Source: Block Club Chicago
The liquor ban dates back to a failed attempt by beer baron Adolphus Busch to create a fairground at what is now Welles Park. Neighbors can now vote to repeal the dry status.
RAVENSWOOD — Neighbors living in a small portion of Lincoln Square and Ravenswood could roll back an obscure law that’s kept their area “dry” for 117 years.
Unlike its neighboring “wet” precincts, the 9th precinct of the 47th Ward’s dry status blocks all businesses in its boundaries from getting a liquor license. That’s because people who lived in the precinct 100 years ago pushed the City Council to make their neighborhood dry as a bone.
But some residents of the precinct are being asked if they want to repeal the dry status by voting no on the following question in the Nov. 5 election: “Shall the prohibition of the sale at retail of alcoholic liquor be continued in the 9th Precinct of the 47th Ward of the City of Chicago (as such precinct existed as of the last general election)?”
The 47th Ward’s 9th precinct is bounded by West Montrose Avenue to the south, North Lincoln Avenue and North Leavitt Street to the west, West Giddings Street and West Leland Avenue to the north and North Damen Avenue to the east, according to Chicago Board of Election Commissioners records.
The current boundaries of the 47th Ward’s 9th precinct. The highlighted “dry” area dates back to 1907. Credit: Provided.
The question is only being posed to residents who live in what would have been the original boundaries of the dry precinct set more than 100 years ago, election officials said. A “no” vote will make it so local businesses within the precinct can get liquor licenses; a “yes” vote will keep the precinct dry.
“I’m shocked that it’s still in place,” said Ald. Matt Martin (47th).
The liquor ban should be lifted because the city has a variety of other tools at its disposal to oversee businesses with liquor licenses, Martin said.
“I think it’s outdated and completely unnecessary,” he said.
If residents vote to ditch the ban, at least three businesses within the precinct’s boundaries will be able to apply for a liquor license for the first time in more than a century.
The Dry Precinct
Just outside the dry precinct’s borders is a thriving commercial corridor with a mix of restaurants and bars serving craft beer, cocktails and wine, as well as grocery stores that carry alcohol as a packaged good, Martin said.
“You’ve got Gideon Welles just across the street from that precinct,” Martin said. “There are really a lot of places that are within earshot of the dry precinct’s boundaries.”
Business owners who want to sell liquor, either in a grocery store or as part of its menu in a restaurant or bar, need to apply for a liquor license with the city to do so. Outside of a few restrictions — like licenses not being given to businesses near a school, church or library — the process is pretty straightforward for wet precincts.
But the Illinois Liquor Control Act of 1934 prohibits liquor licenses from being given to businesses in dry precincts like the 9th.
The 9th precinct’s dry status came as a surprise to Lucia Herrejon, co-owner of XOchimilco Mexican Restaurant, when she went to apply for a liquor license this year.
The family-owned restaurant opened six years ago at 2030 W. Montrose Ave. For alcohol, XOchimilco has relied on the city’s rules for BYOB and charges a corking fee, Herrejon said.
But the profits from liquor sales would help the restaurant during slower months, which is why Herrejon contacted an attorney this year to apply for a liquor license. That’s when she found out XOchimilco is in a dry precinct, she said.
“Anyone who owns a restaurant will definitely understand you have to have a cushion from after those nice summer months when you have a full house to survive the slower winter months,” she said. “You have to have a little something to pull from so it doesn’t hurt as much.”
In addition to XOchimilco, the precinct’s liquor ban will prevent Small Cheval’s planned Lincoln Square location at 2156 W. Montrose Ave. from being able to serve alcohol. Giordano’s, 2010 W. Montrose Ave., also can’t offer liquor because of the ban.
Small Cheval’s owner did not respond to a request for comment.
Small Cheval’s plans to open a new location in Lincoln Square at 2156 W. Montrose Ave. Credit: Alex V. Hernandez/Block Club Chicago
The Beer Baron’s Plans
Herrejon’s attorney went door to door collecting petition signatures from neighbors to get a question on the Nov. 5 ballot asking if neighbors support repealing the area’s dry status.
Chrissy Cogswell, a fan of XOchimilco and a librarian, signed the petition and realized afterward she’d done research during graduate school into how the liquor ban came about.
“I’ve lived in Ravenswood forever, and so I went into the digital Chicago Tribune archives to see what was going on in the neighborhood in the early 1900s. And I happened to stumble upon this story about neighbors pushing for a prohibition district,” Cogswell said.
The story begins with developer Ravenswood Land Company buying 194 acres of land about 8 miles north of what was then Chicago’s city limits with the aim of getting a railroad stop built to make it an affluent commuter suburb, according to the Chicago History Museum.
The plan worked out, but because the Ravenswood Land Company didn’t build sewers or sidewalks, the wealthy suburb had to deal with “open ditches and muddy streets alongside the lovely lawns, houses and trees,” according to the museum’s records.
“So they agreed to be incorporated into the city [in 1889] because they needed sewers and the city was going to pay to install those,” Cogswell said.
After being annexed, the added transportation options and new apartment buildings made living and commuting to and from Ravenswood more accessible to less wealthy people, which set the stage for how the dry precinct came about, Cogswell said.
“The root of it was this anti-immigrant, sort of racial and classist thing,” she said.
The formerly affluent suburb was changing now that it was part of the city, and banning alcohol from the precinct was a way to prevent immigrants and poorer people from frequenting the neighborhood, she said.
“These dry precincts were used by ‘native-born’ white Protestants at the local level to combat immigration, ethnic changes and class shifts,” Cogswell said.
At the same time, the Tyrolean Alps restaurant and amusement attraction at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair inspired beer baron Adolphus Busch and a group of developers to create a similar fairground at what is now Welles Park, Cogswell said.
Neighbors looked at other amusement parks and the crowds they brought, like Riverview Park, which was about a mile and a half away. Its neighbors complained about music and dancing well into the night, Cogswell said
“Ravenswood residents then were like, ‘Absolutely not. This is going to bring in rowdies and Germans,’” Cogswell said. “And instead of pushing to block the amusement park’s business license, they fought to make the area dry so they’d never have to fight this battle again.”
Busch submitted a business license for the plan in 1906. It was never built.
But making the precinct dry was a rowdy affair, Cogswell said.
W.R. Bentley, an affluent Ravenswood neighbor who owned and raised show pugs, led the charge to make the precinct dry, submitting a petition signed by 95 percent of neighbors who lived in the 9th precinct. Bentley and neighbors attended a Jan. 11, 1907, City Council meeting to make their case to aldermen, Cogswell said.
Then-Ald. Winfield P. Dunn (25th), who preferred to just have more expensive application fees for liquor licenses to curb the number of active establishments, tabled the matter indefinitely, infuriating neighbors.
“This is the fight of the men and women who wish to keep sacred their homes and who do not wish their children to be subjected to the insults and to be compelled to see the debauchery that accompanies an amusement report of the kind that this is,” Bentley said, according to a Daily Tribune article from Jan. 19, 1907.
Bentley and his group of about 400 people continued pressuring aldermen for the next month, Cogswell said.
“So many of these residents are affluent and know people and were able to get into those spaces to advocate. Even the Ravenswood wives got together to pressure the aldermen’s wives,” Cogswell said. “Neighbors were reacting to the changing identity of their neighborhood, and they wanted to exert their power.”
When the matter went before City Council again Feb. 8, 1907, Ravenswood neighbors showed up to advocate for a dry precinct — but they were again unsuccessful, as City Council members did everything they could to avoid taking a vote, including fleeing the meeting, she said.
“The action was so rapid and there were so many features of the show taking place at the same time that the spectators do not know what just happened,” according to a Daily Tribune article from Feb. 9, 1907. “They do know, however, that one alderman was caught just as he was entering a descending elevator, his coattail being torn.
“Another member of the committee was caught by two members of the Ravenswood prohibition committee and was being led back to the committee room a captive, when he broke away and escaped. There were other escapes and catches.”
Then-Ald. Mathias J. Jacobs (23rd), attempting to avoid a quorum to block the vote, said he needed “to get a check cashed before the banks close” before fleeing the City Council Chambers, according to the Daily Tribune.
“My research suggests that Ald. Dunn, who wanted the more expensive liquor licenses but not an outright ban, was politically aligned with the brewers and was aware of the popularity of these dry precincts with neighbors,” Cogswell said. “My best educated guess, a significant amount of the city’s taxes came from liquor licenses, from these brewers and the alcohol industry, and aldermen didn’t want to go on record voting for this ban.”
It wasn’t until Feb. 18, 1907, that the 9th precinct was officially made dry, which led to Chicago missing out on its own version of the Tyrolean Alps amusement park.