Striking Balance; Monument Relevance in Contemporary Times

Following the nationwide protests over the past few years’ racial and police reforms, significant monuments’ relevance and suitability have come into question. Statues and monuments have been toppled and torn down, scrutinized and reviewed, and new ones erected in an attempt to capture our current culture. One might reasonably ask where we draw the line. The surface-level question, “how do we strike the balance between removing disconcerting monuments and preserving a trace of them” comes to the forefront, but there is a deeper underlying cultural-historical balance that needs to be addressed. How do we compromise the commemoration and preservation of our historical lessons with the current public perception of monuments and the present cultural values?

Flyer advertising rally at Haymarket Square
Library of Congress, Washington D.C.

On May 30, 1889, a commemorative nine-foot bronze statue depicting a Chicago policeman was unveiled to honor the policemen’s sacrifice who lost their lives the night of the 1886 Haymarket Affair. What started as a peaceful protest the evening of May 4, 1886, transformed into chaotic violence. Workingmen met for a rally in response to the striking of workers at the McCormick Harvester Works, creating a platform to advocate for labor rights. Although intended as a peaceful demonstration, flyers advertising the gathering were dispersed with the line, “Workingmen arm yourselves and appear in full force” [1]. Towards the end of the Haymarket Square rally, a group of policemen advanced to disperse the crowd and were attacked by an explosive thrown by an unidentified individual. The police opened fire, and chaos ensued; seven police officers, and at least one civilian, were killed, and many more were injured [2].

Three years following the riot, the Haymarket statue of the policeman was commissioned and installed. Funded by the private funds raised by the Union League Club of Chicago, the statue was designed by Frank Batchelder and sculpted by Johannes Gelert [3]. The statue would become the first known monument in the United States honoring police officers [4] and has been moved seven times. Much like the statue’s commemorative inspiration, its history is one of violence.

Haymarket Memorial Statue at Randolph Street and Kennedy Expressway

The original Haymarket statue was placed in the middle of Randolph Street on a marble pedestal engraved with the last command of Captain William Ward delivered in the Haymarket riot. “In the name of the People of Illinois, I command peace” [5]. However, due to vandalism and interference with traffic flow, the statue was moved for the first time to Randolph Street and Ogden Avenue near Union Park. In 1903, the seals located on the statue’s pedestal were stolen and had to be replaced.

On the 41st anniversary of the Haymarket Affair, a streetcar, driven by William Schultz, jumped its tracks and crashed into the statue’s pedestal, causing the figure to fall off the base. The city had the statue restored and moved to Union Park. The statues’ third move was in 1957 due to the Kennedy Expressway’s construction, causing the placement of the statue to be moved to Randolph Street and the Kennedy Expressway. On the 82nd anniversary of the riot, the monument was vandalized with black paint, and soon following this event, the statue was destroyed by an explosive placed in between the legs of the figure in 1969.

The first explosion, which may have been a symbolic reenactment of the original Haymarket protest, was credited towards Weather Underground members, otherwise known as Weatherman, who had had other altercations with the police throughout Chicago [6]. The statue was rebuilt and replaced in May of 1970 but was blown up again in October of the same year. After the second explosion, an individual called several news outlets to declare that the Weatherman did the bombing to “Show our allegiance to our brothers in New York prisons and our black brothers everywhere. This is another phase of our revolution to overthrow our racist and fascist society. Power to the People” [7].

 Despite these attacks on the Haymarket monument, the city continued to take care of the statue. It had the statue repaired again and was moved to the State Street Chicago Police Headquarters Building in 1972 [8]. For over four years, the statue remained there before being relocated to the courtyard at the Chicago Police Training Academy. However, the statue did not stay at this location and was rededicated to its final (current) destination. In 2007 the statue was rededicated at Chicago Police Headquarters and placed on a new pedestal where it remains presently.

As the turbulent history of this one monument demonstrates, no monument is a neutral marker of an event; the interpretation of the artist and intent of the commissioning source, as well as prevailing public sentiment, shape the ultimate product. It would be naïve to claim monuments, such as the Haymarket statue, are only about the “past”; they are politically potent in the present. The concerns and views of the times are continually applied as a litmus test of public acceptability.  It is our responsibility as a society to ensure we balance the historical significance and our shared cultural journey with the intended commemoration and conception. In many cases, this could be accomplished through the introduction of additional contextual information surrounding the monument, providing that bridge between contemporary social norms and mores to the period in which the monument was erected.  The Haymarket monument represents and commemorates the lives of the policemen lost during the Haymarket Affair; perhaps, some of its tumult of being rebuilt, removed, and rededicated could have been avoided if a more balanced presentation had been offered.  The monument does have the benefits of preserving both the art and the historical bearing and should be weighed in a careful manner so that we do not regret the loss of critical journey markers of our spurtive societal growth. This is not to say that some monuments have outlasted their relevance, and need to be updated or replaced.  But given the highly charged political and emotional atmosphere of this year, we need to entertain a more considered approach when we contemplate removing historical monuments.

Isabelle Sapienza, Loyola University Chicago

[1] Flyer advertising Haymarket Rally, Printed at the Office of the Arbeiter-Zeitung, 1886.

[2] Brian Duignon, “Haymarket Affair; Unites States Hstory, 1886”,

[3] Wendy Koenig, “The Police Monument”, Chicago Public Art,

[4] “Haymarket Memorial Statue”,

[5] Ibid.

[6] Richard M. Sommer, “Dyn-o-Mite Fiends; The Weather Underground at Chicago’s Haymarket”, January 10, 2008.

[7] John Kifner, “Ominous Threat in Attacks on the Police,” New York Times, September 6, 1970.

[8] “Haymarket Statue Moved” Chicago Police Star Magazine, March, 1972, retrieved from


117 Years of Change and the Right to Protest

The Haymarket Square Incident occurred on May 4, 1886 when a bomb was thrown from a crowd of unionized laborers into a line of policemen. Eight men, now pardoned, were tried and convicted for the attack without tangible evidence against them. Four of these men were sentenced to death by hanging [1]. The event is shrouded in mystery, but the monuments erected clearly capture changing sentiments in police brutality and historical documentation. Erected in 1889, and officially removed from the public in 1970, the first monument depicts a policeman with his hand raised, dynamically capturing poise and valor. The second monument, dedicated in 2004, represents the laborers. Sculptor Mary Brogger utilized the speaker’s wagon as a tool on which faceless laborers stand to demand their rights. The 117-year gap between the two monuments, as well as the drastic subject change, signal a deep shift in conceptions about power, worker rights, and humanitarianism.

The original Haymarket Incident monument dedicated to a fallen policeman at its first location in Haymarket Square, 1889.

We mean to make things over;

we’re tired of toil for naught

But our wages are bare enough to live on; never an hour for thought.

We want to feel the sunshine;

we want to smell the flowers;

We’re sure that God has willed it, and we mean to have eight hours.

We’re summoning our forces from shipyard, shop, and mill:

Eight hours for work, eight hours for rest, and eight hours

For what we will [2].

An interpretation of the Haymarket Incident at the moment the bomb was thrown into a line of policemen, May 4, 1886.

The demand for an 8-hour work day in Chicago began in 1864, when Civil War sentiments encouraged the oppressed to fight for their rights. In 1867, a law was put in place to satisfy demands, but contained a loophole that negated any efforts to sustain the 8-hour work day for laborers. Later that year in 1867, a citywide strike shut down Chicago’s economy for a week and with it took down the ineffective law. The demands died down, and over the course of the next fifteen years, exhausted laborers gathered again to demand less work and more leisure time [3].

Chicago laborers breaking for a few golden minutes during a long work day in the Gilded Age, 1880-1900.

Then, in May 1886, the movement united laborers and skilled workers from all backgrounds and mobilized during the three days preceding the Haymarket Square Incident on May 4. The influence of anarchist publications played an important role in labor strikes, and fueled officials fears of radical education. While mass production was good for sales and revenue, it was assumed that spare time encouraged men to educate and arm themselves with socialist propaganda that reviled capitalist institutions [4].

Newspapers such as the German language anarchist publication Arbeiter Zeitung, as well as the English language publication The Alarm advocated for workers to demand their rights at all costs, even taking up arms against their oppressors. Key writers for these papers, August Spies and Albert Parsons respectively, gave speeches on May 4, 1886. Their speeches, as well as their call to arms and inflammatory language in their writing ultimately sentenced them to the gallows [5].

The four men sentenced to hang, among them August Spies and Albert Parsons, represented the mass of workers and laborers who demanded change within the city. Their final remarks remain true to their anti-capitalist, anarchist sentiments. George Engel, another set to hang on November 11, 1886, harkened the influence of leaders in anti-slavery groups, who, like Engel himself, were sentenced to die for their cause. Engel, on October 8, 1886, noted “I found long ago, that the workingman had no more rights here than anywhere else in the world… and just as the man who agitated against slavery in this country had to ascend the gallows, so must we. He who speaks for the workingman today must hang.” [6]

The monument erected in 1889 after the hanging heralded a different side of the story. Officials and local papers pushed back against these men, their demands, and their assumed violent actions towards policemen [7]. While there was no evidence to convict these men of throwing the bomb, the hanging acted as a demonstration of power, a warning to those who desired to fight for their right to equal work and leisure time. The monument, placed in Haymarket Square, reminded passerby that the state was in control of laborers’ live, and would use force to ensure that the industrial economy within Chicago was maintained, even at the cost of laborer’s lives. Though there was shifts in labor laws, and many factories and work places began to roll back hours imposed on their workers, the people were continually reminded of their place within the power hierarchyas they had no choice but to participate in the system built against them. 

A busy Haymarket Square after the installation of the first monument, a reminder of laborers’ struggle for their rights, 1889.

The first Haymarket monument was a consistent object of vandalism.  It was moved to Randolph Street and Ogden Avenue in 1900. For 27 years the statue remained untouched, a grim reminder of what happened on May 4, 1886. In 1927, however, a streetcar purposefully crashed into the monument, knocking it over. The driver noted he was “sick of seeing that policeman with his arm raised” [9]. The monument became a symbol of police and citizen unrest. Each time there was a conflict between police and citizens, the monument suffered.

In 1969, civilians, reenacting the original event, placed a bomb between the statues legs and destroyed it a second time. The monument was quickly rebuilt to reinforce the sentiment of control and anti-anarchy it symbolized, but was bombed a second time in 1970 [10]. After the second bombing, it was clear that officials had completely lost the respect of the people concerning this incident, and that a social shift had taken place concerning the interaction of civilians and law officials. Increased police brutality and subsequent protest indicated that the monument must be removed from the public, and that it no longer held the same power over the people as it once had. The monument now is in the Chicago Police Training Academy [11].

Mary Brogger’s 2004 monument replacing the original Haymarket statue. This monument pays respects to the laborers fighting for a fair working day.

Taking its place is Mary Brogger’s monument to the anarchists and martyrs of the Haymarket incident [12]. Faceless and nameless in life, they are memorialized by abstract figures that represent their social position during the time of these strikes.

The first monument incited a sense of fear within passerby and anarchist alike. Brogger’s monument, however, is a symbol of persistence among people fighting for their rights. Between the dedication of the first monument in 1889 and the second in 2004 is 117 years in which Americans have fought for myriad rights and were met with the same backlash as the laborers at Haymarket Square. After over a century of police brutality and maintenance of a state-dominated status-quo, it is clear that the will of the people prevails in one way or another. Broggerr’s monument represents perseverance, and reminds Chicago of how far the country has come in terms of labor rights, and what is possible when citizens push back for their rights.

Katy Rose, Loyola University Chicago

[1] De Grazia, “The Haymarkey Bomb,” 310.

[2] De Grazia, “The Haymarkey Bomb,” 286-7.

[3] Jentz, “Eight Hour Movement.”

[4] De Grazia, “The Haymarkey Bomb,” 285.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Lembcke and Howe, “Chicago Haymarket Centennial,” 96.

[7] De Grazia, “The Haymarkey Bomb,” 285.

[8], “Haymarket Memorial Statue.”

[9], “Haymarket Memorial Statue.”

[10], “Haymarket Memorial Statue.”

[11] City of Chicago, “The Haymarket Memorial,”


De Grazia, Edward. “The Haymarket Bomb.” Law and Literature 18, no. 3 (2006): 283-322.

“Haymarket Memorial Statue.” Accessed November 18, 2020.

Jentz, John B. “Eight Hour Movement .” Eight-Hour Movement, 2005.

Lembcke, Jerry, and Carolyn Howe. “Chicago Haymarket Centennial.” International Labor and Working-Class History, no. 31 (1987): 96-98.

Roediger, David R., and Philip S. Foner. Our Own Time: A History of American Labor and the Working Day. 1989.

“The Haymarket Memorial.” City of Chicago :: The Haymarket Memorial. Accessed November 19, 2020.

Image sources (in order):

“Haymarket Memorial Statue.” Accessed November 18, 2020.

“Labor Quote of the Day: August Spies.” Metro Washington Council AFL-CIO. Accessed November 20, 2020.

Notable Labor Strikes of the Gilded Age. Accessed November 17, 2020.

“Haymarket Memorial Statue.” Accessed November 18, 2020.

Ugc. “Haymarket Square.” Atlas Obscura. Atlas Obscura, October 22, 2009.

Tolerance and Patriotic Unity: Chicago’s Heald Square Monument

 With the impending peril of World War II, Chicago searched for American patriots who represented them and could serve as the city’s democratic role models. They discovered the heroes they were looking for in Robert Morris, Haym Salomon, and George Washington. Barnet Hodes and the Patriotic Foundation of Chicago designed the Heald Square Monument to symbolize patriotic unity and tolerance during a global conflict. Today, however, this message is muddled due to its three patriots’ complicated legacies.

Heald Square Monument located on Chicago’s Riverwalk on Wacker Drive.
Photo taken by Jennifer Barry on November 9, 2020.

In the 1930s, well-connected Chicagoan lawyer Barnet Hodes led the efforts of the city’s elites to construct the Heald Square Monument. In July 1936, Hodes gathered Chicago’s political and financial leaders to form the Patriotic Foundation of Chicago, a non-profit dedicated to promoting democratic values [1]. Chicago’s leaders rallied behind Hodes and his monument to the American Revolution to demonstrate how Americans came together to serve their country in times of crisis [2]. Rather than rely on philanthropic support with the Foundation, Hodes hoped that Chicago’s citizens would be inspired by the monument’s patriotic message, and he successfully appealed for their financial support [3]. Next, Hodes and the Foundation sought American Revolutionary heroes who represented their patriotic beliefs.

The patriots of the Heald Square Monument. From left to right: Robert Morris, George Washington, and Haym Salomon.
Photo taken by Jennifer Barry on November 9, 2020.

The Patriotic Foundation of Chicago selected civilian financiers Robert Morris and Haym Salomon for their monument, with revolutionary war hero George Washington as the focal point. As a Polish Jewish immigrant, Hodes was deeply inspired by Haym Salomon [4].  Salomon was a Polish Jewish immigrant who served as a spy, arranged the escape of American prisoners of war, and secured funding for the revolutionary American government. As a leading figure in the Continental Congress, English immigrant Robert Morris, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, was appointed superintendent of finance in 1781. Morris and Salomon, both resourceful businessmen, worked together to provide critically needed money and supplies for Washington and the Continental Army [5]. With the aid given by Morris and Salomon, Washington prolonged the war until Great Britain could no longer afford to continue to fight and was forced to grant American independence. The Patriotic Foundation of Chicago envisioned that Chicagoans would be inspired by the three patriots’ abundant generosity so that their country could endure.

Quote engraved on the front of the base of the Heald Square Monument:

“the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.”

President George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, August 18, 1790. Full letter found on Founders Online, National Archives,

Hodes and the Patriotic Foundation of Chicago commissioned renowned sculptor Lorado Taft to design the monument. With celebrated sculptures across Illinois, including Chicago’s Fountain of Time, Taft was passionate about the project because of his American Revolutionary ancestors [6]. Fearing possible anti-Semitic attacks, Hodes strongly urged Taft to craft the statues in a way that protected Salomon [7]. Taft gave the monument a profound but straightforward design: the three bronze patriots holding hands in patriotic unity atop a large rectangular stone base. Engraved on the base’s front are the patriots’ names and a powerful quote from Washington condemning bigotry and offering protection to all citizens who stand by the American government [8]. The base’s back has a bronze plaque with an image celebrating America’s tolerance of ethnic diversity. The plaque depicted an enthroned Lady Liberty, reminiscent of New York City’s Statue of Liberty, extending her welcoming arms and torch over the masses seeking America’s shores. While Taft died before its completion, he crafted a monument that unequivocally displayed Chicago’s values of patriotism, unity, and tolerance of all peoples.

The seated Lady Liberty plaque on back of the Heald Square Monument.
Rossfishman123, Bronze plaque showing Lorado Taft’s seated Statue of Liberty, Atlas Obscura,

After five years of fundraising and sculpting, Chicago’s citizens dedicated its Morris-Washington-Salomon monument on December 15, 1941, the 150th anniversary of the Bill of Rights. Adding significance to the day was Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor the week before. Chicago and the rest of the nation would be entering another world war. The monument was placed in Heald Square, named after Nathan Heald, a heroic American officer during the War of 1812 who commanded Fort Dearborn, formerly found in the area [9]. While the fort is gone, Chicago’s financial district has since taken over, and the Heald Square Monument was given a prominent location on Wacker Drive on the Chicago River’s south side. The “great triumvirate of patriots,” as President Franklin Roosevelt called the monument [10], were calling Chicago’s citizens to join in the upcoming fight against fascism and graciously receive people of diverse identities seeking American freedoms.

While Hodes and the Patriotic Foundation of Chicago designed the Heald Square Monument to convey patriotic unity and tolerance, it also imparts a subtle exclusionary message. In their selection of Morris, Washington, and Salomon, they made clear that the ideal American patriots are privileged white men in positions of wealth and power. Both Morris and Washington owned slaves who were forced to work on their plantations for their economic benefit [11]. They expected Salomon, the lone non-Christian, to bear the full weight of showing American tolerance for immigrants. They chose to commemorate American tolerance as the American government detained Japanese American citizens on baseless racial fears in detention camps. The Heald Square Monument’s provoking expression of patriotic unity and tolerance is confounded due to its commemoration of three privileged white men and its ignorance of the United States’ long history of racial intolerance.

The Heald Square Monument and its inspiring yet questionable message has been caught up in the recent highly politized atmosphere. Given its historical importance, the City of Chicago has owned Heald Square since 1959, including its monument, which the Chicago City Council selected as a Chicago Landmark in 1971 [12]. During the nationwide police brutality protests in May 2020, the Heald Square Monument was graffitied with offensive racial slurs that attacked the statues and their tolerant message. [13]. When the monument’s damage was discovered, some Chicagoans, out of respect for the three revolutionary patriots, quickly washed away the hateful slogans [14]. While Hodes was concerned about possible anti-Semitic attacks on Salomon’s statue, he never feared for Morris and Washington’s statues. The Heald Square Monument, with its optimistic portrayal of patriotic unity and tolerance, resonates today while raising doubt if the United States has acted on those principles. 

Hodes and the Patriotic Foundation of Chicago believed that the noble patriots of the Heald Square Monument would encourage the people of Chicago to follow their example of patriotic unity and tolerance. These noble patriots have become problematic given their status as privileged white men. The Heald Square Monument reflected Chicago’s political and business leaders and the white middle class who funded it. By honoring Morris, Washington, and Salomon, they disregarded how bigotry and prejudice have been sanctioned throughout American history and snubbed people of color and women’s contributions to the country. Patriotic unity and tolerance are admirable ideals that Americans should strive to live by as they grapple with their heroes’ complex reputations.

The 11-foot-tall statues of Robert Morris, George Washington, and Haym Salomon in a pose of patriotic unity and tolerance.

Photo taken by Jennifer Barry on November 9, 2020.

Meghan Flannery, Loyola University Chicago

[1] Harry Barnard, “This Great Triumvirate of Patriots”: The Inspiring Story Behind Lorado Taft’s Chicago Monument to George Washington, Robert Morris, and Haym Salomon (Chicago: Follett Publishing Company, 1971), 17.

[2] Christopher J. Young, “Barnet Hodes’s Quest to Remember Haym Salomon, the Almost-Forgotten Jewish Patriot of the American Revolution,” The American Jewish Archives Journal 63, no. 2 (2011): 44,

[3] Young, “Barnet Hodes’s Quest,” 54.

[4] Young, “Barnet Hodes’s Quest,” 48.

[5] Barnard, “This Great Triumvirate of Patriots, 50.  

[6] Barnard, “This Great Triumvirate of Patriots,81.

[7] Young, “Barnet Hodes’s Quest,” 51.

[8] George Washington, “From George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, 18 August 1790,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed November 1, 2020,

[9] Neil Gale, “The History of the Heald Square Monument at Wacker Drive and Wabash Avenue in Chicago, Illinois,” Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal, The Living History of Illinois and Chicago Community, last modified January 7, 2018,

[10] Barnard, “This Great Triumvirate of Patriots,95.

[11] “Updated Robert Morris,” The Founders & Slavery: Contradictions of Liberty: Created by Students from Marywood University’s HIST 399: Slavery and Abolition in the Atlantic World, last modified April 19, 2015,,who%20worked%20as%20household%20servants.

[12] Gale, “The History of the Heald Square Monument.”

[13] CWBChicago (@CWBChicago), “The Heald Square Monument—George Washington and the two principal financiers of the American Revolution,” Twitter photo, May 31, 2020,

[14] G Picks (@picks996), “There was some good people cleaning this off yesterday, here is a picture,” Twitter photo, June 1, 2020,


Barnard, Harry. “This Great Triumvirate of Patriots”: The Inspiring Story Behind Lorado Taft’s Chicago Monument to George Washington, Robert Morris, and Haym Salomon. Chicago: Follett Publishing Company, 1971.

Gale, Neil.“The History of the Heald Square Monument at Wacker Drive and Wabash Avenue in Chicago, Illinois.” Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal. The Living History of Illinois and Chicago Community. Last modified January 7, 2018.

Rossfishman123. Bronze plaque showing Lorado Taft’s seated Statue of Liberty. Atlas Obscura. Accessed November 1, 2020.

“Updated Robert Morris.” The Founders & Slavery: Contradictions of Liberty: Created by Students from Marywood University’s HIST 399: Slavery and Abolition in the Atlantic World. Last modified April 19, 2015.,who%20worked%20as%20household%20servants.

Washington, George. “From George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, 18 August 1790.” Founders Online, National Archives. Accessed November 1, 2020.

Young, Christopher J. “Barnet Hodes’s Quest to Remember Haym Salomon, the Almost-Forgotten Jewish Patriot of the American Revolution.” The American Jewish Archives Journal 63, no. 2 (2011): 43-62.

Daphne Garden: Confined into a Spirit Tree

Monuments are a showcase to commemorate anyone who has had a direct impact on history. They allow us to continue to remember what they have achieved or what they want us to learn and imbibe in our life. Moreover, monuments can teach us lessons of history’s past and apply in the present and future. Thus, monuments continue to hold significance. As observers, monuments allow us to become more aware of the progress communities have made towards changing their views. Monuments also enable observers to do some introspection of their lives and realize what things hold more importance in our life.

The monument of Daphne Garden is currently in Chicago, Illinois. This monument was part of the Art in the Gardens temporary exhibit in 2004, as seen in Figure 1. At first, the monument’s location was at East Roosevelt Road and South Michigan Avenue. Many visitors and native Chicagoans loved the monument, so the Chicago Park District decided to permanently install it at the Northerly Island Visitor’s Center in 2006. [1]

Figure 1. Photograph of Daphne’s monument on Northerly Island in Chicago, Illinois.

Dessa Kirk created Daphne’s monument. Initially, she hails from Alaska but came to Chicago to attend the School of Art Institute. [2] Kirk aimed to show how Daphne’s myths explored the theme of exploitation among women and discuss different themes and emotions after learning the various myths about Daphne’s story. Kirk had been given the opportunity to create an artwork for The Union League Club of Chicago. In the past Kirk had created similar artwork related to female figures such as Magdalene in Grant Park. [3]

Anyone who has an interest in ancient Greece can associate Daphne as a part of Greek mythology. She was worshipped by many in ancient Greece during 1600 B.C.E. There are several different versions of Daphne’s myth. The Thessalian myth claims Daphne to be a Greek dryad or a tree sprite. She is the daughter of Penus, the river god. Her mother’s name is unknown. One day Apollo, the God of hunting, mocked Eros the God of Love for his lack of archery skills. Eros, enraged with anger, shot an arrow at Apollo, who became filled with an uncontrolled amount of lust for Daphne. Eros also shot an arrow at Daphne, which made her reject all romantic gestures. Daphne continued to run away from Apollo, as seen in Figure 2. She came to see her father, who helped her escape from Apollo. Daphne right there had escaped by turning into a laurel tree. [4]

The second version of Daphne’s myth is that she is the daughter of Ladon by Earth. As stated in the first version similarly, Apollo continued to make advances towards Daphne. However, she continued to resist his advances. Daphne came to her mother, Ge, who then turned her into a bay tree. Both myths agree that Apollo kept the tree close to him. [5]

Figure 2. Apollo chasing after Daphne.

The third version of Daphne’s myth is similar to the previous myths. In this version, Leucippus, the son of Oenomaüs, is the King of Pisa. He was in love with Daphne and took the disguise of a maiden to stay close with her. Both would go hunting together. Apollo, overcome with jealousy, had Leucippus killed by nymphs. To escape from Apollo, her father transformed Daphne into a laurel tree, as seen in Figure 3. Even though having several different versions of Daphne’s myth, all agree that Daphne had turned into a tree. [6]

Figure 3. Apollo and Daphne right before she transforms into a laurel tree.

Daphne’s monument represents many emotions that can easily be applied today with women being exploited, especially with the MeToo Movement. Looking closely at Apollo, one can describe him as Daphne’s stalker and unable to stop his sexual desires for Daphne. However, Daphne does not want to give in to his desires and wants to hold onto her virginity and retain her chastity like many women in today’s’ culture. Another emotion that can be showcased is the feeling of being protected by our parents. Daphne’s father helped her transform into a laurel tree; thus, Daphne could remain chaste and escape Apollo. Being chaste is another theme that observers can look at in her story—Apollo’s lust for Daphne versus her desire to remain chaste. Women from different cultures hold this notion of being chaste very close to them, thus believing to be pure.

Through Daphne’s monuments and stories, many can relate to today in how everyday women continue to face exploitation, whether in their personal or professional lives. Daphne’s story is here to remind women that they are not alone in their difficult challenges. Just as Daphne went to her parents for help, women have a support system around them to help in any situation. It also reminds women that they are not alone, and they can overcome any obstacle in their way. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that many women do not feel protective in their personal and professional life. That is a notion that has to be changed.

Daphne’s monument hopes and continues to inspire societies to change their notions about women. Communities should not look at women like objects and prizes. Many communities should give women respect for their ability to handle any situation at any given time. Daphne’s monument hopes to empower women and let them take control of their lives and should not have to change their lives according to others.

Even though Daphne’s’ monument has no relation to Chicago, it can showcase how this monument can allow women to be more open and control what goes on in their lives. While there are different versions of Daphne’s myths in three different ways, all can agree she ultimately transformed into a tree and became a part of nature to get away from Apollo. Daphne’s monument represents how women can take control of their life in today’s time and should not have to feel alone. Another way Daphne’s monuments empower women is through challenging traditional notions of women. Just as Daphne went to her mother for help, women can always go to their mother.

Janki Patel, Loyola University Chicago


[1] Chicago Park District. “Daphne Garden.” Chicago Park District. Accessed November 12, 2020.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] “Daphne.” Brooklyn Museum: Daphne. Accessed November 12, 2020.

[5] Martin, H. M. “The Apollo and Daphne Myth as Treated by Lope De Vega and

Calderon.” Hispanic Review 1, no. 2 (1933): 149-60. Accessed November 13, 2020.

[6] Martin, The Apollo, 157.

Citation of photographs in order:

“Apollo and Daphne: City of Fremont Official Website.” Accessed November 17, 2020.

“Apollo Chasing Daphne Who Throws Her Arms up, in the Background at Right Shows the

Moment She Turns in a Laurel, from The Story of Apollo and Daphne.”

Accessed November 17, 2020.

Chicago Park District. “Daphne Garden.” Chicago Park District. Accessed November 12, 2020.

Celebrating One Hundred Years of Oral Care

Editor’s note: This post is part of a series of essays written by students of the Fall 2018 Public History course and based on research at Loyola’s University Archives and Special Collections.

Forty-five years ago, Loyola University Chicago was celebrating a different anniversary: the Centennial Celebration of the Loyola University School of Dentistry-College of Dental Surgery. The school marked the occasion through several activities, events, and seminars. The events and programs highlighted the spirit of the occasion and showcased the school’s talents, camaraderie, and achievements.

The Loyola University Chicago School of Dentistry-College of Dental Surgery was founded in 1883 as the Chicago Dental Infirmary. The Chicago Dental Infirmary was the first dental school in Chicago and eventually became the largest dental school in the world. [1] The first dean of the Chicago Dental Infirmary was Truman W. Brophy who served from 1883 to 1920. In the beginning, the school was only open to those who held medical degrees. The course was designed as twenty weeks long and to be completed directly after medical school. The medical school requirement, however, resulted in small class sizes and only two graduates at the end of the second course year. This prompted Dean Brophy and the school’s board to create the Chicago College of Dental Surgery which removed the prerequisite of a medical degree while also teaching medical courses. [2] During its first three decades, the school existed as a stand-alone institution as well as associated with numerous universities. In 1923, the school affiliated with Loyola University. [3]

Figure 1: First Classes were held in this building on Adams Street.

The school moved locations three different times during its first six years before landing at the intersection of Wood and Harrison Streets on the West Side of Chicago in 1893. The building went through numerous renovations as increasing class sizes called for larger facilities. Building changes, however, were not the only changes happening at the dental school. By 1935, the course had become four years long with sixty credit hours or two years of undergraduate education completed. [4]

Figure 2: Wood and Harrison Street location

The dental school remained at the Harrison Street location until a new facility was built in 1969 at Loyola’s Maywood Medical Campus. [5] By this point the school had undergone major changes, especially under the direction of Dean William Schoen. Dr. Schoen was a graduate of the Loyola School of Dentistry in 1929 and became dean in 1957. During his tenure, the school increased postgraduate and orthodontic courses, celebrated its Diamond Jubilee, moved to an expansive new location, and developed closed circuit television to teach courses. [6]

Figure 3: New Dental School location in Maywood, IL

During the 1970s the school further improved their Dental Hygienist and Dental Assistant degree programs. [7] The development of these programs also coincided with an increase in female students both as dental hygienists and as holders of Doctor of Dental Surgery (DDS) degrees. By 1983 the school had become the largest in the state and enrolled on average five hundred students a year. [8] The Loyola University School of Dentistry-College of Dental Surgery opened its Centennial Celebration with a Centennial Convocation on January 23, 1983. The Centennial also marked the ten-thousandth graduate of the dental school. [9] There proved to be much to celebrate and Loyola University did so in a multitude of ways.

 The dental school received well-wishes from various dignitaries and prominent figures, including then President Ronald Reagan. He congratulated “the faculty, alumni, and students of the oldest dental school in Illinois on their efforts to bring excellent dental care to the community they serve.” [10] The many words of praise and congratulations highlighted the school’s accomplishments throughout its history. During the course of the year, the school celebrated by hosting seminars, masses an alumni travel seminar, and a homecoming banquet.

Figure 4: Centennial Travel Seminar Brochure.

The school’s numerous seminars started in January and ended in November. Some topics included “Orthodontics for the General Practioner,” “Crown and Bridge,” and “New Products and Foreign Dentistry.” [11] If you could afford it, the school also offered an alumni Continuing Education Seminar in Hawaii. The seminar was held for a week with varying program levels to tailor to your needs and costs. One could, for example, spend a week on Honolulu or split the week between Honolulu and Kona or Maui. Over the course of the week, five days were devoted to seminars on various topics, the seminars only lasted six hours so one would have plenty of time to explore the other activities of the islands while reuniting with former classmates. The travel seminar was also timed to commence right after the annual American Dental Association convention taking place in Los Angeles so many of the programs included a stopover from one’s hometown in Los Angeles to attend the convention as well. [12] The travel seminar offered alumni a chance to get together, celebrate the Centennial, and continue their education with seminar courses.

If you received an invitation to the Centennial Homecoming Banquet you would have received the invite above, cordially inviting you to join the school in the Grand Ballroom of the Conrad Hilton Hotel on April 20, 1983 for an evening of cocktails, dinner, honorees recognition, and award presentations. [13] Also included in your invite letter would be an RSVP card and a notice of a block of hotel rooms at the Conrad Hilton Hotel reserved for the evening. A single room cost fifty dollars a night and a double room cost sixty dollars. [14] Many other invitations were sent for the school’s various programming and events throughout the year.

Figure 5: You’re invited! Invitation to Loyola School of Dentistry Centennial Homecoming Banquet.

On April 10, 1983, you would have had the chance to participate in a Mass of Thanksgiving to commemorate the Centennial. The mass was celebrated by the University President, Reverend Raymond C. Baumhart, S.J. The Prayer of the Faithful was conducted by the dental school’s own Dean, Dr. Raffaele Suriano. Various other members of the faculty, staff, alumni, and students of the dental school and University participated in the mass. [15] The Mass of Thanksgiving became another chance for current students, alumni, and faculty to celebrate the school’s anniversary.

The dental school celebrated its one-hundredth birthday in 1983 and Loyola University will be celebrating its sesquicentennial in 2020. However, the dental school will not be part of the celebrations. The dental school closed its doors in 1993. Loyola’s dental school was not the only dental school to close at the end of the 20th century. At the time of its closure, five other private dental schools had recently closed, leaving only fifty-five dental schools across the nation. [16] In 2001, Illinois’ only other private dental school at Northwestern University, closed its doors. Many schools cited increasing costs and decreasing enrollments as needs for closure. [17] Even as the doors remain shuttered 25 years later, the Loyola Dental School’s legacy of preeminent dental care continues to keep the school alive for many today.

The Loyola University School of Dentistry-College of Dental Surgery saw many changes over its history. The school grew from a small, two graduate course to the largest dental school in Illinois. Ever expanding, both in size and location, the school continued to transform itself to meet the time’s needs in dental care. The celebration of these improvements and history crowned with the school’s Centennial Celebration in 1983. The school hosted events for students, faculty, and alumni including: seminars, masses, a massive homecoming banquet as well as outings and a travel seminar to Hawaii. The dental school made large strides in dental education, care, and service which called for a year’s worth of celebrating that legacy. The school’s thousands of graduates are a testament to that legacy.

-Alicia Zeimet

Loyola University’s Unusual Students: Italian POWs and Loyola University

Editor’s note: This post is part of a series of essays written by students of the Fall 2018 Public History course and based on research at Loyola’s University Archives and Special Collections. Check back over the next four weeks for new stories.

The Jesuit mission is to “to work for reconciliation every day — with God, with human beings and with the environment” [1]. As a Jesuit institution, Loyola University has used this statement as its guiding ideal in education and service. During World War II the world needed reconciliation more than ever before and Loyola University was compelled to extend its humanitarian mission of education to individuals who were otherwise considered enemies: prisoners of war.

Figure 1: Portrait of Marie Sheahan, head of the Home Studies Division and correspondent to Father Ferreri. (Photo Credit: “Mary Sheahan”, One Hundred Years of Knowledge in the Service of Man:  Loyola University of Chicago, 1870 – 1970”, Box 1, Folder 3, Correspondence Study Division, Loyola University Archives, Loyola University Chicago.)

From 1922 to 1985 Loyola University maintained a Home Study Division (later renamed the Correspondence Study Division), which allowed students who could not reach the campus to take courses in a variety of subjects [2]. Like others of its kind, this program was popular among students who were housewives, who lived in the countryside, and who had to work full-time. Loyola University’s division was unique as it was the only Catholic university that cooperated with the United States Armed Forces Institute (USAFI), which provided high school and college education to American service members [3]. In addition to providing correspondence courses to Americans serving in the armed forces, Loyola University partnered with Father Achilles F. Fererri (Captain, AUS) to offer courses to Italian prisoners of war.  The USAFI only covered American service members, so this decision went above and beyond Loyola’s contractual obligations.

Father Fererri was the chaplain at Camp Hereford, a prisoner of war camp in Hereford, Texas [4]. The prison held five thousand Italian prisoners of war who were captured in North Africa [5]. Out of these five thousand prisoners, fifty-four enrolled in correspondence courses through Loyola University [6]. English courses were by far the most popular with twenty-two imprisoned students enrolling in those courses. Spanish and French language courses were also popular with eleven and four students each.  Six soldiers enrolled in Sociology courses, five in law, four in Economics, and three in both Biology and Education. Psychology, Philosophy, Geology, and Latin each had only one student enrolled [7]. The Loyola University Archives does not have any record of what grades these students received.  Although the Correspondence Division kept records of all the enrollment fees and book purchases, all coursework was sent directly from the students to the professors [8]. Despite this lack of record, it is likely that these imprisoned soldiers worked diligently on their assignments.  After all, there was precious little entertainment available in prisoner of war camps.

Figure 2: Camp Hereford prisoners with priests, standing outside St. Mary’s church. (Photo Credit: St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Umbarger, TX. Accessed December 11, 2018,

Fifty-four students are a small percentage of five thousand inmates, but there were several factors that likely limited who among the prisoners at Hereford could take classes. First, such courses necessitated a certain level of language skills and education. Soldiers who were barely literate or who had left school at a young age would not have been able to take college classes. The second, and arguably more important limitation, was money.  Like any other students, these soldiers had to pay course fees and buy books and only a few could afford to do so.

Loyola University initially offered a half-rate discount only to prisoners of war who were not commissioned officers. In a 1944 letter to Marie Sheahan, the head of the Home Study Division, Father Ferreri explained that the commissioned offers were not paid as well as U.S. officers. Most of the officers interred at Hereford were first or second Lieutenants and received only twenty dollars per month to cover all the needs not provided by the prison. He also mentioned that Loyola’s neighbor, DePaul University of Chicago, offered a flat rate of $10.00 per course to prisoners of war regardless of rank [9]. While DePaul University also cooperated with the military for the benefit of foreign prisoners of war, DePaul was not a participating university in the United States Armed Forces Institute. Father Ferreri had originally believed that the discount rate applied to all of the students he oversaw and hoped that he could reach a similar bargain with Loyola so as not to disappoint his charges. Just over a week later Miss Sheahan replied that Loyola had not realized how small a salary the commissioned officers received and gladly extended the half-rate discount to all the students at Camp Hereford [10].

Figures 3 and 4: Left: Interior of St. Mary’s church prior to decoration by Italian POWs.  Exact date unknown. Right: Sanctuary of St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Umbarger, Texas.  Interior decoration by Camp Hereford POWs and Loyola students.   (Photo Credit: St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Umbarger, TX. Accessed December 11, 2018,

Readers who are interested in World War II may have heard of Father Fererri and these Italian prisoners before as they were the subject of Donald Williams’ book Italian POWs and a Texas Church: The Murals of St. Mary’s. When food was scarce in Camp Hereford in 1945, Father Fererri found ways for the prisoners to use their artistic skills to work for food [11]. In the most remarkable of these activities Father Fererri and his friend the Reverend Krukkert arranged for talented artists among the inmates, mainly painters and carvers, as well as a few unskilled help-meets to decorate the interior of Krukkert’s St. Mary’s Church in nearby Umbarger, Texas [12]. Many of these same prisoners constructed used their skills in carving and painting to build a chapel that marks the graves of the five prisoners who died in the camp during their interment. 

Today the chapel is overseen by the Castro County Historical Commission and St. Mary’s Church likewise preserves the art of these imprisoned artists. In 1988, a group of the former prisoners returned for the chapel’s restoration ceremony. Only Mario De Dominicis’ name appears in both the student roster and Williams’ book, but this reunion leaves one to wonder how many uncredited Loyola students also worked on the chapel and St. Mary’s Church [13]. By working with the Armed Forces Institute, Loyola University uniquely contributed to the education of American service members as the only Catholic university to offer classes through the USAFI. By going the extra mile and offering classes to foreign prisoners of war who were not covered by the USAFI Loyola University fulfilled its Jesuit mission of reconciliation.

-Emily-Paige Taylor

Hidden History: Gay Students at Loyola

Editor’s note: This post is part of a series of essays written by students of the Fall 2018 Public History course and based on research at Loyola’s University Archives and Special Collections. Check back over the next five weeks for new stories.

In 1991, a new organization appeared on Loyola University’s Lake Shore campus. The Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Alliance (GLBA), organized by students and sponsored by the Classics Department, was the first official club on any of Loyola’s campuses centered around LGBTQ issues [1]. Before GLBA, gay students received little official attention from the university and lesbian, bisexual, and trans students seemed all but invisible. However, Loyola’s weekly student-run newspaper, the Loyola Phoenix, tells a different story. Gay students were not only present at Loyola before the 1990s but had been forming their own societies and participating in campus-wide debates around sexuality for decades.

Figure 1: The first student directory to list an LGBTQ organization at Loyola. Courtesy of Loyola University Archives and Special Collections [2].

The 1970s were turbulent but exciting years for Loyola University. The pages of the Phoenix show students debating the Vietnam War, going on strike after the Kent State shootings, and campaigning for better representation in the curriculum. Of course, Loyolans were not alone in grappling with difficult social issues. Colleges and universities across the nation were dealing with similar cultural shifts among their students. At a Catholic university, however, topics about sexuality were especially controversial and potentially divisive. The Phoenix rarely mentions homosexuality during the early 1970s, while articles about women’s liberation, racism, and the Vietnam War appear in every issue.

Signs point to the existence of a small, yet active, gay student population long before the creation of GLBA. Advertisements for gay men’s social events held at other Chicago universities, especially Northwestern University and the University of Illinois Chicago, appeared with some regularity on the Phoenix’s “Happenings” page [3]. In 1972, Loyola’s Student Activities Board hosted its first LGBTQ event, though it did so in Evanston instead of on of Loyola’s campuses [4].  There were apparently enough interested students at Loyola to justify advertising other universities’ gay-friendly events and occasional Loyola-sponsored ones. Less frequently, the Phoenix advertised explicitly political events, such as a “Teach-Out” on sexual stereotyping that included Loyola psychology professor Dr. Naomi Weinstein [5].

Figure 2: Gay event at Northwestern, 1970. Courtesy of Loyola University Archives and Special Collections [6].
Figure 3: Loyola-sponsored gay event, 1972. Courtesy of Loyola University Archives and Special Collections [7].

There is also evidence that gay students organized unofficially in the absence of a university-sanctioned club. Two advertisements in October 1970 announced a “Gay Get-Together” for both Loyola faculty and students [8]. Five years later, a posting for a new gay students’ organization “not affiliated with any other group” appeared [9].

Figure 4: Ad for “Gay Get-Together” listing only a phone number. Courtesy of Loyola University Archives and Special Collections [12].

Even as organizations advertised their presence, privacy was a major concern. The Gay Get-Together organizers listed a phone number and the instruction, “Call for time and place,” instead of posting an address or meeting time [10]. GLBA included a statement about privacy protection in the description of their club as late as 1994 [11]. Gradually, however, Loyola students began to publicly come out. One who wrote to the Phoenix in support of a Gay Jeans Day (an event where gay students came out or showed their pride by wearing denim to class) in 1977 was the first to declare his sexuality through the student paper [13].

Then, during the fall semester of 1978, the topic of gay students at Loyola exploded on the pages of the Phoenix. Students and faculty debated two issues: Loyola’s reputation and the nature of homosexuality. The first controversy began in September, when philosophy professor Richard J. Westley reported hearing over summer break that Loyola was known as a “hot-bed of homosexuality” [14]. Curious where this idea originated, Westley asked students their opinion. They responded with a variety of views, ranging from outrage that Westley mentioned the topic to irritation over his less-than-positive view towards homosexuality. One anonymous gay student asserted that gay activity at Loyola was “less than mild” [15]. Another student claimed that the real issue was not homosexuality at Loyola, but premarital sex, sparking another round of debate [16].

Figure 5: Dr. Westley’s article to the Phoenix in 1978. Courtesy of the Loyola University Archives and Special Collections [17].

The subject of homosexuality appeared again in November after sociology professor Edward Levine went on the radio claiming that homosexuality was a mental illness. This time, the controversy stayed between faculty. Northwestern University professor Paul Siegel responded to the broadcast in the Phoenix with an impassioned counterargument [18]. A week later, Levine answered Siegel with a defense of his position [19]. Finally, two more Loyola professors offered their own critiques of Levine’s argument [20]. The issue appeared to die off after winter break, never reappearing during the 1978-1979 academic year. Still, the fall semester Phoenix articles reflected the real and sometimes heated conversations occurring at the Lakeshore campus. Clearly, gay students and gay rights were becoming much more visible than they had been in 1970.

As an urban Catholic school, its response to its gay students was unique, but Loyola was far from the only university adapting to changing attitudes during the 1970s. In the aftermath of the Stonewall Riots, gay students across the country grew increasingly vocal and organized, but as late as the 1990s most college campuses had yet to form official LGBTQ groups like Loyola’s GLBA [21]. In the 1970s, Loyola was neither especially inclusive nor repressive towards its gay students. It was similar to its neighbor, the women’s and Catholic Mundelein College, where lesbian relationships were tolerated, though not celebrated [22]. Additionally, while Loyola apparently held fewer gay-friendly events than Northwestern and UIC, there is no evidence in the Phoenix of gay students being targets of violence as they were at some other schools [23].

Figure 6: Q-Initiatives logo [25].

Gay Loyolans found ways to meet each other and advocate for themselves decades before there were official LGBTQ student groups. Their efforts laid the foundations for groups like GLBA in the 1990s and QTPoC and Advocate today. Loyola itself has changed in the decades since the first university-sponsored gay event in 1972, now hosting regular events from safe space workshops to LGBTQ film showings [24]. These events are no longer aimed only at gay men but include the whole of the LGBTQ spectrum. Though privacy remains an issue for some, support and resources are now available on the university website. Loyola’s LGBTQ students are no longer hidden or invisible. Instead they are out and involved in the Loyola community.

-Hannah Overstreet

Lecturing on the Big Screen: Closed-Circuit Television at the Loyola School of Dentistry

Editor’s note: This post is part of a series of essays written by students of the Fall 2018 Public History course and based on research at Loyola’s University Archives and Special Collections. Check back over the next six weeks for new stories.

Over the course of nearly a century, students sought out dental education in the United States in high demand. Dental schools popped up all across the country from the late-nineteenth century and into the mid-twentieth century, becoming well-rated, and drawing in an international pool of students. Some schools, especially in the late-nineteenth century, even required medical degrees upon admission. Even among hundreds of dental schools, some emerged as the best and most respected. One of these top-tier dental schools was the Loyola School of Dentistry. It all started in 1883, when Truman W. Brophy established the Chicago Dental Infirmary on 22 West Adams Street. Renamed the Chicago College of Dental Surgery (CCDS) with a new charter in 1888, the college grew quickly in size and reputation. Over its first 5 years, CCDS moved into new buildings a total of four times to accommodate the growing student population and dental technology needs. By 1893, the school found its longtime home at 1757 West Harrison Street [1].

Figure 1: Photograph of the Chicago College of Dental Surgery at 1757 W Harrison [2].

From its inception, CCDS pioneered the field of dental education and attracted students from across the globe. As early as 1890, school officials noted student enrollment from countries such as Canada, Germany, and Peru [3]. The school was the first to integrate the educational use of apparatuses for cultivating bacteria, and boasted a graduate, who later became Dean of Faculty, who was responsible for reorganizing the Dental Corps of the United States Army [4]. Though these innovations came within the school’s first forty years, CCDS continued to raise the standards of dental education. In 1923, the Chicago College of Dental Surgery affiliated with Loyola University Chicago. Under the university’s charter, and a newly formed Department of Dental Research, faculty members contributed to dental literature at an unprecedented pace. It was in 1954, however, that the Chicago College of Dental Surgery took one of its largest strides in pioneering dental education—It became the first dental school in the United States to own a permanent closed-circuit television system for clinical lectures [5].

Beginning in 1951, Loyola University reserved local channel 11 for the first round of TV programming coming from the university. Broadcasts included university updates, music programs, and Rev. Francis Filas, S.J.’s yearly Christmas special [6]. TV broadcasting from the university turned out to be a successful investment for Loyola. From the initial incorporation of university public broadcasting, departments of the university implemented the use of television for their own needs. The dental school was no exception.

As the student population at CCDS grew, so did the needs of faculty members to properly instruct clinical practices. Dental students typically crowded around one dental chair in order to observe the techniques of their professors. This manner of observation could only serve three to four students at one time, and the rest of the class would miss first-hand instruction on dental care. One way that CCDS attempted to alleviate the issue was by establishing a Department of Visual Education in 1950, where photographic slides were made available for classroom use [7]. Four years later, the alumni publication of CCDS, The Bur, reported a recent purchase by the department of a closed-circuit television [8]. The purchase reflected the broader effort by Loyola to implement educational material on broadcast television.

Figure 2: A pamphlet advertises closed-circuit television at the dental school [9].

Shortly after the Chicago College of Dental Surgery purchased the closed-circuit television equipment, the school presented its new clinical lecture method at the Chicago Dental Society Midwinter Meeting in February of 1954. The poster and table presentation, titled “Teaching Dentistry with TV,” displayed the advantages of the closed-circuit TV method. On the left side of the board, a picture showing students crowding around a dental chair to observe their professor is pinned with the caption “Few Really See.” On the right side of the board, presenters pinned a photo of current dental students watching a lecture with the TV projections. The caption under this photograph reads “Vision Unlimited.” Clearly, the dental school envisioned a bright future for its students upon adopting a new lecture style. The Bur also took a positive approach to the method. In the 1954 issue of the bulletin, editors praised the Visual Department’s new purchase:

In recent months this department has been highlighted with purchase of its own closed circuit television system. This means that the faculty at the dental school, through its own department of visual education, can televise any demonstration, technic or clinical procedure from anywhere in the dental school building, to any other part of the school. For example, it will be possible to televise an oral surgery procedure from the surgery to the amphitheatre, where it will be possible for 100 students to see what is being done instead of the usual one or two. The use will not be limited only to clinical demonstration, but will have a place also in laboratory demonstrations, such as setting up of teeth or even an anatomical [dissection]. [10]

Figure 3: The dental school’s presentation at the Chicago Dental Society meeting [11].

Within the first eight months of incorporated closed-circuit lecturing in the dental school curriculum, students and alumni already expressed positive interest in the new format. The Bur reported, “The days of a few students viewing an operation is past. Now the entire class has a front seat” [12]. Closed-circuit television opened avenues for the dental school. Students were no longer limited to a faraway view of their professors’ hands, nor did they need to rely on notes from classmates who had a closer look at clinical techniques. Displaying the professor’s work on televisions inside an amphitheater meant that more students could view the lecture at once; in effect, the dental school could accept more students into the program with the new method. Implementing closed-circuit television also decreased the amount of time professors spent on each lecture, since they could easily move from one technique to another without worrying about students’ poor vantage points.

Figure 4: Students watch their instructor on the screens at the front of the classroom [13].
Figure 5: A technician holds a camera for the procedure to be broadcast to a classroom [14].

Even after the incorporation of closed-circuit television for lecture halls, CCDS remained committed to innovative teaching methods and spaces. By the late 1960s, Loyola’s dental school was the only school in Illinois to teach the “four-handed, sit-down” method [15]. The method utilizes the help of dental assistants alongside the dental practitioner for more efficient dental hygiene appointments, and is still incorporated in dental assistant programs today. Additionally, a new dental school building was completed on the Maywood medical campus in 1969 to accommodate more students, lab space, and technology. During the centennial celebration of Loyola University in 1970, a commemorative booklet noted that fifty-one percent of Chicagoland dentists were graduates of CCDS [16]. Loyola’s dental school retained its strong reputation as one of the state’s largest dental schools until decreasing enrollment and high maintenance costs led to its closing in 1993. Although Loyola no longer has a formal college of dentistry, the former school’s Maywood building has been renamed the Maguire Center, and houses the medical campus’ Oral Health Center [17].

-Bianca Bárcenas