Part one of The Devil
in the White City focuses on two contrasting figures, Daniel H. Burnham and
Dr. H. H. Holmes, in the years leading up the Columbian Exposition. The book's
author, Erik Larson, chooses to switch perspective between the two men from
chapter to chapter in an attempt to draw parallels between the two men while simultaneously
highlighting their differences.
Burnham,
in many ways, is used to represent the best of what Chicago (and perhaps the
United States as a whole) has to offer. Rejected by Harvard and Yale, Burnham drifted
from job to job before finally settling in the architectural field. He became
good friends with another architect, John Root, and they soon started their own
firm together. A few years later, they would be counted among the most
respected and sought-after architects in the city Chicago. After Congress named
Chicago the host for the Columbian Exposition in 1890, no one was surprised when
Burnham and Root were named the lead designers.
In
contrast, Dr. H. H. Holmes (born Herman Webster Mudgett) represents the worst
of what the city has to offer, though he possessed the same ingenuity and focus
that made Burnham great. Much like Burnham, Holmes held a series of jobs before
finally settling. Born in rural New Hampshire, Holmes worked his way out of the
small town of Gilmanton and into one of the one of the best medical schools in
the nation, the University of Michigan. He graduated and at the age of 24, served
as a school principal in New York before finally picking up and moving to
Chicago. Soon upon arriving, Holmes purchased a drug store and prospered, using
his store profits to purchase the block-long building across the street.
Fortuitously
for Holmes, the location of his new building was only a short distance away
from Jackson Park, the spot that Burnham eventually chose to house the fair. With
the goal of outdoing France's Exposition Universelle of 1889 (which famously
debuted the Eiffel Tower), Burnham brought together the country's best
architects and landscapers. Managing the project was no easy task, Burnham had
to give his architects room for creativity yet keep the buildings uniform
enough to prevent clashing aesthetics. While his goal was to upstage the
French, he also needed to be careful not to let the architects upstage each
other.
Worker's
from all across the country traveled to Chicago in wake of the Exposition's
announcement in hopes of finding work. Burnham hired many of these workers
cheap, putting him at odds with the local unions. In need of cheap labor
himself, Holmes hired many of these unemployed workers to shape his recent purchase.
He frequently hired teams of workers to work on a section of the building and
once that was complete, fire them and hire a new team to work on a another
section. Holmes was creating a deathtrap. The hallways were disorienting and
difficult to navigate. Each floor contained laundry chutes, large enough to fit
a dead body, that led down into the building's basement, which housed an entirely
odorless and soundproof kiln commissioned by the fictitious glass-bending
company of which Holmes was the proprietor. With each construction team working
on small sections, only Holmes was fully aware of the building's intricacies as
well as their true purpose.
This is one of the creepiest posts I have read. As you introduce the characters and how the author portrays them, it is interesting to me to think that this was going on under every ones noses. I think it's pretty obvious that I have a little bit of an obsession with this story, as I researched it last year. With so much construction going on, and in such a fishy manner, I think it's odd that no one really says anything or comes forward. I suppose it was just the need to be hired and make money during that time. What I wonder about most is if Burnham felt any guilt about creating something that brought so many people to their demise. It's obvious that at the time he had no idea what the future held but after everything came to a head, I wonder if he felt any guilt about it.
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