Roger’s Barracks, Under the Willow Saloon
Life Span: 1858-1868
Location: No. 188 Monroe Street, SE Corner of Monroe and Wells
Architect:
Gems of the Prairie, Herbert Asbury, 1940
In Chicago proper the newcomers took over and enlarged the isolated criminal outposts which had been formed by the “vile and vicious persons” driven from the Sands. Within a year after the Civil War began, there was scarcely a downtown street that didn’t have its row of brothels, groggeries, gambling dens and cheap lodging-houses, all open day and night seven days a week. The South Side below Madison Street, and from the lake to the river, was almost wholly occupied by criminals, and was “untenable for decent folk for years”; not even the great fire could cleanse it. The Chicago Journal summed up the situation when it cried: “We are beset on every side by a gang of desperate villains!”
The “very core of this corruption,” as a noted journalist of the period phrased it, was Roger Plant’s resort on the northeast corner of Wells and Monroe Streets. Originally this dive was confined to a single two-story house, but one adjoining rookery after another was added, and by the middle 1860’s the establishment extended half-way down the block on both streets. The police knew the place as ‘ Roger’s Barracks,” but with a delicate touch of sentimentality Plant called it ‘‘ Under the Willow,” because a lone willow tree drooped languidly over a corner of the main building. The physical appearance of the dive was further distinguished by a bright blue shade at each of the windows, upon which was lettered in gilt: “Why Not?” It became a favorite catch-phrase throughout the country.1
Roger’s Barracks was described by Frederick Francis Cook as “one of the most talked about if not actually one of the wickedest places on the continent,” and as “a refuge for the very nethermost strata of the underworld—the refuse of the Bridewell.” It was popularly believed that a tunnel ran from the resort under Wells Street to the underworld colonies that filled the district between that thoroughfare and the south branch of the Chicago River. There were at least sixty rooms in the various shacks which made up Roger Plant’s domain, and in them was practiced virtually every sort of vice and criminality known to man. There was a saloon; two or three brothels where men were often robbed, stripped, and thrown into the alleys; rooms for assignation; procuresses’ dens where young girls were raped by half a dozen men and then sold to the bordellos; cubicles which were rented to streetwalkers and male degenerates; and hidden rooms used as hide-aways by every species of crook. One of Plant’s tenants in the war era was Mary Hodges, a noted shoplifter and pickpocket who drove a cart into the shopping district several times a week and drove it away loaded with plunder; another was Mary Brennan, called by the Tribune an “‘ audacious old sinner,” who ran a thieves’ school for little girls, with two of her own daughters as prize pupils and tutors. The children picked pockets, snatched purses, and stole from store counters, and brought their loot to the old lady, who rewarded them with a few pennies to spend for candy. A third ornament of Under the Willow safe-robber, was Speckled Jimmy Calwell, a burglar and safe-robber who is said to have been the first to gag and bind his victims with plaster and tape. He was also believed to have been implicated in the manufacture of Chicago’s first bomb, which was found on the tracks of the Blue Island horse-carline late in December, 1870. “Such a discovery in a civilized community,” said the Times, “ seems almost incredible, but there is not the slightest doubt of its truth.”
The landlord of Under the Willow, Roger Plant, was a diminutive Englishman, a native of Yorkshire, who measured about five feet one inch in height and never weighed more than a hundred pounds. Despite his lack of brawn, however, he was a famous fighter, being very agile, and adept in the use of all weapons, especially his teeth. Ordinarily Roger carried a knife and a pistol in his pocket and a bludgeon in his hand, but when he got drunk, which was often, he laid aside his armament, filled a bucket with a mixture of water and whisky, and with the assistance of his cronies ceremoniously drenched the roots of his willow tree. Roger succeeded in dominating the unruly customers of his saloon, but he was in turn dominated by his wife, who tipped the scales at two hundred and fifty pounds. She couldand frequently did—bhold her squirming spouse at arm’s length with one hand and spank him with the other. Mrs. Plant’s special province was that portion of Under the Willow which was devoted to vice, and when she wasn’t busy at congenial tasks in connection with the brothels and streetwalkers’ dens, she was producing children. No outsider ever knew the exact number of her progeny, but it was generally believed to be about fifteen, cunning little rascals who could pick a pocket almost before they could crawl.
This happy family flourished at Under the Willow for some ten years with virtually no interference. “The police seldom troubled the place during the war years,” wrote Cook. “Roger paid his toll with exemplary regularity.” But about 1868, having made more money than he could ever spend, Plant suddenly closed his resort, bought a house in the country, and “became a patron of the turf and otherwise blossomed into a pattern of respectability.” Several of his children, however, continued tradition, Roger, Jr., first coming to carry on the family into public notice at the age of fifteen, when he and another boy were arrested for tapping the till of a Monroe Street saloon. In 1894, when the English journalist William T. Stead published a Black List of Chicago property used for immoral purposes, Roger Plant, Jr., was listed as the keeper of three saloons and two brothels, while Kitty and Daisy Plant ran adjoining bordellos in South Clark Street.
Chicago Tribune, May 19, 1865
Rescued.—On Sunday night, a young and delicate looking girl, named Hattie Miller, who, for the last four or five years, has been under the care of the managers of the Home of the Friendless, ran away from her protectors upon the suggestion of some depraved creature in the city, and repaired to the notorious den “Under the Willow,” where she signified her intention of becoming an inmate. Frightened at the fearful scenes of debauchery and vice, enacted at this disgrace to our city civilization, the misguided creature fled as from a pestilence, but was on the ere of entering another equally damning, if more refined den on Clark street, when she was arrested by officer O’Donnell who had followed her, and who returned her to the care of the benevolent guardians she had so foolishly and wickedly left. But for the efforts of the police officer, Hattie Miller would now be one of the debased and fallen of the city, would have entered upon the career whose only terminus is death. She has much reason to we thankful in having escaped, unconsminated, such a fearful fate.
Chicago Tribune, August 19, 1865
A Notorious Plant.—Yesterday morning the notorious Roger Plant, former proprietor of the even more notorious “Willow”” on Wells street, was charged at the Police Court with six “other bad spirits,” with assaulting and knocking down an old man. The principal. was fined $75 and
costs, and his satellites $5 and costs each.
Chicago Evening Post, May 10, 1869
At 3:40 yesterday morning fire was discovered issuing from No 188 Monroe street between LaSalle and Wells, a two-story frame building owned by Roger Plant, the notorious and rented by the no less infamous Fred Kaiser as a house of prostitution. The inmates, consisting of Kaiser and his wife and four girls were roused, and with difficulty escaped. Nellie Scott was severely burned about the face neck and arms. She was taken to the house of a Mrs. Baker across the way, and afterward to the County Hospital Her recovery is considered very doubtful. Jessie Deer, whose parents are in St Louis, was injured by inhaling flame while running down stairs. She was taken first to the Armory, and thence to the hospital. Mrs Kaiser stated that she, with great difficulty, awakened her husband, and then escape by the stairway was impossible; and they clambered over the low balcony, running across the front of the building, ten feet from the ground. All barely escaped, rushing forth in their nightclothes, leaving everything in their hot haste
The building is a complete wreck; it was valued at $1,000. Kaiser claims a loss of $8,000 on furniture, improvements, etc. He owned the one-story dwelling at the rear, which was partly destroyed. A fine horse, stabled in in the basement of the front part, worth $500 was burned. No 190 owned by John Engle and sub-let and leased by Fred Kaiser was damaged to the amount of $400; fully insured. Jno. Weisner occupied the first floor front, and several colored families the rear. S. Levy tailor, occupied the second floor front and loses about $50 insured for $300 in the Home The rear of this story was rented by colored families. The losses of the various occupants vary from $50 to $100; none but Levy insured. Kaiser has $2,000 insurance in the Republic, and $1,000 in the Home Mutual. He states that he had lately transferred the policies to a pawnbroker named Goldstein in security for a debt of $500. The fire started in the basement, directly under the center of the house, and was doubtless incendiary, as no fire is ever kept there. The entire loss is estimated at $10,000.
Chicago Evening Mail, August 6, 1873
“Under the Willow” was one of the most noted places in this section (Conley’s Patch). It was a two-and-a-half story rickety warped and weatherbeaten frame building on the southeast corner of Fifth avenue and Monroe street. A willow tree bent over it, giving it its name. Roger Plant was the keeper of it. Of course the first floor of it was a saloon; but it was understood that a policy shop was run up stairs. The policy game was of the same nature as bunko. Roger Plant afterward left the city and is now running a varieties den in St Louis. Soldiers were enticed in here during the war drugged and robbed frequently of a earnings.
Inter Ocean, March 25, 1876
The notorious Roger Plant, whom the fire rid Chicago of, has since been at St. Louis, but as that place is getting too hot for him the police may make up their minds that he will soon be back in this city, He is a creature after the style of McLaughlin, the club swinger (who was driven out of Chicago), only ten times worse.
Chicago Tribune, July 5, 1887
Keeper of a Notorious Resort in Trouble.
Roger Plant, keeper of a notorious resort at No. 531 Clark street, is under arrest on charges of assault, selling liquor without a license, and keeping a disreputable house. The police say that they are confident that Plant, although blacklisted, has been selling liquor. Yesterday afternoon Gus Peters and William Kelleher, young men from Batavia, Ill., entered Plant’s place and called for two glasses of beer. Plant, it is supposed, suspected them of being agents in the employ of of the police, trying to get evidence against him. He sprang at the men, knocked them down and beat them severely. Peters was seriously cut about the head. Kelleher was unconscious when the patrol-wagon arrived. A doctor was called to dress their wounds, and after their story was heard the police raided the place, capturing nine men and seven women. It is well known that many of the blacklisted saloonkeepers sell liquor, but only to persons whom they know.
Excerpted from Chicago Tribune, December 27, 1953
Mansions on Monroe
In the 1840s, as some of the citizens were becoming affluent, a number of fine residences began to appear along Monroe st. They had plenty of ground around them, and most were really country houses. The style in vogue was a Chicago version of Palladian, with reminiscences of southern plantation mansions. Except in the largest houses, the gap between aspiration and achievement was sometimes startling.
Fashion did not favor Monroe st. for long. In 1850 Chicago’s first gas works were built there. near the corner of Market st. And, when Roger Plant arrived there, probably about 1857, the Street went definitely to the bad.
In a town which teemed with unusual characters this Roger Plant soon won himself the foremost place, and his reputation lived on for decades after he was gone.
Czar of Shanty Town
He was very close-mouthed about his early career, of which the only certain points were that he was a Yorkshire Englishman and that he had married Mrs. Plant in Liverpool. It was said of him that he had stood trial in England and been sentenced to transportation to Australia. Obviously he had escaped, and contrived to reach Chicago, a result fully satisfactory to Her British Majesty’s judges.
By 1858 he was proprietor of Roger’s Barracks, a colony of shanties which extended half-way down the block on either side of the central two story building at the corner of Monroe and Wells sts.
A lone willow tree stood out side this building, and from it Plant named his whole establishment “Under the Willow.” All the window shades were a lurid blue, on which appeared in gilt the device. “Why Not?” When he got drunk, Plant used to douse his willow with a bucket-full of half-water, half-whisky.
Mighty Mite of a Man
Only a little over five feet tall and never weighing more than 100 pounds, Plant was a. perfect terror in any fight, skillfully wielding the pistol, knife, and bludgeon which he always carried, but by preference using his teeth. He could be beaten only by Mrs. Plant, who weighed over 250 pounds, and who used to pick him up, hold him at arm’s length and spank him.
This incongruous couple shared supervision of the multiple activities of their shanty town, said to comprise “virtually every sort of vice and criminality known to man.” Roger kept order in the saloon. He bossed the male thieves and was their fence.
Mother of 14 Children
Mrs. Plant’s province was “vice,” including enticing young girls into cubicles where they would be raped and then sold on the open market. Sometimes she took a hand in beating up the customers, stripping them, and throwing them into the alleys. In spite of all this, she bore 14 or 15 children, described as “adorable little angels who could pick a pocket almost before they could crawl.”
Among the Plant family’s more noted tenants was one Mary Hodges, who was so deft a shop lifter that she had to drive a cart into the “shopping district several times a week to bring back her plunder. Still another was Mary Brennan, characterized by The Tribune as an “audacious old sinner,” who had charge of the educational department of “Under the Willow.”
Assisted by two of her own daughters as prize pupils and tutors, Mary Brennan instructed the children of the settlement in pillaging counters, snatching purses, and picking pockets.
Roger Plant maintained the happiest financial and social relations with the authorities. His shrewdness, talents and attention to business gave his story an undeserved ending. In 1868, rich beyond his youthful dreams, he closed “Under the Willow,” bought himself a country house, and became a pattern of the good suburbanite citizen.
Mary Hodges
Chicago Tribune, August 1, 1860
A Woman Picks a Woman’s Pocket
Mary A. Hodges has been held to bail in $200 for picking the pocket of one Elizabeth Buchinger of a wallet containing fifty cents and an order for $9. When arrested the prisoner had the wallet in her possession.
Chicago Tribune, May 26, 1862
Arrest of a Female Pickpocket.
Mary A. Hodges, a notorious female pickpocket, was arrested by Officer Simmons, of the Central Station, at about fire o’clock Saturday afternoon, for picking a lady’s pocket in a Canal street omnibas. She had followed the lady into the omnibus, and after sitting a few moments, arose, with the remark that “that ‘bus would not take her the way she wished to go,” at the same time taking from the lady’s pocket her wallet, containing $6 in money. She was taken to the station-house, where two wallets were found upon her person, one of which was identified by the woman she had robbed in the omnibus, and the other by a woman she had robbed a short time previously in the Postoffice. One or two other wallets were also found at her residence. She will be brought up in the Police Court this morning for examination.
Chicago Tribune, December 16, 1862
Female Pickpocket.
Mary A. Hodges was arrested on Saturday morning for picking the pocket of a woman on the State street cars by the name of Catherine Hughes, who resides on State street near the Archer road. The larceny was committed on Thursday night, and Mary was at once brought before Justice Milliken. The witness testified that she took twelve dollars in bank bills, a bogus gold dollar, and three railroad tickets from Mrs. Hughes’ pocket. The female thief was held to bail in the sum of $300 for her appearance at the Recorder’s Court. This woman is an old offender, and has given the police no little trouble. She has contrived, however, to slip through the hands of justice in a remarkable manner.
Chicago Tribune, February 12, 1863
Mary A. Hodges, a respectable looking Irish woman, with two well dressed children, one at the breast, was charged with stealing fifteen dollars in bank bills. The Judge heard what the woman had to say for herself, and then said: “I know this woman. She has, I am persuaded, a constitutional tendency to steal, and cannot help It. She has been here often before. She has two children; and I declare I cannot sit here, under the circumstances, and pronounce a sentence upon the woman which must separate her from these children. Upon my own responsibilities, therefore, I release her upon her own recognizance to appear before this Court next term.” Her husband subsequently undertook to convey her and the children within three days from tho city, and she was set at liberty.
Mary Brennan
Chicago Post, December 24, 1866
Chicago Tribune, August 27, 1867
A Dress in Chancery.
Mary Brennan, of whose thieving exploits and masterly escapes mention was made in these columns last week, was yesterday committed for trial in bail of $500 for the alleged larceny of a silk dress, worth $85, found in her possession last Thursday afternoon by officer Butsbach. She stated in Court last Friday that it had been left with her by a friend named Ann Steinburg, who hed gone to Joliet or St. Louis. When the officer stated that he found her trying to pawn it for $14 she assumed a look of amazement, and expressed great wonder that he could swear to such a statement, The dress was identified as the property of Mrs. Colby, residing at No. 174 Monroe street. It and another dress were first missed from the residence last Saturday afternoon, though neither had been seen since the previous Thursday morning. When brought into Court yesterday Mary stated that her friend told her to sell it for $14 if she could get no more for it. She desired the officer to accompany her to some outside parties who would become her sureties, but with fall remembrance of the experience of officer Benjamin in visiting her mythical sister he respectfully declined. Mary is quite confident that she never will be convicted, her hopes being based very reasonably on previous acquaintance with some of the mysterious ways of the Recorder’s Court, and her alleged influence with some of its frequenters.
Chicago Tribune, July 5, 1887
Keeper of a Notorious Resort in Trouble.
Roger Plant (Jr.), keeper of a notorious resort at No. 531 Clark street, is under arrest on charges of assault, selling liquor without a license, and keeping a disreputable house. The police say that they are confident that Plant, although blacklisted, has been selling liquor. Yesterday afternoon Gus Peters and William Kelleher, young men from Batavia, I11., entered Plant’s place and called for two glasses of beer. Plant, it is supposed, suspected them of being agents in the employ of the police, trying to get evidence against him. He sprang at the men. knocked them down and beat them severely. Peters was seriously cut about the head. Kelleher was unconscious when the patrol-wagon arrived. A doctor was called to dress their wounds, and after their story was heard the police raided the place, capturing nine men and seven women. It is well known that many of the blacklisted saloonkeepers sell liquor, but only to persons whom they know.
Roger’s Barracks
SE Corner Wells and Monroe
1862
NOTES:
1Bygone Days in Chicago, by Frederick Francis Cook, 1910. Cook was a member of the editorial staff of the Chicago Times.
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