October 6, 2025

— Rev. Robert Collyer

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The Perfect Storm

This week's anniversary is unusual for Big Optimism.

We're marking a tragedy—the Great Chicago Fire, which began on October 8, 1871, and burned for roughly thirty-six hours. By the time rain finally helped extinguish the flames on October 10, the destruction was staggering: 17,450 buildings gone, 100,000 people homeless, more than 300 dead, and $200 million in damages—equivalent to over $4 billion today.

But we're sharing this story because it demonstrates something profound: how disaster can become the catalyst for extraordinary transformation. Chicago didn't just rebuild. It reimagined itself entirely, transforming from a wooden frontier city into the birthplace of modern architecture and America's Second City.

Everything about 1871 conspired toward catastrophe. From July through early October, only one inch of rain had fallen on Chicago. The city's 334,000 residents—making it America's fifth-largest city at the time—lived mostly in wooden structures, walked on wooden sidewalks, and crossed wooden streets. Even supposedly "fireproof" buildings had wooden interiors.

When the fire started—legend blames Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicking over a lantern, though she was later exonerated—strong southwestern winds turned individual flames into an inferno. Fire devils spit burning debris in all directions. The waterworks, ironically covered with supposedly fireproof slate but built with pine underneath, was destroyed early, crippling the firefighting efforts.

The destruction swept through the heart of the city, consuming the business district before jumping the river to devour the North Side.

What Survived

The stockyards and new packing plants on the South Side? Untouched.

The wharfs, lumberyards, and mills along the Chicago River? Mostly survived.

Two-thirds of the grain elevators? Still standing.

The railroad tracks? Barely damaged.

Chicago's economic engine—its role processing meat, grain, and lumber, its position as the railroad hub connecting East and West—remained fundamentally intact.

Rev. Robert Collyer, speaking to his Unitarian congregation outside the ruins of Unity Church that first Sunday, understood this: "We have not lost, first, our geography."

He was right. The lakes, forests, and prairies had chosen this spot for a great city, and no fire could change that fundamental advantage.

Building Back Better

Reconstruction began immediately—with stunning ambition.

The city council quickly passed new building codes requiring fireproof materials. This wasn't just regulation; it was invitation. Architects from across America and Europe rushed to Chicago, drawn by the opportunity to build an entire modern city from scratch.

What they created changed architecture forever.

Louis Sullivan, Dankmar Adler, William Holabird, Daniel Burnham, John Wellborn Root, William Le Baron Jenney—these names might not mean much to most people, but they pioneered the techniques and aesthetics that made skyscrapers possible.

The modern American city, with its soaring towers of steel and glass, was essentially invented in post-fire Chicago.

Within nine years, Chicago's population had grown from 300,000 to 500,000.

By 1890, it had surpassed one million, climbing from fifth-largest to second-largest American city.

By 1893—just twenty-two years after the fire—Chicago had 1.5 million residents and was chosen to host the World's Columbian Exposition, which drew 27.5 million visitors. The Midwest's key city had become a global metropolis.

One small but telling detail: after the fire, book donations from the United Kingdom poured in, spurring the establishment of the Chicago Public Library, which opened January 1, 1873, in a water tank that had survived the flames. Even in devastation, the world saw Chicago as worth saving.

The Legacy

Today, on the site where the fire began—that barn at 137 DeKoven Street—stands the Chicago Fire Academy, training new generations of firefighters.

Chicago has embraced the fire as part of its identity. There have been Chicago Fire soccer teams, a long-running Chicago Fire television series, and countless businesses bearing the name. Rather than hide from the catastrophe, the city wears it as a badge of resilience.

The fire was catastrophic. But catastrophe revealed something profound about human resilience and ambition. Given the choice between rebuilding what was lost and building something entirely new and better, Chicago chose the latter.

Sometimes the greatest progress emerges not despite disaster, but because of it—when people decide that setbacks are opportunities in disguise.

Chicago didn't just survive the fire. It used it as fuel for the future.

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7 other things to know this week ...

• Sunday, October 5: "And now for something completely different ..." — Monty Python's Flying Circus, which debuted on BBC on this date in 1969, revolutionizing television comedy with its surreal, boundary-pushing humor (humour?).
• Monday, October 6: "The journey was over. It's been a long trip."— Jason Lewis, upon completing the first human-powered circumnavigation of the globe on this date in 2007, after 13 years, 46,505 miles, and using only bicycles, roller blades, kayaks, and a pedal-powered boat.
• Tuesday, October 7: "We are called to be contemplatives in the heart of the world by seeking the face of God in everything, everyone, everywhere, all the time." — Mother Teresa, who on this date in 1950 received Vatican permission to establish the Missionaries of Charity, which grew from 12 members to over 4,000 sisters serving in 123 countries by the time of her death.
• Wednesday, October 8: "Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ain't heard nothin' yet!"— Al Jolson in "The Jazz Singer," the first feature-length "talkie" with synchronized dialogue and music, which premiered on this date in 1927, revolutionizing cinema and ending the silent film era.
• Thursday, October 9: "This is it. We have done it." — Frank Crowe, construction superintendent, as Hoover Dam began transmitting electricity across 266 miles to Los Angeles on this date in 1936, bringing power to millions and demonstrating engineering's ability to harness nature for human progress.
• Friday, October 10: "Young men, you will not wear tails tonight." — Griswold Lorillard (or possibly his father Pierre), before wearing the first tuxedo to the Tuxedo Club's Autumn Ball in Tuxedo Park, New York, on this date in 1886, democratizing formal wear and creating an American classic.
• Saturday, October 11: "I saw rock and roll future, and its name is Bruce Springsteen." —Rock critic Jon Landau, whose 1974 prophecy came true when "Born to Run" hit the Top 40 on this date in 1975, becoming Springsteen's first chart hit and transforming him from a cult figure into an international superstar who gave voice to working-class American dreams.