So, I finally got around to reading The Devil in the White City. The parts about the serial killer H. H. Holmes inspired conversation and speculation, but perhaps as an homage to my hopelessness, it was the story of The White City that really got me. I like history and obviously like cities.
While reading the book I kept asking, "Where's The White City? I've been to Jackson Park and I've never seen anything like that!" Loo, and behold, in Chicago-fashion, the fair grounds burned shortly after the fair ended. Obviously, Jackson Park remains and The Osaka Garden is a remnant, but really, only The Fine Arts building, now The Museum of Science and Industry, is left. Even the Ferris Wheel, that crazy ferris wheel, was eventually sold for scrap. Of all the innovation and invention, all we've got left are Cracker Jacks, Cream of Wheat, Quaker Oats... and ferris wheels — which make me queezy. I don't know that that's any sort of justice.
On an unrelated note, Jackson Park hosts a pack of feral parakeets who I have yet to encounter. Now that, the warmer weather and my musings about The World's Columbian Exposition may be inspiration enough to trek down to the South Side some time soon.