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So, poster advertising was accepted as good business practice and perhaps even a legacy for future generations.

Now, what about the artists producing these delightful (but practical) works of art? A number of art schools in Chicago offered poster design, including the School of the Art Institute, so a pool of local talent existed to create these posters, as well as those of the North Shore Line and the Chicago Elevated Series. Some owned their own studios, such as Oscar Rabe Hanson, who had three posters accepted for the Sixth Annual Exhibition of Advertising Art—and his Homeward Bound (see illustrations) won awards from the Art Directors Club and Barron Collier.

Leslie Darrel Ragan produced a number of South Shore Line posters (see illustrations). He was born in Woodbine, Iowa, in 1897 and began his art education at the Cummings School of Art in Des Moines and also studied at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago. He had a studio in Chicago and taught at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts and the art institute for several years before moving on to New York, California, and Europe. In 1927 and 1928 he created at least six South Shore Line posters, and later he produced more than one hundred posters for the New York Central Railroad. Until his death in 1972, he continued his prolific career with other rail companies, including the Norfolk & Western and the Budd Company.

German-born Otto Brennemann, with a background in automotive design, became a technical draftsman while serving in the German Army during World War I. After the signing of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, he became commander of an armored car column and advanced into Ukraine, remaining on Russian soil until the war’s end. Unable to return to Germany because of continued fighting with the Communist government, his men were finally rescued, only to find themselves held captive by the Turkish government for another three months. Back in Germany, he resumed his commercial art until he immigrated to the United States. At first he worked on the art staff of Popular Mechanics, but soon he began to concentrate on poster design. Asked about the future of American poster art, he remarked:

These artists, as well as others, received commissions for artwork that did its job, enticing the populace to ride the South Shore Line to frolic among the flora, fauna, and beaches of Indiana’s Duneland. But, was that all they were supposed to do?

Bob Harris, an expert on the South Shore Line, in his essay, “Not Just Selling Railroad Tickets: The Role of the South Shore Line Poster Art in the Development of Northwest Indiana,”8 argues that the South Shore posters had, in fact, two purposes:

C. H. Jones, the South Shore Line’s general manager, said in 1927 that the South Shore Line sought to “create business where it did not exist by selling the territory served to those living outside of it.”9 It could be that Jones was talking about ridership, yet the possibility exists he meant it literally.
The Fred’k H. Bartlett Realty Company suburban developments east of the Dunes State Park—Beverly Shores and others—provided the perfect opportunity for potential home buyers seeking a residence in the beautiful Duneland. And, as Harris points out, the South Shore’s Own Your Own Home Bureau was there to assist those prospective home buyers.

As mentioned earlier, the South Shore Line probably produced up to sixty posters during the 1920s. The North Shore Line had several posters selling the idea of buying a home in the
north suburbs of Chicago (see illustration). The South Shore Line could have had some similar posters, perhaps among those that have not been recovered yet. The “Homeward Bound” via South Shore Line poster may have supported the Own Your Own Home Bureau, planting thoughts in the minds of viewers that a home in northwest Indiana might indeed be an attractive idea.
Harris’s thesis is also helpful to explain the production of several of the South Shore Line’s “Workshop of America” posters (see illustrations). The purpose of these posters was probably twofold:

The South Shore Line has carried on a progressive program, in co-operation with Chambers of Commerce of the cities along its line, to stimulate industrial activity and passenger traffic. It has investigated and analyzed the nearby natural resources, and constant encouragement given industries has resulted in the location of fifteen new factories along its line, all of which are served by its side tracks.10

We’ll just have to discover some of those long-lost posters to confirm the theory that the South Shore Line sold more than “railroad tickets” as it developed the Insull Empire. Unfortunately, that empire crumbled with the deepening of the Great Depression. No more posters, or much of any of the elements of the booming marketing campaign, survived that economic downturn. There is, however, a rather touching footnote to the poster story.

When Moonlight in Duneland hit bookstore shelves in October 1998, it received a huge wave of publicity, including a number of newspaper stories. One of those articles appearing in the 18 January 1999 issue of the Chicago Sun-Times was read by the niece of a woman living in Evanston, Illinois. I received a telephone call from the niece with a delightful bit of information. Her Aunt Audrey, it seemed, told wonderful stories of her career as a model and dancer during the 1920s. One of Audrey’s modeling sessions occurred on a Lake Michigan beach in 1925, when artist Hazel Brown Urgelles produced Audrey’s likeness in the painting used for the South Shore Line’s famous poster entitled, “The Dunes Beaches” (see illustration). One of the many mysteries surrounding the poster series centered upon that “Girl on the Beach.” For years people wondered about her, as she gazed at the viewer with that warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. Who was she? Did she live in the Dunes? Was she even a real person or just an image from a talented artist’s mind?

At last, we think we found her. In the 1920s nineteen-year-old Audrey Howland agreed
to pose for the painting. She and Urgelles found a spot in the Dunes on a bright, sunny day. Audrey brought home two things from that session: a check for twenty-five dollars and a sunburn. The years passed and Audrey married, raised a family, and forgot about the poster. In the 1970s, however, her daughter saw a reproduction of the poster in an Evanston art store window and noticed a striking resemblance to her mother. At age ninety-two, Audrey confirmed that she indeed was the girl on the beach. Jim Gordon, a local journalist for the Gary Post-Tribune, visited Audrey when he heard about her, looked through Audrey’s photo album from the 1920s, and agreed she was probably the poster girl. So, the next time you view that poster, be sure to say hello to Audrey. You will almost hear her respond as you look into those captivating eyes.

1. Norman Carlson, ed., Chicago South Shore & South Bend Railroad: How the Medal Was Won, Bulletin 124, Central Electric Railfans’ Association, 1985), 7.
2. William D. Middleton, South Shore: The Last Interurban, 2d rev. ed. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999), 39.
3. Ibid., 37.
4. Ronald D. Cohen and Stephen G. McShane, eds., Moonlight in Duneland: The Illustrated Story of the Chicago South Shore and South Bend Railroad (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1998), 2.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid., 2–3.
7. Ibid., 3.
8. Bob Harris, “Not Just Selling Tickets: The Role of the South Shore Line Poster Art in the Development of Northwest Indiana,” in Cohen and McShane, eds., Moonlight in Duneland, 21–25.
9. Ibid., 21.
10. Carlson, ed., Chicago South Shore & South Bend Railroad, 152.