Near North Side, Chicago: Hauntingly Alive
When walking through a neighborhood in the city, nostalgia is a common feeling, even in unfamiliar locations or places we are just discovering for the first time. We tend to think about the history of where we are juxtaposed to the present, and subconsciously compare the two times. DeCerteau speculates, “There is no place that is not haunted by many different spirits hidden there in silence, spirits can ‘invoke’ or not. Haunted places are the only ones people can live in” (108). People gravitate towards where life has once been because they want to experience their own version of this livelihood. Thus, the history of a place can dictate its present popularity.
In order to capture the haunted nature of Chicago, specifically around the Near North Side neighborhood, I decided to search for old architecture or space in general that have the ability to transport pedestrians back in time. I coined the term “Historical Beauties” to describe these places, and I gathered these locations based on my own preferences of architecture. That being said, the field guide I created for this neighborhood reflects my bias towards Eurocentric architecture and landscape design. I recognize this, and while Near North Side, and Chicago in general, is an eclectic conglomeration of cultures, I am choosing to highlight places that I feel possess a haunted milieu and beautify the surrounding area they encompass.
The aforementioned “Historical Beauties” are as follows: Holy Name Cathedral, the Richard H. Driehaus Museum, the Water Tower, Fourth Presbyterian Church, and Washington Square Park. In preparing for my walk, I created my own map online to set a route. This gave me a rough estimate of where I would need to walk to maximize my time and pass by each “Historical Beauty.”
In order to get to the Near North Side, I took the red line from Fullerton to the stop at Chicago and State. Emerging from the platform below, I was greeted with a building that directly opposed my selection of “Historical Beauties”: a Whole Foods. Instantly, I was reminded of the Whole Foods article we read at the beginning of the quarter. In this article, Ellard argues, “At a psychological level, these constructions fail us because we are biologically disposed to favour locations defined by complexity, interest, and the passing of messages of one kind or another” (Ellard). The blank walls of the building reflect other buildings rather than creating a substance of its own. The harsh, sharp lines of the front of the building detach us from humanity, making us feel like a number rather than an individual. Rather than kindling fond memories of the past, this sort of architecture drags us into a bleak, dystopian future.
Despite my negative disposition, I was lucky to spot that Whole Foods, because it exaggerated the effect of the contrasting “Historical Beauties.” The intricate detail of Holy Name Cathedral took me by surprise. I imagined myself in Chicago when the church was newly built. I see dozens of pedestrians walking by in their Sunday best, treating the world as their stage. This church may have been the tallest building in the area, denoting an important place of worship. Flash forward to today, where skyscrapers box in the church, making it feel small and insignificant. Yet, when I walk past it, my mind flourishes with ideas, and I am stimulated by the beauty I witness.
Walking down to the next “Historical Beauty,” I cross the street to capture a good enough representation of the grandeur this house displays. This mansion looks haunted, not just because of the seasonal Halloween décor, but also because of the mystery behind the shaded windows. From the perspective of a pedestrian, it is nearly impossible to see what resides within the house. At eye-level, nothing but ornate fences and neat landscaping is visible. So often, modern buildings are made of clear glass, allowing anyone on the exterior to peer inside and act as voyeurs. In this sense, people lose privacy that gives them a sense of dignity. I respect the clandestine image this mansion portrays, leaving us outsiders in wonder of what occurs within.
I remember walking on Michigan Avenue as a child with my family, perhaps on our way to the American Girl Doll Store, and marveling at the Water Tower. Is it a castle? Is it a fort? What exactly is this building? To be honest, I never found the answer to this question. Whatever its purpose, surely many ghosts congregate around it, because people are drawn to it now. There is a path in front of this building where I passed several busy Chicagoans on their commute home from work. These people could have gone around the block, but they would have missed out on the beautiful and stoic presence of the Water Tower. Instead, they chose, subconsciously or not, to be close to the tower.
En route to Washington Square Park, I stumbled upon Fourth Presbyterian Church, a location I had not initially placed on my itinerary. I approached the church and the clanging of church bells drew me in further. I had never seen this particular courtyard before, yet I felt a sense of déjà vu. This place reminded me of Westminster Abbey, a church I had visited in England a few years prior. I could sense happier, more light-hearted pedestrians around me as the melodic church bells continued their tune. This “Historical Beauty” provides serenity and comfort due to our historical association of this atmosphere with holiday joy.
After being bewitched in the church courtyard, I ended my walk at Washington Square Park, a park that is somewhat Parisian in layout. In reference to eighteenth and nineteenth century Parisian life, Solnit writes, “Idyllic spaces had been created for the urban rich — tree-lined promenades, semipublic gardens and parks. But these places that preceded the public park were anti-streets, segregated by class and disconnected from everyday life” (188). I believe this park has the opposite effect. Although it may have been intended for only the rich when it was constructed many years ago, today, everyone enjoys it. People watching is a great past-time here. I see an elderly woman in a tracksuit riding a bike. I spot a tiny little girl walking an even tinier puppy. A couple of men chase after their belligerent dogs. A boy and his younger brother sit down on a bench and take a pit-stop on their way home from school. Washington Square Park certainly does not exist for only the wealthy; it is rich in life. Remnants of the past, like the fountain at the park’s center, have a hold over us. We continue to return to places like this because we seek to somehow emulate, or possibly better the experience of the life it once had.
I believe more should be done to preserve pieces of history in American cities. The boredom I felt when gazing at the Whole Foods was replaced with awe and appreciation for life when admiring the “Historical Beauties.” The reason many of us long to go to European cities, like Paris, is because we want to latch onto the romanticized beauty of the past. Beautiful and historical architecture connects us to the complexities that formed the idea of the city, strengthening the bond of the human family. Thus, historical architecture makes a city like Chicago more walkable.
Works Cited
DeCerteau, Michel. “Chapter VII: Walking in the City.” The Practice of Everyday Life, translated by Steven Rendall, University of California Press, Berkeley, 1984.
Ellard, Collin. “Why Boring Streets Make Pedestrians Stressed and Unhappy.” Edited by Pam Weintraub, Aeon, Aeon Magazine, 1 Sept. 2015, https://aeon.co/essays/why-boring-streets-make-pedestrians-stressed-and-unhappy.
Solnit, Rebecca. “Chapter 11: The Solitary Stroller and the City.” Wanderlust: A History of Walking, Penguin Books, 2001.
