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William CrononA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Nineteenth-century advancements such as the grain elevators, lumber yards, and stockyards contributed to American’s forgotten connection to and sustenance from the natural landscape. The changing ecosystems and growth economies of a metropolitan city such as Chicago depend on the development of the many outer-lying regions, or hinterlands. First nature, the natural world, is dictated by human utility and influenced by conditions in their immediate environment. Second nature, human-imposed restrictions placed upon the natural world, influences species and ecosystems miles away. Distance from the city, cost of transportation, supply and demand, and price played an ever more important role in determining the shape of the landscape.
Though difficult, paths of capital flow between city and country can be traced by examining how debtors and creditors arrange themselves in communities. While some relationships between creditors and borrowers do not represent the entire population, bankruptcy records are useful because they are commercial in nature. Examples such as the large sawmill, Garden City Manufacturing and Supply Company of Chicago; Ferdinand C. Lighte, who owned a piano business; prominent lumber dealer Freeland B. Gardner; furniture firm of McCabe, Wilkins, and Spaulding, and many other businesses reveal the regional trade relationships in the area. The sources of supply and demand all came from unique, environmental locations. The city and its surrounding areas should be regarded as overlapping market and resource regions.
Communities organize themselves into hierarchies, with cities linking with several bigger cities and smaller towns, all of which dictate the increase in population of each area and the distance of their trade hinterlands. These relationships create a rank which dictates the number of customers attracted to its markets and the demand for specialized items. Only large cities could specialize in banks, law firms, and brokerage houses, giving those in the higher end of the hierarchy easier access to cash and credit. While Chicago’s growth rested on the railroad technology, it, too, was founded on the development of the city’s hinterland. In Chicago, however, no one economy or industry monopolized the area. With multiple economies depending on one another for success, cyclical downturns went relatively unnoticed.
The development of railroads created competition between St. Louis and Chicago. In the early 1800s, St. Louis was a wholesale center serving the frontier. However, with the railroads and the Illinois and Michigan Canal in 1848, more sellers and buyers were turning to Chicago. New railroads, rather than strictly water transportation, made transporting goods safer, faster, reliable, year-round, and cheaper. Downriver St. Louis trading cities such as New Orleans were declining and “capital poor.” Its warehouse goods shipped from Philadelphia saw a market turn. The final blow to St. Louis’s position as a trade metropolis came at the conclusion of the Civil War when trade routes became fixed through Chicago.
Now a gateway city, a reputation that shifted from St. Louis, Chicago committed its economy to long-distance transportation and wholesaling. The city was a go-between linking natural resources and settlements of the West with cities, merchants, and commercial networks in the Northeast. The gateway to the West was defined by its relationship to commercial centers.
Following the Civil War, gateway cities such as Chicago saw a rapid rise in population. Advanced factories attracted workers to Illinois all the way from Germany, Ireland, England, and Scandinavia. From the 1860s until the 1880s, Chicago boasted great diversity in the manufacturing industry. Midwestern factories met with little competition from the East and gained a foothold in these areas. Grain cars filled with wheat and corn would return to the East empty, thus earning no return on capital and costing a lot of money. Factories, like the lumber companies, were able to supply rails with much needed goods for those in the East.
The demand for iron and steel for the advancement of farming machinery, tools, wagons, and hardware increased, and mining operations in Michigan during the 1840s met this need. Yet another industry that Chicago could develop from its hinterland, the construction of smelters replaced the purchase of iron from Ohio and Pennsylvania. The need for coal to run the operations was in abundance by the 1860s when the rails rose to prominence. Chicago would now source cheap coal and iron ore from Michigan to create pig iron to sell to factories throughout the city. Farmers’ access to Chicago’s iron factories, combined with the agricultural agreeability of the prairies in the hinterland, made purchasing machinery such as the McCormick reaper—which became a necessity among farmers by the 1860s—easier and more efficient.
Purchasing goods from urban markets meant new ways of paying for those goods. Before the arrival of railroads, merchants in the frontier relied on operating both sides of the market, as merchant and consumer. Finding new markets where none existed was paramount to sustaining a merchant’s business. With winter freezing up trade routes and slowing farm production, it was necessary to pay in produce, wheat, or grains, rather than money. The cost to store these goods also created another form of income. Credit would also be a form of payment. If a relationship between a merchant in the frontier and one in the city could be established, it was possible to draw a check on the merchant’s bank account. Once purchased, goods needed to be stored in warehouses, locking up capital for months at a time. Living on credit between harvests paid the bills.
During the railroad boom, farmers could make shorter trips to area markets, destroying the horse team business. The availability of rail transport, and the existence of a reliable cash market in Chicago, meant that merchants did not have to invest nearly so much money in the warehouse facilities they formerly needed to hold the harvest until spring. The result was a striking reduction in the capital costs of doing business under the new system
In 1893, the World’s Columbian Exposition, nicknamed the “White City,” housed exhibits from 36 countries and 46 states or soon-to-be states, showing their contributions to civilization. The fair represented urban life at its most “noble and civilized.” Despite the rise of protests among farmers and workers, the exposition reminded people that the 19th century was the greatest era of progress the world had seen (496). The fair reminded people from outside the city that the cultural worth of their rural, hinterland homes depended on the success of the city. People like American historian Henry Adams would spend months walking through the exhibits. Adams noticed that the fair represented one additional quality of trade: Despite its organized appearance, chaos and incoherence lay beneath the scene. “Chicago,” Adams said, “was the first expression of American thought as a unity; one must start there” (500).
The Great Fire of 1871 that destroyed much of the city and the businesses that took root there became the start of a great civilization, as reflected by early booster arguments. The destruction, argued townspeople, did more good than harm. Obsolete wooden structures destroyed by the fire could be replaced by modern structures with updated technology to prevent future fires. New ordinances imposing strict safety measures were established. The boom in construction increased property value which led architects to start building taller structures that could pull in more rent money. The exposition, argued architecture critic Montgomery Schuyler, secluded itself from the city and hid what the fire created. The fair underscored a paradox—it celebrated human idealism and beauty, but the city represented materialism and power.
The fire also changed Chicago’s geography. Wooden cottages surrounded the areas occupied by factories and warehouses. Many of the individuals who suffered most from the links between city and country—enduring cheap construction, occupational diseases, polluted air, and bad water—were those who worked the surrounding factories.
The development of the suburbs, with paved roads, water and sewage lines, and eventually electricity provided an ideal landscape for wealthy Chicagoans to enjoy urban comforts with the privacy and quietness of the rural hinterland. The suburban ideal was measured against the less civilized rural Wisconsin and the crime, violence, and vices plaguing Chicago. Trade publications about illegal gambling and sex work underscored the existence of both a market of corruption and moral freedom. Differences in city and country seemed most amplified by its vices. The city’s reputation for sin worried rural residents the most.
Young farm children, especially men, might be lured to the sins of the city, abandoning their farm homes and traditions. Publications often painted the family homestead as virtuous and moral, as opposed to the immoral dangers plaguing the city. These tactics did not address why rural children were leaving the country.
Increased technology helped improve country life, making farm work easier and closing the gap between rural and urban locations. Rhetoric began to popularize the countryside as a place where people could escape the sins of the city. Writers like Ignatius Donnelly and Henry Blake Fuller wrote pieces that depicted the future urban world as places that left people dehumanized and detached from everyone else.
Part 3 of Cronon’s work brings the natural and economic relationships established throughout the book to a central argument: The story of the settling of the West is a narrative of contrasts. Cronon reasserts that rhetoric in its many forms continued to shape the city and country the way these authors, boosters, philosophers, and advertisers saw fit. The World’s Fair in 1893 served as a unique rhetoric of its own; it was a metaphor for the blended boundaries of landscape and enterprise that fed Chicago’s growth and gave it the distinction of being the “city of contrasts.”
American authors continued to use the city as a tool to inspire awe and wonder at technological advancements. These urban areas, often futuristic and foreign, were a backdrop for memories of home conjured up by the country. William Dean Howells, Cronon points out, creates a fictional utopia that reminds his fictional traveler of home (497). The Adventures of Uncle Jeremiah and the Family at the Great Fair by Charles M. Stevens was of one best-selling titles to flood the market. The text follows fictional farmer Jeremiah Jones in a text that Cronon argues perpetrates an “ambivalent portrait” of both city and country life. Ignatius Donnelly, a leading Populist politician, published a novel titled Caesar’s Column, depicting “a future urban world so dehumanized that society set up voluntary suicide centers for those who could take it no longer” (531). Donnelly suggested that men and women in the city felt so insignificant that they were led to suicide. By the end of the 19th century, many writers addressed the loss of connection to place that city dwellers experienced, suggesting that a connection to the land brought about a clear personal identity.
Another form of popular rhetoric addressed concerns over rural children leaving the country for a more comfortable, modern lifestyle in the city. The city had its many vices, particularly gambling and sex work, to attract young citizens from rural areas. These texts often romanticized the country and cast shadows of doubt on the moral standards of city life. “Reading them,” Cronon argues, “one would think that Chicago was the home of Satan, and that only the devil’s own temptations could explain the attractions of the place” (521). Some of the rhetoric drove the already established attitude that urban wealth was stolen from rural farmers and that city merchants were thieves.
The World’s Columbian Exposition (The World’s Fair) in 1893 was meant to showcase the many advances that Chicago had achieved during the 19th century. The elegant office buildings, pristine suburbs, dingy factories, and slum neighborhoods mixed to demonstrate the true experience of Chicago. The fair, with its many contradictions, serves as a metaphor for the times; the mix of human labor, new technology, urban wealth, and affluent merchants represented the modern relationship between the city and its hinterland. In a way, the city of the 1890s symbolized the reborn phoenix rising from the ashes of the Great Fire of 1871 (505).
The fair’s metaphor stretches beyond the relationships of these geographically diverse areas. The fair was a fantasy, representing the very best that Chicago had to offer, all the while covering up the many sacrifices, covered extensively in Parts 1 and 2 of Cronon’s book, needed to realize Chicago’s dream of being a metropolis. “The more concentrated the city’s markets became, and the more extensive its hinterland,” argues Cronon, “the easier it was to forget the ultimate origins of the things it bought and sold” (493).