http://www.urbanremainschicago.com/, http://www.bldg51.com/

Urban Remains, 1818 w grand Avenue, Chicago, IL (2026)

09/05/2026

sobering reminder of the botched "block 37" development that resulted in several historically important buildings being decimated.

casualties included van osdel's post-fire mccarthy building (1872), stop and shop (1928) by schmidt, garden, and martin, wheelock's western methodist book concern (1899), p.b. wight's springer block (1872) - later remodeled by adler and sullivan), and warren's only commercial building, the unity building, completed in 1892.

kodachromes courtesy of john vinci collection.

09/04/2026

“big jim” o’leary’s 1901 house, built by zachary taylor davis, is in big trouble as its case moves through chicago’s demolition court, as dennis rodkin of crain’s has reported earlier this week.
the house now sits wide open, inviting squatters and scrappers to strip it before it is turned over to demolition crews.
the situation is especially frustrating because no organization appears willing to intervene or speak up for “big jim.”
i’m sharing additional detailed photographs of the façade, including the hand-carved monogrammed panels flanking the entrance; the woman’s face, which likely does not depict big jim’s mother, catherine o’leary of great chicago fire lore; a 1986 view of the house and its deteriorated neighbors; and, most notably, a detailed description from the inter ocean, published november 3, 1901, on page 33 under the headline “bookmaker o’leary invests gambling profits in a mansion.”
and the story about a dedicated private fire hydrant is simply false.

When O’Leary gets his new house at 824 Garfield boulevard completed it will be one of the most notable residences in Chicago. The ground represents an investment of $40,000, and $60,000 is being spent on the building. Zachary T. Davis the architect says with justifiable pride in his work, that the house, when completed, will be the finest of the new residences in Chicago,
Palatial Type of Residence
The dimensions of the house are forty-five feet frontage, and by sixty-five feet depth. It is three stories high and constructed of brown Port Wing sandstone, one of the most impressive materials known to the building trade. The style of architecture is modern French renaissance, a particularly ornate and elaborate style, which can only be effective in residences of the palatial type. A number of bow and dormer windows and balconies distinguish the façade. The hall door is reached by a broad flight of stone steps and opens through a large porch supported on pillars. The balustrades and window frames are elaborately carved and ornamented. The roof, which includes a number of peaks and gables, will be of tile.

The new house will be adapted for accommodations for a large establishment. Indeed, it must be, for the O’Leary menage, exclusive of servants, consists of fifteen. There will be twenty-two rooms, including billiard hall, and music rooms. A fixture not quite usual in residences but one which exemplifies Mr. O’Leary’s views as to the carnal necessities of man, is a cold storage room in the basement, ten by sixteen feet, where supplies can be stored for months ahead, if necessary.

Particular attention is paid to the lighting of the mansion, and a most elaborate system of electric lights will be installed, especially noticeable in the system of illumination of the dining room. This will be managed by a scheme of concealed electric lamps, the rays from which will be reflected from gold shells placed on the sideboard. These shells have the effect of diffusing and softening the light, so that all parts of the room shall be equally bright, and there shall be no dazzling points to interfere with free vision. The dining room . which is to be the handsomest of its kind in the city, will be fitted up in Dutch renaissance.

The ballroom is commodious enough for the largest entertainments, measuring 38 by 40 feet. It will be finished in enamel and gold, as also the music rooms. The finishing of the parlor will be mahogany, and that of the upstairs rooms , bedrooms, drawing rooms, and the like , enamel and birdseye maple. There will be three bathrooms and three toilet rooms fitted up in marble mosaic and tile. The newest arrangements in the way of hot and cold water supply will prevail throughout. An imposing feature of the house will be the staircase in Flemish oak, richly carved. The windows of the Dining room and hall will be fitted with art glass of the finest quality and design.

The grounds on which the house stands have frontage of 125 feet, and are laid out in shrubberies and flower gardens. They are separated from the boulevard by a heavy ornate iron fence, entrance within which is obtained by an elaborately designed iron gate. The cost of the gate alone is in the neighborhood of $400. Behind the house will stand a large barn, with accommodations for five horses, and the requisite number of of attendants and coachmen. The total cost of the barn will be about $10,000.

It is expected that the house will be completed and ready for occupation in about three months.

courtesy of bld. 51 archive.

09/04/2026

Posted in 2016:

With the likely demolition of the post-fire cottage at 1241 State Street approaching, it feels important to commemorate the building and acknowledge its survival over the past century and a half. I have considered creating a temporary pop-up museum during the house’s final days, using the site to display artifacts I have collected related to the Great Chicago Fire. Although the logistics would still need to be worked out, the idea feels fitting and has precedent in nineteenth-century commemorations of the fire.
It is well known that Chicago responded to the disaster with astonishing speed. Men such as William Kerfoot, profiled in a recent blog post, were already trying to restart their businesses on the hot bricks, while other Chicagoans began collecting material to remember the event before the ashes had settled. People were seen chipping pieces from the courthouse bell as souvenirs, “in an effort to remember the disaster as a history-making spectacle,” as scholar Adam Mack writes. Although the fire was widely treated as an opportunity for recovery, some lamented the sudden appearance of improvised storefronts among the ruins, romanticizing the razed landscape for its quiet drama and epoch-making destruction. That scene disappeared quickly, but efforts to memorialize the fire continued, helping cast it as Chicago’s near-mythical beginning.
One lesser-known post-fire project was the “Relic House,” a kind of pop-up museum built in 1872. Made from melted masses of glass, iron, pottery, stone, and other materials salvaged from the rubble, it became both a curiosity and a tourist attraction. A man named Rettig created the cottage when fire mementoes were plentiful and inexpensive, first raising it at North Park Avenue and Center Street. It was later moved to Clark and North Park Avenue. Philip Vinter became its next proprietor and added a restaurant, hall, and saloon; in 1884, William Lindemann took over and added a refreshment parlor.
Nearly twenty years after the fire, a December 1890 issue of the Chicago Tribune suggested the Relic House as an exhibit for the World’s Fair. Lindemann, then the owner, responded candidly: “Yes, I will move it to the World’s Fair grounds if I am paid enough.” The Tribune writer argued for the exhibit’s value, noting that excavation for the Masonic Temple had uncovered a large mass of molten iron at State and Randolph Streets. He concluded that “many interesting relics of the fire lie buried beneath the earth’s surface” and would emerge as deeper foundations and larger buildings reshaped the business district. He also predicted that notable relics would be found in Lake-Front Park during World’s Fair construction, since the area had served as a dumping ground for fire debris. During the Masonic Temple excavation, workers struggled to break apart and remove the metal mass, which had been buried for two decades; the company offered it to anyone able to haul it away, suggesting how Rettig may have gathered such material in the first place. Workers also found melted steel scissors and a solid silver watch whose moving parts had fused together. The scissors were later displayed in the company president’s office.
However popular or curious the Relic House may have been, it was demolished in 1929 to make way for a large apartment complex. After nearly sixty years, it had become a renting library for books and magazines, with a popular b**r garden still operating behind it. One publication described the building as “decorative” rather than historical.
Now surviving only in stories, the Relic House seems to affirm many of my own projects. Built from scrap and burned fragments, it showed how much interesting and informative material lies just beneath the city, waiting to be shaped into a narrative compelling enough to hold public attention. The house reflected the quick, inventive response that followed the fire, yet it ultimately succumbed to Chicago’s recurring willingness to raze its own monuments and historic structures. Perhaps another idiosyncratic, even temporary, pop-up museum is needed to help fill the void left by demolition.
images courtesy of bld. 51 archive.

09/04/2026

“big jim” o’leary’s well-known saloon and gambling resort at 4183 s. halsted street stood near 41st street in canaryville, across from the old union stock yards. the lavish gambling destination was destroyed in 1934 when a major fire swept through the union stock yards area and burned eight city blocks. james “big jim” o’leary, son of catherine o’leary of great chicago fire lore, later became a powerful gambling boss and political figure in chicago.

09/04/2026

rare james w. taylor albumen image of solomon s. beman's charles w. brega house, completed in 1885. brega was a prominent member of the chicago board of trade at the time his house was being built at 2816 s. michigan ave., chicago, il.

the three-story bedford limestone house was built at a cost of 40,000. as the sign on the front door indicates, the interior furnishing were done by carsley & east mfg. co., known for outfitting several prominent homes with millwork, mantels, etc.

brega's mansion was later sold to otto c. lightner, publisher of hobbies magazine in 1933. the house became his own personal museum, stuffed with architectural artifacts from buildings and mansions as they were being demolished over the years.
the house was demolished in 1967 during urban renewal.

image courtesy of bldg. 51 archive.

09/04/2026

after mecca, before crown.
great collection of images (possibly taken by nickel) of excavation work for mies's crown hall (1956) at iit. the images offer a great visual record of the surrounding area, including long-gone buildings along state street.
i see lindahl did the excavation, but if i recall correctly speedway demolished edbrooke and burnham's mecca flats (1892).
the intricately designed and finely executed cast iron baluster was salvaged from mecca flats (1891) during its demolition for iit's crown hall.
mecca flats was designed as a hotel by architects willoughby j. edbrooke and franklin pierce burnham for world's fair visitors. possibly fabricated by winslow brothers. the ornament's original finish was either bower-barff or black enamel.
courtesy of ryerson and burnham, art institute of chicago. mecca baluster courtesy of bldg. 51 collection

09/04/2026

the chicago herald building, also known as the andrews building, stood at 161–165 west washington street in chicago, il. designed by the burnham & root, it opened as a state-of-the-art, six-story newspaper printing plant and drew significant public attention. demolition began on april 1, 1936, by the w. j. newman wrecking company, after the building became obsolete and property taxes rose.
its front facade featured the chicago herald, a cast-bronze statue sculpted by johannes gelert in 1890 and nicknamed the “bugle boy.” the statue survived demolition, was acquired by the chicago historical society—now the chicago history museum—and was later donated to st. ignatius college prep, where it remains in the school’s architectural ornament graveyard.
the building is also important to structural engineering history because of its connection to the neighboring chicago stock exchange building, designed by adler & sullivan and built in 1893–1894. in 1894, the herald building’s owners feared that pile-driving for the stock exchange would damage their walls and shared property lines, so they obtained an injunction blocking nearby pile work. engineer general william sooy smith responded by pioneering the first use of “chicago caissons”—deep, hand-dug cylindrical concrete shafts sunk to hardpan—to support the stock exchange wall without harming the herald building.
although preservationists such as richard nickel salvaged the chicago stock exchange’s terra-cotta exterior and trading room in 1972, the herald building was lost in 1936. before its demolition, its interiors were extensively documented, including its ornate counting rooms and basement printing presses, which were visible from the sidewalk.
courtesy of bld. 51 archive.

09/04/2026

early 20th-century photographs taken by architect louis sullivan of his beloved rose garden at his summer home in ocean springs, mississippi.

i also included a photograph of sullivan taken at ocean springs around 1900. the cottage was destroyed during hurricane katrina, but the oak tree still stands.

courtesy of bldg. 51 archive.

09/03/2026

william j. newman’s dawn manor has been reconstructed and reunited with salvaged exterior ornament from william boyington’s chicago’s board of trade.
newman’s gothic-style sandstone summer cottage, built in 1855, was carefully dismantled, moved to nearby wisconsin dells, and rebuilt at 413 south burritt avenue as a restaurant, bar, and speakeasy.
the reconstructed cottage was also reunited with salvaged ornament from william boyington’s granite-clad board of trade building (1885–1929), which newman’s wrecking company had brought to the estate. the returned pieces include additional full-figure statuary and a panel that appears to complete one of several hand-carved emblematic plaques from the old board of trade.
the last of frank lloyd wright’s cast-concrete midway gardens spindles, or sprites, were removed from the original site and sold in the 1990s. a few urns remained behind and were likely destroyed because of their poor condition. in a somewhat ironic gesture, the new owners later purchased crudely cast miniature reproduction sprites to flank the entrance.
further reading:
dawn manor, an 1855 estate built in the lost city of newport—now wisconsin dells—has a notable architectural connection to frank lloyd wright. in the 1920s and 1930s, the property was owned by william j. newman, head of a prominent chicago wrecking company. after his firm demolished two major chicago landmarks in 1929, newman used dawn manor as a summer retreat and brought salvaged architectural elements back to wisconsin to decorate the estate and attract tourists. these included massive granite ornaments from william boyington’s board of trade (1882-85) and several concrete sprites, the geometric figures wright designed for midway gardens (1914).
helen raab bought the manor in the 1940s. wright later discovered that fragments of his demolished midway gardens were displayed on her lawn, visited the property, and formed a lasting friendship with raab through their shared love of the arts. his wife, olgivanna, later purchased several full-figure concrete sprites from madame raab and moved them to wright’s taliesin west estate in arizona, where they remain today, though painted in multiple colors by taliesin students. additional sprites and urns were rediscovered in the 1990s and sold privately to a chicago collector, including the example shown beside mrs. raab in one image. other smaller remnants, including a sprite head, were also sold privately and now reside in the bldg. 51 museum, along with original paintings by raab’s husband, george, a noted wisconsin artist.
for decades, dawn manor was a regional attraction: duck boat passengers passing by river could see the remaining midway gardens sprites and salvaged board of trade artifacts on the grounds.
after years of decline and possible demolition, the manor became the focus of a major preservation effort. in 2022, it was carefully dismantled, moved, and rebuilt with its original potsdam sandstone at a new mirror lake site.
by 2025, the restored estate had reopened as an upscale supper club with a restaurant, bar, and speakeasy. it also preserves its history in a dedicated frank lloyd wright room, featuring miniature replica sprites, historic photos of wright and raab, and original gifts wright gave to the property.
images and artifacts courtesy of bld. 51 archive

09/03/2026

Since discovering a light blue cobalt glass William H. Hutchinson soda or mineral water bottle resting on a thick privy wood floor behind the John Kent Russell House, I’ve bought nearly every similar “W.H.H.” cobalt bottle I can find, as if trying to recapture that first euphoric moment again and again—even though I found it while kneeling deep inside a privy vault, an oversized pit for human and horse waste mixed with household trash.
That discovery—and perhaps the image burned into my mind of a massive, backlit wall of beautifully displayed cobalt blue bottles—continues to fuel my obsession. Imagining the endless shades and intensities of blue glass, along with the distinctive imperfections unique to each hand-blown bottle, only deepens my fascination with this object, whether admired alone or gathered by the hundreds.
William H. Hutchinson produced these pony-style, high- and low-shouldered hinged-mold bottles from the mid-1850s through the 1860s, and possibly into the early 1870s. Each bottle bears lightly embossed lettering—the bottler’s initials—with the city name below.
The earliest dark cobalt blue W.H.H. bottles, dating roughly from 1855 to 1858, typically have lower shoulders, longer necks, deep kick-ups, iron-pontiled bases, and distinctive block lettering, as shown in the image below.
By 1860, the pontiled version had been replaced by smooth-base bottles, many of which include several embossed markings: the letter “H” for Hutchinson, stars, dots, dashes, numbers, and the distinctive outlines left by the key and hinge molds used in production. Most bottles from the 1860s also identify the glassmaker, William M. McCully, along the heel on the back side, opposite the larger lettering. McCully Glassworks was located in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Only two distinct body forms appear to have been produced for this bottled product between the 1850s and 1870s. The other version has a “mug” style base, with faceted panels encircling the lower body and heel, and was likely made near the end of the product’s run. Cobalt blue also seems to have fallen out of favor after the earlier pony-style bottles, since most surviving attic-found or dug mug-base W.H.H. bottles are much lighter in color, often aqua blue.
Each time I acquire another W.H.H. cobalt bottle, I compare it closely with the others in my collection. Beyond gathering enough to create the wall of bottles I imagine, I enjoy teasing out the subtle differences among them, from the shape of the applied blob top to the placement and style of the lettering.
For example, I recently noticed that smooth-base pony-style bottles with visible key-hinge mold marks have a much more condensed “W” than the others. This particular run of bottles may offer clues about the molds that were used, and perhaps even how long they remained in service before being replaced.
I recently learned that this condensed “W,” formed by two overlapping “V” letters, was produced in the 1870s. I could go on about these morphological details, but by now I have probably lost most readers who are not especially interested in old bottles—and I do not blame them.
Despite my growing collection of other W.H.H.-style bottles, soda bottles, early “Philly greens,” and iron-pontiled examples from cities across the country, I will keep buying cobalt W.H.H. bottles whenever I find them. Someday, I hope to build that towering, backlit wall of hundreds of cobalt W.H.H. sodas—an obsession that began with a single bottle tossed into a privy vault built soon after the John Kent Russell House was constructed, likely by Russell himself, a skilled carpenter and owner of the Russell & Company sawmill. That bottle, along with the tongue-and-groove poplar floorboard where it was found, will have its own special place on display.

Urban Remains

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