Early in 1918, Thomas G. Moses
wrote, “We got a big contract for the Arena through Marshall Fields, but had to
drop it as we were $500.00 too high. The
party who took the contract, stole my idea and when he completed the job, he
found he stood good to lose at least $1,400.00, as the Arena was not good for
the amount as the work was done for a lease.” That’s Karma working for you!
There is no way to know the
exact event that Moses was referring to. However, I think it was the ice
carnival and fancy dress ball held at the Chicago Arena on March 16th.
Officers from Camp Grant, Camp Dodge, Camp Custer and Great Lakes were invited
to attend the event. The organization, the Satellites of Mars, was in charge of
the carnival. Members from the Satellites were managing the carnival for the
Fort Sheridan Association.
The Satellites of Mars at the Ice Carnival from the “Chicago Tribune,” March 17, 1918, page 3.
On March 17, 1918, the “Chicago
Tribune” reported, “Society Shines with Satellites at Arena Affair. Brilliant
Scenes Mark Function to Aid War” (page 3).
This may have been the event. The article continued, “Never has a
society function had a more effective setting than had the fancy dress ice
carnival and ball held last night at the Arena. The brilliant coloring of the
skater’s costumes, on which the spotlights played, glinted over the great area
of the skating hall, and from balconies and doorways hung fantastic lanterns
and draperies of red, white and blue. A band of jackies marked the rhythm of
the skating. The affair, patronized by almost all the people of fashion now in
the city was given by the Satellites of Mars, under the auspices of the Fort
Sheridan association, an organization which looks after the interests of
soldiers and sailors. There were many soldiers present and several jackies. The
proceeds, it is estimated, will amount to about $10,000.”
From the “Chicago Tribune,” March 17, 1918, page 7.
The Satellites of Mars was a
relatively new high-society group, formed for charity. For the ice carnival
event, Wallace C. Winter (219 South La Salle Street) was a member and managing
the carnival for the Fort Sheridan Association (Chicago Tribune, 7 March 1918,
page 15). It appears to have been short-lived, however, and primarily active
during the war years.
Interestingly, in 1877 Prof.
Hall of the National Observatory identified two extremely minute moons circling
Mars (New York Daily Herald, 23 Aug. 1877, page 3). The satellites of Mars appear
in the papers again in 1918; this time the term arises in conjunction with
those in the military. On March 27, 1918, the “San Francisco Examiner”
reported, “There should be, we think, a marked distinction between the uniforms
worn by men in the trenches and those worn by non-combatant officers. As the
former are inconspicuous, the latter should be vivid and slashing. A feature
might be a couple of red moons, emblematic of the satellites of Mars” (page 2).
This opinion appears in US newspaper across the country at the time.
In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “A big outdoor spectacle for Mrs. Jonathon Ogden Armour at her Lake Forest home took up some of our time in June. It proved to be a wonderfully effective show given by the Armour Company women employees.” The spectacle that Moses mentioned in 1918 took place at the country estate, Mellody farm, at Lake Forest. Of the estate, the “Chicago Tribune” reported, “ It was built as a veritable fairyland for their daughter Lolita, who was a cripple in her youth” (17 Aug. 1927, page 5). At the turn of the twentieth century, the Armours bought a thousand acres in Lake Forest and built a home that was a showplace – Mellody Farm. The estate was an escape for their physically handicapped daughter who had been born with dislocated hips at birth. Their property at Lake Forest was intended as a fairyland for their daughter at first. It would take two operations, specialist from Europe and a series of plaster casts, but Lolita fully recovered. Mellody Farm remained in all its glory with acres of gardens, artificial lakes and ponds, flowing streams, miniature forest, deer parks, sylvan pathways, and fountains. And then there were the buildings that included marble and plaster Italian villas situated amidst rose gardens and cypress-lined terraces. This is where the big outdoor spectacle for Armour employees occurred in 1918. The estate remained open until 1929 when the market crashed, changing many people’s fortunes.
Mellody Farm in Lake Forest, the Armour Estate.Mellody Farm. Image from Half Pudding Half Sauce Blog Spot (Feb 5, 2012).
Mrs. Lolita Sheldon Armour, was
the wife of well-know meat packer J. Ogden Armour. J. Ogden was the son of
Phillip D. Armour who founded Armour & Co. and Armour Institute of
Technology. He was born on November 11, 1863, the same year that his father
founded the Armour organization. The senior Armour joined the packing firm of
Plankington & Layton in Milwaukee and so thereafter the firm name was
changed to Plankington & Armour. The “Chicago Tribune” later reported, “the
growing city of Chicago appealed to Phillip Armour as the logical center of the
meat packing industry. It is said that his business partner did not entirely
accept this idea but agreed to establish a branch on Chicago. This branch was
started in 1867 under the name Armour & Co. J. Ogden Armour, the elder son
of Phillip D. Armour, gave up his senior year in Yale to join the Armour
organization in 1883. He was put into business, at the bottom, so to speak, and
learned it from the ground up. He was made a partner in the firm a year later.
As his father’s health declined, the son assumed larger direction of the
business. In 1900, his only brother, Phillip D. Armour, Jr., died, followed a
year later by his father’s death. Then the sole management fell on J. Ogden
Armour” (17 Aug 1927, page 5). The article noted, “O the hey-day of expansion
and prosperity of American meat packing. Mr. Armour won one of the great
personal fortunes in American industrial history. But in the period of post-war
adversity, that fortune dwindled amazingly. What remains of it cannot be
definitely estimated now” (17 August 1927, page 5).
Armour & Co. advertising postcard now for sale online.
He married Lolita Sheldon in
1891. Born in Suffield, Conn., she was the daughter of J. Sheldon. In her obituary,
the “St. Louis Post-Dispatch” reported, “For many years Mrs. Armour presided
over the family’s vast estate, Melody Farm, near Lake Forest. She was a patron
of the arts and made several gifts to the Chicago Art Institute” (7 Feb, 1953,
page 5). Mrs. Armour passed away at the
age of 83. At the businesses peak, Armour’s personal prosperity was
conservatively estimated at $200,000,000 – today’s approximate of over 3
trillion dollars.
Mrs. J. Ogden ArmourJ. Ogden Armour
As I read articles about the
Armours, it was the business practices of Mr. Armour that caught my attention. This
stands in stark contrast with how many packing plants are run, especially in
light of COVID-19 now. He followed the footsteps of his father, who made a
paint of being the first person in his office each morning and the last to
leave at night. He once explained, “I have no social ambitions. My ambition is
to run Armour & Co. successfully and give a great many young men a chance
to make their way in the world. My associates in the business are my close
friends. If it weren’t for fun there is in the working with them and being with
them I wouldn’t stay in business” (17 Aug. 1927, page 5). This mean that he
rarely accepted social invitations, even when it was his wife who hosted a
party at Mellody farm, or their summer camp on Long Lake in Michigan. Mrs.
Armour was reported to have entertained magnificently, “but when her husband
sees preparations going on for an ‘affair’ he scurries away to his club and
plays whist or pinochle until he feels that he can go home without risk of
meeting anyone loaded with small talk and fine clothes.”
In 1927, his employees recalled of Mr. Armour’s kindness to his employees. The “Chicago Tribune” reported “One of these related to a man who was discharged after fifteen years of service be a department head who said he was incompetent. The case was taken to Mr. Armour, who put the employee back in his old place. ‘If it took fifteen years to find out he was incompetent, you’ll have to worry along with home for the rest of his life,’ he asserted. In another instance accountants complained that an old packing house foreman refused to keep any books. Mr. Armour was asked to discharge the old-timer. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That foreman taught me all I know about his branch of business. If you can’t get figures some other way, you’ll have to do without them.’” It is the respect and loyalty that seems to have been in many businesses; large plants with no connection to the packing employees. The 1918 spectacle thrown by Mrs. Armour was for the Armour Company employees. That same year, the “Buffalo Enquirer” reported, “When the United States entered the European war, Mr. Armour promptly urged that all his dealings in food-stuffs should be taken under control by the government, an unselfish attitude which caused critics of all capitalists to alter their views. Mr. Armour’s action has convincingly demonstrated that it is possible to be both a packer and a patriot. To tell adequately of the benefactions of the Armour family would require endless space. For years the Armours have spent a vast fortune on this kind of work, and the present Mr. Armour has continued giving millions of dollars to worthy causes. Loved by all his employees for what he has done for them, J. Ogden Armour is the type of American of which we are all proud” (The Buffalo Enquirer, 31 May 1918, page 10).
