How Chicago Became Chi-Rish

The Illinois and Michigan Canal was an arduous undertaking. Running 96 miles, it connected the Great Lakes Basin with the Mississippi River System by creating a waterway between the Chicago River and the Illinois River.  But in 1836, when digging began, Chicago was a town of only 3,820 people that had been incorporated three years prior. More manpower was needed for the project, and help arrived in the form of Irish immigrants, many of whom had recently completed an even bigger project, the Erie Canal.

By Dave Lifton (@daveeatschicago)

Most settled in an unincorporated shantytown near the then-end of the South Branch of the Chicago River called “Hardscrabble.” That year, canal commissioners platted out the land and named it “Bridgeport,” possibly because of a low bridge that required cargo to be transferred by land to the other side. A year later, Chicago was incorporated as a city, and Bridgeport would become annexed in 1869.

The rising numbers of Irish Catholics in the area prompted Pope Gregory XVI to establish the Diocese of Chicago in 1843, with Rev. William Quarter sent to be the first bishop. Two years later, the start of the Great Irish Potato Famine caused millions to flee Ireland. With plenty of work to be had and an established diocese, Chicago became a popular destination.

Quarter quickly established the University of St. Mary of the Lake, Chicago’s first institute of higher learning, and St. Patrick’s on the Near West Side, the first English-speaking parish in the city. Ten years later, the current building was completed, and it’s the oldest public building in Chicago. By then, Irish immigrants comprised 20% of the population, and, by 1860, Chicago had the fourth-largest Irish population in the U.S., behind New York, Philadelphia, and Boston.

Chicago’s rise as an industrial and meatpacking center in the mid-to-late 18^th century created more jobs for Irish men, and the women often contributed by working as domestics for the growing city’s elite families. Because they spoke English, they could move through the city more easily than other immigrant groups and didn’t have to establish pockets, like Little Italy, Chinatown, or the Polonia Triangle.  Conversely, that also meant that there wasn’t a distinctly Irish neighborhood. Even Bridgeport, so closely identified with Chicago’s Irish community, had large numbers of Germans, Lithuanians, and Poles in those early days.

The lack of a language barrier also helped them get a leg up, particularly with regard to jobs in civic institutions, like the police and fire departments, schools, and politics, in a manner that would fully bloom in the 20^th century.

However, that didn’t mean there wasn’t discrimination. Because of the importance of the church in their daily lives, Catholics were perceived as being loyal to the Pope rather than America. In Chicago, this charge was led by Tribune owner Joseph Medill, a Presbyterian of Scots-Irish ancestry. Medill regularly slurred Irish Catholics as lazy, ignorant drunks, even as they were doing the most back-breaking, thankless jobs—construction, steel mills, factories, and the Union Stock Yards—that made Chicago a sprawling metropolis.

Perhaps there’s no greater symbol of the prejudice than the aftermath of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which started in Catherine O’Leary’s barn. Although she was asleep at the time and never charged with a crime, the story of her cow, Daisy, kicking over a lantern while being milked was taken as fact. O’Leary was portrayed as an old hag stupid enough to place a lantern next to a cow’s foot.

Despite the adversity, the Irish continued to thrive in Chicago in a way that bridged their present with the past. At the turn of the century, Finley Peter Dunne’s character “Mr. Dooley” — an immigrant who dispatched humorous takes on the issues of the day from his saloon on Bridgeport’s “Archey Rd.” (Archer Ave.) — was syndicated in newspapers across the nation. Francis O’Neill, who was Chief of Police from 1901-05, collected thousands of traditional Irish folk songs and published them in several volumes, preserving them for future generations to learn.

As the community became more affluent in the early 20^th century, many Irish Chicagoans moved to Beverly and Morgan Park on the Far South Side. But Bridgeport remained its base, and became the city’s de facto seat of power. From 1933-76, three Irish sons of Bridgeport – Edward Kelly, Martin Kennelly, and Richard J. Daley – served consecutively as mayor.

Daley’s history-making 21-year reign saw the ultimate flowering of Chicago Irish pride. In 1956, he held the first downtown St. Patrick’s Day Parade after decades in neighborhoods. Six years later, the tradition of dyeing the Chicago River began after it was discovered that a dye used by Chicago Journeymen Plumbers Local 130 to find leaks turned water emerald green. The symbolism was crystal-clear: The heart of Chicago runs through Ireland.