- Robert Fergus City Directory for the Year 1855
Von Schneidau Polycarp Von, daguerrean rooms, 142 Lake street, h. North nr Wells
D. B. Cooke & Co.’s City Directory for the Year 1859
Schneidau Polikaryus, bds 252 N. La Salle
D. B. Cooke & Co.’s City Directory for the Year 1859
Ambrotypes, Daguerrotypes, Etc.
Brand E. L., 110 Lake
Cunningham R., 98 S. Dearborn
Fassett & Cook, 131 Lake, and 122 & 124 S. Clark. (See advt back of book)
Florence & Brigham, 142 Lake
Fruin G. W. & Co., 59 S. Clark
Grass Joseph A., 191 Lake
Green Frank, 94 S. Wabash
Hesler Alexander, 113 Lake
Johnson Newton G., 177 S. Clark cor. Monroe
Lillibridge Clark H. 77 Lake
Olsen Halvor, 16 N. Wells
Randon Joseph, 53 W. Randolph
Schneider George, 7 N. Clark and 110 N. Clark
Shaw William, Clark cor Monroe
Smith W. H., 224 State
Stoddard & Simond, 100 Washington
Sutterly J. K., 21 and 23 Clark
Taylor Mary A., Van Buren, sw cor S. Clark
Terrill Butler E., 75 Lake
Towle Samuel D. 32 W. Randolph
Treadwell Stephen B., 77 Lake
Warg Charles, ss Washington nr S. Clark
THE DAGUERROTYPE
Introduced in 1839 by a Frenchman, L. J. M. Daguerre, the Daguerreotype was a photographic process produced on a silver-coated copper plate that has a reflective mirror-like surface. The majority measure 2¼ by 3¾ inches, although some are larger or smaller. They were mounted in fancy box-like cases and frames and some were mounted in jewelry. Such pictures had to be preserved behind glass because they were extremely delicate and would disappear if touched or tarnish if exposed to air. They were popular from 1839 to the late 1850’s.1
- A daguerreotype studio was often situated at the very top of a building, which had a glass roof to let in as much light as possible. The subject either sat on a posing chair or clamped to a stand, and were placed on a raised platform, which could be rotated to face the light.
John Carl Frederik Polycarpus von Schneidau—1812-1859
Chicago Tribune, December 12, 1897
One of Chicago’s earliest calamities, the disastrous flood in the Chicago River on March 12, 1849, Which carried away every bridge and half the shipping in the river, doing a damage of over $100,000, is recalled by the discovery in an old vault of a woodcut made from a daguerreotype taken on the day of the flood by P. von Schneidau, Chicago’s first photographer.
The picture shows a scene of disaster at a point near where the Rush street bridge now stands, and presents a view of jumbled vessels, bridges, ice, and logs—all jammed together in one mass, the result of water and ice. The flood began its work of destruction south of Madison street and swept north in the South Branch to the main stream, and thence toward the lake to the old military garrison, where it was partly checked by its own work of wedging tightly together every object that joined in the whirling mass.
The picture really portrays only a small part of the damage done by the flood. Out in the lake dozens of craft, from canal boats to steam vessels, which were swept past the garrison before the jam occurred, sank or turned keel upward from the effects of the crushing received in the passage with the swift current.
For a mile out in the lake the surface was dotted with what was even then Chicago’s pride, its shipping. Upon a mudbank at the entrance to the river lay the Randolph street bridge, side by side with sailing craft in positions just as undignified, while floating hither and thither out in the lake, as if undecided as to how to take its new experience, was the structure which a few hours before had spanned the river at Clark street. In every direction from the mouth of the river were steam and sail vessels, canal boats, barges, and other craft, some still carrying human beings and others totally deserted, floated in the open lake. Occasionally a hole in the hull of a vessel would take in its last gulp of Lake Michigan’s waters, and then one of the unlucky fleet would disappear from sight. Some succeeded in anchoring and all that did not sink from sight were eventually brought safely in by the more fortunate vehicles.
- Daguerreotype of the Great Flood.
P. von Schneidau
March 12, 1849
No Loss of Life.
That with the record of damage done by the flood there was no occasion for adding a loss of was considered a wonder.
Twenty-five vessels lost, sixty damaged more or less, four bridges swept away, and lines of docks torn from the banks. $100,000 damage done to shipping, $10,000 to bridges, and $10,000 to docks was the record of the rush of water and ice which brought consternation to Chicago’s early citizens. Shipping was demoralized for a time, plans for municipal improvements were revised to allow funds to be used in repairing the damage done, and popular sentiment called for tunnels under the river instead of bridges that a flood could sweep away. The movement for tunnels resulted soon after in the construction of the Washington street passage under the river.
While the work of destruction was going on in the river its banks were lined with citizens watching the fearful work work of the rapid current. At the garrison, where the jam occurred, the banks of the river were lined with people watching the restless mass of ice, vessels bridges, and parts of docks, and listening to the crunching, the snapping of spars and cables, and the shouts of men endeavoring to save something from the general wreck.
The trouble began at 9 a.m. on Monday, March 12, 1849, when a dam of ice which had formed in the South Branch gave way. The hawsers of the nearest vessels immediately snapped, giving the whirl its first victims and aid to other destruction. The first obstacle—Madison street bridge—soon gave way and joined in the rush, together with every craft between Madison and Randolph streets. The bridge at the latter point suffered similarly, then Wells and Clark street bridges and everything between them, a good part of the whole mass piling itself high where the Rush street bridge now stands.
- Chicago City Directory
1855
Chicago Tribune, June 10, 1897
It was an exile of Sweden who brought the first daguerreotype camera to the West. He died without seeing the art develop much beyond his primitive knowledge of taking, and the following notice, which appeared in The Tribune of Dec. 28, 1859 was all that was written at the time of his death:
- DIED—In this city, on the 27th last, at noon, POLYCARPIS VON SCHNEIDAU, Vice-Consul of Sweden and Norway, in the 48th year of his age. Funeral this afternoon at 2:30 o’clock from the residence of N. E. Peterson, 252 North La Salle street. His friends are invited to attend.
The full name of this pioneer picture-taker was John Carl Frederik Polycarpus von Schneidau. He came to America in the early ’40’s, and when Daguerre’s wonderful discovery, by which images from the lens of a camera couid be fixed upon metallic plates, became known, Von Schneidau was one of the first to be attracted by the new process. He went East, studied the art with Daguerre, the chief pioneer of modern picture taking, returned to Chicago a little later prepared to operate a camera himself. He opened a gallery at Lake and Dearborn streets, the first of its kind in the city. The process of daguerreotyping was a novelty, and Von Schneidau’s camera was something much wondered at. His studio was the center of interest and hundreds of persons called there out of mere curiosity.
Von Schneidau became proficient in the use of the new process and received a gold medal at the Mechanics’ Institute for his exhibits. Some of the daguerreotypes taken by him in this primitive stage of the art are still in existence and bear evidence of the skill of the artist. Von Schneldau was born in Stockholm, Sweden, Feb. 20, 1812. He was a son of John Henric and Baroness Antoinette Cronhjilm, the last male descendant of an illustrious house—one of the few remaining representatives of the Rix nobility. He entered early into military life, attending the naval academy at Stockholm. In 1834, at the age of 22, Von Sehneidau was made a sergeant in the navy by special decree of King Bernadotte. He was soon promoted to a Lieutenaney in the royal navy, and three years later was appointed general staff officer and aid to the King.
Von Schneldau loved a Jewish girl—Carolina Jacobson. She was beautiful and belonged to an influential family in Stockholm, but by the laws of Sweden a Protestant was forbidden to marry with one of the Jewish falth. Despite this Von Schneidau married the object of his affection in 1842, but was forced to resign his military position and with his wife flee from the country. He came to America, his destination being Pine Lake, Wis., a small settlement which had been established a few years previous by a party of Swedes had emigrated here.
- LEFT: Abraham Lincoln in Chicago, October 27, 1854
RIGHT: Jenny Lind, September 14, 1850
Von Schnieldau soon found, however, that he was not for an agricultural or commercial life. He was a man of polished and courtly manners, and farming was a long way from satisfying his desires. In 1844, at the instance of friends, he moved to Chicago. Here he spent a year in teaching French, dancing, fencing. and gymnastics. During thle next two years he explored the district around Lake Superior With the hopes of discovering mines.
In 1847 Daguerre’s discovery became known to Von Schneidau. The taking of what was then termed as “sun paintings” interested him greatly, and he went to New York City to investigate the process and to with his intimate friend and fellow-countryman, John Ericsson. He also consulted scientific men in Harvard and Yale Colleges, He spent considerable time with Daguerre, studying the process, but to what extent is not known. He returned to Chicago with the necessary outfit for taking daguerreotype, and thus became the pioneer of this city in art work.
Von Schneidau had been for many years an intimate friend of King Oscar I., and in 1852 he was appointed Vice-Consul for Sweden and Norway. Two years later Denmark was also added. As a recognition of the services which he rendered the Swedes and Norwegians who came under his jurisdiction in the West during this time King Oscar sent him his portrait and a gold medal, both of which Von Schneidau held ever afterwards as valuable treasures. In 1856 ill-health, caused, it was thought, by the chemicals used in his gallery, compelled Von Schneidau to leave Chicago and try the baths of Elgersburg, Germany. He also went to Berlin, and was under the care of specialists, but found no relief. While in Berlin he met and became the friend of Von Humboldt, and also became acquainted with several other German scientists. He returned to America in 1858, a helpless paralytic. and died in this city Dec. 27 of the following year.
William B. Ogden and B. H. Sheldon were for years intimate friends of Von Schneidau and his wife. After his death, at the request of the Swedish Government, they became the guardians of Von Schneidau’s only child, Pauline. She was taken to Mr. Ogden’s home in Boscobel. N. Y., on the Harlem River, where she was educated. She was married to Eugene M. Jerome of New York on July 1. 1887, and is now living with her husband in Williamstown, Mass.
November 2008
Picturing Lincoln
By Vernon Burton
Dr. Burton is a professor emeritus of history, sociology, and African American studies at U of I and is the author of Age of Lincoln.
This ambrotype comes from the lost daguerreotype of a photograph of Lincoln in Chicago, on October 27, 1854. The paper he’s holding had been altered at one point.
In 2007, the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum in Springfield, Ill., acquired a copy of a priceless 1858 ambrotype of a lost daguerreotype from an 1854 photograph of Lincoln. The picture, the second oldest image of Lincoln known to exist, is valued both for its rarity and for the insight it offers into how we picture Lincoln.
The 1854 photo came about when George Schneider, who published the German anti-slavery newspaper, Illinois Staat-Zeitung, invited Lincoln to Chicago to speak in response to the passage of Illinois Senator Stephen Douglas’s Kansas-Nebraska Act. While Lincoln was in Chicago, Schneider persuaded him to stop at a photography shop next door to Schneider’s newspaper, where photographer Johan Carl Frederic Polycarpus von Schneidau took his picture on October 27, 1854. In this 1854 daguerreotype, Lincoln held the stridently anti-slavery German-language newspaper in his hand. The original daguerreotype was subsequently lost, probably in the Chicago fire of 1871.
The picture resurfaced in 1858, but this time as an ambrotype, as interest in Lincoln was re-awakened by his two trips to Chicago—once to reply to Douglas’s opening speech in the 1858 senatorial campaign, and the other to consult with Republican leaders about challenging Douglas to formal debates. The ambrotype belonged to Samuel Alschuler, a photographer from, of all places, Urbana, Ill., who had recently moved to Chicago and purchased Polycarpus von Schneidau’s photography shop. Alschuler was a Lincoln photographer in his own right, having photographed the future president a few months earlier during Lincoln’s visit to Champaign County. His unusual image captured Lincoln trying to suppress a laugh because of the undersized jacket he had borrowed for the impromptu photograph. Alschuler had sold the original to a local circuit court clerk in Urbana (the photo now resides in the University of Illinois Library), and thus turned to Polycarpus von Schneidau’s image and reissued it in response to the renewed interest in Lincoln.
There was a subtle but major change in the otherwise identical pictures. Whereas in 1854 Polycarpus von Schneidau had posed Lincoln with an issue of the Illinois Staat-Zeitung, the 1858 ambrotype had Lincoln holding the Chicago Press and Tribune, the forerunner of the Chicago Tribune. Charles Ray and Joseph Medill had bought the paper in 1855. Medill, who was the editor of Chicago Press and Tribune, wanted to promote his paper and his moderate Republican cause by showing the popular Republican Abraham Lincoln reading his paper. Moreover, it would help Lincoln’s chances if he held the moderate Chicago Press and Tribune rather than the radical anti-slavery German-language newspaper. Thus, Joseph Medill, who would be one of Lincoln’s major supporters at the Republican nominating convention held in Chicago in 1860, directed Alschuler to have an artist artfully superimpose the masthead of his newspaper over the copy of the Staat-Zeitung. Medill and the Tribune supported Lincoln throughout the war and for re-election. Medill would become the reform mayor of Chicago in 1871, running on the Fireproof Party.
Over his years in office Lincoln learned to use photography to build support for himself, particularly the “card-portraits” that had became very popular by the time of the Civil War. Lincoln recognized that people felt closer to him on the issues when they had a picture of him.
The superimposition of one newspaper over another in the 1858 ambrotype, however, is a metaphor for all studies of Lincoln. Historians, as well as the general public, use Lincoln to promulgate their own personal views. Moreover, as the altered image of the 1854 photograph illustrates, historians must be wary of trusting even visual evidence; things are not always as they seem.
Fascinating!