The Chicago Plan
In 1896, at a formal dinner party (Merchant’s Club and later the Commercial Club—both merged in 1907) Burnham proposed to a groups of elite businessmen (such as Pullman, Marshall Field, and Phillip Armour), a scheme which would evolve over the next decade into a formal plan for the entire Chicago region. On the Fourth of July, 1909, the Chicago Plan was released and four months later, Chicago approved the creation of the development vehicle, the Chicago Plan Commission. Over most of the next two decades, some elements, but not others, were put into place.
Redemption of the lakefront from commercial, rail and industrial uses, creation of a highway along the city rim, relocation of railways and development of an internal freight and passenger transportation system, plus street rationalization and a park system in the periphery—and, of course, the civic center —were the principal features of the Plan. So over the next decade, the Navy Pier was built, the lakefront reclaimed from its old uses, the Illinois Central Railroad relocated, the Lake Front Ordinance (zoning) passed, Grant Park to Jackson Park-site of 1893 World’s Fair (eight miles) developed for beaches and parks, and by 1930 the residential Gold Coast was in place.
The Plan did not propose to decentralize or fundamentally alter the central business district, or its role in the metropolis, and it did not view urban sprawl as an evil. Indeed the Plan implicitly endorsed the metropolitan perspective and the conviction, widespread at the turn of the century, that continued geographic expansion, if balanced by the encouragement of institutions and physical facilities that emphasized unity and social integration, would provide the metropolis with the economic base, social coherence and political stamina to maintain its vitality.[1]
As one would expect, Burnham’s plan for his home city included everything we have come to expect from the City Beautiful—and one more!. As the above quote indicates, the Chicago Plan was a true metropolitan plan—extending out sixty miles into the Chicago’s hinterland. In fact, a central concept was to ensure adequate transportation to the central business district and out so that the CBD became, in effect, the region’s capital, its home base, its visible and vibrant symbol. “From Kenosha Wisconsin, on the north, to Michigan City, Indiana on the south, Burnham’s plan outlined a regional network of highways, parkways and forest preserves”[2] [connecting to the Downtown Loop]. The plan would later be accused of neglecting the urban poor (by housing advocates, and for ignoring the car. Neither are fair. As a confirmed parks and boulevards discipline, that was his solution for the needs of the urban poor; Ford’s Model T’s first year in production was 1908—when Burnham finished his plan. Despite the seeming obviousness of the car, it was not until the 1920’s that communities really felt the need to accommodate to it.
Burnham’s plan did, in fact, focus on transportation—the CBD Beaux Arts railroad station, the usual mainstay of most City Beautiful plans, was only the beginning to the Chicago Plan. Incorporating much of the Chicago Commercial Club’s previous recommendations, the Plan eliminated most grade crossings in the city and proposed a central clearing and warehousing yard, and linked them to the harbors at the mouths of the Chicago and Calumet rivers. Passenger traffic was removed from the Loop area and distributed to three different rail stations. A major concern the plan attempted to address is the nature and power of the public agency that the state needed to create for the plan to be implemented—a major appendix detailed its powers, calling for both city and county development organizations. The location of future public buildings and streets/boulevards, for example, should rest with these bodies. Areas for future annexation should be fixed and that too would rest upon these agencies.
In many, many ways Burnham’s plan came very close to being the nation’s first comprehensive plan. No, it did not deal with what would shortly become the principal Progressive concerns, housing and neighborhoods, but that points out that at root Burnham was not a product of the Progressive Era—he (and the City Beautiful) were the last hurrah of the Gilded Age. At its heart Burnham’s plan was, as Mel Scott asserted, fundamentally a “businessman’s plan”. That insight is important to us because it reinforces the process by which the plan had been developed. It was a creature, not only of Burnham but of the principal Chicago business organizations. It was researched and written in Burnham’s (and Edward Bennett’s) private office, and paid for by business contributions. The public sector led by the businessman mayor, Frederick Busse, until 1905 the Secretary and Treasurer of the Northwestern Coal Company, mirrored the Commercial Club.
Burnham’s Chicago was “essentially [an] aristocratic city, pleasing to the merchant princes who participated in [the Plan’s] conception, but not meeting some of the basic economic and human needs. In this metropolis for businessmen there are, with the exception of the central business district, no carefully designated areas for commercial enterprises … nor are there model tenements for workers, much less model neighborhoods … slums are mentioned, but only in one paragraph …. [Instead the Plan concentrated on] magnificent boulevards, imposing public structures and splendid parks”.[3]
Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans, aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remembering that our sons and grandsons are going to do things that will stagger us. Let your watchword be order, and your beacon, beauty. Think Big.[4]
[1] Miller and Melvin, the Urbanization of Modern America, op. cit. pp. 140-141.
[2] Jon C. Teaford, Cities of the Heartland, op. cit., p. 143.
[3] Mel Scott, American City Planning, op. cit., p. 108.
[4] Try Scott
Ron W. Coan 