4 October - Where the Sidewalk Collapses
A vaulted sidewalk. Photo source.
As we walk through the streets, we take the sidewalks for granted, assuming that of course they would hold our weights. This unfortunately hasn’t always been the case in Chicago. While now we might not have to hold a collapsing sidewalk as a major worry, it was something that happened fairly regularly back in the day.
Chicago has, to this day, a large amount of vaulted sidewalks. They came about when the city was raised in the mid 1800s. In an attempt to lay sewers and raise the city out of the muddy swamp it was built on, early Chicagoans came to a decision that they would install a sewer system at street level and then simply lift up every building, installing a new foundation underneath. People were left on their own to raise buildings. Some did, others chose to turn the second floor into the first floor and convert the first floor to a basement or storage. With this in place, the city then laid sidewalks at the new street level, often between 4-14 feet higher than it had been. Rather than filling in the void, often it was left empty so that building owners could use the space as extra storage. Unfortunately, these vaulted sidewalks weren’t always maintained, and usually weren’t constructed with the idea of holding dozens of people in mind. Beyond vaulted sidewalks, on occasion you might find wooden sidewalks that were prone to warping and rotting quickly in Chicago’s ever changing weather. Whatever you walked across, you never knew when you might find yourself falling.
Sometimes, it was another disaster that brought about the collapse of a sidewalk. In 1901, the furniture warehouse for Sauer, Dwyer, and Co. happened to leave a door open. The warehouse was connected to rail yard for ease of loading furniture for shipment. A passing train threw several sparks, a few of which managed to find their way into the door and into the basement of the building, lighting packing material on fire. Before anyone could realize what happened the entire warehouse and stock of furniture was burning brightly, and the employees ran around in a panic. The fire ended up consuming the entire building and all contents, despite several employees who tried their best to hook up several carloads of furniture that was ready to be shipped via train to their destination. These men were able to attach the loaded cars to the train, but could not drive out on account of the flames. The total loss was estimated at $85,000, or over $2.5 million today.
Despite several injuries, no one died from the fire. In fact, more people were injured when they stopped to watch the flames from across the street. Hundred gathered on the sidewalk, stopping on their way home from work, watching as the expensive merchandise lit up the sky. The police started shooing them away from the scene, but before everyone left 20 feet of the wooden sidewalk collapsed, sending 50 people 18 feet to the ground below. They fell on top of each other in a pile, some covered in splintered wood, a few knocked unconscious. The police managed to help out those who needed it, though only three were found to be knocked out by the fall. Several had broken bones and most had bruises, but no one was fatally injured.
Fires weren’t the only thing attracting crowds. In 1897, a group of a hundred, a majority children, watched curiously as the police very publicly arrested John Igo on suspicion of theft. The police held him at a police box at the end of the sidewalk, waiting for the wagon to appear to take him in. The kids thronged about the cops in excitement, pushing to get closer to see the supposed robber. As they milled around, the sidewalk groaned underneath them and collapsed, sending 100 kids ten feet down into a foot deep pool of stagnant water. The kids screamed and starting hauling themselves out, throwing wooden planks out of the way and helping others as they could. The police were unable to figure out how many people were injured, as most simply climbed out and ran home to nurse their wounds.
In the chaos, John Igo was left alone at the corner, having not fallen with everyone else. He didn’t run but waited until the police got back to him. It ended up that the cops were looking for another man, mistakenly having grabbed Igo instead.
The chaos of broken sidewalks wasn’t always this complicated. Sometimes, you might just be walking down the street when the stone underneath you gives way. That’s what happened in 1936 to Marvin Shapiro and Harold Marcus. The young men were walking at the corner of Lake and Halsted when the sidewalk gave out under their feet, the stones cracking in half and falling the three feet down. They plummeted with it too and were injured, though thankfully it was a short fall.
There are dozens such stories as these, from early Chicago history up until the 1980s, if not beyond.
Happy October 4th, and watch your feet next time you’re on the sidewalk. You never know what might (or might not be) under it.