My sister, Katie, will turn eighteen on August 17. Along with hundreds of thousands of other recent high school graduates, she plans to begin a new chapter of her life this fall, one infinitely more exciting, glamorous, and unsupervised than that of her recent, underaged past. Some of her friends are continuing their education in various colleges, but Katie has other plans. She’s headed to a town in the west coast she clearly imagines as magical. This town, the birthplace of one of her favorite punk rock bands, holds vague promises of independence for her. Katie refuses to entertain the idea that independence could happen a little closer to home. The draw of her imagination is more powerful than logic. In reality, she could have picked anywhere, anywhere other than the small Midwestern town in which she was raised.

Katie’s not alone, however, in pinpointing one particular area as the only area that will allow her to break the ties that hold her to her past. For generations, young women have used geographic location as an aid to gain freedom. They go to Hollywood to become famous actresses, New York to become models or artists. In the early 1890s, young women across the nation also chose a specific destination. Chicago was quickly evolving from its seedy, dirty, beginnings into an acceptable place for young women to go. Parents across the nation were loath to see their daughters go off with little or no supervision, but an emerging spark of self-determination weakened their resolve. Perhaps they, too, remembered or still felt the allure of adventure in far-off places. Or maybe they were just as swept away as the rest of the nation with the building of an extraordinary new empire, the great Chicago World’s Fair of 1893.

Don’t let modern American arrogance fool you; at the end of the 19th century, the United States was every bit as concerned with proving its superiority over powerful or highly cultured European countries. Author Erik Larson, who also wrote another National Bestseller, Isaac’s Storm, describes the city of Chicago that was as eager to lose its reputation as base and ignorant as America was to earn the respect of more sophisticated nations. Following the outstanding 1889 French celebration, the Exposition Universelle, which featured the unveiling of the tallest engineering feat in history, the great Eiffel Tower, Americans were earnestly seeking the opportunity to once again demonstrate their superior skills and knowledge.

That opportunity appeared as the country quickly neared the 400th anniversary of Columbus’s discovery of the New World. A nationwide competition was held for a city to host the next world’s fair, and tenacious, scrappy Chicago emerged as the surprising victor. Over the next twenty-odd months, the city’s top architects teamed with engineers, artists, builders, tradespeople, and politicians to complete the impossible. Quickly hailed as the White City because of its contrast to the dirty, sooty, black streets, the amazing accomplishment of a temporary city filled with exotic exhibits, art, entertainment, food, and rides, did nothing short of changing the course of the American future and society forever. Products and inventions firmly established today were first introduced at the fair, including Aunt Jemima pancakes, alternating current electricity, and the Ferris Wheel. For decades to come, architecture reflected the influences first seen at the fair, not only the return to more classical styles but also the experimentation of Frank Lloyd Wright. Finally, the World’s Fair of Chicago led to a tremendous influx of tourists for the city; to accommodate them, new hotels, boarding houses, restaurants, and offices were created. As the bustle grew and the opening day neared, another change occurred. Young women poured into the city, seeking the same adventures, careers, and experience as my sister Katie does today.

Just like today, these young women faced danger along their travels. For many, their lack of prior exposure to harsher sectors of society placed them at a higher than average risk. Their parents’ (and society’s) protection of the young women had done them a disservice, leaving them fresh-faced and vulnerable as they entered the busy, rapidly changing world of Chicago as it prepared for the World’s Fair. Brothel owners waited at the train stations, welcoming the women with promises of grandeur. Near them may have stood yet another threat: H.H. Holmes.

You see, only half of Larson’s magical tale is about the construction of the fair, which is a fascinating story unto itself. But Larson cleverly juxtaposes the creation of the new city with the destruction of innocence caused by the psychopathic serial killer H.H. Holmes, an alias for New Englander Herman Webster Mudgett. Holmes not only spent his years in Chicago swindling various merchants and workers, but also charmed a number of young women into falling in love with him. "Jack the Ripper had found it in the impoverished whores of Whitechapel; Holmes saw it in transitional women, fresh clean young things free for the first time in history but unsure of what that freedom meant and the risks it entailed." Several of the women he married, almost all met the same fate. While Larson notes that the actual count of victims was never proven, Holmes admits to killing over two dozen women.

While my concerns for my youngest sister do not usually conjure up visions quite as harsh as Holmes, her own transitional self sometimes seems like a beacon for danger. Most likely, she will instead find the same adventure that most of the women who did not meet Holmes did, enjoying the smaller dangers and thrills of the fantastic piece of American history Erik Larson describes in his latest book, The Devil in the White City.