As a city Chicago was only 38 years old and the great fire was merely four years in the past when a Vincentian priest came to establish the new parish of St. Vincent de Paul. As he walked toward what was then vaguely recognizable as Webster and Osgood (now Kenmore), he could see little save for truck farms, dirt streets that became rivers of black mud in the spring rain and the winter snow, and an occasional home to break the monotony of the sweeping prairies.
With $5,000 in his pocket to purchase property and to begin a new parish that was on the very fringe of the city, which was in many respects largely uncivilized, the 41-year-old Rev. Edward Smith, C.M., could think of few reasons for joy. He had no home and no church, save in his imagination. For almost an entire year, his church would be the small chapel of the Daughters of Charity a quarter of a mile away in St. Joseph’s Hospital. But he had good will, boundless enthusiasm, endless zeal, the luck of the Irish, and most important of all, 75 parishioners who knew as well as he the meaning of poverty.