Carl Sandburg’s Chicago

The poet Carl Sandburg (1878-1967) loved and defended Chicago, his adopted home. Sandburg described his poem Chicago as a chant of defiance, a praise of agriculture, industry, and the railroads for which Chicago was an important hub, during a time when the city was the nation’s industrial capital. Today, the poem still resonates, particularly for me as a first-time visitor.

Chicago is big. It is bustling. Like New York, it is what I always imagined a great city should be. Yes, as Sandburg acknowledged, Chicago has its flaws, of which its notorious homicide rate (more than 800 victims in 2021) stands out. But the Chicago I’ve seen during my stay here is vibrant, diverse, exciting, historic, and exhilarating. It has an embarrassment of cultural riches, fantastic parks, strong universities, and unparalleled architecture. And the Chicagoans I’ve encountered are truly genuine and friendly. The city I was born and raised in—Vancouver, Canada—is cosmopolitan and beautiful, but it seems downright sleepy and pint-sized by comparison. Chicago may be the Second City, but it most definitely is not second rate. Chicago is world-class, full stop. 

Chicago
By Carl Sandburg (1914) 
        

        Hog Butcher for the World,

        Tool maker, Stacker of Wheat,
        Player with Railroads and the Nation's
             Freight Handler;
        Stormy, husky, brawling,
        City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft 

cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
            Bareheaded,
            Shoveling,
            Wrecking,
            Planning,
            Building, breaking, rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people,
            Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.