In the lead up to Chicago’s 1893 World Fair, cultural elites sought to raise the masses’ level of “civilization.” Planners built educational exhibits to showcase new developments in agriculture and machinery, framed with neoclassical stonework like “a bas-relief personating Columbia enthroned, with a sword in her right hand and a palm in her left, and surrounded by Honor, Genius, and Wealth.”

But the public preferred more modern attractions: a proto-amusement park with a giant early Ferris Wheel, electrical fountains, spectacular night lighting.

The people wanted electricity. They would want it to light their homes and their streets, to power factories and appliances, in cities and on farms, in stadiums, theaters, and roller coasters. Despite the despair of a thousand cultural critics, the people still want it.