The Des Plaines River

I get excited when I talk about Lemont’s waterways, because they are so important not only to the growth of Chicago, but to westward expansion across the entire continent. The only place all these important waterways come together is Lemont.

Today’s article is about the Des Plaines River, which was created some 13,000 years ago when a break in the Valparaiso glacial moraine channeled glacial melt waters from ancient Lake Chicago (later a smaller Lake Michigan) and formed the Des Plaines River Valley.

This was important because thousands of years later when men traveled the wilderness of Illinois, the river provided a route that connected the Great Lakes to the Illinois River, and from there into the Mississippi River.

Long before men built canals to improve the transportation route, there was the Des Plaines River, running through the Des Plaines River Valley, and creating bluffs that are unique to the Chicago area, as well as the only canyon in Cook County, Sagawau Canyon off Route 83 near Route 171. Native Americans made their villages along the river, notably the Potawatomi, the predominant tribe when the first white men came to the area.

Potawatomi and other Native American tribes depended on rivers not only for food and water, but as the primary way of getting quickly from one place to another, by canoe. Although Indian trails existed, these were not as convenient nor as fast as rivers and streams. The Des Plaines River was heavily traveled, as it connected south and west to the Illinois River, flowing into the Mississippi and to the Gulf of Mexico, and north and east it connected, after only a short portage (short land area between two waterways) to the Chicago River, then to Lake Michigan, to the Saint Lawrence River, and the Atlantic Ocean.

This was not a perfect system. The Des Plaines River was greatly affected by seasonal, climatic, and weather changes. In the spring or during heavy rains, the river rose up to twenty feet, flooded its banks and became a raging torrent that was difficult to navigate. In the summer it dried up to the point that it became unnavigable swampland, full of mosquitoes and disease. In the winter it froze with treacherous mushy spots, making it unfit for either canoe or foot travel. Despite that, the natives learned the moods of the river and how to profit from them.

When Father Marquette explored this area in 1674, he is said to have stayed at or near what is today Saint James at Sag Bridge Catholic Church, off Route 171 near Route 83. Can you picture him, standing on a bluff overlooking both the Des Plaines River Valley and the Sag Valley, having been shown by local Indians the portage between the Chicago River and the Des Plaines, and conceiving of an idea to build a canal to create a water route from the Atlantic Ocean to the Gulf of Mexico?

Father Marquette’s idea refused to die, but it was not until 1822 that the federal government finally set aside land for the creation of the Illinois and Michigan Canal, which would link the Mississippi River to Lake Michigan, and not until 1836 that sufficient funds were found to break ground. Lemont would become a major player in its construction.

Native Americans called the Des Plaines River She-shick-ma-wish-sip-pe, or “soft maple tree river.” I for one am glad that name didn’t stick. Most of the earliest non-native explorers spoke French, and historians propose the river was named after the plaine tree, a type of maple that lined the banks of the river. I would suggest another possibility, based on the experience of our old friend Father Marquette. I use the word “old” meaning that we are long familiar with him, not that he was aged, as he died just shy of his 38th birthday, on May 18, 1675, not long after the experience below.
 
Father Marquette well knew the river’s reputation for overflowing its banks, and in 1675 recorded this experience:

“On the 28th (March 28, 1675) the ice broke up, and stopped above us. On the 29th, the waters rose so high that we had barely time to decamp as fast as possible, putting our goods in the trees, and trying to sleep on a hillock. The water gained on us nearly all night, but there was a slight freeze, and the water fell a little, while we were near our packages. The barrier has just broken, the ice has drifted away; and, because the water is already rising, we are about to embark to continue our journey… (March 31). The very high lands alone are not flooded. At the place where we are, the water has risen more than twelve feet.”

A French word for “high water” is “plein”. I don’t know about you, but I like this story better than a “plaine” old maple tree, as it gives the river credit for its troublesome behavior. Take your pick.

Do any of you still remember the days before refrigeration was generally available and our kitchens depended on ice boxes? I lived on the south side of Chicago as a child, and I can remember when “the ice man cometh” for his weekly visit to the few homes that still needed ice. The children would flock around his truck begging for chunks of ice to nibble, and he usually obliged. I had no clue then where the ice came from, but I bet you know what I’m going to say – yep, it was local rivers, and perhaps most abundantly from the Des Plaines, particularly a few miles upstream from Lemont near Willow Springs. Huge blocks were cut from the frozen river, weighing about eighty pounds, layered with straw and stored in warehouses near the river banks until needed in summer months. The river may have been cleaner in those days, but I still wonder how we survived nibbling on those chunks of ice.

So excited about the lovely professional reviews I’ve been receiving for The Miracle at Assisi Hill!  Here’s a review received from Midwest Review, by Senior Reviewer D. Donovan 
 
Pat Camalliere’s special brand of investigation of psychological and mystery matters is simply delightful, between its focus on Cora’s life and ongoing spiritual questions and the dilemmas faced by a woman destined to become a saint.

Between the health conundrums Cora faces with her husband Cisco’s startling mental health decline in the face of physical illness to subplots of ghost lore, Native American history and tribal interests, and miracles that portend religious revelations, the story is much more than either a mystery or a Christian examination, but a multifaceted production that draws on various levels.

It’s rare to see a novel as accessible to a wide audience of readers as it is to genre mystery followers or fans of Christian fiction. Camalliere creates a memorable story that resonates on more than one level, offering a draw that invites religious introspection as well as moral and ethical examination.

Another important note to know about its creation: the Sister who is presently in charge of the canonization process for Mother Mary Theresa participated in the editing of this book to ensure its historical and Catholic authenticity.

The Miracle at Assisi Hill is thus highly recommended not just for libraries seeking genre mysteries that stand out, or for Christian collections seeking fiction that invites thought and discussion, but for general-interest readers who will find Cora’s dilemmas and revelations about life, death, and what lies between are both intriguing and thoroughly engrossing.