CHICAGO—THE LIVING, BREATHING HELL.
“Leave behind all hope, all ye who enter here.”
Dante dreamed he saw that line above the fiery gates of Hell.
To those who know and understand, that line flames as if written by the fiery finger of Fate, in the heavens above Chicago.
You, all of you, dwelling without its polluted precincts, cannot enter it without being trapped into the meshes of the Vice-Graft combine!
Spider-like, it has woven its web over and about the city. Enter and you are entangled, consciously or unconsciously.
There is no escape. We shall prove this broad, sweeping statement.
From the depot to the cab, from the cab to the hotel, from the hotel to the dining room, barber shop, manicure room or other places, the monster trails you. The Vice Trust’s agents are forever lurking in your shadow.
To the store, place of business, halls of amusement, the silent form sneaks behind you, exacting from you a toll for the privilege of walking the streets of Chicago and breathing God’s free air.
When you leave for your quiet, peaceful hometown, the minions of the trust follow you almost to the sacred entrance of an undefiled home. Only the sanctity, purity and goodness, stops them there.
Such is the system!