ROBERT CROSSED LASALLE STREET AND ENTERED AN UNBURNED BUILDING. Inside, his Chicago Club associates were trying to work out a plan for recovery. Dozens of speaking at once.
“— no, I cannot rent out my building, as I need it for myself—”
“— what of inflation? How far will prices rise?—”
“— we must determine how much it will cost to ship it from New York, or if it might be feasible to find it someplace else—”
“— no, we lost the theater’s papers when the office burned down, so they will have to send it back—”
“Excuse me,” said Thomas Grosvenor as he tried to make himself heard. “Attention gentlemen. Quiet!”
The men fell silent and turned their attention to him. Robert crossed his arms as Grosvenor started to speak.
“I would like to bring to your attention,” Grosvenor said, “that we have here General Sheridan, who has been gracious enough to come here at our request. Most of you know of his conduct in the war, so I will not try your patience by reminding you of his exploits. I know of no greater person to lead us at this time.”
Sheridan cleared his throat. “Well, I—”
“Now,” Grosvenor said, “in addition to the widespread destruction, we have heard of arsonists, looters, con men, and others who would seek to take advantage of the victims of this blaze. We must find someone who will restore order so that our recovery efforts might get underway. I propose that General Sheridan assumes this role. Who’s with me?”
Robert nodded, and several shouts of approval rippled through the room. Three businessmen chimed in with their own opinions, but Sheridan put up his hand for silence.
“Excuse me,” Sheridan said as he rose from his seat. “If I may, gentlemen, I should like to have a word of my own on the subject. The reports of violence and disorder here are without the slightest foundation. There has not been a single case of arson, hanging, or shooting— not even a street fight. You speak of restoring order, but in fact, order was restored the moment the fire burned out.”
“Perhaps,” said George Pullman, “but we still need someone who can govern this city effectively, someone who can wield real power should the need arise.”
Sheridan smiled. “If I’m not mistaken, you last week called for the city to reduce regulations on business,” he said. “Is that correct?”
“The situation has changed dramatically since then—”
“Yes, that much is true,” Sheridan said. “But you cannot deny the fact that the mayor has been using quite a lot of his power. He has issued an executive order to fix the price of bread and water. He has banned the sale of liquor. He has ordered all lost-and-founds to be taken to the police for safekeeping, and so on. I would say that he already is wielding real power.”
“I’m truly sorry you don’t see it our way,” Grosvenor said, “but I remain convinced that your help is needed. Please reconsider your position.”
“No,” Sheridan said. “I consider myself not as acting in any military capacity proper, but as a citizen of Chicago. I shall assume my duties only under and through the mayor.”
“But General—”
“I understand your concern,” Sheridan said, “but there is no precedent for a free country, a democracy, declaring martial law in peacetime. I do not intend to set one now.”
Robert stood up. “Now wait a moment,” he said. “I know my share about such subjects. Free countries are not anarchical— quite the opposite, in fact. Now I’m not going to fill your ears with platitudes or idealistic chatter, but I do wish to point out how fragile and how critical our safety and security is.”
Sheridan’s eyebrows went up, and he leaned back in his chair. Every eye in the room seemed to fix upon Robert.
“Consider this,” Robert said. “We now have dozens of financial institutions in danger of collapse. Bankers speak of paying their depositors a few cents on the dollar. Borrowers have no way of repaying their loans—”
“What business is it of yours?” Fletcher Bingham asked. “It would mean more cases for yourself.”
“My law practice is irrelevant,” Robert shot back. “What truly is relevant is the entrepreneurship that built this city and made it great, for that’s precisely what is in danger now. It only takes one person to steal a safe from the rubble, or to loot a surviving building, and in one act to destroy what took another man a lifetime to build.
“To restore this city, we must first restore law and order and stability. Then, and only then, can we start the long process of rebuilding.” He paused and turned to Sheridan. “I’ve had the privilege of serving with you, and I’ve seen how decisive you can be. And now I ask you to bring your leadership to the fore.”
Sheridan blinked and shifted his weight, and his chair squeaked underneath him. “I should be more than happy to assist, but—”
“What he means,” Grosvenor said, “is that in many cases, our livelihoods depend upon what happens in the next few hours or days. We need your help. I do not wish to sound desperate, but that truly is the case.”
Sheridan folded his arms and sat back in his chair. “Hm.”
SIMON FOUND LILLIAN EXACTLY WHERE HE EXPECTED HER TO BE. She was on Harrison Street, wrapped in a shawl, staring out at the ruins of the business her father had built. The foreman, Karol Borusewicz, was standing by her side.
“Simon?” she asked when she saw him. “Why in the blazes have you come afte’ me?”
“I’ve come after no one,” Simon replied, “but I must speak with you.” He glanced over at Borusewicz. “May we go someplace else?”
“Absolutely not,” Lillian said. “Can you not see I’m busy?”
“Of course,” Simon replied. “It seems you’re also quite busy with my friend Mister Lincoln.”
A pang of regret appeared in Lillian’s eyes. “I don’t believe that is terribly impo’tant at this point. And what business is it of yours?”
“You are manipulating him,” Simon shot back, “and quite shamelessly I might add. How dare you take advantage of Robert’s generosity, especially in light of such a calamity—”
“Simon,” she snapped, “I’m a woman. You know perfectly that I cannot work on my own. Now that my father is gone, I must find a way to sustain myself.”
“Now wait,” he said, “whatever happened to you as a suffragette? A powerful woman? To say nothing of the fact that Robert is married with a daughter—”
“One wouldn’t know it from the way he behaves.”
Simon folded his arms. “Then you have no morals,” he said, “even after all you’ve said and done.”
“I’m doing the best that I can,” Lillian snapped as her eyes flashed with anger. Then, after a moment, her lip began to quiver. “I’ve been left with nothing, so what am I to do?”
Simon took a deep breath. “Listen,” he said. “We’re all trying to scrape by—”
“That’s right,” Lillian snapped, “none more so than I. And I defy you to say how that’s possible when you insist on being proud.”
Simon paused. “Very well then,” he said. “If I said you were right, would you be satisfied with that?”
Lillian didn’t make eye contact. She just clucked her tongue. “I’m terribly busy,” she said. “You must now leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry?” Simon asked.
“Did you not hear me? You must go!”
“Do not treat me this way,” Simon snapped. “I may have been present when your father died, but I had nothing to do with its cause, so it’s quite unfair to blame me. Understand?”
“Well, I did have something to do with its cause,” she replied. “Is it not fair to blame myself?”
Simon paused. “I said nothing of the sort.”
“But you meant it,” she said. “You mustn’t put on an act. Now haven’t you work to do anywhere else?”
Simon fidgeted with his collar. He cleared his throat and swallowed. “Surely,” he said, then turned and walked away.
ROBERT FOLL
OWED GENERAL SHERIDAN INTO THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH. The building was serving as a temporary City Hall, so dozens of officials were swarming about. Mayor Mason turned when he heard the door open.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “How may I assist you?”
“Issue an executive order,” Sheridan replied.
“I’m sorry?”
Sheridan looked over at Grosvenor and took a deep breath. “I have made my decision,” he said. “I shall be responsible for the city’s peace and order if you make a declaration on my behalf.”
Police Commissioner Thomas Brown stepped in. “Mayor, that cannot be done,” he said. “We have no such power.”
Mason frowned. “We haven’t?”
As Robert watched, Grosvenor came forward and began speaking with the commissioners. They argued in low tones for a few minutes, and then the tension rose. Grosvenor motioned for Sheridan to join the discussion, but Sheridan wanted no part of it.
“These two men,” Grosvenor was saying, “have vested interests in the matter. They would have their power taken away from them, should more troops arrive, and that is the only reason—”
“That is absolutely not true,” Brown snapped. “We are doing what is best for the city, not for ourselves—”
Robert put up his hand for silence. “At ease, gentlemen,” he said. “I should appreciate if we could hear the General speak.”
The arguing stopped, and the men turned to look at Sheridan.
Sheridan stared intently at Robert. Then he shook his head and turned to the mayor. “Well,” he said, “I see nothing to be gained with any further debate, as we have all heard both sides many times. In fact, we have a very simple choice. We may leave things as they are, and allow the existing authorities to keep control. Or I may bring in more troops who have experience in such matters, and we will have control over the city. But we cannot do a combination of the two. We cannot allow another meddler like Hildreth to interfere with the city’s well-being.”
Mason chewed his lip. Robert and the others were silent.
“There can be but one hand in this,” Sheridan said. “I’m not willing to have anything to do with it any other way. I’ll withdraw my troops first; I’m not anxious for the job.” He paused and looked Mason directly in the eye. “Mayor, this is your decision. I shall respect whatever you say.”
LILLIAN WATCHED AS A MULE PULLED HER FATHER’S SAFE FROM THE RUBBLE. The mule was straining in its harness, and its ropes were stiff with tension. Then something cracked, and a pile of wreckage collapsed.
Karol Borusewicz jumped back as the safe tumbled onto its side. “Psia krew!” he yelled.
Lillian gritted her teeth but didn’t say a word. She kept thinking of what Simon had told her, and she couldn’t help remembering what she herself had once said to her father. She knew she’d now have to look through his possessions— or at least the ones that remained— and somehow put his affairs in order. Her feelings were extraordinarily complicated; the only thing she truly knew was that she dreaded the task.
Lillian turned toward the Milwaukee fire engine behind her. The firemen had stretched their hoses to the river, and now they were priming their pumps. As Lillian stepped away, Borusewicz gave the signal, and the men doused the safe with water. The metal was so hot that a cloud of steam erupted. The water poured across the metal for what seemed like a long time, until finally the steam cleared away.
Lillian stiffened her posture. Her fear was that the safe’s tumblers could have melted, which would have fused the door shut.
Borusewicz stared at her. “Should we do this?” he asked.
Lillian paused for a moment before answering. She knew that the safe’s interior might still be hot. If she opened the door, she would let in fresh oxygen, and all the safe’s contents could burst into flames. But the salvage was the first key step in rebuilding, so Lillian saw it as a risk she’d have to take.
“Whateve’ happens will happen,” she said. “We can do nothing to change it.”
Borusewicz nodded and turned toward the safe. He ran his hands across the metal to make sure it was chilled. Then he worked out the combination as quickly as he could; he spun the dial clockwise, then stopped at a particular spot, then turned it back in the opposite direction. Lillian heard a chunk as the tumblers released.
Lillian stepped forward, blinked, then gripped the safe’s handle. Part of her was afraid of what she might find inside. Finally she took a deep breath and pulled the door open.
The air inside was surprisingly hot and smelled vaguely of smoke. Lillian waved the smoke away and pulled out the safe’s contents. Everything seemed to be intact, except for a few pieces of paper that were browned at the edges. There were a number of stacks of paperwork such as payroll records and sales logs. And there were several keyrings; then, underneath, Lillian found the cash box.
Lillian wanted to cry, for these were the only things that her father had left behind. Everything else— including every photograph Lillian owned— had succumbed to the blaze. Her eyes glazed over, but she forced herself to focus.
Lillian looked inside the cash box. It was full of money, bundled in packages of one-, five-, and ten-dollar bills. The money was charred in places, and the paper was decidedly brittle, but it was certainly usable.
Lillian sorted the money into piles of a hundred dollars each. Finally she delivered the verdict. “We’ve got a bit less than two thousand dolla’s.”
“Why, that’s good,” Borusewicz said.
“No it isn’t,” she replied. “It’s not nea’ly enough... not if I wish to rebuild the factory, and have a home, and the like....” She swallowed. All of her father’s responsibilities had now fallen on her shoulders, and hundreds of workers now depended on her. “I can only hope that the insurance comes through... or else I don’t know what I’ll do.”
THAT AFTERNOON, POLICE OFFICERS SWARMED ACROSS THE CITY, posting notices on anything they could find. The notices were cheaply and hastily printed, but the letters were unmistakably bold:
PROCLAMATION!
The preservation of the good order and peace of the city is hereby entrusted to Lieut. General P.H. Sheridan, U.S. Army.
The Police will act in conjunction with the Lieut. General in the preservation of the peace and quiet of the city, and the Superintendent of Police will consult him to that end.
The intent hereof being to preserve the peace of the city, without interfering with the functions of the City Government.
Given under my hand this 11th day of October, 1871.
-R.B. Mason, Mayor.
Simon saw the notice on his way back to Robert’s home. He had now resigned himself to whatever the future might hold. He didn’t know what to expect, and neither did anyone else. The fire had turned so many lives upside down that nothing seemed the slightest bit predictable anymore.
Simon looked out at the landscape around him. The streets were full of all kinds of wagons. Most people were simply hauling away debris, but some were sifting through the rubble to see if the bricks could be salvaged. Teams of surveyors were scattered here and there. A small wagon went past, carrying several large bags full of letters.
“Say now,” said a drunk. “I reck’n you know where the shelter is?”
Simon shook his head. He looked into the man’s eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The man gave every indication of having been ruined. His clothes were scarred with burn marks, and he wore a tarnished gold ring. Simon hoped that he himself didn’t look so wretched, but at the same time, he knew Lillian was right— it was no time to be proud.
Simon felt a pang of guilt as he mulled over Lillian’s words. He hated the thought of Tommy having to sleep in the lean-to again. Simon had tried to pretend that he could weather the crisis alone, but ultimately he knew he couldn’t do it. He knew he’d have to conserve his energy and resources, and he knew of only one way to do that. And so Simon took a deep breath and continued on his way.
ROBERT, ME
ANWHILE, HAD JUST RETURNED FROM HIS MEETING WITH SHERIDAN. His mother had greeted him with the news that his friend John Hay was on his way to Chicago. Under ordinary circumstances, Robert would have been excited; he hadn’t seen Hay in some time, although Mary and Tad had seen him when they returned from Europe. But Robert was too busy— not to say anguished— to feel any real elation.
When Simon arrived, Billy was helping him convert his study to a law office. Robert hoped his makeshift office would suffice until his firm’s building was rebuilt— assuming, of course, that it would be rebuilt at all.
Simon limped after him. “Robert,” he said, “may I have a word?”
Robert carried a stack of papers to his desk. “I suppose,” he replied.
“Listen, Robert... I must confess something to you. I must admit that I’ve told you a lie.”
Robert looked up. “Oh?”
“In truth, I’m as destitute as the next man. I did lose my home— and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Robert nodded. “I see,” he replied.
“I anticipate rebuilding quickly, but in the meantime, well— truly I’m hoping that you could also offer us shelter.”
“Well,” Robert said, “then why did you mislead me? You had absolutely no reason.”
Simon’s blue eyes widened. “I-I didn’t want to take charity,” he said, “and I didn’t want you to think less of me—”
“Think less of you?” Robert asked. “Now wait a moment—”
“Truthfully, Robert... I’m not sure why I lied.”
Robert blinked. “Well, I appreciate your honesty,” he said, “or at least I do now.”
Simon didn’t quite know how to react. “Thank you,” he said, and an awkward pause fell over the room. Simon wanted to ask about Lillian, but he didn’t. The silence persisted for a moment, until Robert cleared his throat.
“Well,” Robert said, “against my better judgment, I shall help you how I can.”
Simon nodded. He was far too conflicted to show any relief. “Thank you,” was all he could force himself to say.
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