Not-a-tall. I heard one senior law enforcement official describe the World Cup as "multiple Super Bowls" in multiple cities in three countries over six months. Let's bear in mind that the National Football League unaccountably scheduled a Super Bowl for the Meadowlands, and more people than New Jersey Transit anticipated rode the trains. Lesson learned.
It is not, however, the World Cup, or the Super Bowl, or New Jersey Transit that concerns me. Rather, it is a centennial. "In 1926, the North Shore Line built a much larger temporary station, and borrowed rolling stock from the Chicago Rapid Transit Company, for a one-day International Eucharistic Congress at Mundelein. A rainstorm provoked an early departure for many pilgrims, and the railroad handled it."
In less than ten score years, Chicago went from "mission" territory to birthplace of a Pope. Strictly speaking, the aforementioned XXVIII International Eucharistic Congress took place in Chicago and at St. Mary of the Lake seminary, then east of a village called Area (pronounced a-REE-a) and subsequently renamed for George Cardinal Mundelein, who made no small plans. Neither did the seminary, now known as the University of St. Mary of the Lake, not to be confused with the California university that keeps turning up in intercollegiate sports tournaments. Nor did Samuel Insull, whose country farm was near the seminary. For that matter, the cardinal offered the Vatican the use of St. Mary of the Lake as emergency quarters during the War. The Pope might not have had any divisions, but he was no coward.
But I digress. The Cardinal secured Vatican approval to hold that International Eucharistic Congress, which a DePaul retrospective describes as "A Eucharistic Congress is like an Olympics or a Worlds Fair for Catholics. It is an opportunity for Catholics from all around the world, holy men and women and the faithful alike, to come together to share in the celebration of their faith and the Eucharist." And, in Chicago, consume hot dogs (yes, even in 1926 Chicago dogs were a thing.)
The Eucharist, dear reader, refers to the central mystery of Christian faith, as well as the sacrament offered at every mass, whether it's the daily service, Easter Sunday, a wedding, a funeral, the installation of an archbishop, or Christmas Eve. Think "communion." I suspect the Cardinal would cast a reproving glare at me for describing a Eucharistic Congress as a revival, that despite organizers of the first such congress, in 1881, calling for "public manifestations of faith and devotion." Recall that Sinclair Lewis was still writing Elmer Gantry in 1926, and contemplate that Sophisticated Intellectuals held revival tent gatherings and the like in low estate.
Contemporary organizers of Eucharistic Congresses (they are very much still going on, under national and international labels) lean into the concept of revival.
What, then, of the miracle and the preparation? A century ago, Soldier Field was still under construction. It would not be dedicated until November of 1926, possibly on Armistice Day, and the lousy turf and second-level seating came later. A hundred years ago today, though, a not yet dedicated Soldier Field was fitted with an altar canopy worthy of St. Peter's itself, and consecrated with a High Mass.
The Chicago Archdiocese describes the Soldier Field event as "The third day of the congress, Women’s Day, featured one choir of more than 6,000 nuns, and another of 3,500 women from local church choirs, singing a Mass composed by American Vito Carnevali. The Mass was attended by 250,000 women, including 20,000 sisters."
Two days later came the transportation miracle. "On the final day, the Chicago, North Shore and Milwaukee Railway boasted of sending trains to arrive at Mundelein every two minutes, saying it could carry more than 300,000 people to the seminary in time for the processions. Thousands more would arrive on trains from Milwaukee and the north suburbs."
That doesn't tell you the half of it. The North Shore Line finished its Skokie Valley high-speed line and finished double-tracking the branch from Libertyville to Area a few days before the closing ceremonies would take place at St. Mary of the Lake. That day, all regularly scheduled North Shore Line trains used the older, slower Shore Line trackage. The Skokie Valley line handled multiple cars of Chicago Rapid Transit ownership between the Loop, designated intermediate stations, and the special terminus near the seminary. For perhaps the only time in its history, the shuttle trains between Lake Bluff and Area were multiple cars off the Rapid Transit, connecting with special trains from Milwaukee and Chicago operated by Chicago and North Western. And as the procession concluding the event got underway, the heavens opened and the waters prevailed, and yet the soaked pilgrims returned safely.
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