Veteran's Housing in West Ridge, 1946-1947



A few months ago I wrote about an example of Defense Housing in Rogers Park built for war workers in 1942.  These were the result of strict Federal guidelines permitting only defense-oriented projects to receive priority use of building materials.  With the end of the war in sight by 1944 the country began to prepare to absorb about 16 million returning veterans.  These soldiers had left in the middle of a decade-long housing shortage, and would be returning to all parts of the country, not just areas that had benefited from wartime construction. 

Below is a draft of an article intended for the upcoming issue of AREA Chicago.  It will probably change a bit once I get comments from the editors.

In September of 1946 the Chicago Tribune printed an article announcing plans for a 92 unit development intended for WWII veterans on 3.6 acres on Ridge Avenue, north of Devon. At the time this was a sparsely developed area, dotted with the single family frame houses and small truck farms which comprised much of the early character of West Ridge.

The architect was listed as Edwin H. Mittelbusher of Howard T. Fischer & Associates, Inc. Mittelbusher served as the Assistant Chief Architect for the Chicago office of the Federal Housing Administration from 1940 to 1945. Howard Fisher was the founder of General Housing, Inc. and pioneered the development of pre-fabricated housing. He served as the director of the development board of industrial housing for the National Housing Agency in 1946-1947. In short, this development was designed by people skilled at working within a bureaucracy.



Damen-Ridge Garden Apartments, 1946.  Perspective view from Ridge looking Northwest.

The project itself consists of eight two-story brick veneer buildings with hipped roofs arranged around green inner courts. The outer courts accommodate parking areas. The buildings are a restrained version of the Colonial Revival, with modern touches, such as concrete sun shades on the first floor corners and entrance stairs illuminated with large glass block windows. They were constructed as a combination of 4 and 5 room rentals. This project was initiated under the Veteran's Emergency Housing Program (VEHP), but between the time these buildings were planned and when they were completed the VEHP became functionally obsolete.

The Veterans Emergency Housing Program was developed and proposed by Wilson Wyatt, former mayor of Louisville, Kentucky, at the direction of President Truman. The initial goal was to create 2.7 million housing units within two years to serve veterans, many of whom returned to crowded conditions and shared housing situations. To accomplish this wartime price and wage controls were intended to be maintained and priority was given to housing development through a series of initiatives. The bill establishing the VEHP was signed into law in May of 1946.

Six months later Republicans took control of Congress and eliminated much of the economic controls, resulting in a sharp increase in costs in response to pent-up demands. The program had been responsible for over 1 million housing starts in 1946, but many stood half-constructed due to shortages of building materials. Soon a home that would have sold for $6000 in 1945 was priced at $8,000. This was at a time when many veterans were marrying and beginning a family. Rather than buy a home at an inflated price many chose to find rental housing. This is the era reflected by the buildings in West Ridge constructed specifically for the returning veterans.


2212-30 W. Farwell and 2213-31 W. Morse, 1946.

The construction of these brick buildings was advertised in the Chicago Tribune in November of 1946.  The architects and builders are listed as Charles and Arthur Schreiber, who established their firm in 1938 and later went on to design many modernist structures in the Southwest.  These 4 and 5 room rentals were intended to accommodate 74 veteran families.  They are similar to earlier courtyard buildings in the neighborhood, but with large sunken courts and parking along the alley.  The restrained details, portal windows, and limestone door surrounds suggest the Moderne style, which lent itself to construction on a budget. 

6102-6122 N. Hamilton, 1947.

In February of 1947 the Chicago Tribune published an article about these three buildings, which were constructed as cooperative housing for veterans and designed by architect Clarence Johnson. They're traditional in form and ornamentation, including decorative entrances, corner quoins, water tables and limestone details. These are located on wide lots but are quite shallow due to the cemetery immediately west. The cooperative ownership structure is unusual, and the article claims that this is one of Chicago's first cooperative apartment developments. Titles to these buildings were conveyed to a corporation, and each veteran buyer purchased shares of that corporation. Cooperative ownership was (and is) rare in Chicago, and has been largely eclipsed by condominium ownership. Of the three developments examined here, this is the only one which wasn't intended as a straight rental property.

While I don't intend this to be a comprehensive look at veteran's housing in Chicago (or even in West Ridge), it does provide some examples of the types of development which were feasible immediately following WWII. And in some ways it sets the stage for the suburban explosion of the 1950s, when affordable single family homes became widely available, changing the character of the American landscape.

Sources

1. The AIA Historical Directory of American Architects, 1956. Accessed online at http://communities.aia.org/sites/hdoaa/wiki/Wiki%20Pages/1956%20American%20Architects%20Directory.aspx
2. Chicago and Evanston Vet Apartment Units Approved. Chicago Daily Tribune; Sept. 8. 1946. Accessed through ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Chicago Tribune (1849-1988). Pg. NA
3. Work Started on Three New Flat Buildings. Chicago Daily Tribune; Nov.10, 1946. Accessed through ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Chicago Tribune (1849-1988). Pg. 43
4. Finish Homes in Early Vets’ Co-op Project. Chicago Daily Tribune; Feb. 23. 1947. Accessed through ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Chicago Tribune (1849-1988). Pg. WA.
5. To Hear Only Thunder Again: America’s World War II Veterans Come Home. Mark D. Ellis. Lexington Books, 2001. Accessed through Google eBooks.
6. The Veterans Emergency Housing Program. William Remington. Law and Contemporary Problems, Vo. 12, No. 1, Housing (Winter, 1947), pp. 143-173. Accessed through JSTOR.

Haymarket Square Map Chronology

Last year I put together a map chronology of Haymarket Square for AREA Chicago.  Normally they publish a small-format newspaper on local issues related to arts and political activism.  I'd contributed illustrations previously, and even an article a few years back.    This edition was to commemorate the 125 year anniversary of the Haymarket Tragedy (otherwise known as the Haymarket Riot).  The graphic was only intended to show how the area changed over the years, and it wasn't presented with any analysis.  But there's no reason I can't remedy that here, right?

Des Plaines and Randolph looking North, 2011

In a nutshell, the Haymarket Tragedy refers to the events of May 4, 1886, where a crowd of workers were demonstrating at Des Plaines and Randolph for an 8-hour day.  As the speeches were winding down 176 police officers marched to disperse the crowd.  At that point someone threw a bomb, killing a police officer.  The police then opened fire.  Sixty officers were wounded and eight died.  It's not clear how many in the crowd were killed or injured. The person responsible for the bombing was never found.  The Haymarket organizers were arrested, and after one of the most unjust trials in American history four of the defendants were hanged.  Another committed suicide in prison.  You can read more about it here and here.

There hasn't been much in the way of commemoration of this area, although there is a plaque, a sculpture, and a Chicago Landmark designation for a portion of Des Plaines and part of the alley to the east.  Nearly all of the buildings associated with that night have been demolished.

A lot has been written about the Haymarket Tragedy, but not much about the physical characteristics of the area where it occurred.  There were five of these open-air markets in Chicago at the time, where workers went to buy food directly from farmers.  You can see that Randolph St. widens to accommodate the market.  The speaker's wagon was north of Randolph (1), in part to avoid interfering with the market and attracting a police presence.  And the police weren't far away.  Their station was just south on Des Plaines (4). 

You can see the vitality of the area in the number and configuration of the buildings. Most of these would have been two or three-stories with commercial uses on the first floor and residential above.  Many of the lots have rear buildings with alley access.  These were often coach houses or businesses.  At that time alleys were much more important in the life of the neighborhood.  And this was a real neighborhood.  There was a complex mix of commercial, retail, industrial and public uses all swirled together. 



By 1906 several of the smaller buildings have been demolished and replaced with larger structures taking up two or more lots.  Many of the rear lot buildings have been removed.  Construction is masonry, as required by Chicago building codes.  The scale of the neighborhood begins to change.






By 1950 the consolidations have continued.  Buildings have been demolished but not replaced.  The Haymarket has fallen on hard times.  There's a more homogenized feel in the area.  Commerce has moved away from the street, and the residential quality of the area has declined.  The map doesn't show it, but the expressway cuts through the Haymarket to the west, severely limiting it's ability to regenerate.  The area is becoming part of Skid Row.

By 2011 surface parking has eaten up large swaths of land.  The lots are empty from 5 p.m. to 8 a.m., giving the intersection the feel of a ghost-town during the after-work hours.  But at the southwest corner is a new 40-story condo building, replacing the second wave of replacement buildings and dwarfing those that remain.  Some of the nearby light industrial buildings have been converted into condos as well.  A high-end restaurant has located on Randolph.  There's a sense that the area's proximity to the downtown may finally be attracting some investment. 

The shouts and gunshots of a cold May night in 1886 feel very far away.

Des Plaines and Randolph looking West, 2011

Teardowns in a North Shore Suburb (reprinted from AREA Chicago #8)

 Things have been pretty busy with the birth of our new son (June 25th!), so I'm posting an article that was included in the last issue of AREA Chicago.  It's on their website, but from some reason the illustrations weren't included.  This has bothered me, so I thought I would remedy it.  The theme of the issue was Peripheries, interpreted in various ways.  Some of these sketches are pretty old and kind of rough, so I apologize for that. 

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The tension between the public interest and private property rights was front and center in Chicago’s North Shore suburbs during the housing boom of the early 2000s. These small towns and cities (including Evanston, Wilmette, Kenilworth, Winnetka, Glencoe, Highland Park and Lake Forest) are historic commuter suburbs that benefited from easy transit to Chicago while providing attractive lakefront access to those who could afford it. Over the years, these communities have become less exclusive but are still highly valued for their prestigious addresses and substantial community amenities. Property owners looking to profit from selling their houses often turned to developers who, in turn, demolished the existing buildings and constructed McMansions in their place. A climate of easy credit, quick turnarounds, and strong demand, in addition to decades-old zoning laws that permitted much larger buildings, made cities on Chicago’s periphery attractive for redevelopment. Once demolition of houses began, they clustered, partially due to zoning, but also because teardowns attract teardowns. Builders kept track of areas of new construction and new construction signaled to adjacent homeowners that it was time to cash out.

Communities that saw their character changing due to teardowns often addressed the issue through a variety of city boards, such as a plan commission, housing commission, or community land trust. There is nothing illegal about someone tearing down a home and building a new one in accordance with all building and zoning codes, but the loss of economic diversity and erosion of historic character was alarming to many. In response, many of Chicago’s older suburbs adopted demolition delay ordinances to determine if their communities were losing buildings of historic or architectural significance. Delaying demolitions between three months and two years enables a historic preservation commission to initiate proceedings to assess whether a building is deserving of historic landmark status. Whether a building can be landmarked in spite of intent to demolish depends on the language of the Historic Preservation Ordinance adopted by the particular community. Despite the efforts of planners and preservationists, North Shore cities, towns, and villages have lost hundreds of buildings since 2000. Some have been of historic and architectural importance, others not. Characters of streets, towns and whole communities have been altered. Some residents welcomed demolitions; others loathed the new buildings. Beneath the teardown trend, however, were the planning concepts and economic realities that have shaped community development for decades.

I was a liaison to a historic preservation commission in a North Shore suburb until 2006, and it fell to me to document, research, and recommend action for each residential demolition permit received. This put me in a unique position to witness this dramatic shift in the built environment, and on my own time I made the following sketches. They are just the tip of the iceberg, depicting some of the hundreds of buildings on Chicago’s suburban periphery that have been demolished since 2000. With the deflation of the housing market, I wonder how many of the new owners were able to maintain their huge mortgages and tax assessments. Have some communities traded streets of diverse housing for a row of expensive white elephants? Perhaps the real lesson is how little control was available to the municipal authority, or the startled residents, once the teardown trend hit. In many ways the cities finally began to resemble the zoning maps that were adopted decades earlier. These maps defined the height, setbacks, and floor area for a building on any given lot. This is a predictable, consistent, and common method of managing growth but not the best way to guide development for communities intent on maintaining a unique identity. Any real solution would have to be a combination of thoughtfully constructed regulation which can respond to unique conditions, coupled with a strong sense of those things within the community which are worth preserving. Combine this with a vision of the future and you have just the beginnings of a comprehensive approach.

This 1920s Craftsman style home was in the middle of its own forest. There had been numerous additions, but all very much in keeping with the character of the home.

When this rustic home was razed, the wooded areas in front were replaced with a lawn and a circular drive.

This 1950s ranch house was completely hidden from the street, but was a nice example of mid-century modern scaled for affordability. I especially liked the cantilevered roof shading the recreation room.

This 1920s French Eclectic mansion had a particularly dramatic view of Lake Michigan. It was demolished along with a nearby neighbor to accommodate the next generation of mansion, with a scale that made this look quite modest.

Rumor had it that this 1950s house was taken from a design in Popular Mechanics. I couldn’t confirm that, but it’s a nice solution to a hilly site. The owners said there were too many stairs.

This Craftsman style house (c.1915) was demolished to make way for a planned development. It was located on a lot that had been rezoned as multi-family. (Note:  This hasn't yet been torn down, probably due to the current economy.)

Very stylish 1960s ranch with angled roof. Too small to survive.

This turn-of-the-century Classical Revival home was actually in a National Register Historic District. The neighbors tried to organize a local historic district, but with no success. Only locally designated landmarks have protection from demolition.

This Dutch Colonial Revival was replaced by a French Country home. Those are the ones with the turrets.

This 1940s ranch house was particularly close to my heart. It was constructed in the part of town which still had some rural character after WWII. It approximated the board and batten look of the barns and livestock structures which would have been found in the area at the time.