Midwest

Not an auspicious photo for the beginning of a journey, but it seemed like the best place to start. I was off on a 2-week trip to Chicago and parts of the Midwest, with my typical agenda of revisiting some places from the past, curiosity about infrastructure and economics, looking to see what I could see about why the country is going crazy, and just simple exploration. The trip was going to be roughly a loop from Chicago down south through Indiana, west along the Ohio River to the Mississippi, and then up north through St. Louis and back east to Chicago. So why start with the East Chicago SSL (South Shore Line) station? I was going to need a rental car for all but the Chicago portion of the trip, but picking a car up in Chicago was exorbitantly high. It turned out there was an Enterprise office near the East Chicago SSL station where I could get the car for half of what it would cost if I picked it up at the airport. Besides, I like to explore how public transit works wherever I can. The South Shore Line had an easy to navigate website, the staff at the station were friendly, the trains were clean and comfortable, service was quick, and with my senior-discount, the ticket was only $3.25. So, save on the car and discover something about public transit.

I thought this armory interesting, looking vaguely similar to the architecture that was common of the 1930’s New Deal era. The only detail I could find was that it was built in 1932, nothing about the funding or architecture. But, the CCC (a New Deal agency) was active nearby in Washington Park Zoo at the time that it was built and it is known that much of federal construction in the 1930’s was New Deal funding, so there could have easily been some New Deal influence on the architecture or construction of this.

The real reason I had stopped in Michigan City – to see a section of residential city street shared with rail service. It used to be relatively common to see streets that were both auto and rail in the U.S., but such has largely disappeared. I knew about this street/rail combination from having seen it on other Flickr accounts. Note that I haven’t seen any explanation as to why this situation remains while it has disappeared in much of the rest of the country. The train here is the South Shore Line commuter train that runs from Chicago to South Bend; looking at the train schedule there’s at least 30 commuter trains a day on this route. From the other pictures I’ve seen on Flickr, there are also freight trains that use these tracks, though I didn’t see any of those. (see adjacent pictures)

Mid-day commuter train approaching Michigan City 11th street stop. The train runs down the center of 10th and 11th street, for 2 miles. (see adjacent pictures) Linked below is an interesting winter picture from about the same spot, taken by another Flickr user: www.flickr.com/photos/craig_walker/35639122191

South Shore Line passing an abandoned church. (see adjacent pictures)

Abandoned church building next to the street rail in Michigan City – looks to be in good condition.

You have to be bridge fanatic to like this, but for bridge fanatics this is an historically important bridge. Built in 1932, the bridge is over Trail Creek to what is Washington Park. What is historic about it is that it is the only remaining lift (bascule) bridge in Indiana and the details (the railings, the tender’s building) are original. historicbridges.org/bridges/browser/?bridgebrowser=indiana/franklin

I’ve long been curious about the very industrialized area of Indiana that’s on Lake Michigan – I had assumed that much of the lakefront areas would be depressingly lined with smokestacks and factories. But, at the same time, I knew there was also a history of beachfront resorts and family playgrounds, so how did the two mix? From what I could see on various maps, it was impossible to see the industrial areas from the highways, so I basically gave up on that search. But, while looking for something else (later pictures) I came upon a scene that somewhat addressed my confused images of the Great Lakes Area. Clearly this is only one instance, but it seems to suggest that it was not unusual for industry and beach life to exist side-by-side. The stack in the background is at the NIPSCO (Northern Indiana Public Service Co.) electric plant (gas and coal-fired) that’s been in operation since 1925. Adjacent to it is the Washington Park Beach, which has apparently been a public park for almost as long. Fortunately, in this instance, the environmental movement is coming out ahead, since the NIPSCO plant is scheduled to be shut in the next 10 years and replaced by renewable energy.

One of those odd consequences in life…. It was only by happenstance that I was down at the coast in Michigan City in the first place, so I hadn’t done any research on what I would be seeing – if I had known this when I was there, I would have put much more time into exploring. Some of the forested area behind the brick buildings is the Washington Park Zoo (the tower is in the zoo). The zoo was started in the late 1920’s and most of the work on it was in the early 1930’s, thus per their website: “...the Washington Park Zoo is the only zoo in Indiana completely designed and landscaped by the WPA [a New Deal agency] and its predecessor agencies, FERA and CWA (Civil Works Administration). The Zoo and surrounding Washington Park has the most comprehensive collection of WPA-designed and built leisure facilities for the public in Indiana.” washingtonparkzoo.com/about/history

I’d wondered what car manufacturers did during the war years – they made ‘blackout’ models with trim instead of chrome, non-critical metals instead of aluminum, and apparently chose non-bright colors. This car was built in 1942.

I was glad to see a display on labor relations at the Studebaker museum, and there was much moe than this. At other points in the museum there was mention of labor and community relations, and there had been a special display on the women of Studebaker at the entrance. The sign in the middle that’s barely readable due to glare is a 1911 poster for classes that Studebaker offered to Hungarian and Polish employees who couldn’t speak English.

A leap to more modern times – a 1964 Studebaker Daytona with a sticker prices of $3,256.33 ($26,473 in 2019 dollars).

The actual sticker – interesting to see what was considered an accessory in those days.

A 1927 Studebaker Commander driven from New York to San Francisco – in just over 3 days? And that’s not 3+ days of time actually driving, that’s 3+ days total (Tuesday, August 30 to Friday, Sept 2). Obviously they had multiple drivers and some sort of sleeping arrangement, but that was long before interstates and would have been on what became US 40 in 1926, a two lane highway going right through the center of every town along the way.

Due to very high infant mortality in the 1920’s, funeral homes used special, white (to signify innocence), hearses for children’s funerals. Oddly, this was owned by a funeral home in the small western Indiana farm town of Brazil, where it doesn’t seem there would have been the wealth for such a fancy hearse.

Batteries for the electric shuttle.

$1850 (at that time) for a coupe that had a range of 70 miles and a top speed of 21mph (the batteries weighed 970 pounds)

Studebaker’s first cars were electric because gasoline powered automobiles were “clumsy, dangerous, noisy brutes which stink to high heaven, break down at the worst possible moment, and are a public nuisance.” Though in 1903 they had an electric that could run 40 miles on a charge, gas won out in popularity due to range and higher speed, so they stopped building electric in 1911. Their most interesting electric, to me, was this vehicle which they built for the US Government in 1909. This was one of two vehicles built for the tunnel between the Senate office building and the Capitol – because there wasn’t space in the tunnel for the vehicle to turn around, it had control for driving in either direction. They had a top speed of 12 mph and could carry 11 passengers. The cars were replaced by a rail system in 1912. Sources: placards in museum