The legacies of Pullman

Wall mural at Historic Pullman Foundation's visitor center.

Story and photos by Tom league

Abraham Lincoln's death was George Pullman's lucky break. At the time, he was building his railroad sleeping car, the Pioneer, in Detroit. But critics thought it was too long, too wide, too high, and too posh. The effect on sales was predictable. But when the president's body arrived in Chicago from Washington, it took its last ride home to Springfield in a Pioneer. Tens of thousands of people viewed the body and train. Millions more read about them in newspapers and personal letters. Soon railroads all over the country were ordering Pioneers. Three years later, Pullman also introduced a dining car.

As sales continued robustly, Pullman decided in 1880 to build an entirely new manufacturing plant in Illinois. But rather than face Chicago and its regulatory power, he purchased 4,000 acres of land south of Chicago near Lake Calumet. There he built his eponymous town. Although mines and other businesses had maintained shantytowns for some time, Pullman became known as the nation's first planned industrial community. Solon Beman was its architect. Nathan Barrett designed the landscaping. Each home had gas heat and running water. There was a park, a market hall, a shopping arcade, a community center, a church and the Hotel Florence (named after Pullman's favorite daughter). Every one was a landmark. Pullman was annexed long ago by the City of Chicago. At its height, more than 12,000 people lived there. However, that height would not last long. George Pullman thought his community would help avoid strikes and attract skilled workers. A European exposition named it the world's "most perfect" town. But a recession in 1893 led the company to cut the already low wages of hourly employees by 25 percent. At the same time, it continued to take the full amount of house rent from their pay. And if they moved out of town, they faced the loss of their jobs.

With support from its national president, Eugene V. Debs, Pullman workers formed a chapter of the American Railway Union in 1894. They called for a nationwide boycott of trains that carried their company's cars. Illinois Governor Peter Altgeld refused to intervene in the dispute, but when it seemed the union might prevail, President Grover Cleveland deployed 12,000 federal troops to Chicago to restore order. This broke the union, but did not end legal action against the company. In 1898, the Illinois Supreme Court ordered it to sell all property not used for industry. George Pullman died reviled and facing financial ruin.

A community survives

The company finally sold the factory site in 1958. By then most homes and other buildings in the community were privately owned. In 1960, residents fought a move to redevelop the community for light industrial use in support of Calumet Harbor. In succeeding years, fire and general deterioration have taken their toll on the factory and many public buildings. The district's population has fallen to 2,500. Yet the currents of preservation in Pullman run strong. Not-for-profit groups, homeowners, the state, and private enterprise have acted, independently and in concert, to maintain the neighborhood's vitality and historic value. By virtue of business and the human condition, it could never have been the model community its founder envisioned. But it has shown how-ingenuity paired with dogged determination can bring long-term success.

When Calumet Harbor development bypassed Pullman, residents' attention turned to long-term community survival. In 1968, the Beman Committee formed within the Pullman Civic Organization. Its goal was to secure official recognition of the town's historic status. Such recognition came from the state in 1969 and the federal government in 1970. In 1972, the City of Chicago designated the part of Pullman to the south of the factory as a landmark district. In 1993, it amended the district's boundaries to include North Pullman as well.

Ninety-five percent of the district's original 1,000 row houses still stand.

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Landmark status requires that work done to their facades adhere to historical standards. The Beman Committee has a homeowner's manual to guide people through the process. The result is that the community still maintains much of its 1880s aura. Yet, in part because few homes are larger than 1200 square feet, housing costs are among the lowest in Chicago. Currently, a home in North Pullman is listed for only $55,000. In South Pullman, the highest listing is $180,000. Its taxes are only $1,283.

Saving for the long term

Kathy Markham's parents settled in Pullman while her father was in college. When she and her husband married, they also bought a home in Pullman. Their toddler daughter is the third generation of her family to live in the district. They're busy rehabbing their house. She works fulltime as webmaster for the City of Chicago. Yet she still finds time to serve as webmaster and spokesperson for the town's most activist civic group, the Historic Pullman Foundation.

"The Beman Committee acts as a resource for homeowners," she said. "They understand the nature of landmark status and what that means. The Foundation is more interested in the public buildings."

The Foundation operates a visitors center and sponsors neighborhood walks and other events. It formed in 1973 to purchase a former Moose lodge and boarding house and reopen it as a civic and interpretive center. A pre-school operates there today. The group's second significant opportunity came in December 1973 when a fire destroyed the interior of the market hall building.

"The owner was going to tear it down," Markham said. "But the Foundation acquired it because it simply could not be lost. They installed a sprinkler system and reroofed it. But basically they put it in mothballs until they had the resources to restore it."

Those resources finally started coming in last year when the Foundation won a $1.1 million grant from the Illinois Department of Commerce and Community Affairs. But estimates for the work came in at three times that amount. Necessary design retooling has delayed construction work until next spring.

"It's a challenge," Markham said. "People say it's a no-brainer. But there's a lot more brain in it than you think."

In 1976, the Foundation acquired its most visible landmark, the Hotel Florence. A wide veranda around the south and west sides of the building

The Hotel Florence

make it look more like a large mansion than a 50-room hotel. Inside, cherry woodwork, stained glass windows, elaborately engraved door hinges and other signs of taste abound. But when its factory closed, the Hotel Florence had gone into decay.

"By 1976, it was a transient hotel," Markham said. "The owner had started selling off the trim. The Foundation bought the building to keep more from leaving."

Again, lack of further resources kept the Foundation from undertaking full restoration. A restaurant operated in the hotel for several years. In 1991, the Illinois Historic Preservation Agency purchased it and the surviving factory buildings to the north. It's now part of the Pullman State Historic Site. Restoration work is underway. Mike Wagenbach, the site director, has his office in George Pullman's former suite. But further restoration is primarily dependent on the state appropriation process. In these difficult budget times, no one can be too optimistic. There is always more history occurring than it is possible to record or preserve.

Aisles and smiles

On the north side of Pullman, Lyn Hughes, must face that truth everyday. She is the founder and director of the A. Philip Randolph Pullman Porter Museum. It honors Randolph and the men he organized, the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters. In 1936 they became the first black union to negotiate a contract with an American company. Rightfully, the museum could be located in Chicago's Bronzeville neighborhood. That's where most porters lived. And Randolph held his first organizing meeting there at Metropolitan Community Church. But while house hunting one day ten years ago, Hughes fell in love with the Pullman district. After she bought her first of three houses there, she visited the library to learn more about her new community.

"I asked if they had books about the role African-Americans had played in its story," she said. "They gave me Long Hard Journey by the McKissack family. It was such a heart-wrenching story that as I read it I began to weep. It changed my life. When I finished, I kept saying everyone should know it. I decided to take this house and establish a museum.

"There was a minor problem in that I had no formal training in museum studies or operation. But I can read. And if you read, you can do anything. So I began to call around to the Chicago Historical Society, the Schaumburg Institute for African-American Studies, and the George Meany Archives. They were all very helpful, but I don't think any of them

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Totem on lawn at the Randolph Museut

Still, Hughes persisted. Within a year, she had incorporated the Randolph and won a $288,000 state grant to rehabilitate its building at 10406 S. Maryland. When rehab costs were double what the budget allowed, contractors responded by working for half their fee. The museum opened during Black History Month in 1995. It is now open three days a week. A traveling exhibit that rents for up to $20,000 covers the bulk of the museum's operating expenses. Admission fees and fund raising events cover the rest. The enterprise currently receives no state grants.

A substantial number of the Randolph's visitors arrive on tour buses. The majority are not African-Americans. This concerned Hughes, but she says a Showtime documentary last year, 10,000 Black Men Named George, has brought a whole new generation to the museum. "The reaction of young people is almost always one of surprise," Hughes said. "You watch body language and facial expression. It captures their attention. On the way out, you hear 'Man, I didn't know that!' They learn something without being forced to."

The Randolph has identified more than 3,000 former Pullman porters or their descendants for an oral history project. In 2003 it plans a lecture series. Like the rest of the district, its future is not guaranteed. But it will tell a story.

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