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CHICAGO – Producers John Davies, Reid Brody, Raymond Lambert and Brian Kallies announce the screening of their critically acclaimed documentary “Phunny Business: A Black Comedy” on the occasion of its 15th anniversary for Black History Month on Saturday, February 21, 12:30 p.m., at the Chicago History Museum.

“Phunny Business” answers the question, “What do you get when you mix comedy, race and politics in Chicago?” The film is as relevant today as it was in 2011 and was critically acclaimed by “The New York Times,” “The Hollywood Reporter,” Richard Roeper and Roger Ebert, who called it “one of the best documentaries of the year.” The 84-minute film tells the story of the rise and fall of All Jokes Aside, Chicago’s first Black-owned comedy club and features most of the important Black comedians of the day including:

 STEVE HARVEY • DAVE CHAPPELLE • JAMIE FOXX • CEDRIC THE ENTERTAINER SHERYL UNDERWOOD • CRAIG ROBINSON • DEON COLE • BERNIE MAC • CHRIS ROCK • LAVELL CRAWFORD • JB SMOOVE • MIKE EPPS • BILL BELLAMY • D.L. HUGHLEY • ADELLE GIVENS and many others.

In the early 1990s, three Black entrepreneurs, Raymond Lambert, Mary Lindsey and James Alexander, launched All Jokes Aside, a predominantly Black comedy club located on Chicago’s South Wabash Street. With virtually no experience in the comedy business, or club business for that matter, they turned All Jokes Aside into a wildly successful Mecca for rising Black comedians.

Sadly, after almost a decade, All Jokes Aside closed. Like other clubs across the country, it had fallen victim to the stand-up comedy craze on television, but there were other more disturbing reasons for its demise. Local white businessmen, their potential new neighbors, thwarted the owners’ attempt to move the club north to the more “diverse,” upscale, entertainment district. Turning to Chicago politicians for help seemed logical, but white politicians were indifferent, and Black politicians were unsympathetic or wanted “consideration.” One infamous Black alderwoman actually professed her loyalty to one of Chicago’s more dominant white comedy institutions. That hostile environment and mounting legal bills spelled the end for All Jokes Aside.

The film is narrated by former stand-up comedian John Ridley. Ridley is an in-demand Hollywood showrunner, screenwriter, novelist and Academy Award winner for his adaptation of “Twelve Years  a Slave.” “Phunny Business” was directed by John Davies, written by Davies and Raymond Lambert and produced by Davies, Reid Brody, Raymond Lambert and co-producer by Brian Kallies, who also served as editor and director of photography.

“Phunny Business” premiered at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival, was an opening night selection at Ebertfest, premiered in Canada at The Montreal Just For Laughs Film Festival, in New York at The New York Friar’s Comedy Film Festival and was the closing night selection at Chicago’s Black Harvest Film Festival.

Link to electronic press kit here – where you can find bios, synopsis, artwork, photos, video clips and more.

Link to event webpage here – where you can RSVP for the screening.

Contact:  John Davies (310) 849-4867 or jdaviesprod@earthlink.net

 

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ABOUT THE CHICAGO HISTORY MUSEUM

The Chicago History Museum is situated on ancestral homelands of the Potawatomi people, who cared for the land until forced out by non-Native settlers. Established in 1856, the Museum is located at 1601 N. Clark Street in Lincoln Park, its third location. A major museum and research center for Chicago and U.S. history, the Chicago History Museum strives to be a destination for learning, inspiration, and civic engagement. Through dynamic exhibitions, tours, publications, special events and programming, the Museum connects people to Chicago’s history and to each other. The Museum collects and preserves millions of artifacts, documents, and images to assist in sharing Chicago stories. The Museum gratefully acknowledges the support of the Chicago Park District on behalf of the people of Chicago.

 

As we recognize US at 250 at the Chicago History Museum, CHM director of exhibitions Paul Durica shares the memorable but exaggerated life of David Kennison, whose story connects Chicago (and CHM) to the American Revolution.

Chicago’s connection to the American Revolution achieved physical permanence with the dedication of a granite boulder on the western edge of Lincoln Park in December 1903. A plaque set within the stone identified the ground below as the final resting place of David Kennison, whose body had been left behind when so many others had been disinterred in the 1860s as a city cemetery transformed into the public park we have today.


David Kennison memorial boulder in Lincoln Park, Chicago, c. 1909. CHM, ICHi-040901

Who was David Kennison? Why did organizations like the Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution see fit to fund the placement of this large boulder? Back in late February 1852, the large crowd that had gathered at that same spot, or close to it, for a military funeral, paid for by the city, knew the man and why he should be memorialized.


Portrait of David Kennison. The donor received this portrait from her grandfather, Dr. Aaron Gibbs, an early physician of Chicago, who was one of the chief benefactors of Kennison. CHM, ICHi-030498

Until his passing at the improbable age of 115, Kennison had been the last surviving participant in the Boston Tea Party. He had served with distinction in the American Revolution and the War of 1812, when he’d happened to be stationed, for a time, at Fort Dearborn, the military base around which Chicago grew.

His life connected the creation of the country to what was surely destined to become its largest, most important city. Everyone in 1852, it seemed, believed this. Anyone who left an account of the early years of Chicago in the archives of CHM mentions Kennison and his funeral.

He had lived in the city for seven or so years before his passing, surviving on a modest pension from service in two wars, supplementing it with odd jobs. In 1848 he began to work for a P. T. Barnum-esque museum on Lake Street where he told his life story to visitors. He also took out an advertisement in a newspaper in November of that year, around the time of what he said was his 112th birthday, asking the public to attend on that day and provide the aged veteran with whatever they thought appropriate.

In 1848 the Illinois and Michigan Canal opened; the first railroad arrived; the Board of Trade formed. What better time for Chicago to reflect upon the glories of the past when future greatness seemed ensured?

That November Kennison had a relic of sorts to share alongside his story. Before five witnesses, in a signed statement, he pledged upon his “sacred honor” that the “tea in this [glass] vial” he now produced contained “a portion saved . . . from cargoes thrown into the sea from ships in the early evening of the 15th of November in the year 1773.” That he got the date of the Boston Tea Party wrong was of little matter—he was 112, after all, and could be forgiven such a small error.


Kennison’s brass tea caddy that supposedly contains tea leaves from the Boston Tea Party. CHM, ICHi-066833

Among the five witnesses was Fernando Jones, an early resident of the city, who decades later helped identify Kennison’s final resting place in Lincoln Park. Jones helped get the memorial boulder placed there and donated that vial of Boston Tea Party leaves, as well as the affidavit signed by himself and the other witnesses, to the Chicago Historical Society.

The details of Kennison’s life can be traced to two sources, the above-mentioned November 1848 newspaper advertisement and other articles that appeared in the same paper, the Chicago Democrat, and The Pictorial Field-Book of the American Revolution from 1850.

The book’s author, illustrator, and amateur historian Benson J. Lossing had traveled across the United States collecting firsthand accounts of the American Revolution from those who’d lived through it. Despite taking great care in his research, Lossing appears to have found Kennison’s story credible. It would be repeated in countless newspaper and magazine stories well into the 20th century and become part of Chicago lore.


Undated daguerreotype of Kennison. CHM, ICHi-040899

Kennison claimed to have been born in 1736 in present-day Maine. A poor, manual laborer, he found common cause with the American patriots fighting for the equality of all men. After taking part in the Boston Tea Party, Kennison fought in seemingly every significant battle in the American Revolution from Lexington through Yorktown. When hostilities with Great Britain broke out in 1812, he enlisted again, despite being in his 70s, and received a wound from which he never fully recovered. Barely surviving on his pensions from service in two wars, he arrived in Chicago having passed the century mark, where he became a valuable member of the community, a link to the nation’s past.

The Museum acquired its copy of Lossing’s Field-Book in August 1914. In late July of that year, Dr. Charles J. Lewis gave a talk entitled, “David Kennison: The Last Survivor of the Boston Tea Party,” before the Borrowed Time Club, a group whose membership was restricted to those over 70, in Oak Park. In the talk, Lewis questioned Kennison’s story.

As a doctor, Lewis valued facts, so he wrote to various government agencies to learn more about Kennison’s pensions and military service. The records he received indicated that Kennison had attempted to enlist when he was about 17 in 1780 but had been denied on account of his size. The records suggested that he was born around 1764 and, thus, would have been about 9 at the time of the Boston Tea Party, too young to have participated. He did serve in the War of 1812, but he lied about his age—in his late 40s, he was too old—when he enlisted. Rather than 115, he was likely in his late 80s when he died in Chicago.

An Oak Park paper covered Lewis’s talk, but otherwise its typed pages in CHM’s collection were ignored. In the early 1970s, Albert G. Overton followed a similar line of research and reached the same conclusion as Lewis. Even then, the legend of Kennison persisted well into the 21st century, his memorial boulder in Lincoln Park becoming a rallying point for various self-proclaimed patriots opposing perceived governmental overreach.


The tea caddy was on display in the then Chicago Historical Society, September 17, 1964. It was on display again in the 1987 exhibition We the People: Creating a New Nation 1865–1920. ST-19031900-0003, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

“I think that the people in Chicago when he came here were so anxious to be connected to this great national event, to have this real Revolutionary War hero living in their midst, that that they wanted to believe this person,” said the late Russell Lewis, then the director of collections and research at CHM, in a Chicago Tribune story responding to the Tax Reform Coalition protesting at Kennison’s memorial in 2003. “And I think there are a lot of people today that still don’t want to believe that he was a fake.”

Charles Lewis was kind to Kennison’s memory in the conclusion of his talk in 1914. Kennison may not have been part of the Boston Tea Party or have served in the Continental Army, Lewis concluded, but he did live through that period of American history and had attempted to fight for his country while still a teenager. As an older man, when the opportunity arose again in 1812, he lied in order that he might take part in the nation’s defense. His personal deceptions in many ways mirrored the willful blindness of his adopted home, Chicago—both seem to have arisen from a very human desire to be part of something larger than oneself, of something meaningful and memorable.


The boulder honoring David Kennison, 2026. Photograph by CHM staff

And if Lossing is to be believed, Kennison used the public belief in his story to draw attention to the unfinished business of the American Revolution. “At a public meeting, in the summer of 1848, of those opposed to the extension of slavery,” Lossing writes. “Mr. Kinnison [sic] took the stand and addressed the audience with marked effect. He declared that he fought for the ‘freedom of all’ . . . and closed by exhorting his audience to do all in their power to ABOLISH SLAVERY.”

Sources

In honor of the anniversary of parishioners successfully saving St. Francis from destruction, Rebekah Coffman, Curator of Religion and Community History, and Elena Gonzales, Curator of Civic Engagement & Social Justice, tell the history drawing from CHM collections such as the Chicago building clearance photographs, 1939–58, and the documentary film No Abandonarémos a San Francisco de Asís, interviews with parishioners, and local scholarship.

In Chicago, Catholic parishes form a kind of visual marker and place maker for Latinidad, though their architecture may not always speak to this heritage at first. The geography of Chicago has been deeply influenced by Catholic parishes, with wave after wave of immigrants finding spiritual and communal refuge within church walls as the Archdiocese of Chicago defined parish boundaries and established church buildings based on ethnic identities and spoken languages. Many churches that initially served European congregations are today majority Latine in attendance. Most hold Spanish language services in addition to masses in English, Polish, and other European languages. These social layers of use by different communities through time serve as windows into the world of Latine migration to and presence within the city.


Exterior of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, 813 West Roosevelt Road, Chicago, 2024. Photograph by Jojo Galván Mora

On the Near West Side, St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church stands as a testament to how people make change through coordinated resistance. Originally founded as a German Catholic church in 1853, it became known as la catedral mexicana as the neighborhood’s Mexican community grew through the 1920s and into the 1950s, with a separate Spanish-language service starting in 1925.


Exterior view of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, Chicago, 1917. DN-0067872, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, CHM

At its peak, 5,000 parishioners attended each Sunday. In 1961, the neighborhood was decimated by vast building clearances in preparation for the University of Illinois Chicago campus. St. Francis remains an important hub for weekend services, but the neighborhood was forever changed.


Two girls praying at an altar after lighting candles for St. Francis at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, Chicago, c. 1993. CHM, ICHi-183466; Gregg Mann, photographer

Despite strong attendance, the Catholic archdiocese proposed closing St. Francis in late 1993, with a public announcement in January 1994. Congregation members immediately began organizing in opposition, forming the St. Francis of Assisi Preservation Committee. They protested in front of the cardinal’s mansion and signed petitions, gaining media attention.


This architectural fragment of glazed terra-cotta (c. 1918) shown in Aquí en Chicago was salvaged from the renovation of the rectory and is a reminder of this important fight to remain. Courtesy of Margarita and Carlos Villaseñor

The doors to St. Francis were officially closed November 1994, and workers began dismantling the church’s fixtures and decorative elements. Protests and vigils continued through 1995, and later that year the iconic stained-glass windows were removed and eventually repurposed at St. Paul Chong Hasang Korean congregation in Des Plaines, Illinois.


St. Francis of Assisi parishioners occupy the church, February 6, 1996. Note the empty window frames. STM-000011223, Chicago Sun-Times photograph collection, CHM

On January 29, 1996, structural demolition work began. The preservation committee went into action, calling news media and local government officials. As a final resort, parishioners, including Carlos and Margarita Villaseñor, began occupying the church on Sunday, February 4, 1996, in a frigid cold snap with the wrecking ball parked outside. The church was unheated, and parishioners made makeshift tents and placed cardboard over open doorways to keep warm. They stayed until the following Tuesday, when the archdiocese’s Bishop John Manz hand-delivered a letter declaring the church would not be torn down and demolition equipment was removed. St. Francis was officially reopened on April 6, 1996, and remains a sacred refugio today. The replacement stained-glass windows document this history and the parishioner’s fight to save their church.

Additional Resources

Each January 1, Haitians and the Haitian diaspora celebrate Haiti’s Independence Day, which commemorates its declaration of freedom from France. From 1791 to 1804, enslaved people staged the successful revolt that made Haiti a free Black republic and the first independent nation in Latin America. As part of Aquí en Chicago, we are inaugurating a new series of blog posts on Latin American heritage. Ben Henderson, our guest author of the Haitian American Museum of Chicago writes about the Haitian community in Chicago.

Tell us about the Haitian community in Chicago. How big is it? How long have Haitians lived here?

Haitians have always been a part of Chicago’s story and key to the city’s founding. French frontiersmen brought the first Haitians to Illinois. These people were enslaved in Haiti (then called St. Domingue) in the 1720s to work in lead mines, likely making them the oldest Black community in the state.


Engraved view of Chicago in 1779, including the cabin of Jean Baptiste Pointe DuSable and his portrait, c. 1926–32. Published by A. Ackermann & Sons Inc. CHM, ICHi-005623; Raoul Varin, artist

Around 1779, Jean Baptiste Point DuSable, a Haitian immigrant and trader, became Chicago’s first permanent non-Indigenous resident when he established his trading post on the mouth of the Chicago River. He lived there until 1800 alongside his Potawatomi wife, Kitihawa, and their two children. After becoming a state in 1818, Illinois attempted to discourage the emigration of Black people through the Black Laws (1819–65), which denied them fundamental freedoms and discouraged migration.


The Haitian building at the World’s Columbian Exposition, Chicago, 1893. Frederick Douglass, who represented Haiti at the fair, used the visibility of his position, as well as the building’s meeting and office facilities, to continue his advocacy of equal rights and his efforts to call attention to the inequities faced by people of color in the US. CHM, ICHi-040687

Haitian immigration to the United States picked up again in the late 20th century due to the Duvalier dictatorship, and the population grew from 92,000 in 1980 to 731,000 in 2022, according to the Migration Policy Institute. Today, around 40,000 self-reported Haitians have settled in Chicago, according to data from the General Consulate of Haiti in Chicago.

Is there an activity/location related to the Haitian community that every Chicagoan should experience?

Two main venues that the residents of Chicago should know about within the Haitian community are the Haitian American Museum of Chicago (HAMOC), in Uptown and Room43 in Bronzeville. HAMOC is one of two Haitian museums in the US (along with the Haitian Heritage Museum in Miami). The museum’s mission is to promote and preserve Haitian art, culture, history, and community in Chicago and beyond.


Attendees at a Konpa Sware dance night at Room43. Courtesy of HAMOC

At Room43, every third Thursday of the month from 7 to 11 p.m., HAMOC, in partnership with DJ Frantz, hosts a Konpa Sware dance night. Konpa is a contemporary genre of music and dance of Haiti. This event is open to all Chicagoans to learn about Konpa and enjoy a night of community. The event is sponsored by Norman Bolden, a businessman, friend of HAMOC, and owner of Noman’s Bistro and Room43.

Is there a food/meal/dish related to the Haitian community that every Chicagoan should try?

Haitian cuisine derives from a combination of cultures. Similar to other Caribbean and Kreyol cuisines, Haitian food makes heavy use of herbs and spices, known as epis and pikliz. Popular foods include pastries with stuffed meat called pâté, red beans and rice, and a historical and cultural soup, called soup joumou (squash soup). In 2021, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) added soup joumou to the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.


A diner ladles soup joumou into a bowl. Courtesy of HAMOC

This soup is typically served on January 1 to honor Haitian Independence Day of 1804. To have a taste of Haitian cuisine, including soup joumou, visit the two Haitian restaurants in the Chicagoland area—Kizin Creole, in West Ridge on the North Side and Lior’s Cafe in Washington Heights/Roseland on the South Side.

Is there a prominent person in the Haitian community you would like to highlight?

The attorney general of Illinois, Kwame Raoul, who was raised in the Hyde Park community area, is the son of Haitian immigrants. Prior to becoming attorney general, Raoul was appointed to the Illinois Senate seat that former President Barack Obama previously held. Raoul remains active in civic organizations, including the Haitian American Lawyers Association of Illinois, reflecting his deep ties to both the Chicago and Haitian communities.

Additional Resources

Each year, the tradition of Las Posadas is observed by the Latino/a/e communities from December 16 to 24. In this blog post, CHM curator of religion and community history Rebekah Coffman writes about the Mexican origins of Las Posadas and how it has been celebrated in Chicago.


Members of Chicago’s Mexican community celebrate their 9th annual Posada, December 19, 1967. CHM, ST-14002227-0003, Chicago Sun-Times collection

From December 16 to 24, Latine communities celebrate Las Posadas, a nine-day celebration and time of remembrance leading up to Christmas. Most closely associated with Mexico and the Mexican diaspora in the United States, Posadas originated in Mexico City in the 16th century through the influence of Spanish Catholic missionaries.


Creche in a wooden stable, with Mary, Joseph, and the Baby Jesus and some sheep, c. 1954. Vivian Maier, photographer. CHM, ICH-180071

“Posada” means “inn” or “accommodation” in Spanish. In the Christian Bible’s Christmas story, Joseph and Mary made a journey to Joseph’s hometown, Bethlehem, where Jesus would be born. Upon arrival, they struggled to find a place to sleep for the night, or as the Bible verse Luke 2:7 says, “there was no guest room available for them,” and so Mary and Joseph instead stayed in a place for animals where Jesus was born.


Members of Chicago’s Mexican community celebrate their 9th annual Posada, December 19, 1967. CHM, ST-14002227-0002, Chicago Sun-Times collection

The Posadas are based on Mary and Joseph’s search that night for a place to sleep. The nine days of the celebration symbolize the nine months of Mary’s pregnancy and are part public procession, part Christmas pageant/play. Two individuals dress up as Mary and Joseph, and a procession goes from house to house that are assigned to act as “inns.” People sing songs along the way, including songs like Los Santos Reyes, a kind of call and response between those asking for shelter and those denying accommodation, until the final stop welcomes them in as pilgrims. The celebration ends with sharing food and a hitting a piñata, usually star-shaped, which can serve as a sign of faith and hope like the star of Bethlehem or a symbol of sin and temptations that are struggled against leading up to Jesus’s birth.


Front and back of menu from Cafe Azteca II at 215 West North Avenue, 1977. CHM, ICHi-050827-001 (left) and ICHi-050827-003 (right)

In Chicago, the Mexican community has been celebrating Las Posadas for many decades. The Chicago Tribune reports that Posada celebrations began along North Avenue in Old Town in 1958. The Café Azteca located at 210 W. North Avenue was a sponsor and regular host site for Posadas. Founded by Federico Camacho, who migrated to Chicago from Oaxaca, Mexico, in 1946, Café Azteca opened on May 11, 1957, as one of only a handful of sit-down Mexican restaurants in the city at the time. Beyond his reputation for delicious food, Camacho was known as a convivial musician, playing guitar and marimba, among others.

In 1969, the café was forced to move because of a road-widening project as part of urban renewal, which the Chicago Sun-Times called in its reporting on June 22, 1969, “another victim of the juggernaut of progress.” It later reopened across the street as Café Azteca II in a former popcorn shop, creating a mission-style interior complete with life-size religious statues that signaled Camacho’s Catholic roots.


Members of Chicago’s Mexican community celebrate their 9th annual Posada, December 19, 1967. CHM, ST-14002227-0005, Chicago Sun-Times collection

Through the 1960s, the Posadas grew in popularity and public awareness, with John Cardinal Cody, then Archbishop of Chicago, even joining the proceedings in 1968. This series of photographs taken for the Chicago Sun-Times capture the Posadas’ vibrant spirit during the 1960s. That year’s procession began and ended at Café Azteca, led by a burro named “Estrelita” and community members dressed as Mary, Joseph, and the Three Wise Men. It ended like other Posadas, with a breaking of piñatas (this time shaped like birds, not stars) filled with candy and toys and sharing ponche (a hot, spiced fruit punch) and tamales.

Mr. Camacho passed away in 1989, and the café closed for good in 2004.


Members of Chicago’s Mexican community celebrate their 9th annual Posada, December 19, 1967. CHM, ST-14002227-0007, Chicago Sun-Times collection

However, Posadas traditions have continued around the city in many different ways. For example, for twenty years, the Archdiocese of Chicago has hosted an Annual Posada for Immigration Reform. Aligned with the spirit of traditional Posadas, the archdiocese’s Office of Human Dignity and Solidarity-Immigration Ministry brings attention to the tradition and the realities immigrant communities face today. As the 2025 event says, “today’s immigrants, like the Holy Family, are vulnerable, seek legislative shelter and protection but often face rejection.”

Hannah Simmons is a student at Northwestern University and the Black Metropolis Research Consortium graduate assistant at our Abakanowicz Research Center (ARC). As part of her work, Hannah is writing blog posts related to the Chicago Covenants Project.

On August 9, 1929, John F. Wagner, a resident of the then all-white Auburn Park neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side, received a letter from the Auburn Park Property Restriction Association. Attached to the letter was an “anti-colored restriction agreement” for Wagner to sign. The purpose of signing the document was to keep the neighborhood all white by prohibiting the sale of property to all persons having “one-eighth part or more of negro blood.” Restriction agreements like the one Wagner received are a small part of the larger history of racially restrictive covenants in the Chicago metropolitan area. Now, you may ask, what is a racially restrictive covenant?


The cover letter to the racially restrictive covenant from the Auburn Park Property Restriction Association’s president Walter W. Fulton to John F. Wagner, August 9, 1929. Gift of Mrs. Charles Kwaak. 1979.53. Auburn Park Property Restriction Association collection [manuscript], p. 1. CHM, ICHi-031705

According to historian Thomas Lee Philpott’s The Slum and the Ghetto (1978), a racially restrictive covenant was “a contractual agreement among property owners that none of them would permit a ‘colored person’ to occupy, lease, or buy his property” (189). While many neighborhoods on the South Side were under covenants, covenants were signed throughout Chicago. For example, the ARC has a letter from the Near North Side Property Owners Association to the Chicago Historical Society, asking the Society to sign a restrictive covenant, and a letter from the Woodlawn Property Owners Association, located in the Woodlawn Neighborhood on the South Side, thanking a property owner for their due payment that would help keep “Woodlawn to white people.” While institutions and individual property owners signed covenants, some of the main enforcers were real estate companies and neighborhood improvement and restriction associations.


Letter to L. H. Shattuck, director of the Chicago Historical Society, from Lawrence H. Whiting, February 18, 1936. Photograph by Hannah Simmons

Real estate companies, like Baird & Warner, and neighborhood improvement associations, like Near North Side Property Owners Association and Auburn Park Property Restriction Association, promoted covenants, arguing that if Black people were allowed to move in, property values would go down. In the pro-covenant paper Restrictive Covenants (July 1944), the Federation of Chicago Neighborhoods lamented how unjust it would be for white soldiers to come back from war to find that their “homes have been taken over by negroes” and their old neighborhoods were now slums (15). The paper made no mention of how Black soldiers would feel coming back to housing discrimination. Despite the pervasiveness of covenants, Black people and allied groups like the Catholic Interracial Council (CIC) pushed back against them. After years of people decrying the unconstitutional and undemocratic nature of covenants, in Shelley v. Kraemer (1948), the Supreme Court decided that racially restrictive housing covenants could not be enforced. This was a blow against covenant makers and enforcers and a win for those who pushed back against covenants.


Mothers and children picket for fair housing in front of Evanston City Hall, Evanston, Illinois, June 27, 1966. ST-15001772-0004, Chicago Sun-Times collection, CHM

In the CHM research collections, covenants are discussed throughout the archives. Where the Restrictive Covenants by the Federation of Chicago Neighborhoods extol the virtues of covenants, the CIC records counter with the virtues of interracial neighborhoods and the damage covenants do. The CHM research collections paint a detailed picture of housing in Chicago, which includes a rendering of racially restrictive covenants in the Chicago area. Join me in future explorations of these archives!

Additional Resources

CHM research center associate Annika Kohrt writes about theater, music, opera, and dance performance programs available to visitors in the Chicago History Museum’s Abakanowicz Research Center.

Theater in the fledgling town of Chicago began in the 1830s at the Sauganash Tavern. This is represented in the Chicago History Museum’s oldest exhibition: the Dioramas. What many don’t know is that you can also view and (gently) handle primary materials from Chicago’s long theater history.


Illustration of the Sauganash Hotel in History of Chicago by Alfred Theodore Andreas, 1884–86. F38B .A5 OVERSIZE, v.1, p. 474. CHM, ICHi-000755

In the Abakanowicz Research Center (ARC), which is accessible for free upon registration at the Ticket Desk, you can view the ledgers from the Tavern’s operation. Original letters describing the tavern are also available for viewing.


A singed program for the Iroquois Theatre advertising Mr. Blue Beard, Chicago, December 1903. CHM, ICHi-034981

While you’re in the ARC, you’ll want to check out our newly expanded collection of performance programs. We have programs from the last performance at the Iroquois Theatre, more than 600 programs from Ravinia Festival events (starting as early as 1905), and programs from as recent as last month. Our oldest program is from North’s National Theatre in 1857, where ticket prices range from 25 cents to $6 for a private box:


North’s National Theatre playbill for Romeo and Juliet and Wife for a Day, 1857. Theater Programs collection, PN2277 .C42 OVERSIZE. Photograph by CHM staff

Since the late 19th century, Chicago has been a player on the national stage. Theaters hosted dance, music, opera, and vaudeville among the Shakespeare plays, and they produced a range of beautiful, funny, and strange programs to promote them.


Program for Sons o’ Fun at the Civic Opera House, including graphics of human heads on squirrels, date unknown. Theater Programs collection, PN2277 .C42 OVERSIZE. Photograph by CHM staff


Dream Theater program for As I Lay Dying, date unknown. Theater Programs collection, PN2277 .C42 OVERSIZE. Photograph by CHM staff

Much like our collection of menus, this collection showcases the evolution and innovation of printers in Chicago: some bills are silk, some leather, and many in unexpected formats and sizes—and not only can you look at them, but you can also page through them in the ARC. Artists, novelists, and graphic designers consult this beautiful collection for inspiration. You might use this collection to imagine yourself going out in the Loop in the 1880s, and you’ll certainly have to giggle at some of the products hawked in these pages.

If your interest in Chicago theater history is awakened by this physical history, librarians in the ARC can also help direct you to collections from around the city to answer your questions and delight your mind: for example, the University of Chicago has a Chicago Drama Performances Index, a record of almost every theatrical performance in Chicago theaters from 1839 to 1955.


Theatrical Stage Hardware advertisement, including asbestos curtains, from the program for The Strollers Revel at the Studebaker Theatre, May 7, 1915. Theater Programs collection, PN2277 .C42 OVERSIZE. Photograph by CHM staff


Hand fire extinguisher advertisement from Rose Eytinge in Felicia at the Standard Theatre, date unknown. Theater Programs collection, PN2277 .C42 OVERSIZE. Photograph by CHM staff

Genealogists also search through these for treasures: you might find your great-aunt in a high school production cast list, and the advertisements inside would tell you about her whole neighborhood!

How have Second City programs changed since the 1960s? What operas did the Kungsholm Miniature Grand Opera Theatre perform? Who performed at the Pekin Theatre, the first Black-owned musical theatre in the United States, in 1908? You’ll have to visit the ARC to find out!

 

Additional Resources

Books on Chicago Theater History

[Ed. note: This blog post was originally published on December 2, 2014, and has been updated with additional resources.]

Curator Petra Slinkard and intern Claire Arnold explore the Chicago origins of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.


Cover of an original Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer written for Montgomery Ward & Co. by Robert L. May and illustrated by Denver Gillen, 1939. PZ8.3.M4525 R5 1939 HIXON. CHM, ICHi-68483

While it may seem like he’s always led Santa’s sleigh, Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer first appeared in 1939 in Chicago. That year, Montgomery Ward & Co. began distributing complimentary copies of the illustrated poem to children who visited their stores during the holiday shopping season. Rudolph’s creator was an advertising copywriter named Robert Lewis May who was tasked with creating a character for the promotional giveaway. May later explained that he had an “ugly duckling” type of plot in mind when he developed his tale of the much-teased reindeer who saves the day with his glowing nose. Ward was initially apprehensive about the concept because of the association between red noses and drunkenness, but May insisted that children would relate to the unlikely hero. After considering Rollo and Reginald as possible names, May decided on Rudolph, and the famous reindeer soon sprung off the page into Christmas lore.

Robert May was right about the compelling nature of his story. In the 1939 holiday season alone, Ward distributed roughly 2.4 million copies at stores across the country and after wartime paper shortages ended in 1946, Rudolph returned to its previous success. Meanwhile, Ward capitalized on Rudolph’s popularity and sold toys, clothing, and other Rudolph-related items. In 1947, Ward released the copyright for Rudolph to May, who finally began receiving royalties for his work. May benefited greatly from his creation, often referring to his home in Evanston as “the house that Rudolph built” and crediting Rudolph for putting his six children through college.


Rudolph crying and his nose shining. From the Museum’s original copy. CHM, ICHi-68484

Since the publication of the poem, Rudolph has crossed genres to star in a song and two animated Christmas specials, as well as a sequel written by May in 1954, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Shines Again. He’s become such a Christmas mainstay that many people have forgotten his commercial origins. However, Montgomery Ward & Co. continued to use Rudolph through the 1990s in advertising and promotional material, as well as field inquiries about his origin.


In May’s story, Santa delivers presents to the good animals as well as good children and discovers Rudolph and his unusual feature when filling his stocking. Illustration of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer leading Santa’s sleigh. From the Museum’s original copy. CHM, ICHi-68485

Amongst information about use and advertising campaigns, the Rudolph section of the Montgomery Ward & Co. records at the Museum includes a bundle of letters from a curious second-grade class in California in 1983.


“What does Rudolph do on Valentine’s day?” Letter dated January 24, 1983 from Joe Rose to Chuck Thorne, media relations manager for Ward, regarding Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Joe included a drawing of Rudolph. ICHi-68478


“I liked you [sic] dad’s story.” Photocopy of a letter from a young boy, Brian, to Barbara May regarding Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, written sometime between 1970 and 1990. CHM, ICHi-68479

Additional Resources

In this blog post, Elena Gonzales, CHM curator of civic engagement and social justice, discusses the importance of supporting and preserving Indigenous languages and the Museum’s growing role in this work.

As anyone who speaks more than one language knows, languages contain ways of thinking. Chicagoans speak many languages of Latin American heritage other than Spanish. Indigenous languages, such as Nahuatl, Purépecha, Kanjoba’l, K’iche’, and Kichwa, are in danger of being lost.

This is because educational systems in Latin America and the United States have prioritized dominant languages such as Spanish, Portuguese, and English and further marginalized Indigenous peoples by not supporting their languages. This is a form of racism and has been going on since colonizers came to the Americas. Indigenous Chicagoans (and people in many areas all over the world) face many barriers of marginalization, displacement, erasure, and silencing.


Americanos mural by Pablo Serrano, 2012. Photograph by Mario Hernandez, c. 2020.

In Chicago, Indigenous Latin Americans are working against cultural and linguistic marginalization in many ways. They go to great lengths to pass their languages down to younger generations without usual supports such as curricula in schools, native language media outlets, libraries, or museums.

For example, 18th St. Casa de Cultura in Pilsen, a hub of cultural activity including performing arts and public events, launched a school for introductory Nahuatl language lessons in 2024. The Kichwa Otavalo community in Chicago has two different community organizations, Kichwa Community of Chicago (KCC) and Comunidad Runa, and has collaborated with regional community scholars on a Kichwa dictionary. During the run up to the Aquí en Chicago exhibition, KCC worked with CHM to prepare essays (published in Chicago History magazine Winter 2024–25) in English, Spanish, and Kichwa.


Elena Regina, an Akateko speaker, 1989. Photograph by Kay Berkson.

More than 65,000 Native Americans live in Chicago. This is one of the largest Native American populations not living on reservations. Native Americans, or American Indians, are in specific relationships with the US government based on treaties and Native sovereignty. “Indigenous,” on the other hand, is a global category that encompasses many additional people, such as Latines, who are not in sovereign relationships with the US. According to Pew Research Center, roughly 12% of Latines nationally identify as Indigenous.

It’s difficult to measure this population in Chicago, but if that estimate holds true, it would mean that, of the roughly 772,691 Latine people in Chicago, nearly 100,000 identify as Indigenous, 150% of the initial estimate of Indigenous Chicagoans. Likely a much smaller portion of these Chicagoans actually speak an Indigenous language, but that research is yet to be completed.

Indigenous people of Latin American heritage, such as Maya, Nahua, Purépecha, Kanjoba’l, K’iche’, or Kichwa Otavalo, often identify first as Indigenous and secondly with their country of heritage such as Mexico or Guatemala. Guatemaltecos speak 32 different languages with the most widely spoken being K’iche’. K’iche’ has a million speakers in Guatemala, and roughly 32,000 people only speak K’iche’. As CHM reaches out to community partners from many different Latine heritages, our collaborators encourage us to make sure that Indigenous Latine people are being represented in Aquí en Chicago.


Maria de la Luz, a Purépecha speaker, and Juana S., a Zapoteco speaker, 2024. Photograph by CHM staff.

Our Indigenous Language Maintenance Project is one part of CHM’s answer to this call from within our position as an archive and repository. Language is only one form of intangible heritage—which also includes cultural practices such as dance, music, land-based practices such as re-wilding, spiritual practices, and foodways, among other modes of culture keeping. As part of Aquí en Chicago, CHM is assembling recordings from Indigenous linguistic communities in the Chicago area. We are seeking to record native speakers in as many Indigenous languages as possible and hope to create a library of short recordings of local Indigenous languages within the research collections of the Chicago History Museum.

As of this writing, the Museum has recorded speakers in Kichwa, Akateko, Quechua, Zapoteco, Purépecha, K’iche’, and Kanjoba’l. You can listen to these recordings below or on our SoundCloud. We continue to seek local native speakers of additional Indigenous languages who wish to record. We are also interested in learning more about how/if federally recognized tribes would like to be involved in this recording effort. To get involved, visit our Aquí en Chicago project page. Thank you for considering sharing your cultural heritage!

 

Chicago History Museum · Indigenous Language Maintenance Project

In this blog post, CHM cataloging and metadata librarian Erin Matson highlights the Chicago History Museum’s architecture collection, focusing on the newly available main inventory of architectural drawings.

Last spring a colleague and I had the good fortune to attend a workshop, Managing Physical & Digital Architecture, Design, & Construction Records, through the Society of American Archivists. I took a great deal away from this course, but one thing that stuck in my mind was repeated throughout the workshop: the design process is iterative and follows a well-defined life cycle. It’s something I see repeatedly working with patrons in the Abakanowicz Research Center (ARC). Many of the folks who come in to look at drawings in CHM’s architecture collection are renovating a building or recreating a particular design element. The design process then starts again, with sketches and schematic design drawings, transforming into working construction drawings, which may also make their way into an architectural archive someday.


East elevation of the On Leong Merchants Association Building (now Pui Tak Center), 2216 S. Wentworth Ave., Chicago, September 1, 1926. Forms part of the Architectural records for buildings by Albert H. Ramp and related firms. CHM, ICHi-052096

It’s also how I’ve come to view the ongoing stewardship of this collection—the work here is also iterative. My role as the cataloging and metadata librarian has been to build on the work of archivists and curators before me, to continue improving access to this collection, so the cycle can continue.

The architecture collection at CHM is monumental, with significant contributions by major Chicago firms like Holabird & Root/Holabird & Roche, Harry Weese Associates, and Graham, Anderson, Probst & White, to name only a few. The holdings comprise architectural drawings, manuscripts, and photographs dating from the 1870s to the present. It is one of two major architectural archives collections in Chicago, the other being the impressive collection at the Ryerson and Burnham Libraries at the Art Institute of Chicago.


S. R. Crown Hall at the Illinois Institute of Technology, Drawing A-4, elevations (South, North, East), designed by Mies van der Rohe, October 15, 1954. CHM, ICHi-037805

The majority of CHM’s collection is made up of major commissions and commercial buildings, as well as a sizeable collection from the Chicago Board of Education of current and former Chicago school buildings. As a complement to the architecture material, we also have architectural guides, published histories, pamphlets, and ephemera. Additionally, CHM holds a sizeable collection of architectural photography by the firm Hedrich-Blessing. While the collection does contain a smattering of residential drawings, particularly for mansions and major commissions for wealthy homeowners, residential architectural history is best done through other ARC resources such as building permits, Sanborn fire insurance maps, and directories. You can read more about conducting house history research in a blog post by Ellen Keith, CHM director of research and access.

Architectural elevations for Marina City, designed by architects Bertrand Goldberg Associates, Chicago, c. 1965. Hedrich-Blessing photograph collection, CHM, HB-28621-A

It’s not clear exactly when CHM began collecting this type of material, but it started in earnest in the 1970s. Around this time, architecture used to be its own curatorial area of the Museum’s research collections. Before 1997, CHM had four reading rooms: Archives and Manuscripts, Library, Prints and Photographs, and Architecture. Each had its own analog catalog. After the creation of a single reading room (now the ARC) the research collections needed a single catalog. In 1999, CHM’s online catalog, ARCHIE, was established, and, going forward, new acquisitions of manuscript collections, published material, and prints and photographs were added, but the architecture collection wasn’t added at the same pace. Even today, only a small portion of CHM’s architecture collections are discoverable at the collection level in ARCHIE.


Architectural drawing of the Independent Brewing Association of Chicago by the Fred W. Wolf Company, c. 1877–1920. CHM, ICHi-085302

In fact, until very recently, the only entry point into the collection was a series of binders in the ARC . These binders are alphabetized by the name of the architect or firm, and each one has job sheets that represent a construction project or building with information like job name, job number, dates, total number of pieces, type of drawings, and material. In 2019, Research & Access staff begin transcribing information from these binders into an Excel spreadsheet. That spreadsheet was recently imported into Airtable, which enabled us to create a view for the general public to search. This work was an important first step, as it represents the first time this collection has been searchable, largely in its entirety, by the public—from anywhere. As we continue to process the collection and catalog the materials in a more traditional fashion, this inventory has become a useful tool that has served as a sort of master project index for the architectural jobs represented in CHM’s holdings.


Undated pencil perspective drawing of the Loeb Mansion, 5017 S. Ellis Ave., Chicago. CHM, ICHi-039469; Stephen Condren, artist

We recognize there are still many challenges to navigating the collection, so we have created a research guide to the collection that helps with some of the idiosyncrasies researchers may encounter. We also acknowledge that searching in Airtable has its own set of challenges. While we are working within the confines of the resources available, we are striving to make more of our collections available. We have also created a guide to searching across our research collections that includes some tips and tricks for searching Airtable.

Last year marked a turning point for this valuable collection. Creating the public facing project index was just one small step. We also embarked on a series of initiatives to help us better manage the collection. With funding from the Alphawood Foundation, we were able to begin processing the unprocessed portion of the Graham, Anderson, Probst & White drawings. In doing so, we unearthed a few gems like a complete set of blueprints of the John G. Shedd Aquarium.


Blueprint showing the north (top) and west (bottom) elevations of the John G. Shedd Aquarium, designed by the firm of Graham, Anderson, Probst & White, 1927. Note the 12-inch ruler in the top left corner. Photograph by CHM staff


A detail elevation of a lower panel depicting an octopus, two starfish, and two shells. Photograph by CHM staff

We have also embarked on a physical inventory of architectural collections, particularly relating to the manuscript material that does not have its own entry point in the main architecture inventory. This work will also help us to gain intellectual control of CHM’s collection of 3D architectural fragments and models. Though these materials are not accessible in the ARC (which stewards 2D materials), it will allow for more responsible stewardship and improve our ability to potentially exhibit this type of material in the future. This inventory work began in 2022 and has been funded by the Lilly Endowment, with a focus on identifying material relating to the religious and sacred, and community spaces in the city as part of the Chicago Sacred Initiative. This is also in preparation for an upcoming CHM exhibition.

As we continue to wrangle this large collection, it’s important to note that a good deal of this material is stored offsite or remains unprocessed and may not be accessible at various times depending on our current staffing. But there are still thousands of gems to be discovered on-site. See our policies and hours, and stop in to pay us a visit.

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