Rosehill Cemetery: Stones Among the Green

Posted on June 10, 2025 by admin

Something I didn’t expect to see Sunday before last at Rosehill Cemetery – which is surrounded by the densely populated North Side of Chicago – were deer. But there they were, peacefully munching on grass, living the unusual life of urban deer on the cemetery’s 350 acres. By acreage, Rosehill happens to be the largest in the city.

I dropped Yuriko off at her cake class in Humboldt Park that morning and headed north to visit the cemetery. It was a fine, warm day. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been there, but I knew it had been too long, since Rosehill is one of the great metro Chicago cemeteries, in the same league as Graceland, Bohemian National, Mount Carmel, Oak Woods and Forest Home.

Of all those, Rosehill has the grandest entrance. Once upon a time, trains brought caskets to a station nearby, and hearses would take their funereal loads through the limestone gate, designed by William Boyington (d. 1898), who is better known for the Chicago Water Tower. Just based on those two examples, seems like he was partial to crenellations.

Boyington is also buried in the cemetery, but I didn’t look for him. There was too much else amid the greenery to track down everyone notable. I did make a point of finding the mausoleum of Charles G. Dawes, 30th Vice President of the United States, who served during Coolidge’s full term from 1925 to ’29.

Rosehill doesn’t have a vast number of mausoleums, but there are some others.

Hey, it’s Darius!

In his Egyptian-style tomb. One for the ages. As a baby name, Darius had a vogue just before and after the turn of the 21st century, when as many as 0.06 percent of babies born in the U.S. received that name. Mostly boys (as you’d think), but a few girls. It would have never occurred to us to append that name to either of our daughters during those years, which happened to be prime child-naming years for us.

I liked this memorial – a path to the water feature, shared by the Weese and Meyer families.

Mausoleums are well and good, but the main reason Rosehill is among the Chicago greats: a rich variety of memorials in a lush setting.

This is Francis Willard, founder of the WCTU.

A wordy memorial, though I’m sure with fond intentions on the part of his family. Here is an obit. Sadly odd that for an expert in eldercare, he only lived to be 66. Not terrifically old, in my current opinion.

Most permanent residents were not notable in life, something almost everyone could say at any point in history. What remains are stones old and worn or merely simple. The most affecting ones, in some ways.

For the affluent who don’t want a mausoleum, there’s always a bronze. Good to give living artists some work, if you or your heirs are going to spend money that way.

Charles J. Hull (d. 1889).

I had to look him up. As this article says, an unusual sort of man. Even for the 19th century, when odd men aplenty could be found in the young Republic. Eventually he made his fortune in Chicago real estate and was a major philanthropist, but I enjoyed more reading about his young life. As a teenager – a term no one would have used at the time – he ran an unlicensed tavern in Ohio for three years. That came to a bad end, and he not only became a teetotaler afterward, he eventually was a temperance activist. Not that I’d want to have lived then, but I feel a sneaking admiration for the lax rules of the time.

The Bridgehouse Museum, Chicago

Posted on May 28, 2025 by admin

Vexillologists, I understand, are fond of the Chicago flag. So are the people of Chicago. I’ll go along with them on that.

Walking along the Chicago Riverwalk last Friday, how could I say no to this?

By happy chance, I’d arrived at the Bridgehouse Museum, whose entrance is on the Riverwalk level on the Chicago River next to Michigan Avenue bridge, on a free admission day.

Actually not next to the bridge. The museum is part of the bridge, consisting of one of the four bridgehouses at each corner of the Michigan Avenue bridge, which houses the Machine Age equipment that raises and lowers part of the bridge. In full, it is the McCormick Bridgehouse & Chicago River Museum.

The museum tells the story of the bridge, completed in 1920, and the Chicago River, which has the distinction (among others) of having its course reversed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1909, during the heroic age of American civil engineering. The story arc of the Chicago River is that of a modern urban river beginning as a sluggish, marshy stream in pre-settlement times that gave way to periods as an open sewer and home to a welter of commercial docks and warehouses; long periods of unhealthy levels of pollution and its abandonment (mostly) as a working river; and more recent efforts to remediate the waters.

Mr. Dooley on the river as it was: “Twas the prettiest river f’r to look at that ye’ll iver see …. Green at th’ sausage facthry, blue at th’ soap facthry, yellow at th’ tannery, ye’d not thrade it f’r annything…”

The challenge posed by the river to the free movement of vehicles and pedestrians in downtown Chicago was solved by a raft of bridges, most of which are bascule, as is the one at Michigan Ave. The river sees the life of the city along its shore and on its bridges, and it has seen death, such as the almost comic collapse of the Rush Street bridge under the weight of cattle in 1863 and the nightmarish capsizing of the pleasure vessel Eastland in 1915.

The museum consists of five floors, each a smallish room connected by concrete steps. Brick walls and battleship gray floors form the dominate color palate of the place. There is a fair amount to read and images to see, with each room covering a different subject, such as the bridge itself and the ecology of the river.

A door from the first-floor room leads to a view of some of the steel equipment that makes the bridge move, such as this massive pinion.

Not everyone likes reading at museums, but I do. You just have to be selective. Some bridge facts.

A display about a time the Chicago River caught fire. Cleveland shouldn’t be the only place known for that, though of course the incident at the Cuyahoga was recent enough to be on TV news.

Antique bridge equipment.

Small windows in the bridgehouse offer large views, especially from the top levels.

The other three bridgehouses are visible, for one thing. Then I wondered: why four and not two, since the bridge has two leaves that are raised and lowered? Later, I found out that each leaf is actually two separate sections, divided in the middle of the road, so in fact there are four parts being raised and lowered in unison.

There are two reasons, I understand. One is that each quarter section is lighter, and thus easier to move. Another consideration is what happens when a ship hits the bridge — an incident apparently more common in the 1920s than now, with a higher volume of ship traffic on the river in those days. Even if the damaged section has to be raised for repair, its companion on the same side of the bridge can (probably) stay in place, so the bridge wouldn’t need to be completely closed, which would be disruptive indeed for the city.

All in all, a good little museum. I made a small donation. One complaint, though — and I see this much more than I used to — no postcards at the gift shop. Note cards, yes. But not postcards. If there had been reproductions of this one, I would have bought at least one.

The Chicago Riverwalk

Posted on May 27, 2025 by admin

Noon, Friday, May 23, 2025, on the Chicago River.

Recently I saw another old acquaintance, in a way. Officially, the water cannon that shoots across the Chicago River on the hour for five minutes at a pop during the warm months of the year is the Nicholas J. Melas Centennial Fountain. The bridge off in the distance is where Lake Shore Drive crosses the river.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the fountain, but see it I did at some point, because the jet has been arcing across the river for more than 35 years.

Operated by the Metropolitan Water Reclamation District of Chicago, the fountain was built to celebrated the district’s centennial and named for a district functionary. Chicago architect Dirk Lohan – who has a great spy or private eye or assassin name – designed the thing. I was glad to learn that he’s still alive.

By Friday the weather was finally spring-like, clear and warmish, and I took the opportunity to stroll along most of the length of the Chicago Riverwalk, which has a good view of the water cannon. I had some time before meeting an old friend for lunch on Michigan Avenue, so I though it was high time I took that stroll.

I used to go downtown every weekday, but that hasn’t been the case since 2005 – just about the time that the first section of the riverwalk was completed. Other sections have been added since then. Counting a few brief visits over the last 20 years, and a walk along the western section, I’d rarely gotten around to a long stroll along the river, especially the eastern section (east of Michigan Ave.).

As public space infrastructure goes, I have to say that the city did a nice job. I started at the Vietnam Veterans memorial, which isn’t far west of Michigan Avenue on the south bank of the river. In fact, all of the riverwalk in on the south bank.

The fact that the Riverwalk is close to the river enhances the views, I believe.

An old favorite.

Once known as the IBM Building. That’s what I call it anyway. A Mies van der Rohe design. If you’re going to do modernism, that is the way to do it.

Now that I’ve seen the Burj Khalifa, I can appreciated a little better other works by Adrian Smith. No need to mention the building name.

As the day before a holiday weekend, and a spring-like one at that, people were out and about. A half-dozen tour boats at least buzzed by while I was walking.

The walk also provided underviews of Chicago River bridges, such as under Michigan Ave.

Under Columbus Dr.

Cool. Even better if the city painted the steel and iron in various bright colors. They could then be promoted as something unique to Chicago, encouraging tourists to come and Instagram them.

Ancient Roman Sculpture from the Torlonia Collection

Posted on May 15, 2025 by admin

Go to one of the newer galleries at the Art Institute of Chicago, at least until June 29, and these figures will greet you. Or at least stay still while you take a good look.

Marcus Aurelius is front and center, looking rather stoic, or should I say Stoic, with some contemporaries near him.

He doesn’t look that much like Alec Guinness. Or rather, Sir Alec doesn’t look much like him. Long ago, I watched The Fall of the Roman Empire in Latin class, one of those last week of the school year sort of activities, finding it a ridiculous mess, despite a stellar cast that included Guinness as the last Good Emperor, and lavish production values.

Also, as a fellow named John in the class pointed out, the movie left out good old Pertinax in its depiction of the events after the death of Commodus. “Where is he?” John said. “Pertinax came after Commodus.” Latin students were the sort likely to notice that kind of omission.

There’s the seed of a series of counterfactual novels: Pertinax survived for some years, re-establishing a chain of Good Emperors, thus preventing the chaos of the 3rd century and hey – Rome didn’t fall. Or something like that.

We’d come to the Art Institute, a few weeks ago now, to see Roman sculpture.

After spending time in Berlin seeing the same sort of ancient art, I couldn’t very well miss something so close to home. The collection owes its origin to Prince Giovanni Torlonia (d. 1829) and his son Prince Alessandro (d. 1886), who bought ancient works when the getting was good, and dug up other pieces at their extensive estates.

“The Torlonia Collection is not only the largest private collection of Roman marble sculptures in Italy, but it is also arguably the most important of such private collections in the world,” the Art Institute says. “Comprising 622 works and a wide range of sculptural types and subjects, its holdings rival those of major institutions in Europe, including the Capitoline and Vatican Museums.

“Nearly half of these sculptures, which range in date from the 5th century BCE to the early 4th century CE, have not been publicly displayed in more than 70 years and have been newly cleaned, conserved, and studied specifically for this exhibition, making for a spectacular opportunity to experience their first public presentation in decades.”

For once, a curated experience that reflects the actual meaning of that now abused word, since I’m assuming expert curators were involved. They had a great deal to work with besides imperial portraits.

Such as a sarcophagus depicting the Mighty Hercules at his Labors.

Its lid.

Makes you wonder who the last person was to see it, who knew the people depicted. A grandchild perhaps, now nearly as remote in time as sarcophagus itself. After that person was gone, the figures might have been revered as Noble Ancestors, but increasingly distant ones. Eventually — who were these people again? And so no one minded as the object slipped out of sight, only to be found much later by antiquarians of a remote posterity.

The exhibit included more than people in stone.

The signage for the exhibit included information I’d never seen depicted in quite this way.

Part of the history of these works now includes restorations done during centuries previous to ours, but still comparatively recent. That’s more information that you usual get at a display of ancient art, and I compliment the curators on it.

Chicago River Scenes

Posted on January 8, 2025 by admin

Above freezing temps in January, or December or February for that matter, mean a good day here in northern Illinois for a walk. That kind of thinking inspired us to go downtown on the Saturday after Christmas, an overcast but dry day without any bitter winter temps or in-your-face wind.

It wasn’t exactly warm, just not really cold. That happy condition inspired some people to do a bit more than walk. Spotted in the Chicago River.

A hot tub boat. I couldn’t remember whether I’d ever seen such a thing. Human ingenuity takes some odd turns. While I might not ever tool around in one myself, somehow I find it oddly reassuring that such a thing exists.

Looking the other way: one of the excellent bridges of the Chicago area. Or any urban area. The Michigan Avenue Bridge, which has formally been the Du Sable Bridge since 2010, named for the early settler and trade post operator in the vicinity.

We crossed bridge twice that day. Once on the upper level, which is always fairly busy, both with cars and trucks, and the flapping of flags, but also people on the wide pedestrian paths on either side. Later we crossed on the lower level. No one else was there.

Just another small example of how close off the beaten path can be. There’s nothing hard about reaching the lower level of Michigan Ave., and in fact there are a number of ways to get there.

The lower level walkway isn’t pretty, but there is urban texture.

It is also a good walk across an impressive steel bridge with a view, and that’s enough.

Christmas Giants Roamed the Earth Once Upon a Time

Posted on January 5, 2025 by admin

The trappings of the holiday season are disappearing, as they always do in the grim early days of January. A few of the seasonally lit houses on the block are no longer cheerfully glowing, and I’ve seen a few forlorn Christmas trees out on the curb. Ours still stands inside, fully adorned, but even it is a short-timer.

I saw this figure in Chicago before Christmas, and in fact that wasn’t the only giant skeleton I’d seen re-decorated for the holidays.

I figure that considering the cost of such a skeleton – and possibly the pain-in-the-ass effort that goes into setting it up and taking it down – keeping it up just for Halloween didn’t appeal to the homeowner. Put on a Santa hat and red scarf and ho-ho-ho, it says Christmas, eh?

But what next? Some Cupid-like garb for Valentine’s Day, I suppose. An Easter bonnet for that holiday, which I think would look pretty funny, even though how often do you see Easter bonnets any more? An Uncle Sam hat for July 4 and I’m not sure what for Labor Day, and we’re practically back to Halloween and Christmas again.

The National Puerto Rican Museum

Posted on December 29, 2024 by admin

Jimmy Carter had a hard time as president, but the underappreciated 1970s wouldn’t have been the same without him. RIP, President Carter.

Decorating was a slow process this year, but we finished by Christmas Eve.

On the Saturday before Christmas, I had an appointment in Chicago with three Wise Men. Better than an appointment in Samarra with three Wise Guys, certainly.

Gaspar, Melchor and Baltasar. Human-sized figures. Not smoking on a rubber cigar that I could see. They stood in a gallery at the National Puerto Rican Museum, which is formally the National Museum of Puerto Rican Arts & Culture, and which I was able to visit late in the morning. The Wise Men were part of the exhibit Los Reyes Magos Puertorriqueños (Three Wise Kings of Puerto Rico). Artists from the island took their hand at depicting the Wise Men-Kings, including the costumes above, which were created by Reynaldo Rodriguez only this year.

Other interpretations include Tres Reyes Magos Pescando, Three Wise Kings Fishing (2010).

Reyes Taínos, Taino Kings (2022).

No title (early 20th century), by Rafael “Fito” Hernandez.

A more permanent feature of the museum is the stairway mural by Cristian J. Roldán Aponte.

Other current exhibits include Puerto RicanEquation: mixed media works, video y El Espiritu Santo by Juan Sánchez; Cuentos Ocultos/Hidden Tales; and liminal: LGBTQ+ Chicago – Boricua Imaginings. Since 2000, the museum has been housed in the wonderful Humboldt Park Stables & Receptory, a structure from the 1890s designed by the mostly obscure Fromann & Jebson, who were busy in their day.

Once upon a time, landscape architect and park superintendent Jens Jensen had his office in the building, and the room is still acknowledged as such by the museum.

I’d hope so. More than any single individual, Jensen fashioned the major parks of Chicago as we know them, and did a lot else besides.

State Street Windows, 2015

Posted on December 8, 2024 by admin

A coinage for our moment in history: Chief execucide. I won’t claim it’s my invention, however, since I found an example from 1988, though for comic effect. Whatever else is going on with the most recent incident, it isn’t comedy.

We haven’t been downtown since the Open House event, and so haven’t seen this year’s State Street windows at the store formerly known as Marshall Field’s. It probably would be another disappointment. They were once known for their imaginative displays. No more. In recent years the company has been phoning it in.

That wasn’t the case in 2015. Actual designers were carrying on the tradition back then, and I should have taken more pictures. This was a favorite: a snowball fight between Uranus and Neptune.

The conceit was, as I wrote, a “space-flight-enthusiast young boy hitching a ride with Santa to various fantastic versions of the planets (except Pluto), including a return to Earth that seemed to feature a bizarro hybrid of New York and Chicago.”

I did take a few other pics. The first was, I believe, the boy’s room.

C’mon, Macy’s. You can do better windows if you try. If you hire the talent. I expect my nephew Robert, whose profession encompasses such work, would be glad to help for a healthy fee.

Twenty-Plus Years of December Firsts

Posted on December 1, 2024 by admin

Chilly days over the last week, a slide into winter even before the calendar turned to December. The first of this month now always reminds me of the sizable snow we got that day in 2006, coming as if winter were actually was signified by a particular day. Why that sticks in memory, it’s hard to say. Memory’s an oddity, often as not.

The following are the first paragraphs from postings on December 1, here at my corner of the Internet. If a year isn’t listed, that means I didn’t post that day. By my count, only eight of the 16 postings started with weather, counting one that is a quote from The Sun Also Rises about how good it is to be in a warm bed on a cold night. A few others mentioned some aspect of the holiday season, such as cops chasing a shoplifter with a taste for German Christmas ornaments.

2022: As expected, full winter is here. Not much more to say about that till a blizzard comes. We’re overdue one, at least when it comes to my completely nonscientific feelings on the matter. Not that I want one, just that it’s been a while, and the Old Man might want to let us have it this year.

2021: Ambler’s Texaco Gas Station is on the edge of Dwight, Illinois, not far from the Interstate, and after our short visit on Sunday, Ann and I went further into town, seeking a late lunch. We found it at El Cancun, a Mexican restaurant in the former (current?) Independent Order of Odd Fellows building, dating from 1916. Looks like the orange of the restaurant has been pasted on the less-colorful IOOF structure.

2020: About a month ago, our long-serving toaster oven gave up the mechanical ghost after how many years? No one could remember. Eventually, its heating element refused to heat, so we left it out for the junkmen at the same time as the standard trash, and sure enough it vanished in the night.

2019: December didn’t arrive with a blast of snow, but instead gray skies that gave up rain from time to time, which — by Sunday just after dark — had turned into light snow. In other words, weather like we’ve had much of the time since the Halloween snow fell, followed by the Veterans Day snow.

2016: Someone’s already thought of the Full Griswold. Maybe I’d heard of it before, but I don’t know where. I thought of it this evening driving along, noting the proliferation of Christmas lights in this part of the suburbs. Some displays, of course, are more elaborate than others, but I haven’t seen any Full Griswolds just yet.

2015: Some years, December comes in with the kind of snow we had before Thanksgiving. This year, rain as November ended and December began. El Niño?

2014: After a brief not-cold spell on Saturday and Sunday – I can’t call it warm, but still not bad – it’s winter cold again. Diligent neighbors used the interlude to sting lights on their houses or finishing removing leaves from their lawns. I did no such things.

2013: I took lousy notes during our four weeks in London in December 1994, so I can’t remember exactly when it was we took a day trip to Canterbury. It wasn’t December 1, because that day I saw a revival of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie somewhere in the West End, and after the show the lead actress made an appeal for donations to fund AIDS research, since it was World AIDS Day.

2011: On Saturday, we went to Chicago Premium Outlets, which is actually in Aurora, Illinois, just off I-88. I saw something there I’ve read about, but never seen before: an electric vehicle charging station.

2010: Some years, December 1 means snow. This year, for instance, unlike last year. But not that much; an early breath of winter across the landscape. Just enough to dust the sidewalks and streets, but not cover the grass. As if to say, this is only a taste of things to come, fool.

2009: “Whoa! Whoa! WHOA!” I heard that and when I turned around, caught a glimpse of a Chicago cop running by. I’m pretty sure he had said it. A moment before that I’d entered the German Christmas ornament shop at Kristkindlmarkt [sic] Chicago in Daley Plaza to take a look at the large selection of pretty, and pretty expensive, ornaments. Someone else in the shop said something about chasing a shoplifter, so I left the shop to do a little rubbernecking. Cops chasing a guy beats piles of German Christmas ornaments any day.

2008: “After supper we went up-stairs and smoked and read in bed to keep warm. Once in the night I woke and heard the wind blowing. It felt good to be warm and in bed.”
— The Sun Also Rises

2006: We were warned, and sure enough sometime after midnight on December 1, 2006, the clouds opened up, as if to tell us that today is the real beginning of winter, and don’t you forget it. First came sleet, then snow. It was still snowing at 6:30 in the morning when I got a call telling me that Lilly had no school. By about 10, it had stopped. We’d had about a foot of snow, judging by my unscientific eyeballing.

2005: Back in the late ’80s, one of the perks of my job at a publishing company was a real-time connection to the AP wire at our workstations. Stories queued up in the order they were published electronically, newer ones pushing older ones down toward the bottom. The interface was simple: green characters, no graphics, no hyperlinks.

2004: I read in the papers that tonight’s airing of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer represents the show’s 40th anniversary, making it nearly as old as me. I have a sneaking feeling it will be more durable than me, playing for a good many more decades before it finally peters out, but that isn’t because I like it. No, I never cared for it.

2003: Time to start this thing again, before the wheels completely rust up. December 1st is a good day to do it, too, being the start of meteorological winter. No need to wait around for the solstice around here, since it’s pretty cold just about every day now. What better definition of winter do you need?

Thursday Leftovers

Posted on November 21, 2024 by admin

Sure enough, a dusting of snow stuck overnight. It won’t last, but what does?

Regards for Thanksgiving. Back to posting around December 1, which can claim to be the start of winter, in as much as a single day can.

The figgy pudding Yuriko made on Sunday. Much of it is gone now, but Ann will be able to sample it when she’s back for the holiday. Bet she’ll be glad for the opportunity.

A stone at Graceland Cemetery last Sunday.

No name on it, except “Asano,” which I take to mean this is a work of Hiroyuki Asano, not a stone memorializing him, since he still seems to be alive. Maybe he’s planning ahead for his presence in Graceland, which I believe in the undertaker biz would count as “preneed.” (Pre-need?)

Or it could be a memorial for someone who didn’t want their name on it. That’s unusual, but not unknown: Erma Bombeck’s boulder in Dayton comes to mind. Or, the person who commissioned Asano’s piece at Graceland is also still alive, details to be added later.

John Welborn Root, Chicago architect (d. 1891). Forgot to post him.

In my efforts to see stones for well-known people, I also almost forgot to take a look at more ordinary folk. Almost, but not quite.

FamilySearch tells me (footnote numbers removed; but there were eight of them for a single paragraph) about the 161 Depot Brigade. It also features the unit patch, which is to the right.

Secretary of War Newton Baker authorized Major General Samuel Sturgis to organize the 161 Depot Brigade, an element of the 87th Division (National Army). It was later detached and placed directly under Camp Pike, Arkansas, as an independent unit.

The brigade filled two purposes: one was to train replacements for the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF); the other was to act as a receiving unit for men sent to camps by local draft boards. During most of 1918, the brigade was commanded by Brigadier General Frederick B. Shaw.

A different sort of memorial, in a different place – a nearby park that we visit often. We’d noticed Jake “The Snake” Popp’s bench before. Looks like people who remember The Snake fondly decorated his bench for the fall.

In the same park, a lamppost, ready to do its job.

On the post, a sign says it is a product of Traditional Concrete Inc., of Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin. Guess that name stresses the long-lasting — and traditional — material that goes into the company’s product, which is fine. But if I started a lamppost company, it would be Fiat Lux Inc.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Category Archives: Chicago