Category Archives: US: Illinois

The Hegeler Carus Mansion

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Back to posting on July 8. A good Independence Day to all.

Before we went to Streator to see the Walldog murals, we visited LaSalle, Illinois. Like Streator, LaSalle is in LaSalle County, though it isn’t the county seat either — Ottawa is. Unlike Streator, LaSalle is on an Interstate. On two of them, in fact, at the junction of I-80 and I-39.

Those roads were still far in the future when a German, Edward C. Hegeler, came to LaSalle in the late 1850s. Before long he and his partner Frederick William Matthiessen, another German, were American zinc barons whose fortunes were made during the Civil War.

Why LaSalle? It was near coal deposits and the Illinois & Michigan Canal, besides a rail connection to Chicago. Smelting zinc required a lot of coal in those days. Zinc was to be had in southern Wisconsin. Cheaper to bring the zinc to Illinois than the coal to Wisconsin, I suppose.

As propertied men of the Gilded Age often did, Hegeler had a mansion built for himself and his large brood. In our time, it’s the Hegeler Carus Mansion, completed in 1876 in that Second Empire style we associate with eerie residences because of the drawings of Charles Addams.
William W. Boyington designed the house. He’s better known for the Chicago Water Tower, but he also did the Joliet State Pen and the current Illinois State Capitol.

The Carus in the name is after Hegeler’s son-in-law, Paul Carus, who wasn’t a zinc baron. He was a scholar, eventually running Open Court Publishing Co., which was founded by old man Hegeler, who clearly didn’t have a one-track zinc-oriented mind. Open Court published — publishes, it’s still around — titles in philosophy, science, and religion.

We took the 3 p.m. tour of the Hegeler Carus Mansion on Saturday, partly as something to do during the hotest part of a hot day. The house doesn’t have central AC, but thick walls and wall units and fans made it tolerable inside.

A third-generation member of the Hegeler-Carus clan lived in the house until 2004, when he died aged more than 100. Now a foundation owns the place, and it’s doing the slow work of restoring the mansion. A few rooms are finished, complete with high Victorian furniture and wall and floor decor — there are some elaborately styled floors in this house — and many, many books.

“The elaborate interior decoration of the Hegeler Carus mansion is the work of August Fiedler, a talented German-American who excelled in interior design and furniture making,” says The Story of a House. “Although he designed many interiors in Chicago and elsewhere, most have been lost, leaving the Hegeler Carus as the largest and most intact surviving example of his work.”

Most of the rooms aren’t finished yet. Still, the flavor of the place is distinct. A historic property doesn’t have to be a House Beautiful specimen to be enjoyable.

Murals & Milestones in Streator

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Early in June, when we were visiting Arcola, Illinois, I noticed that the town sported more murals than it did during our 2007 visit. In fact, I didn’t remember any from that time. That’s because in 2012, Walldogs came to town and painted the murals.

I found that out by looking at Arcola’s web site, which mentioned the Walldogs, and then I looked them up. “The Walldogs are a group of highly skilled sign painters and mural artists from all over the globe…” the group’s web site says.

“Once a year, hundreds of Walldogs gather in one lucky town or city to paint multiple murals and old-fashioned wall advertisements. This meet – or festival – is usually held during the span of 4 or 5 days ending on a Sunday.”

More about the group was published recently by The Times, the area’s local paper.

While reading about the group, I noticed that the next Walldogs event was going to be in Streator, Illinois at the end of June. I knew right away that I wanted to go to Streator during the event, and that is what we did on Saturday. Since it was nearly 100 degrees F. during the early afternoon, we timed the visit so we didn’t get there until around 5:30 in the afternoon, when things had cooled off to around 90 or so, and it was easier to find shade.

Streator was glad to get the Walldogs, at least to judge by signs like this, placed in the window of a resale shop.

This is a mural to commemorate the event itself. It notes that this year is the 150th anniversary of Streator, the 200th anniversary of Illinois entering the Union, and 25 years of Walldogs events.
We’d been to Streator once before, but only for a short visit in 2005 that absolutely no one but me remembered.

I wrote in a previous BTST: “Illinois 18 took us exclusively through flatlands, once the Illinois River valley was behind us, and on to Streator. Streator’s one of those towns that the Interstate system has completely bypassed. It didn’t seem any worse for it, though, with all the usual features of rural Illinois county seats [sic]: a small downtown, a district of fine-trim houses, a trailer park or two, parks, schools, a police station, firehouse, and library with a historic marker out front dedicated to the discoverer of Pluto.”

I stopped to read the sign, but didn’t even get out of the car. That was all I did in Streator. This time around, I knew that Clyde Tombaugh was going to get his own prominent Walldog mural in Streator, and sure enough, that was one of the first of the spanking-new murals we saw when we got to town.

So new, in fact, that the artists were still working on it.
Just before we left, however, the mural was visible for all to see.

It did me good to know that Streator hasn’t forgotten its favorite astronomical son, a lad from the Midwest who discovered a whole planet. I bet Pluto isn’t anything but a planet to the good people of Streator. Me either.

Murals tend to be stylized, and so Tombaugh’s a stylized astronomer, looking through an eyepiece. Even in the 1920s and ’30s, I don’t think professional astronomers did that very much. After all, Tombaugh discovered Pluto by the tedious task of comparing photographic plates by eye, something that computers certainly do now.

Nearby were other walls with other brand-new murals, such as WWII Canteen.

They too are stylized, but supposedly there’s a story behind the couple on the wall. I didn’t get the details

Here’s Edward Plumb, a film composer who worked for Disney back when Walt himself was in charge, and who happened to be a grandson of the cofounder of Streator, Col. Ralph Plumb.

I noticed that Plumb’s mural is on the side of the boarded up Majestic Theater. No doubt once upon a time, you could hear his scores there as Disney movies played at the Majestic.

On this wall in the afternoon sun are Col. Plumb and Worthy Streator, town founders, along with the miners who came to dig coal in Streator’s early days, and a canary.

Some of the murals were being painted on aluminum panels fixed to temporary wooden scaffolding. The panels, I was told by a fellow who may or may not have been with the event, would be attached to walls later. Walls maybe not otherwise suitable for taking paint directly.

One honored native son was Clarence Mulford, creator of Hopalong Cassidy.

I’d say that Hopalong Cassidy is pretty much the definition of a forgotten figure from fiction. Even when I was growing up, he was little more than a vague Western character with an odd name.

Another forgotten name, though not from fiction: Calbraith Rodgers.
Rodgers had his moment in the public eye in 1911, when he flew the Vin Fiz Flyer, a Wright Brothers machine, coast-to-coast over the course of about three months. Vin Fiz was a soft drink, in case anyone thinks product sponsorship is a new thing.

According to Wiki: “The support team rode on a three-car train called the Vin Fiz Special, and included Charlie Taylor, the Wright brothers’ bicycle shop and aircraft mechanic, who built their first and later engines and knew every detail of Wright airplane construction; Rodgers’ wife Mabel; his mother; reporters; and employees of Armour and Vin Fiz.”

There’s a movie comedy in that story. Or there was, back in the 1960s, when the likes of The Great Race and Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines were made.

Rodgers might have reached further heights of aviation fame, but he died in a crash soon after his transcontinental flight. In fact, according to the International Bird Strike Committee, he was the first person to die because his airplane struck a bird: “The first fatal bird strike accident was in 1912 at Long Beach in California, when a gull (Larus sp.) lodged in the flying controls of a Wright Flyer, killing Cal Rodgers.”

A mural honoring Engine No. 34 of the obscure Streator & Clinton RR.

Here are the Howe brothers, Orion and Lyston.
They were drummer boys from Streator with the 55th Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry. Lyston has the distinction of being the youngest known drummer boy in the war, and Orion received the Medal of Honor for his conduct at Vicksburg.

The lads have a memorial in the park, not far from where their mural was painted.
The citation for Orion says: “A drummer boy, 14 years of age, and severely wounded and exposed to a heavy fire from the enemy, he persistently remained upon the field of battle until he had reported to Gen. W. T. Sherman the necessity of supplying cartridges for the use of troops under command of Colonel Malmborg.”

Last Thursday in June Olla Podrida

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A few days ago, when it was cloudy and cool, I happened to be at the Schaumburg Town Center. The place has an underappreciated garden. Underappreciated by me, anyway.Since then, genuine summer has returned in the form of warmer temps. High 90s are forecast for the weekend. It’s been a rainy summer so far, though.

One detail I forgot to mention about the Lincoln Museum. Ann said she was most amused by learning that in his youth, the president was a talented ax-thrower. I was amused too. They took entertainment where they could get it in the 19th century.

One more picture from the Lincoln Museum. Don’t recognize them? On Jeopardy, the clue would be “Maj. Henry Rathbone and Clara Harris.”

The question: Which couple was in the presidential box with the Lincolns at Ford’s Theatre?

Their story is as sad as that of the Lincolns, or even worse. Rathbone later married Harris, but his mental health deteriorated in the following years, and he eventually murdered her. He died in 1911 in an insane asylum.

Saw this not long ago in Chicago, on Irving Park Blvd.
A bust of Jose P. Rizal, ophthalmologist and martyred Philippine nationalist. How many ophthalmologists get to be national heroes as well? I can’t think of any others.

The Lincoln Tomb State Historic Site

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We couldn’t very well leave Springfield Saturday before last without visiting Lincoln’s Tomb in Oak Ridge Cemetery, or in full the Lincoln Tomb State Historic Site. It’s one of those places that I’ve visited every decade or so since the 1980s. The last time was in 2010.

We arrived just after the interior closed, at 5 p.m., so we only took a look at the exterior. And only for a little while, since even at that hour, temps were still about 90 degrees F.

The tomb looked precisely the same as all the other times. Timeless, it is, at least in our lifetimes.

Larkin Mead designed the tomb. Ringing the obelisk are bronze groups he did: the Infantry Group, 1874–76; the Naval Group, 1874–77; the Artillery Group, 1882; and the Cavalry Group, 1883. I made point of making a circuit around the tomb to look at them, but since the stairs up to their level were roped off, I didn’t get that close.

We did get close to the Gutzon Borglum’s head of Lincoln.
This time, Ann could reach it herself. I seem to recall lifting her up to touch the nose back in ’10.

The Old Illinois State Capitol, Springfield

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Before we revisited the Lincoln Museum in Springfield, we revisited the Old State Capitol. At least I revisited it. I’m not sure whether I’d ever taken Ann, or whether her friend had ever been there at any point. Never mind, it was worth a look.
In the background from that vantage is the larger dome of the modern capitol, on which construction started in 1868. Didn’t visit there this time around.

More formally, the old capitol is the Old State Capitol State Historic Site, a Greek Revival structure that served as the state house from 1839 to 1876, so it was the one Lincoln would have hung around. In fact, as a state legislator, Lincoln was among the legislators who facilitated the movement of the capital from Vandalia, which is further south.

“In the Legislature at Vandalia in the session of 1836-7, Sangamon county was represented by two senators and seven members of the lower house,” says ‘The Story of the Sangamon County Court House,’ a 1901 monograph by H.D. Giger. “They were a singular body of men, all tall and angular and their combined height was exactly 54 feet, they are famous in Illinois history as the ‘Long Nine.’

“The capitol of the State at this time was at Vandalia, having been removed there from Kaskaskia, and as the tide of emigration was moving northward it was conceded that the capitol must be nearer the center of population; although Vandalia and Southern Illinois fought hard against it.

“From the beginning of the session the Long Nine set to work log rolling. They asked for no public improvements; they wanted no railroads, canals, no plank roads, but would help out any member that did want them for his district, if he would vote to remove the capital to Springfield.

“There were many applicants, and on the first ballot Springfield had but 35 out of 121 votes… Poor old Peoria, as usual, brought up the rear and Springfield captured the prize on the fourth ballot.”

Abraham Lincoln Online picks up the story: “The capitol building, designed by architect John Rague, was the third to appear on the square, replacing two previous courthouses.” (Rague also did the old Iowa capitol.)

“The [state] outgrew the building during Lincoln’s presidency, and work on a new statehouse began soon after his death. The present building was dismantled in 1966 and rebuilt, which allowed the inclusion of an underground public parking lot and space for offices. The original stone exterior was stored and rebuilt, but the interior was completely reconstructed.”

It’s a well-done reconstruction.

The exhibits include a statue of the Little Giant.
While we were there, a group of historic re-enactors in 19th-century costumes happened to be in the recreated House chamber.
They gave a lively 20-minute or so performance, recalling the lives of black Illinois citizens of the Civil War era.

Another Look at the Rubber Lincolns

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The weekend before last, we popped down to Springfield for a short visit. As in the capital of Illinois, not any of the many others, or the cartoon town. Ann had expressed an interest, mostly in passing, that she’d like to see the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum again. So, like a parent does sometimes, I took that passing whim and ran with it.

The last time we were there was 2010, so I could see Ann’s point. She was only seven years old then and wanted an updated perspective. I also wanted to visit again, just to see if it was any different.

The short answer: not much. Is that part of the museum’s current problems?

Maintaining attendance as the years go by means offering new things from time to time, and I got the distinct impression that most everything was the same as eight years ago — including the short films shown in the museum’s two main auditoriums. I know it costs money to make new films, but that can’t be done in eight years?

Then again, maybe the museum isn’t interested in repeat visitors. School groups come, tourists come. For most people, once is probably it. Or maybe again many years later as a child who visited returns with a child of his or her own. The museum isn’t quite old enough for that yet, but I suppose it will happen.

Actually, I noticed a few small changes. Take a look at the picture of the “rubber” Lincoln family near the museum’s entrance that I took in 2010, with my own family posing.

Now look at this one from 2018, with Ann on the right and a friend of hers on the left.

There are some small differences in the Lincoln family — a different but similar dress for Mary, for instance, and for all I know the life-sized figures might be different ones from the ones standing there eight years ago. But the main difference is behind the Lincolns.

Eight years ago, a life-sized John Wilkes Booth lurked in the background. Now he’s gone. The figure you can see in the back to the left is George McClellan, standing inside the fence with U.S. Grant, who isn’t visible in my picture. (Also obscured, and off the right, are Harriett Tubman and Frederick Douglass.)

Is Booth out for a touchup? Or did the museum get tired of people complaining about his presence? He did murder Lincoln, after all. His figure in such a prominent place is a little like putting a print of the famed photo of Lee Harvey Oswald and his rifle on the wall at the Kennedy Museum.

Never mind all that, I enjoyed the museum the second time around enough to make it worth the trip, though I think it will be my last. I’m sure Ann got her revised impression of the place.

I paid close attention to the rubber figures, which aren’t rubber, of course. As I wrote in 2010, “Though derided as ‘rubber’ Lincolns, they’re actually sculpted foam coated with fiberglass, and then painted, clothed and fitted with a mix of real and synthetic hair.”

The figures are a distinguishing feature of the museum, and on the whole, add to the experience. Here’s the thinkin’, book readin’ young Abe.

The store-keeping Lincoln as a young man in Salem, Illinois. It didn’t work out for him.

Abraham courting Mary. That worked out for him.

The Lincoln-Herndon law office. Perhaps the best tableau in the museum. Clutter is an essential aspect of people’s lives that historical museums often miss. Lincoln had better things to do than tidy his office or discipline his sons. Namely, read.

Can’t very well have a Lincoln museum without Mr. Douglas debating Mr. Lincoln.

Mary Lincoln dressed for her husband’s inauguration.

There is another Mary Lincoln figure, dressed in black, sitting alone in a dim room with the sound of rain in the background. She is depicted grieving for their son Tad, who died in 1862. It’s the saddest tableau in the museum, even more than the Ford’s Theatre depiction.

The first reading of the Emancipation Proclamation to the cabinet. (“By the way, gentlemen, one more thing…”) Clearly inspired by the famed Carpenter painting, if not so formally posed.

And, of course, the Lincolns at Ford’s Theatre.

Booth is depicted entering the door behind them, so maybe that’s the only place to find the rubber assassin in the museum these days.

Streetscapes in the Driftless Area

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Four years ago in June, we visited the Driftless Area, where the modern borders of Illinois, Wisconsin and Iowa meet. I called the trip the Tri-State Summer Solstice Weekend ’14.

Driftless because for whatever reason, glaciers didn’t cover the area during the most recent ice ages. Besides its interesting geography — hills in Illinois, what a concept — the Driftless Area has some charming towns.

Such as Dubuque, as seen from the hill rising over the town, looking down toward the Mississippi.

Down in the streets.

It’s always good to find a handsome small-town streetscape. On this trip, there was Galena, Illinois.

Mount Carroll, Illinois.

The even more obscure Bellevue, Iowa.

In Bellevue I stopped to look at Lock and Dam No. 12 on the Mississippi River, and took a short look at the town, too.

Allerton Park Statues

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Below is an example, which I chanced across recently, of something you stop reading after only a moment. Full stop, no need to go on, or ever to think about the subject again.

Ever wonder what Daphne and Velma were up to before they met Scooby-Doo and the rest of the Mystery, Inc. gang? A new live-action…

Besides gardens, the Robert Allerton Park & Retreat Center features a number of sculptures. About 100 these days, I’ve read. Robert Allerton collected them, and when he owned the property, there were many more.

Still on display in the Walled Garden is “Girl With a Scarf,” by Lili Auer.

Near the Allerton manse are a number of works, such as this sphinx-like limestone piece, one of two near each other, created by John Joseph Borie III, the architect who designed the house.

It doesn’t count as sculpture, but nearby is a koi pond.

A little further from the house is this figure, about which I have no information.
Out on a tall pedestal between the Bulb Garden and the Peony Garden is a copy of Auguste Rodin’s “Adam.”
Further along is a place called the Avenue of the Chinese Musicians. It is an odd place.

Allerton bought the statues in England long ago.
Given the size of Allerton Park, there are plenty of other places and artworks scattered around that we didn’t get to, some with evocative names, such as Fu Dog Garden, House of the Golden Buddhas, the Sun Singer and the Death of the Last Centaur. Maybe next time.

Allerton Park Gardens

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The Robert Allerton Park & Retreat Center (and why “center”?) is an expansive place, much of it wooded. Because of high humidity last Saturday, we didn’t walk along many of the wooded paths, though I made a mental note that fall, maybe October, would be a fine time to do so.

We did take a look at some of the formal gardens. Such as the Brick Walled Garden.

We walked between the long, tall bushes leading away from the visitors center to find other gardens.

The shrubery forming the row looked like it could be part of a complex maze, but it wasn’t, since it ran in straight lines. Also, it was fairly porous.
This was called the Chinese Maze Garden, and I suppose it would be a challenge for people a foot tall.

The Bulb Garden.
The blooms were off at the Peony Garden, unfortunately. But I liked the wall next to it.
The Annual Garden was fenced in to keep deer out.
A water sprinkler was also running. I spent a refreshing few seconds under it.

The Robert Allerton Park & Retreat Center

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One of the main rewards of looking at maps is finding places you didn’t know about, interesting places that sometimes become destinations. Not too long ago, I was scanning a map of the area near Champaign, and came across the Robert Allerton Park & Retreat Center. Curious, I looked it up.

Soon, I decided that besides Arthur and Arcola, our other main east-central Illinois destination on Saturday should be Allerton, which covers more than 1,500 acres in rural Piatt County, not far from Monticello, Illinois.

Robert Allerton (1873–1964), whose father was one of the founders of the Chicago Stock Yards, and who thus inherited a fortune, set about building an English-style manor house around 1900 on land along the upper Sangamon River. A handsome house it is.

These days, the property belongs to the University of Illinois. Allerton, presumably tired of paying the taxes on it, donated it to the school in 1946. The manor house, besides being rented for events, is a conference center and not open for tours.

Too bad. But the grounds and gardens are extensive, and punctuated by sculpture from the time of Allerton. They are open, and at no charge. More about that tomorrow.