Mayor Volz earned his place of honor in history

The next statue raised in Arlington Heights should be of Albert F. Volz.

Not only because he was once my neighbor and lived to be 100, but also because he was an icon in town for most of those 100 years.

The man had presence. At the time when the immigrants were brought to work factory jobs in Arlington Heights were from Czechoslovakia, the workers tended to live on the south side of town. According to town historian Daisy Daniels, the men "were crowded together with limited space." Shut off by the language barrier, "often discouraged, and weary from their heavy factory labor," they spent their weekends drinking.

This was the era when the area south of Campbell Street in Arlington Heights was called, "Hell Hole." In contrast, the north side of town with its five churches and well-to-do Yankees was known as "Piety Hill."

The churchgoers, Daisy Daniels reported, wanted saloons closed on Sundays. They objected to the bawdy hilarity they were exposed to as they passed the swinging doors of the town's five saloons on their way to one of their five churches. (Did they go out of their way to complain?)

They tried to pass an ordinance under the 1907 Local Option Law to close the saloons. A speaker for temperance went so far as to call Arlington Heights the "Hell Hole of Illinois." He didn't convince the citizenry. Nor, indeed, himself. Mayor Volz met him later in New Orleans in an intense state of intoxication.

Wiser to the ways of the world than some of his neighbors, Al Volz was not surprised. He knew that his Yankee neighbors who kept up a good front had their liquor delivered to their back doors.

He also recalled a night when a local tavern ignored a warning to lock up at the legal closing time. Mayor Volz sent Constable McNab to close down the saloon and watched as two members of the village board who had voted on a temperance ticket snuck out.

During the days when a Mr. Schrader was the proprietor of the Union Hotel, "Old Charlie W." rode in on his horse, dismounted and loudly called for refreshment. Since Mr. Volz was not present, it took some time to restore order.

When there was Saturday night drinking, there were often quarrels. The police would be called. When a policeman was not available, Mr. Volz, as mayor, would be called.

He had no uniform. He had no police badge. But he did have innate authority.

One night, at a scene of chaos, Mayor Volz found that his presence alone was not enough to quell the hubbub. He drew himself up and tried to look firm. Then he opened his coat jacket and impressively flashed his shiny suspender buckle.

Order was restored.