Michael Peregrine: The Great Chicago Flood's lasting lessons, 33 years later

Chicago Tribune

14-04-2025

Ever had one of those mornings when you wake up to a flooded basement? When an overnight storm knocked out your power and your sump pump? When the plumber's not answering his phone and you have an early meeting at the office?
Well, 33 years ago this week, Chicago experienced one of those days, multiplied by a metropolis, when it woke up on the morning of April 13, 1992, to find that the Loop's proverbial basement had flooded. The central business district was brought to its (very wet) knees for an expensive three-day spell.
The story of how the Loop flooded, why it flooded and how it recovered is one for the ages, a real 'Chicago tale' of history, chaos, hard work and creativity — and the inevitable blame game.
Like many modern calamities, the roots of the Great Flood were firmly planted in history. Far deep under the Loop's streets rests the Chicago freight tunnel system, 60 miles of now-obsolete tubes tracking the street grid, completed in 1914. The tunnels served to facilitate movement of commodities, merchandise and utilities between Loop buildings while avoiding street-level congestion. They were abandoned in 1959 when outpaced by technology.
The actual flood was precipitated by earlier efforts of contractors to install new pilings in several downtown bridges, including one at Kinzie Street. There, a fateful decision was made to move the new pilings away from their intended spot, to avoid damaging the bridge tender's house. The redirected pilings displaced the existing clay soil, which in turn breached the tunnel wall, and the flood was on. Confusion, inconvenience and lack of urgency cascaded into lengthy delays in reporting the breach to authorities.
Fast-forward to Monday, April 13. Early-arriving downtown office workers confronted basements filled with rapidly rising waters. The Merchandise Mart boiler room was 30 feet under water. Fish were found in stairwells. The Chicago Pedway and underground shops were also flooded and 911 calls from office buildings began to roll in. Utilities and other building services began to fail. Ultimately, more than 250 million gallons of water filled the underground spaces.
Reporter Larry Langford, on the scene at the Kinzie Street Bridge, described the site as 'the biggest bathtub drain in the world.'
Loop workers were sent home and stayed home for several days. Initial corrective ideas were dismissed as impractical or risky or both. Mayor Richard M. Daley reached out to veteran contractor John Kenny Jr. to direct the repair work. Kenny moved quickly to take charge, with City Hall clearing political obstacles.
As the Tribune reported at the time, Kenny quickly focused on a plan that would 'start throwing stuff down there,' i.e., create a form of blanket around the leak and then seal it. Over a one-week period, a concrete solution was applied to fill the hole until the leak stopped. Subsequent repair served to reinforce the tunnel seals and to add permanent bulkheads.
The total cost of repairs came to almost $2 billion (more than $4.5 billion in today's dollars), but it worked. Then came finger-pointing time. Blame would eventually be spread far and wide, but absolute accountability proved complex and elusive.
While it wasn't quite the equivalent of the film 'Tremors,' the Great Chicago Flood does share some features with famous subterranean disaster movie.
There's the predictable catalyst: the confusion between city inspectors and contractors in reporting the leak. Then there's the looming emergency: commuters calmly walking to their Loop offices, while under the sidewalks lurked rapidly rising river waters. Then there's the hero, Kenny, the so-called 'Flood Stud' who guided the complex repair efforts to success. And then there's the moral of the story — or in this case, a couple of morals.
First is that attributing blame for an expensive catastrophe is rarely a productive and reliable exercise. The better course of action is to focus on prevention and progress.
Second is that Chicago has always been a city of innovation. The tunnel system was at its creation, and remained for years in retooled form, a creative avenue of commerce.
Third is that things break — whether it's aging infrastructure, critical machinery or complex equipment. When they're not monitored and maintained, there'll be problems.
Fourth is that government and private industry can and should work together effectively, and when they do, both benefit from increased consumer trust.
Fifth is that Chicago is preternaturally resilient. Whatever vagaries fate seems to dish out, the city seems able to handle them.
In 1992, and to this day, Chicago remains as Carl Sandburg envisioned it more than 110 years ago: the 'City of the Big Shoulders … a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities; … Bareheaded, Shoveling, Wrecking, Planning, Building, breaking, rebuilding.'
That's a civic spirit no flood can wash away.