Genealogy

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The Trinity United Church of Christ Ensemble performs three gospel songs.

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For generations, Black music has been one of the foundational sources for liberation, survival, salvation, and entertainment. Gospel music has been one of the most integral and sacred forms of that music. It birthed a generation of storytellers, influential musicians, and agents of social change, such as Mahalia Jackson, Shirley Caesar, Kirk Franklin, and many others. The origins of gospel music lie in the transatlantic slave trade, as African musical traditions blended with new forms born out of the horrors of slavery. The rich lineage of gospel music began in earnest as a young man named Thomas Dorsey came to Chicago during the Great Migration. His own spiritual rebirth at Pilgrim Baptist Church in Chicago created a form of music that married blues influences with religious themes. Dorsey’s legacy ushered in a generation of Black artists who broke new ground by turning their voices of joy and pain into something powerful.

For decades, Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church in the South Chicago neighborhood was a cultural center for the community’s Mexican-American families. In that church, families celebrated baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and other major milestones. But after the United States entered the war in Vietnam, funerals for 12 parishioners would take place at Our Lady of Guadalupe – a loss greater than in any other parish in the country. Many of the family members and friends of the young men who died, as well as other veterans, still feel the impact of that tragedy today. But what emerges from a memorial to the young men in the church’s nearby parking lot is a story of love, resilience, and memory.

On the morning of April 13, 1992 as commuters were heading to their offices in Chicago’s Loop, fish were swimming in the basement of the Merchandise Mart. A strange flood was rising. But at street level, no one could actually see the flood. What began as a leak in a unique but mostly forgotten underground freight tunnel system became a two-week combination of comedy-of-errors and soap opera that cost almost $2 billion. Building basements were submerged, and life for some was temporarily disrupted. People and institutions were blamed, and unlikely heroes were made. In the end, the Loop dried out, but the flood was an important reminder that forgotten things – even peculiar old tunnels 40 feet below our commute – are worth paying attention to.

Dealing with unsafe working conditions and unhealthy living conditions in the Back of the Yards neighborhood, the workers of the Union Stockyards found an unlikely advocate in a woman who became known as the “The Garbage Lady” and the “godmother” of environmental justice. From the late-nineteenth century into the early-twentieth, a woman from a privileged background named Mary McDowell led a crusade for environmental justice that would improve the lives of the immigrants among whom she lived.

Chicago was famously dubbed “Hog Butcher for the World” by Carl Sandburg in his iconic poem “Chicago.” The city was the center of America’s meatpacking industry for roughly a century, transforming the way livestock were sold, processed, transported, and eaten. Industrialist tycoons such as Philip Armour and Gustavus Swift created and then dominated an industry that changed Americans’ relationship to meat – and squeezed out massive profits at the same time. A century and a half after they first began processing “everything but the squeal” in Chicago, many of their abuses – an indifference to workers, health, the environment, or smaller business – are once again a part of the industry.

The glamor, drama, and flaws of the New York advertising world were famously depicted in the Mad Men television series. But it was a Chicago ad man that partially inspired the show’s not-always-easy-to-root-for protagonist.

The Pillsbury Doughboy. The Jolly Green Giant. “Fly the Friendly Skies.” You’ve probably heard of some of the characters and taglines that emerged from the Chicago advertising world. But each of these 10 advertising campaigns that were born in Chicago has a story of its own.

The day before New Year’s Eve in 1903, a tragedy befell the city of Chicago. In the brand-new, dazzling Iroquois Theater, as a packed crowd of mostly women and children watched the matinee performance of a musical, an arc light ignited a curtain backstage. Though initially unnoticed by the audience, the fire quickly spread. Chaos ensued over the next several minutes, and in the end, 602 people perished in the deadliest single-building fire in United States history. The Iroquois Theater fire is a tragic story of cut corners, desperate escapes, and lessons learned.

This episode of Chicago Stories traces the birth and growth of gospel music in Chicago in the 1930s. The story follows "The Father of Gospel", Thomas A. Dorsey, who wrote one of gospel’s early hits while coping with his grief over the death of his wife and child. It explores the roots of gospel from southern spirituals during slavery, through gospel’s early years.

For decades, Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church in the South Chicago neighborhood was a cultural center for the community’s Mexican-American families. In that church, families celebrated baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and other major milestones. But after the United States entered the war in Vietnam, funerals for 12 parishioners would take place at Our Lady of Guadalupe – a loss greater than in any other parish in the country. Many of the family members and friends of the young men who died, as well as other veterans, still feel the impact of that tragedy today. But what emerges from a memorial to the young men in the church’s nearby parking lot is a story of love, resilience, and memory.

For decades, Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church in the South Chicago neighborhood was a cultural center for the community’s Mexican-American families. In that church, families celebrated baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and other major milestones. But after the United States entered the war in Vietnam, funerals for 12 parishioners would take place at Our Lady of Guadalupe – a loss greater than in any other parish in the country. Many of the family members and friends of the young men who died, as well as other veterans, still feel the impact of that tragedy today. But what emerges from a memorial to the young men in the church’s nearby parking lot is a story of love, resilience, and memory.