Next stop, Grossdale!

In the frigid winter of 1888-89, there was nothing at all to Brookfield, or, as it was going to be called for the next 16 years, Grossdale.

Previously, Samuel Eberly Gross had taken special note of this barren prairie and simple farmland located between LaGrange and the Salt Creek. Where train passengers had seen only an unremarkable stretch of flat Midwestern land, Gross had seen opportunity. He would plat out a village, plan streets and erect buildings. Then he would bestow upon this suburb his own name, thus insuring for himself a measure of immortality.

He bought land here on Dec. 1, 1888; the section bordered on the south by Southview Avenue, on the north by Washington Avenue, on the west by Maple and on the east by Grove Avenue, that in its northern area extended a short distance over Salt Creek.

The directors of the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad agreed to stop trains at Grossdale, provided that a suitable depot was built. Gross decided to make it more than merely suitable.

He designed it as a showplace, using his own ideas of architecture, and he boasted in his ads that it cost him $5,000 to erect. At that time, a small family could live well enough for a year on around one-eighth of that amount.

Flatcars and boxcars of material were brought out to the specially constructed siding west of Prairie Avenue, and north of the tracks on the main line. Here they could be unloaded without obstructing the progress of passing trains.

Shipped out from Chicago were bricks, lumber, finely-crafted woods, slate shingles and window glass. Also coming from Chicago were the workmen to construct the station house. It must have been some sight, a building going up in the midst of a flat prairie plain. The constant hammering probably didn’t bother anyone but some stray cows.

Farmers and their families had something new added to their lives, as they sauntered over to watch the timbers rise to the skies. Grossdale’s first public building was completed in time for the subdivision’s opening date on June 15, 1889.

Gross brought out thousands of visitors from Chicago’s Union Station, passing out free excursion tickets to anyone and everyone wishing to visit “one of Chicago’s most handsome and desirable suburban towns.”

The excursioneers didn’t come out here on ordinary passenger cars, but on fancy-decorated palace cars, with ornate kerosene lamps and plush-cushioned seats. Simple folk must’ve felt like royalty in such surroundings.

Within the space of a half hour’s time, Gross’s special trains squeaked and creaked to a halt in front of the Grossdale Station. Here, a brass band broke into excitably festive airs. Once all had disembarked, the train pulled away. Gross waited for the band’s concluding notes, and then, standing on the balcony of his “handsome depot” began his welcoming speech, sounding something like this:

“Radiant ladies and esteemed gentlemen! I am Samuel Eberly Gross, your host, and I welcome you warmly to this, my handsome city of Grossdale!”

People would then look around, seeing a half dozen buildings, and plenty of unused land. They’d also see a tent in the distance, down Grand Boulevard, at about where Eight Corners is today. As Gross continued speaking, a few hungry souls probably wondered where the free box lunch was that Gross was offering. Babies cried, boys would fidget and girls would whine. Gross had planted salesmen in the crowd who could “talk up” the new village in either German, Swedish or just plain English.

At the end of Gross’s speech, the brass band would strike up another rousing melody, leading the excursioneers down the wide Grand Boulevard to the tent area, where they would be treated to still more speeches and eventually their free lunch, consisting of sausage sandwiches, pie, cake, lemonade, coffee and beer. If truth be known, he probably sold more lots because of the free beer.

People were taken out to view property by the multi-lingual salesman, and the children got to run wild and free. At last, tired and fed, everyone came back to the Grossdale Station, to wait for the train back to the city. Now they could take a bit of time to look over the depot.

The dark red brick building had several windows, nine facing the tracks on the first floor alone. A wide canopy extended to either side of the building, and in the center was the name “Grossdale” set in raised golden letters against a black background.

Fourteen white limestone bases held in place the posts supporting the canopy. The bases appeared to be only three layers high, ending on the floor of the wooden platform surrounding the station. In reality, they extended beneath the platform flooring, and into the flat ground underneath, out of sight unless anyone went around the sides of the station and looked under the raised platform. The window sills were also of white limestone.

Swedish style metal fretwork graced the slate canopy and slate roof’s ridges, and a weather vane completed the picture of respectability. Gross loved to use the word “handsome” in connection with his properties, and did not hesitate to call this building his “handsome depot.”

While the exterior was painted in dark colors, Gross used a little more color in the interior. The walls were painted in a light, bright, watery blue, which was so unlike the colors of a Midwestern landscape that it must have bedazzled the viewers. Mounted on the walls were shiny, brass-based kerosene lamps. The two sets of ticket window bars were painted a gleaming gold.

Originally, both the tongue-in-groove ceiling and maple floor were varnished, not painted. Bull’s-eye molding, also varnished, surrounded every window and door, even into the Adams Express office/baggage room on the east side of the building. Imagine stepping into this train station in 1889, with bright blue walls, gold ticket window bars, polished kerosene lamps and shiny brown varnish everywhere.

In the center of the station, extending to the back wall, was the ticket office. An inside staircase led up to the second floor, where the station agent and his (or her) family lived, rent free.

The second floor wasn’t as decorative as the first floor, and it was cramped. There were a few other downsides, too. If you opened a railside window, smoke from passing trains would blow right in. Also, how would you like to live about 20 feet from freight and passenger trains rumbling and roaring by, morning, noon and night?

There were two waiting rooms, one for the men, and one for the women. The men had longer benches to sit on than did the women. This was so because the women’s waiting room was smaller than the men’s. The women’s would have been more equal in area, except that the baggage room took up the extra space. There were no inside toilets at the time. You had to go out the back doors to the wooden privy shed.

In its early years, the station also served as the village’s post office, and George Fox, the postmaster, shared ticket office space with the station agent, Mr. Curtis. In 1893, the post office moved out of the station and into the Winkrans building on the other side of the tracks, at 8836 Brookfield Ave.

In addition to keeping law and order, the town marshal had “depot duties,” which involved extinguishing the lights there, and shooing young lovers away on romantic nights. Whether they were actually on the benches outside, the benches inside or just hanging around the outside of the building, scratching their initials into the brick walls, is not known.

In April 1905, some of the citizenry of Grossdale attempted to change the name of their village to Brookfield, and they succeeded. On Aug. 17, 1905, at the conclusion of one of the most important village board meetings in the village’s history, the vote for this passed, and some excited Pro-Brookfielders raced out into the streets, determined to tear down everything that had the name Gross on it. Station agents Mr. and Mrs. Edward F. Malone trained a shotgun on those persons wanting to tear down the station’s name sign.

But the station wasn’t to have its name changed until November 1907, two years later, due to the fact that Gross owned all three of the stations in the village. So the railroad bought them from him.

At first the new name on the depot was “Prairie Avenue,” but when citizens complained, the railroad backed down, and in December 1907, the sign saying “Brookfield” went up.

The station remained largely unchanged, except for applications of paint and a black tile floor laid in the waiting rooms in the late 1920s, by which time washrooms had been installed.

A fire in early 1928 burned the rear wall in the women’s waiting room. This seems to have been caused by loose sparks escaping from a stove pipe over the pot belly stove against the wall. After repairs were made, a boiler and radiator heating system were installed, thus eliminating the necessity of feeding coal to stoves, and removing “clinkers.”

Thirteen years later, in 1941, the station underwent a massive remodeling. The canopies were cut off at the sides and cut back at the front. The “gingerbread” trim beneath the canopy, ironwork weather vane and the ornamental fretwork on the roof ridges were also removed. The stone bases and posts became just a memory. The balcony vanished until its outlines were rediscovered in early spring 1985.

In the interior, the bull’s-eye molding was removed from everywhere except for the baggage room. The men’s washroom was moved to its present area, adjacent to the women’s. The railroad must have gotten a good deal on plywood, because they covered up all the walls with it, and then painted it.

Fluorescent lighting was put in. The inside staircase was taken out, and an outside back staircase built. Even the two chimneys were removed and condensed to one. Except for the “eyebrow” windows at the sides, it appears that the railroad wanted to strip the station of all its Victorian styling.

On May 18, 1952, a fire occurred in the upper section of the station that led to the eyebrow and side gable windows being removed and covered up by new roofing and tile. Now the building was all angles. The fire was attributed to sparks coming from a passing locomotive, one of the last on the line until diesels were used. Even today, you can see the charred wooden beams in the attic.

Grossdale lived again, during the week of July 31 to August 6, 1968. Brookfield celebrated its 75th Anniversary, and, with the blessings of the railroad, arranged to cover up the “Brookfield” signs on the station with ones reading “Grossdale.”

Nine years later, on July 17, 1977, the Brookfield Historical Society was formed with the goal of saving the old station, which was earmarked for the wrecking ball sometime in the future. Buttons, T-shirts and cards were sold; bake sales and auctions were held. Any kind of money-making scheme was examined. Petitions were circulated, letters were written.

The railroad wouldn’t budge on its decision, telling the society to “move it or lose it.” So the society moved it, on April, 9, 1981. From 9:57 a.m. to 10:45 a.m., the station, raised onto a long flatbed truck, proceeded over the railroad tracks and to its final home, where it still stands today.

In 1985, the canopy was restored and extended, and the brick platform was relaid. In the 1990s, its gable windows and eyebrow windows once again brought back a measure of its Victorian past.

Today, the new slate roof and paint job completed last year gives further testament to the dedication and unending patience of the many volunteers who have always believed that saving it and restoring it was always possible.