Friday, June 29, 2018

You Can't Fight City Hall


A quixotic person is defined as one having or showing ideas that are different and unusual but not practical or likely to succeed. The word is derived from Cervantes character Don Quixote, starry eyed dreamer and tilter of windmills. I've always been an idealist and have never shied away from a challenge, especially one that has an air of impossibility attached to it.

I mentioned in a previous post that aside from an abiding love of all things railroad, I am equally enthusiastic about architecture. While I chose not to pursue it as a career (a choice I never regretted) I became an independent scholar on the subject, particularly the engineering aspects of buildings and structures such as bridges. The same forces of tension and compression apply to both. A major railroad terminal is the perfect melding of art, architecture and engineering. The planning for these structures requires thought be given to the movement of people in an efficient manner as well as the safe and efficient movement of trains in and out of the station. The process of creating what is essentially a heart that pumps people and trains in and out every day required the skills of not only engineers who understood the intricacies of railroad operations, but of architects who could render these buildings into massive monuments proclaiming the power of the railroads that built them.



The Chicago & North Western Railroad built such a building. Known as the Madison Street Station, or the Chicago Passenger Terminal, it was located on Madison Street just west of the Chicago River. Other grand stations had preceded it, including the North Western's own Wells Street Station, but THIS was a building for the ages. It was the first station to use electrically operated track switches controlled from two interlocking towers, amongst other technical innovations. Preparations for the building required extensive land clearance and a complete reconfiguration of the railroad's track system. The architects chosen were Messrs. Frost and Granger, chosen for not only their skills as designers but also for the fact that they were the sons-in-law of railroad President Marvin Hughitt. The building was actually overbuilt in anticipation of a growth in railroad passenger traffic that never materialized. When it was completed hosannas were sung. It served the railroad from its opening in 1911 until the early 1980's.



This is where I come into the picture. I was working at the North Western as a fireman in commuter service and the station was my home away from home. By the time I began my employment in 1974 the station was a bit timeworn. The interior of the grand waiting room had been carved up with elements like a grand staircase to street level being covered over with a restaurant/coffee shop. The lower levels where passengers once entered the station were blocked off and filled with offices of the commuter division. But these defacements could not overwhelm the remaining beauty of the arched vaulted ceiling of the waiting room. The upper level offices and rooms that held passenger amenities had long since been abandoned. They became my haunts, especially my secret hiding place on the station's roof. My own little retreat above the bustle.


My employer was not doing well financially, which was de rigueur for many railroads of that time period. Bankruptcies were rampant and the C&NW was looking for a quick cash infusion. Their solution was to sell the station to developers who would demolish the building and replace it with an office building with a train station. I was aghast to say the least. Actually I was pissed beyond belief. I found a few kindred souls and we formed the Friends of the North Western Station and embarked on a campaign to have the building declared a landmark. Our intrepid band of misfits stood outside the station with petitions and contacted the city's Landmark Commission to begin the hearing process to save our beloved station. We had support from the media, the architectural preservation community, historians and so forth. We thought it would be a slam dunk at the hearings. This is where the reality of Chicago politics steps in.



The first rule of historic preservation is to never wait to try to save something until someone wants to tear it down. These folks have already spend a considerable amount of money and gathered political clout to achieve their ends. As a preservationist you are merely a gnat buzzing around their big plans. I gave a passionate presentation before the commissioners complete with slides. Then the developers rolled out the big guns. First the lawyer for the developers who also sat on the city zoning board. Then the noted and respected preservation architect who called the building a "second rate building by second rate architects". I truly hope his departed soul is suffering someplace warm. Lies were proffered and it became apparent that the deal had been struck some time before and we were just going through the required niceties prior to the hammer falling. Needless to say the vote went against preservation, the station was demolished and Chicago got a nice shiny new skyscraper. The North Western was eventually merged out of existence which gave me some small solace. By then I had departed the railroad.



The whole experience left me bitter. I felt the city I had adopted as my home had betrayed me, but I eventually came to realize this tragic tale is just part of the continuum of historic preservation in Chicago. Don't love anything too much because chances are it will be gone tomorrow. We do not honor those things that made this city great, we just want to replace them with "second rate buildings" that disrespect the ideals of urbanity and civic pride. When we're done remaking the city into just another Houston we can stand back and wonder where exactly we are and how we got there.

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