You think Chicago needs a new nickname?
We’ve had plenty to choose from. The first to attach itself to what would become Chicago was likely Checagou, a Native American word meant to signify anything big, strong or powerful, in that case, used to describe the odor of the skunk cabbage and wild onion that grew on the banks of our river. Then came Mud City and every few decades since have come others.
Do you have a favorite? A great many people seem fond of Windy City, born in the late 19th century, its origin heatedly debated. But many like the version that came during the several years of competition to host the World’s Columbian Exposition that would mark the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ arrival in America. It features Charles Dana, editor of the New York Sun, who commented on the promises our city was making, paraphrased as, “Don’t pay any attention to the nonsensical claims of that windy city. Its people couldn’t build a world’s fair even if they won it.”
Well, we did win it and that “windy city” tag has been frequently and steadily used by writers and by people seeking names for local businesses (some of my favorites over the years have been Windy City Cat Sitters, Windy City Gyros II, Windy City Ink & Iron, Windy City Foam, Windy City Times, Windy City Video, Windy City Car Wash and Windy City Woodstripper and Gut Out Service).
Just to set the record straight, there is persuasive meteorological evidence that there are many U.S. cities with higher average wind speeds than Chicago’s 10.3 mph. The windiest city in the U.S. with a population of 100,000 or more is Boston at 12.3 mph. Milwaukee comes in at fourth place with 11.5 mph, with Chicago and Honolulu tied at 12th place.
For some, the preferred nickname might be City of the Big Shoulders and Hog Butcher for the World, courtesy of poet Carl Sandburg. We are The City That Works, with loose credit to former Mayor Richard J. Daley. We are a City on the Make, courtesy of writer Nelson Algren in a book of the same name.
Chi-raq anybody?
I bring this up not to spark barroom debates but to highlight the 100th anniversary of The New Yorker magazine, which takes place this month with muted horn-tooting. I’m currently devouring the stories of New Yorker writers, some nearly forgotten, such as Irwin Shaw, John O’Hara, Joseph Mitchell and Jane Mayer; others vital as ever such as George Saunders, Jill Lepore, Ronan Farrow, editor David Remnick, E.B. White, J.D. Salinger, John Cheever … and on and on.
The New Yorker was where A.J. Liebling was employed when he came to Chicago in the late 1940s. The portly writer wrote three stories about his visit; he stayed with his second wife in a North Side apartment as he explored the city and wrote about his urban travels.
These were printed in the magazine and shortly after took book form with the title “Chicago: The Second City,” which in turn inspired three ambitious young men named Bernard Sahlins, Howard Alk and Paul Sills to rename their theater company after the book and well, you may know that success story.
The Wells Street entrance to Second City in the Old Town neighborhood on April 19, 2021.(E. Jason Wambsgans/Chicago Tribune)
The book is filled with sharp and often nasty impressions but it is a joy to read. Liebling could write.
One of my favorite paragraphs is about taverns: “A thing about Chicago that impressed me from the hour I got there was the saloons. New York bars operate on the principle that you want a drink or you wouldn’t be there. If you are civil and don’t mind waiting, they will sell you one when they get around to it. Chicago bars assume that nobody likes liquor, and that to induce the customers to purchase even a minute quantity, they have to provide a show.”
He called the Tribune Tower a fine architectural example of “Wedding-Cake Gothic,” writing that it was only missing on top “a gigantic double scoop of ice cream, topped by an illuminated cherry.”
, he is without a hat, standing in the wind and weather. He was impatient of topcoats and hats, preferring to be exposed, and he was young enough and tough enough to enjoy the cold and the wind of those times… It can be said of him, as of few men in a like position, that he did not fear the weather, and did not trim his sails, but instead challenged the wind itself, to improve its direction and to cause it to blow more softly and more kindly over the world and its people.””]
Just as Second City continues to pack in crowds and nurture young comedic talent, so does the New Yorker not merely survive in the wicked ink-on-paper journalism clime but virtually every issue provides worthwhile and rewarding words (cartoons too). It may no longer be a source of nicknames but that’s OK. To my mind, we’ve got enough.
rkogan@chicagotribune.com
