A prolific writer of prose and verse, Nixon Waterman (1859–1944) is credited with having conducted the first all-verse column in newspaper history, for the Chicago Herald. He lived and wrote in Chicago in the years before and during the 1893 World’s Fair. Waterman’s light-hearted and pun-riddled verse, often on topics of Christopher Columbus or the emerging Exposition fairgrounds in Jackson Park, filled spots throughout the run Jewell N. Halligan’s Illustrated World’s Fair, published from 1891 through 1893. “Without his clever short rhymes our pages would have been dull and commonplace,” wrote his editor.

Reprinted below is Waterman’s fanciful look at the Columbian Exposition through imaginary spectacles. His fantastic tour of the fairgrounds, “I Had a Dream That Was Not All a Dream,” ran in the October 1892 issue of the Illustrated World’s Fair.

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“I HAD A DREAM THAT WAS NOT ALL A DREAM.”

It is is my good fortune to reside close to Jackson Park, where is to be held the Columbian Exposition. A few days ago I started at an early hour on one of my occasional sight-seeing tours through the grounds. I had gone over the same paths a score of times, yet my frequent visits had, seemingly, in no degree lessened my appreciation of the wonderful size and marvelous beauty of the many buildings there to be seen, nor rendered commonplace the view presented.

Entering the grounds from the Midway Plaisance, my eye first rested upon the building designed by a woman and for women. With its beautiful surroundings of lawn and lagoon, its facades 400 feet in length, its pavilions, hanging gardens and numerous other architectural conceits, the Woman’s building is a thing of beauty, and will remain a joy during its all too brief period of existence.

To the south, as I wandered on, I saw the Horticultural building, that measures its length of glass and glitter by a thousand feet, and wherein the limitations of zones and isothermal lines are put aside, and where the feeble spark of plant life that exists in Icelandic moss may gaze with open-eyed wonder at the mighty palms of the tropics, and both may enjoy the beauty of shrubs and plants and flowers collected from the far and near corners of the earth.

Next I viewed the Transportation building, through whose “golden door” shall pass the visiting hosts; then came the Mines and Mining building, wherein the hidden secrets of the earth shall be made known to all men; then followed the Electricity building, with its 40,000 panes of glass and its lamps that will make the night as day; then I viewed the Administration building, rightly termed the gem of all the World’s Fair structures; then came Machinery hall, where a million whirring wheels will exemplify mind’s mastery over master; then the Stock pavilion and the Agricultural building, where will be seen the highest, products of fields and herds; next the Dairy building; then the Forestry building, with its thatched roof of bark; next followed the colossal building to be devoted to manufactures and the liberal arts, containing forty acres of floor space, and as notable for the symmetry of its proportions as for its immense size; then came the Government building, bearing a strong resemblance to the National Museum at Washington; next the Fisheries building, where will he shown all forms of life as they exist in water. To the north and east of the Fisheries building I saw the great Art Galleries and the buildings of the states and territories and the other nations of the earth.

Hours slipped rapidly by in contemplating the structures designed to commemorate the flight of centuries. It was, as I remember it, nearing noon when, after having enjoyed a rest while sitting in a quiet, shady nook, I was again turning my steps from the scenes of glittering grandeur, that my eye beheld a great tower I had, strangely enough, never before seen. The structure was supplied with an elevator service, and, upon invitation so to do, I ascended to the top of the tower, where a courteous attendant informed me I was 2,000 feet above the earth. The view that spread around was one never to be forgotten. The mighty architectural triumphs all about me, each great building grand and ample enough to be the home of a demigod; the crystal lagoons surrounded by grassy lawns and resembling great diamonds in settings of green; and beyond, on the one hand the walls and domes and spires and chimneys of a mighty city, and on the other, Lake Michigan, beautiful in the lights and shades of sun and cloud.

“Wonderful!” I said, half to myself and half to the attendant, who responded with, “Yes, the preparations being made for our World’s Fair surpass anything men have ever seen. But what your eye beholds being done here in this great stretch of park is only a small part of what the world is doing. Here, look through these,” said he, handing me what appeared to be a pair of ordinary gold-rimmed spectacles. “Place them close up to your eyes to begin with,” he added, “and then as you wish your view extended slide them further down your nose.”

I did as he directed. The spectacles possessed a peculiar power. They did not seem to magnify, but rather to make objects hidden by distance from the naked eye to appear as though near at hand. I looked first at the great city whose pushing, enterprising people secured the holding of the World’s Fair, and whose persistency and integrity insures its unqualified success. I saw great blocks of buildings rising on every hand, additional height being added to those already standing and an air of vigorous improvement apparent everywhere. The city impressed me as being one vast hive of humanity busily preparing for the corning guests.

I then adjusted my marvelous spectacles so my view first took in my own great country, and then the whole world. I saw sculptors in many and strangely littered workshops, fashioning figures in clay, while other workmen with mallets and chisels were breaking away the fetters of stone from the marble ideals that are to come and fill the niches in the World’s Fair buildings. I saw careless-looking, sad-faced artists in oddly furnished studios, full of freaks and fancies, busy with brush and pencil, laying on the lines and color that were to hedge about and make palpable their dreams. And the grand canvasses that they wrought upon will glorify the walls of the World’s Fair art galleries. I saw poets, with the strange light of inspiration in their eyes, composing lofty lyrics; singers weaving the notes of grand songs; masters directing great choruses; leaders guiding the movements of many men playing on instruments of music, and I knew that the witchery of their words and the melody of strings and reeds will blend and make glad the World’s Fair. I saw the writers of books and plays busy with thoughts of the coming event. Inventors and mechanics were employed, minds and hands; and rule and compass, and mold and drill and hammer were actively engaged in fashioning the things that are to instruct and entertain the World’s Fair visitors.

And I looked across the prairie states of the Mississippi Valley and I saw the farmers selecting the choicest sheaves of grain and caring for the fields of stalwart corn whose golden products shall be nature’s princely garniture for the World’s Fair. I saw the great wheat fields of the Northwest, and the swarthy harvesters as they met in their rounds of labor chatted about the great World’s Fair, as did also the men with axes and picks in the forests and the mines of the North and East. And the men in the shipyards and the women spinning in the factories of New England were thinking on the World’s Fair. And in the sun-loved South the laborers in the tobacco, rice, cane and cotton fields were telling one another of the wonders that are to be. Cowboys on the broad plains of Texas, and gold and silver getters in the mines of the great West dwelt upon the theme of the World’s Fair, while the workers in the vineyards of California whispered the story to the Pacific. I looked toward the frozen North and saw the Alaskans chasing the seal and the Esquimaux harnessing the reindeer. In the snow-swathed lands they had heard of the Columbian Exposition, and in strange tongues were planning to collect curious things for us to look upon.

The Old World was busy with the New World’s plan. I saw the Japanese making bronzes and lacquered ware; the Chinese were molding porcelain and carving ivory; the Hindoos were handling articles of ornamental attire and jute and silk and indigo; the Arabs were burdening their camels with pearls and myrrh, with frankincense and aromatic drugs. Attar of roses, figs and dates, shawls and rugs were in the Turkish marts, while in Jerusalem the holy things were being gathered together for the World’s Fair, in Africa the caravans were carrying gold dust and ivory, ostrich feathers and olives, spices and palm fibers, and a part of their burdens shall by and by find a temporary resting place in Jackson Park.

Great Britain, busy with her ships and factories, was planning for the World’s Fair, and the French, amid their wines and cassimeres, ribbons and artificial flowers, porcelain and perfumery were turning their eyes Chicagoward. The Germans in their fields and vineyards; the Swiss making watches and wood carvings; the Belgians and the Hollanders fashioning lace and velvets, carpets and cutlery; the Austrians making wine and leather goods and glassware; the Scandinavians in mines and forests and fisheries; the Spanish and Portuguese handling raisins, almonds, oranges and lemons; the Italians busy with statuary, silks, olive oil and fruits; Greece tending her flocks and fields and grasping after her departed greatness; all were looking toward the spot that is to be the Mecca of the world in 1893. Mexico, Central and South America were turning their faces to the north, and wind and wave had carried the news to the farthest islands of the sea. Every human being was interested in the great event that is to commemorate not alone a historical date, but is to mark the world’s progress toward the broader freedom, the grander brotherhood that shall some time come to men.

Gladly would I have longer gazed, but others asked that they might be permitted to look through the farseeing spectacles, and, reluctantly parting with them, I entered the elevator car to descend. I always feel more or less alarmed when riding in an elevator for fear of the distant possibility that it may break. On that particular day and trip something seemed to go wrong with the machinery just as we started from the top of the tower, and the car fell, and when it struck at the bottom of the shaft—

I awakened from the sleep that had crept over my eyes a few moments before when I had paused to rest in the cool and quiet nook. So the tower and the wonderful spectacles were but a vision in my sleep, but the world-wide scene I saw, “It was not all a dream.”

Nixon Waterman
Chicago, August, 1895