A. Montgomery Ward:
The Great Lakefront Protector
A. Montgomery Ward is probably best
remembered as the merchant who invented the mail order catalogue sales business, which
enabled thousands of residents in young, rural America to obtain the latest merchandise
with a "Cash-on-Delivery" policy. This unique idea of catalogue sales helped the country
to grow and prosper, and made the Montgomery Ward Company one of the largest retail
firms in the nation.
Yet, Montgomery Ward is also known as the man who had the vision and courage to fight
to preserve Chicago's "forever open, clear and free" lakefront park systems, thus
making Chicago one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
Why did this successful businessman engage in a thankless crusade that became the
greatest struggle of his life? How did he persevere enduring severe criticism and
vilification? To learn that, we must go back to his origins, and see how he came to
put his permanent stamp on Chicago and its park system.
Humble Beginnings, Great Aspirations,
Tremendous Results
Aaron Montgomery Ward was born on February 17, 1844 in Chatham, New York. Ward's family
moved to Niles, Michigan when he was 9, but life was never easy for the family. His
father was a cobbler of modest means, and, too often, the family had difficulty in
making ends meet. Ward left home at age 14, and tried his hand at many trades, including
making barrels, and as a stock-boy at a general store in St. Joseph. After moving
to Chicago and working for Marshall Field for two years, he became a road salesman
for a St. Louis wholesaler. It was when he was on the road, talking to struggling
farmers that he hit on the idea of developing a mail-order catalogue business, selling
directly to rural customers for cash. Ward returned to Chicago, and published his
first catalogue on a one page sheet in 1872, quickly seeing his company grow tremendously.
Ward was known for standing behind his products. It was Montgomery Ward who coined
the phrase "Satisfaction Guaranteed or your Money Back," and it became the standard
for retailers across the country. The company's slogan "You Can't Go Wrong When You
Deal With Montgomery Ward" transformed him into a symbol of trustworthiness to millions
in rural America. Ward was known for treating his customers like family, seeking their
ideas on the type of products they would like listed in his catalogue. He wrote countless
personal letters, and received many warm responses, as well as sound advice from his
clientele. By 1904, over 3 million catalogues weighing 4 pounds each were being sent
to households all across America.
Montgomery Ward was also an extremely private man, avoiding the social scene, and
shunning public attention. He was also very charitable, making many anonymous gifts
of food and coal to the poor, insisting that he should receive no recognition whatsoever
for his generosity.
Lakefront Preservation, and the Makings of a Park
Chicago had long had a tradition of protecting its lakefront. In 1836, after the decommissioning
of Fort Dearborn, citizens petitioned the federal government to set aside 20 acres
of Fort Dearborn's land for a public square. About that same time, Commissioners of
the proposed Illinois and Michigan Canal plotted land plots near the new Canal, and
wrote a proviso that land east of what became Michigan Avenue and south of Randolph
Street to 12th Street should remain "Public Ground - A Common to Remain Forever Open,
Clear and Free of any Buildings, or Other Obstruction whatever."
After the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, much of the debris from the ruins of the city
was dumped along the lakefront at the Illinois Central railroad tracks, creating new
landfill. By 1890, this prime real estate was still a muddy mess, but "progress,"
in the name of new buildings, was being proposed by civic boosters for this site.
Mayor Cregier and the City Council wanted to build a civic center on the landfill,
as well as a new city hall, a post office, a police station, a power plant and stables
for city garbage wagons and horses.
Montgomery Ward, who had just built his company's stately headquarters building on
the northwest side of Michigan and Madison Avenues, gazed out from his office at this
expanse and saw the potential for a great city park, that was ordained by the canal
commissioners in 1836. He wound up spending the next 20 years, and a small fortune
fighting to preserve this land from commercial development.
The Fight for the Lakefront
Over the next 20 years, Ward took the city to court to prevent the construction of
any buildings east of Michigan Avenue. His efforts to stop this unbridled development
incurred the enmity of many civic leaders, businessmen and politicians, as well as
the Chicago Tribune, which saw his steadfast stance as an impediment to Chicago's
growth. He was called "stubborn…undemocratic…a persistent enemy of real parks…(and)
a human icicle, shunning and shunned in all but the relations of business."
Undaunted, Ward filed suit on four separate occasions in the Illinois State Supreme
Court, and on all four occasions he won, thereby preserving the open lakefront from
Randolph St. south to 14th St. Compromises, such as the Art Institute, were eventually
constructed, but without question his efforts saved Grant Park from private development
and sprawl.
Ward always felt he was working on behalf of the citizens of Chicago with his steadfast
struggle, and never understood why he was not appreciated for his vision and efforts.
In 1909, he granted an interview to the Chicago Tribune, the only interview
he ever gave in his life:
Had I known in 1890 how long it would take me to preserve a park for
the people against their will, I doubt I would have undertaken it. I think there is
not another man in Chicago who would have spent the money I have spent in this fight
with certainty that gratitude would be denied as interest…I fought for the poor people
of Chicago, not the millionaires…Here is park frontage on the lake, comparing favorably
with the Bay of Naples, which city officials would crowd with buildings, transforming
the breathing spot for the poor into a showground of the educated rich. I do not think
it is right.
Perhaps I may yet see the public appreciate my efforts. But I doubt it.
The toll of the fight, and an accident (which broke his arm and shoulder blade) greatly
weakened Montgomery Ward's health. Shortly after a fall, which resulted in a broken
hip, he developed pneumonia and died on December 7, 1913 at the age of 69.
Ironically, just as the great man was passing, the city awakened to his magnificent
contribution. A letter to the Chicago Tribune by J. J. Wallace put it best:
Who shall set a value on his service? The present generation, I believe,
hardly appreciates what has been given them, but those who come later, as they avail
themselves of the breathing spot, will realize it.
The A. Montgomery Ward Gardens
For nearly a century, there was no park named to honor this great civic leader. Through
the efforts of Friends of the Parks, on October 14, 1993, that section of Grant Park
along Michigan Avenue between Randolph and Monroe Streets was officially named the
A. Montgomery Ward Gardens. Funded in part by a grant from the Montgomery Ward Company,
a bust and historical plaque were placed at the site, stating:
Aaron Montgomery Ward had a vision for Chicago's lakefront that
set him apart from many of his contemporaries. For two decades (1890-1910) he fought
tirelessly to preserve Chicago's shoreline for recreational use and to assure that
the city's "front yard" would remain free of industry. Grant Park is his legacy to
the city he loved…his gift to the future.
In 1999, the Ward Gardens and plaque were removed to make way for the construction
of Millennium Park. In 2005, thanks to a grant from the A. Montgomery Ward Foundation,
a new A. Montgomery Ward Gardens stands at the corner of Michigan Avenue and 11th
St., a glorious part of his beloved lakefront park.
Today, these Gardens are a living tribute to Montgomery Ward: a man of vision and
conviction, a selfless and tireless advocate for the people, and for parks.
Sources for this essay include:
Forever Open, Clear and Free, The Struggle for Chicago's Lakefront
Lois Wille, © 1972 University of Chicago Press
City of the Century
Donald L. Miller © 1996 Simon & Schuster
