I can’t spell. Every time I have written Chicagoian on this very blog, my husband has gone behind me and edited it to the proper Chicagoan. I swore up and down that I had the correct spelling and that he was in the wrong, so I googled. And found The Chicagoan Magazine, a short-lived counterpart to the still-trucking-along New Yorker.
Pretty much forgotten after its eleven year run, historian Neil Harris recently wrote an award-winning book about the magazine. From the press release: “Urbane in aspiration and first published just sixteen months after the 1925 appearance of the New Yorker, it sought passionately to redeem the Windy City’s unhappy reputation for organized crime, political mayhem, and industrial squalor by demonstrating the presence of style and sophistication in the Midwest.”
Harris’ book is perfect for the Chicagoan or urbanophile in your life this Christmas.
Oh, and… Chicago has nothing to prove to New York. Thanks.
