Henry Monroe was good friends and colleagues with Daniel H. Burnham, with whom Root joined in 1873 to form Burnham and Root. The firm developed a system of floating underground steel beams for the Montauk Building commission in 1882. The beams prevented tall, vertical buildings from sinking into Chicago’s marshy soil. The system worked so well it formed the basis for creating steel-framed vertical load-bearing walls, allowing future commissioned buildings, like the Phenix Building built from 1886 to 1887. Chicagoans watched the skyscrapers being built and witnessed the creation of the first urban skyline, and Harriet would have heard stories from her sister and brother-in-law about the entire business of architecture and new urban development. She also heard about the need for a new architectural guild, because Chicago’s architects were being ignored and felt slighted by the East Coast architects of the American Institute of Architects. She witnessed the creation of the Western Association of Architects, by Root, Burnham, Louis Sullivan, and Dankmar Adler. Chicago was being built literally upward by her friends and family and she could only imagine her own exciting place in resurrecting the phoenix of Chicago from the flames.
Harriet Monroe published her first poem in New York’s The Century Magazine in 1888. She spent that winter in New York with her parents and sister Lucy, working at a correspondence job on the Tribune because her friend, Margaret Sullivan, who was then arts editor at the Tribune, arranged it. Eight months later, despite the fun of the opera and symphonic season in New York, the Monroes were glad to return home. She writes of their return: “Fortunately the Manhattan lure did not take complete possession of me. I was content to return to Chicago, and to accept, after a few precarious months, a position as art critic on the Tribune’s staff.”7 She will return to New York often with her sister who becomes an editor at Stone and Kimball, but she will never consider moving there again. She felt that she could experience New York, but felt at home in Chicago.
In the later years of the 1880s, the Palmers; the McCormicks of the International Harvesting Company; department store magnate Marshall Field; Chicago meatpacking titans Philip Armour, Gustavus Swift, and Nelson Morris; railroad tycoon George Pullman; and the others, who saw themselves at the wealthy pinnacle of the Chicago business world, joined forces to try and bring the Columbian Exposition World’s Fair to Chicago. The Fair would commemorate the 400th anniversary of Columbus’s discovery of America and Chicago’s business world saw it as an excellent opportunity to establish Chicago as “the Metropolis of the West” and raise its image to those back East and internationally. Chicago had been in a long contest with St. Louis for the title and those owners of Chicago-based industry wanted to ensure that Chicago would win. They were willing to pull all strings and sell Chicago’s image as a vital, dynamic, and above all modern city, despite all indications to the contrary, to become the Metropolis of the West and boost their businesses to stratospheric success.8 Supporting Chicago meant supporting its businesses and to do that, one needed to enthusiastically boost, boost, boost the city out of the swamp. The strategy worked and Chicago was named the site to host the Fair in 1890. John Root was named as coordinator of the event and he decided that the Fair should be run by a series of committees and that no one architect or group would be the sole builder or creator of the Fair. When he died suddenly of pneumonia in 1891, Burnham took over his role.
Monroe watched the city boost, prepare, and build for the Fair. She writes that in the Spring of 1892 she decided: “The Dedication would be incomplete without a poem, and I wanted to write it—indeed, I seemed to be the only available person in the city.”9 She realized the Committee on Ceremonies had already been formed and that their “family friend Edward F. Lawrence” was the chairman. The entire eight-person committee consisted of Chicago’s great art collectors whom she knew through her job at the Tribune writing art reviews. She went straight to the art collector Yerkes’s office in March 1891 with her “plea”: “Would the Committee on Ceremonies recognize the neglected art of poetry by decreeing a poem for the Dedication, and would they ask me to write it?” According to Monroe, he replied that he would want it, but the committee may decide otherwise. A short time later, she reports, they answered in the affirmative.10
The letters dating from the period tell a different story than the one she tells in her autobiography. On March 6, 1891, E. C. Culp, the secretary of the “Committee on Ceremonies” did write her a letter that requested “a poem, to be delivered at some time during the dedicatory exercises of the exposition, the same to be submitted to this committee for approval, or otherwise.”11 But, there are several prior letters that indicate that the invitation to read the poem happened because of a series of connections completely different than the ones she describes in her autobiography. Burnham sent a dictated note to “My Dear Miss Harriet,” on February 28, 1891 with the simple message that the “enclosed letter will explain itself. The matter seems to be going as you desire.”12 He encloses a letter dated two days before his letter to Monroe and sent to him by Cyrus H. McCormick Jr., the current president of the McCormick Harvesting Machine Company and a member of the exclusive Millionaires club on Jekyll Island.13 Burnham, who was constructing the fairgrounds, gave Monroe’s plea to write the poem to the highest-ranking industrialist he knew and the one he chose had almost unlimited power in Chicago because of the staggering size of his fortune and his work in bringing the Fair to Chicago. McCormick writes:
In reply to your note of the 14th, I am glad to have your recommendation of Miss Harriet Monroe as one who is competent to undertake the writing of a poem in connection with the opening ceremonies of the World’s Fair. At the next meeting of the Committee on Ceremonies I will bring your suggestion before the committee.14
Monroe called on her friend, the partner of her now diseased brother-in-law, who was named Director of Works for the Columbian Exhibition in his place and asked him to give her name to the Committee on Ceremonies as the one to write an Ode to the city and commemorating the Fair. Monroe may have changed the story for her autobiography to better highlight her own business acumen and tenacity in pulling the right strings to get the Ode on the schedule. The real version, where her brother-in-law pulls strings for her, doesn’t have the same pluck and vigor and Horatio Alger style self-uplift as the one she tells in her autobiography. She writes as the powerful and successful editor of Poetry and so elides or misremembers the truth about her first, well-aided success.
Despite her connections, the committee exerts its heavy control over the project almost immediately. On March 6, 1891, E. C. Culp writes to Monroe on official Office of the Secretary, World Columbian Commission, letterhead:
In complying with the request of the Committee, I beg leave, on my own account, to suggest that among other features which will probably be adopted, there will be a Commemoration Ode, set to music, and sung by a grand chorus,–also a Cantata, arranged expressly for the occasion. I offer the suggestion thinking you might possibly prefer to write something which would have associated with it, a new musical composition, if I have expressed it properly.15
Monroe, who suggested the project to the committee, must have been irritated that the committee already saw fit to add new “features” to her idea for the Ode. Her work progresses slowly and according to her biography, she falls ill, which worries the committee as to whether she will complete the poem on time. The fickle committee informs her on July 24, 1891, that the cantata has been cut out, leaving only the Commemoration Ode to be set to music.16 On October 31, 1891, she is directed to submit to the Committee on Ceremonies “at the earliest possible moment” the Commemoration Ode for the Dedication ceremonies.17 She sends the manuscript and on November 3, 1891, Culp acknowledges that he received manuscripts and has distributed it to the committee.18 One week later, on November 10, 1891, she receives notice that the poem was “unanimously adopted by the committee.”19
Monroe didn’t usually keep her own letters and so the ones she kept she must have deemed as having unusual significance. She
kept a draft of her response to the committee sent the next day, November 11th. She writes in pencil: “I am informed by Mr. Theodore Thomas that the time is now extremely short for composing the music, printing, … etc.” and adds: “I therefore ask that, at the approaching meeting of your committee Mr. Thomas may be empowered to select and secure an American composer who will undertake the work, and that such a composer be authorized to consult personally with Mr. Thomas and myself.” Then she goes back and adds herself into the text with a caret mark so the text now reads: “Mr. Thomas and myself be empowered” and crosses out the “may” in the phrase “may be empowered.” Her last revision is to cross out “Mr. Thomas and myself” and add in the word “us.” Her changes show Monroe is conscious of how her response constructs her, a female poet, in a relation to the all-male committee of businessmen, from which she wants respect and autonomy. She takes out words that deflate her position, like “may,” and by using the word “us,” she positions herself next to the Boston Symphony conductor, Theodore Thomas, instead of hiding behind his impressive name and stature.20 Remarkably, the committee responds immediately on November 12, 1891, that the committee granted her permission to act already at the meeting of October 26, except in the case of “the expenditure of money.”21
Monroe now had two large issues to negotiate with the committee until the Ode would be fully accepted on September 23, 1892. The first was the difficulties of setting her complicated poem to music, which was never Monroe’s idea in the first place. She knew that she needed to control whoever they picked to compose the music and have final say, alongside Theodore Thomas, over what the musical Ode would look and sound like. The second involves the committee’s increasingly clear feelings that the poem needed revision and that they were the ones who should dictate the final form of the Ode. Both difficulties reveal Monroe struggling to keep control of her work before the Ode is even published. The committee of industrialists and art collectors try to exert their control over Monroe and the poem as if they are adjusting the controls on a factory floor to create a better product.
Despite the committee’s earlier written acceptance of Monroe’s and Thomas’s control over the composer, she receives a letter on December 23, 1891, that announces that Mr. E. A. McDowell of Boston has been made the composer of music for the Commemoration Ode. The committee secretary tells her: “I have given your address to Mr. McDowell and asked him to communicate with you.” The letter must have been a surprise and McDowell not her choice, because if she had chosen him, she would already be in contact with the composer. She completes the Ode in its entirety by early February, 1892.22 The committee summons her immediately by letter on February 12, 1892, to read the work before the committee that day at 2:30 p.m.23 The meeting went well, because on February 24, she receives a letter that they “heartily endorse and approve of the poem submitted and read before the Joint committee by Miss Monroe, and recommend the acceptance of the same.”24
The letters suggest that she is expected to react to the whims of the committee, who aren’t recognizing that she may have been working closely with Theodore Thomas. She receives on February 26 an official letter from F. H. Wilson on letterhead for the Department of Liberal Arts, World’s Columbian Exhibition, that announces:
I found Mr. MacDonald so insecure as to his ability to complete the ode in time, and so temperamentally opposed to “writing under orders” that seemed to me very unwise to use him. Mr. G.W. Chadwick, who has had more experience in writing for chorus than Mr. MacDowell and who has been Mr. Thomas’ choice with Mr. MacDowell, has read your lines and is eager to compose music to them. He has been commissioned to set the ode to music.25
Wilson’s quoting of MacDonald’s complaint, of “writing under orders,” suggests that Wilson may have heard about this problem repeatedly before dismissing the composer. It also gives a name to the working conditions and treatment of Monroe by the committee. The letters suggest that Monroe, who is in Chicago and a young woman, was seen by the committee as more available to serve at their whims and could be treated far worse than the composer. Monroe sends out letters to her good friends, including George Armour, asking to meet for lunch or tea. She was most likely telling her powerful and connected friends the treatment she and her poem had been receiving.26
Massa points out that Monroe leaves out of her autobiography that the committee had reserved the right of final judgment over the Ode. She assumes that Monroe never expected that right to be exercised, but there is little evidence to support her assumption.27 Monroe grew up in Chicago and understood that those men at the upper echelons of its business world who were putting together the Fair made all of the important decisions regarding the city’s and their futures personally. It would be expected that she would have to work with the committee as an artist in their service. Art served business, not the opposite, but she didn’t have to sacrifice her poem and self-worth entirely to the committee. On March 23, Culp notified her that the committee had authorized an expert’s review of the Ode.28 Many of the suggestions most likely came from the expert, The Dial’s Francis F. Browne, but many were also from the committee members.
On March 23, 1892, James H. Elsworth sends a four-page list of suggestions for the Ode. The notes are extensive, overreaching, anonymous, and presumptive. Some question word choices and make suggestions for changes: “Page 1, Line 4, In rapture thrills.” “Query as to this? Responsive thrills is suggested.” “Page 2, Line 51. Ought not ‘Alone’ be repeated three times? ‘Alone, Alone, Alone!’” “Page 7, Line 188, ‘hew swords of flint’ An obvious oversight. ‘Blades’ or ‘barbs’ might be substituted for ‘swords.’” Other comments point to places where the committee saw failed attempts at lyricism: “Page 2, Line 43 ‘Know that though,’ etc. The collocation of the first four lines is hardly euphonious.” “Page 5, Line 124, ‘Unbound’ and ‘brown’ ought not occur in the same line. They resemble each other too much in sound.” “Page 9, Lines 218–219, ‘A Knight more brave,’ etc. These two lines are hardly melodious.” The remainder question her meaning, suggesting large edits and clarification of the meaning of various lines: “Page 3. Is there not an apparent contradiction between lines?” “Page 8, Lines 194–215 inclusive. The condensing of this passage is recommended.” “Page 9 and 10, Lines 245, 46, ‘Who knew loves agony’ etc. these lines are ambiguous.” One of the last suggestions simply announces: “Page 11, Lines 280–297, ‘Earth is cold’ etc. This lyric falls below the high standard of the main poem.”29 The final version of the poem, distributed at the Fair and published by Monroe, makes a few of the smaller suggested changes. A letter from Prof. G. W. Chadwick sent on May 12, 1892, indicates that what she does change is a result of lyrical collaboration with the composer and not as a result of the committee’s suggestions.30
The committee then begins to ask questions that spur Monroe to act legally to secure her ownership of the poem. On April 20, 1892, Culp writes that “Prof. G. W. Chadwick asks if she gives him the right to print the words which I have used for music?” Culp tells Monroe that “this is done for the publishers satisfaction and I presume is done for the purpose of not interfering with any copyright you may have.” He sees no objection to saying yes as it is only a small amount.31 On April 27, 1892, the choral director writes to Monroe to be sure he can print the Ode if he is not extracting royalties. He says not much will be made on it because of the large scale of the piece, and so not many copies will be bought anyway.32 Her answer to both letters on May 18, 1892,33 is blistering and she saved a copy for herself. She writes a letter to Edward F. Laurence Esquire, the chairman of the Joint Committee of the Columbian Exhibition, a letter in which she “most respectfully requests” three things. Her language is legal and straightforward and lays out four conditions for the ownership and circulation of her poem. She wants first, “proper remuneration” of “one thousand dollars in addition to copyright”; second, that she can “prepare in attractive form a pamphlet edition of the poem, the same to be offered for sale Oc
tober 12 and thereafter at a reasonable price”; third, “full control over publication and sale” and “wants the committee to offer no competing pamphlets for sale, beyond that of newspapers printing it in their columns.” Her last condition is that a committee be formed with herself a member of it, to appoint a suitable person to read the part of the poem that had not been used at the exhibition. The committee grants her request on the 19th and she is informed on May 23.34
A few months before, Monroe filed for copyright and she finally receives it on May 25.35 Her strong letters to the committee over the last three months indicate that the copyright was not an afterthought, but a way of keeping control of her Ode in light of increasing difficulties with the committee. Monroe then contacted the committee about preparing the piece to sell on the fairgrounds after filing for copyright. They granted her permission while maintaining 25 percent of sales and allowed her to keep full copyright.36 She spent the latter part of that summer developing the “deluxe printing” of the Ode with the New York publisher Theo L. DeVinne and Company. The Souvenir Booklet of the Ode, available for purchase at the exhibition, featured her name prominently, printed in red in a large readable font at the bottom of the booklet. The remainder of the cover is taken up by a line drawing of the gold statue, “The Statue of the Republic,” that marked the entrance of the Fair. Monroe’s name is the only author on the Ode, and the composer and singers are given no credit on the outside. The inside repeats her name as the Ode’s author and gives the work’s copyright. The design would have been chosen early that summer in preparation for the opening of the Fair, and so the editorial choice to stamp Monroe’s name prominently and list the copyright in the brochure speaks to how highly the copyright was prized by Monroe and recognized as important by the committee.
Chicago and the Making of American Modernism Page 5