became the second president of the Philippines, passionately lobbied for in Congress and established scholarships after the Philippine-American War (1899–1902) to allow Filipinos to attend school in the States. His goal was to have a generation of young Filipinos who could become capable, democratic leaders in the Islands.

Chicago was one of the Midwest cities where ambitious, young Filipino men attended elite universities as well as to combat stereotypes from the war. They not only participated in campus life, but also in the local labor force and contributed to major movements as many settled in Chicago after immigration laws completely excluded Asians.


Edwin A. Lahey, “Finds Race Discrimination Evil Not Confined Solely to White People,” Chicago Daily News, p. 14, April 7, 1944.

Filipino workers also played an unintentional role in negotiations between the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters (BSCP) and the Pullman Company. To intimidate African American porters from joining the Brotherhood, the Pullman Company hired Filipino workers as replacements and published takedown articles to pit them against their African American coworkers. A Chicago Daily News article published April 7, 1944, insisted that the BSCP discriminated against Filipinos.


Milton P. Webster of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, 1951. CHM, ICHi-024898

However, many of the Filipinos who came during the early pensionado years were dues paying members of the BSCP Chicago Chapter, too. Chicagoan Milton Webster, vice president of the BSCP and lead negotiator, was asked by Filipino members to respond to the Daily News article and in an open letter dated April 19, 1944, he dispelled the notion that the Brotherhood discriminated against Asian workers: “A substantial number of our paid up members in the city of Chicago, where we have for eighteen years maintained a local division of which I am the president, are Filipinos. They occupy positions in the official staff. They enjoy every right and privilege in this Organization that the Constitution provides.”


Letter from Milton P. Webster to Edwin A. Lahey, April 18, 1944. Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, box 6, folder 11. Photograph by CHM staff.

Additional Resources

 

CHM museum specialist Jojo Galvan writes about Alfredo Cano and Bertha “Rosita” Musquiz, two professional Mexican American dancers who performed at the 1933–34 A Century of Progress International Exposition.

To celebrate Chicago’s centennial and to stimulate consumer spending in the midst of the Great Depression, the city organized the 1933–34 A Century of Progress International Exposition. That world’s fair opened on May 27, 1933, ran through November 12, 1933, and was deemed so successful that it ran again from May 26 through October 31, 1934. More than 48 million people attended the fair, which expanded across 400 acres of what is known today as Northerly Island, to marvel at the latest innovations in technology and engineering. The “Rainbow City,” as the fair came to be known, featured everything from colorful homes of the future, to the signature attraction of the fair, the Sky Ride, a mechanized transporter bridge that allowed visitors to take in the city from elevated heights.


Northerly Island during the A Century of Progress International Exposition, Chicago, September 9, 1933. ICHi-031117

Beyond American innovation, visitors could see international participants showcasing culture and ingenuity from abroad. Among the slew of nations represented, one of the most popular pavilions was our neighbor south of the border, Mexico.


The entrance to Mexican Village at the A Century of Progress International Exposition, Chicago, 1933. This lantern slide was hand-colored by the photographer, Anton Rodde. CHM, ICHi-176091; Anton Rodde, photographer

As one guidebook to the fair explained, those who ventured to the Mexican village could expect: “Music, dancing, and the free and easy enjoyments of the land of sunshine south of the Rio Grande . . . Señores, Caballeros, the house is yours is the attitude. Free outdoor entertainments are given by dancers and singers in fiestas in the square . . . Floor shows at 1 pm and hourly after 6 pm.”


The plaza of the Mexican Village at the A Century of Progress International Exposition, Chicago, 1933. This lantern slide was hand-colored by the photographer, Anton Rodde. CHM, ICHi-176094; Anton Rodde, photographer

The dancers so prominently advertised as part of the Mexican Village attractions suite were two professional Mexican American dancers, husband and wife Alfredo Cano and Bertha “Rosita” Musquiz. They danced as the professional flamenco dance team known simply as “Alfredo and Rosita.” Alfredo was an immigrant from Mexico who arrived as a laborer in Chicago in the 1920s and studied dance here. Rosita was a Mexican American from San Antonio, Texas, and the two crossed paths in 1930, just at the right time to secure their positions as dancers for the Mexican Village.


Studio portrait of Alfredo Cano and Bertha “Rosita” Musquiz, c. 1930. CHM, ICHI-183252; Larry Karns Cleveland, photographer

Audience members attending Alfredo and Rosita’s show were wowed not only by the intricacy of the embroidery and brightness of the garments worn by the performers, all of which were artisan-crafted in Mexico City but also by the duo’s traditional Mexican dances, bailes folkloricos, which often tell intricate stories and legends as part of the performance.


Proof sheet of photographs of Alfredo Cano and Bertha “Rosita” Musquiz, c. 1930. CHM, ICHI-183252; Larry Karns Cleveland, photographer

Performing at the fair made Rosita and Alfredo some of the premier dancers of their day. While their performances at the world’s fair were primarily traditional Mexican dances, their general performance repertoire was robust, including other traditional Latin dances like salsa and, of course, their signature flamenco. Professionally, Alfredo and Rosita’s career spanned two decades. While they toured at performance venues, festivals, and local celebrations, bringing their rhythms to diverse crowds across the country, Chicago was always their home base, and they were staples at many of the city’s venues, like the former Cuban Village Café that once stood at 715 W. North Avenue in the Old Town neighborhood and the swanky Walnut Room at the historic Bismarck Hotel (today the Allegro Royal Sonesta Hotel) on Randolph Street in the Loop.


Front and back views of one of Alfredo’s costumes. The black wool ensemble comprises a jacket, vest, trousers, shoes (not pictured), and sombrero (not pictured). CHM, ICHi-066611 and ICHi-066610

Rosita donated a number of her and her husband’s garments to CHM’s costume collection in the 1980s, where they remain to this day. Alfredo’s elaborately crafted Charro ensemble was included in the 2003 CHM exhibition Flamenco! Latin Dance in 1930s Chicago.

Additional Resources

In October 1848, a small group of Chicagoans witnessed the Pioneer locomotive’s inaugural run as it pulled from the city’s first railway station. CHM director of exhibitions Paul Durica writes about the winding journey it took to find its way to the Chicago History Museum.

The Pioneer locomotive endures as the historical artifact that could. Despite often being overshadowed by larger and more dynamic objects, it has managed to appear (with some modifications to its appearance over the years) at every significant Chicago fair and festival from the 1880s through the 1940s, including both the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition and the 1933–34 A Century of Progress International Exposition, before finding its forever home at the Chicago History Museum.


An undated photograph of the Pioneer. The first sentence of the caption reads: “On October 10, 1848, the brig ‘Buffalo’ arrived at Chicago with the first locomotive—the Pioneer.” CHM, ICHi-037010

As the first locomotive to operate within the city, the Pioneer has long remained, in the words of one commentator, the “historic symbol of the coming of the railroads” to Chicago and the nation, transforming both in challenging and enduring ways. A small group of Chicagoans witnessed the Pioneer on its inaugural run as it pulled from the city’s first railway station, near the intersection of present-day Canal and Kinzie Streets, 175 years ago this October. Whether they regarded what they witnessed with optimism, skepticism, or some mix of the two was not recorded.

That first ride on the rails of the still-under-construction Galena and Chicago Union Railroad stretched as far as Des Plaines, Illinois, transporting a group of prominent citizens one way and the same group along with some grain, back to Chicago. Bought second-hand (though with no bill of sale, the origin of the Pioneer remains unknown; it was likely manufactured c. 1840 for an eastern railroad company), the Pioneer was replaced within a decade by bigger, faster, more powerful locomotives as first the Galena and Chicago Union and then other railroad lines expanded throughout the 1850s. As the Chicago Tribune described that first run a century later, this “little event in October 1848. . . was the forerunner of a mighty development that ultimately made Chicago the greatest railroad center in the world.”

In 1883 Chicago celebrated being the “center” of the railroad industry by hosting the National Exposition of Railway Appliances. One of the featured exhibits was the Pioneer, which had from about 1858 to 1874 been used solely for company and construction work and was now deteriorating in a train yard. Given a fresh coat of paint, its significance supported by the memories of retired engineers, the Pioneer had pride of place at the Exposition, but this was a prelude to the exposure it soon received at one of the most significant events in Chicago history.


The Pioneer on display in the Transportation Building at the World’s Columbian Exposition, Chicago, 1893. CHM, ICHi-050434

This year marks the 130th anniversary of the World’s Columbian Exposition, the first Chicago world’s fair, an event invested in celebrating the past even as it looked toward the coming twentieth century. At the fair, in the Transportation Building designed by Louis Sullivan, the only one among the fourteen main structures not inspired by the classical past, stood that relic of Chicago, the Pioneer, “a funny-looking contrivance as compared with the great locomotives now in use,” according to the Tribune. There to tell its story was John Ebbert, who claimed to be its first engineer as well as an eyewitness to its arrival via the Great Lakes on the brig Buffalo. Ebbert’s stories of the early days of rail entertained visitors from around the world and established the Pioneer as an important symbol of this history. Today a variation of this experience at the World’s Columbian Exposition survives in an interactive display in the Museum’s Chicago: Crossroads of America exhibition.


An admission ticket to the 1948 Chicago Railroad Fair. According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics inflation calculator, 25¢ in 1948 is equivalent to $3.15 in 2023. Courtesy of Joseph M. Di Cola.

From the World’s Columbian Exposition, the Pioneer embarked on a long, winding journey that would take it, among other places, to the Columbian Museum (today’s Field Museum), the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis, A Century of Progress world’s fair, the Museum of Science and Industry, and the 1948 Chicago Railroad Fair.


The cowcatcher of the Pioneer being lifted into the Chicago Historical Society (Chicago History Museum), August 15, 1972. ST-19031875-0010, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

It wouldn’t arrive at the Chicago Historical Society until 1972 and would, along with the 1892 L Car, become one of two large artifacts in Chicago: Crossroads of America when it opened in 2006.


The Pioneer on display in Chicago: Crossroads of America.

There’s one small problem with this whole long story: the Pioneer visitors know may not have pioneered anything. The Pioneer isn’t named in any documents until 1856, when it appears in a Galena and Chicago Union inventory, and there were other locomotives in the company’s stock that fit the description of the one that first left the station in October 1848 (the exact date of which is somewhat disputed by historians). The Pioneer’s history rests solely upon the reminisces of old railroad workers, first taken down in the 1880s and 1890s. “A bill of sale, a contemporary newspaper story, an old diary entry, any scrap dating back to October 1848 might settle the question,” writes John H. White in his survey of the documentary evidence surrounding the Pioneer from 1976. “Perhaps some industrious scholar will one day find the missing information.”

But perhaps having witnessed so much of the city’s history in the last 175 years, where this humble locomotive began its journey and whether it was the first really doesn’t matter anymore?

Sources

  • “All Are of Interest: Exhibits to Be Seen in the Transportation Building,” Chicago Daily Tribune, April 30, 1893.
  • Paul Angle, “Chicago’s First Railroad,” Chicago History, vol. 1, no. 12 (Summer 1948).
  • Philip Hampson, “Chicago Railroad Fair Opens Today,” Chicago Daily Tribune, July 20, 1948.
  • Patrick McLear, “The Galena and Chicago Union Railroad: A Symbol of Chicago’s Economic Maturity,” Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, vol. 73, no. 1 (Spring 1980).
  • John H. White Jr., The Pioneer: Chicago’s First Locomotive (Chicago: Chicago Historical Society, 1976).
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