Honestly, it’s hard to wrap your head around what happened in Jackson Park back in 1893. We think of world's fairs today as these quaint, slightly outdated expos, but the World Columbian Exposition in Chicago was something else entirely. It was a massive, shimmering "White City" that literally changed how you eat, how you move, and how you see the world at night.
Chicago was a mess before this. Only 22 years prior, the city had basically burned to the ground. People in the East—especially in New York—laughed at the idea of a "cow town" hosting an international event of this scale. They called it the "Windy City" not because of the weather, but because they thought Chicago politicians were full of hot air. But Chicago won the bid, and what they built was a 600-acre marvel that drew 27 million visitors at a time when the total U.S. population was only about 65 million. Imagine half the country descending on one park.
The White City vs. The Midway Plaisance
The fair was basically two different worlds stitched together. You had the "White City," which was all about Neoclassical grandeur. Daniel Burnham, the lead architect, forced everyone to follow a strict Beaux-Arts style. It was all white plaster and massive columns. It looked like ancient Rome had been dropped into the Illinois marshland.
Then you had the Midway.
The Midway Plaisance was where things got weird and, frankly, where the real fun was. This was the birth of the modern amusement park. While the elite were inside the Machinery Hall looking at giant engines, everyone else was out on the Midway riding the world’s first Ferris Wheel. George Washington Gale Ferris Jr. built it specifically to "out-Eiffel" the Eiffel Tower from the 1889 Paris fair. It was huge. It carried 36 cars, and each car could hold 60 people. It wasn’t a ride; it was a structural miracle.
The Midway also gave us the "Street in Cairo" exhibit. This is where a dancer named Little Egypt supposedly introduced the "hootchy-kootchy" dance to shocked Victorian audiences. It was scandalous. It was commercial. It was the beginning of pop culture as we know it.
🔗 Read more: Why the Map of Colorado USA Is Way More Complicated Than a Simple Rectangle
Electricity and the War of the Currents
If you want to talk about drama, look at the lights. The World Columbian Exposition in Chicago was the first major fair to be powered by electricity. But it wasn't just any electricity. This was the final showdown between Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla.
Edison (backed by JP Morgan) wanted to use Direct Current (DC). Tesla and George Westinghouse wanted Alternating Current (AC). Westinghouse underbid Edison by a massive margin—nearly half a million dollars—and won the contract. When President Grover Cleveland pushed a button to open the fair, thousands of incandescent bulbs flickered to life. It was the first time most humans had ever seen a city lit up at night. It looked like magic. This single event effectively ended the "War of the Currents" and ensured that the AC power we use in our homes today became the global standard.
What You’re Still Eating Today
The food legacy of 1893 is honestly kind of hilarious because we still eat this stuff. You know Cracker Jack? That started here. A German immigrant named Frederick Rueckheim mixed popcorn, peanuts, and molasses and sold it to fairgoers.
What about Aunt Jemima pancake mix? Debuted here.
Pabst Blue Ribbon? It actually won a blue ribbon at this fair (hence the name).
Juicy Fruit gum? Introduced right there on the Midway.
Even the humble brownie has its roots in the World Columbian Exposition. Bertha Palmer, the socialite wife of the owner of the Palmer House Hotel, asked the pastry chef to create a dessert for women attending the fair. She wanted something that could fit in a lunch box but wasn't as messy as a slice of cake. The result was a dense, fudgy square that we now call a brownie.
💡 You might also like: Bryce Canyon National Park: What People Actually Get Wrong About the Hoodoos
The Dark Side of the Fair: H.H. Holmes
You can't talk about 1893 without mentioning the darkness. While millions were celebrating progress, a man named Dr. H.H. Holmes was finishing his "Murder Castle" just a few blocks away.
Erik Larson’s book The Devil in the White City made this story famous, but the reality is even grimmer than the fiction. Holmes used the influx of tourists—specifically young women coming to work at the fair—as his prey. He built a hotel with trap doors, gas chambers, and a basement crematorium. It’s a chilling contrast. On one hand, you had the peak of human achievement and architectural beauty; on the other, you had the birth of the American serial killer.
The Impact on Urban Planning
Daniel Burnham didn't just build a fair; he built a blueprint for American cities. The "City Beautiful" movement started here. Before 1893, American cities were mostly chaotic, dirty, and unplanned. The White City showed people that a city could have parks, wide boulevards, and cohesive architecture.
It’s why Washington D.C. looks the way it does today. The McMillan Plan, which shaped the National Mall, was a direct descendant of the designs seen at the fair. Even the "Emerald Necklace" in Boston and the lakefront of Chicago owe their existence to the ideas sparked during those six months in 1893.
Hidden Details Most People Miss
- The Pledge of Allegiance: It was written specifically for the dedication ceremonies of the fair by Francis Bellamy.
- The Braille Typewriter: Frank Haven Hall introduced the first practical Braille typewriter here, changing education for the blind forever.
- The Moving Sidewalk: Long before airports, the fair had a "great third rail" moving sidewalk that took people out onto the pier.
The scale was just... it was stupidly big. The Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building was the largest building in the world at the time. You could fit the entire U.S. Capitol building inside it with room to spare.
📖 Related: Getting to Burning Man: What You Actually Need to Know About the Journey
Why It Ended So Abruptly
The fair didn't end with a party. It ended with a funeral. Just two days before the closing ceremonies, a disgruntled office seeker named Patrick Eugene Prendergast assassinated the Mayor of Chicago, Carter Harrison Sr. The grand celebration was canceled, and the fair closed in mourning.
Shortly after, most of the buildings—which were never meant to be permanent—caught fire and burned down. They were made of "staff," a mixture of plaster of Paris and hemp fiber. It was beautiful, but it was essentially a movie set. Today, only one major structure remains in its original location: the Palace of Fine Arts, which is now the Museum of Science and Industry.
If you go to Chicago today and walk through the Wooded Isle or stand by the statue of "The Republic" in Jackson Park, you can still feel the ghost of the fair. It’s a reminder that for one summer, a soggy marsh became the center of the universe.
How to Experience the Legacy Today
If you’re interested in the history of the World Columbian Exposition in Chicago, don’t just read about it. You can actually see the remnants if you know where to look.
- Visit the Museum of Science and Industry: This is the only major building left standing from the fair. Stand in the grand rotunda and realize that this was just one of dozens of buildings that once lined the lagoons.
- The Wooded Island: Located in Jackson Park, this was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted (the guy who did Central Park). It remains one of the most peaceful spots in the city and still contains the Garden of the Phoenix, a gift from Japan during the 1893 fair.
- The Palmer House Hotel: Go to the hotel and order a brownie. They still use the original recipe created for the fair. It’s a literal taste of 1893 history.
- The Art Institute of Chicago: The two famous lions guarding the entrance were actually created for the World's Congress Auxiliary building during the exposition.
- Jackson Park's Statue of The Republic: There is a smaller-scale gold-leaf replica of the massive "Big Mary" statue that stood in the fair’s Court of Honor. It marks the spot where the original Administration Building once stood.
Taking these steps provides a tangible connection to an event that, while physically gone, still dictates the layout and culture of the modern American city.