Florence Scala (1918-2007) spent her entire life on Taylor Street, a corridor that once pulsed with the rhythms of Little Italy. On September 16, 2026, a bronze plaque was affixed to the limestone facade of her childhood home at 1030 W. Taylor St., turning the building into a public reminder of her decades-long battle for immigrant residents.
The ceremony gathered a cross-section of neighborhood voices – Rev. Steven Giovangelo, Scala’s nephew; preservation advocate Sue Stevens; John Chandler, president of St. Ignatius College Prep; and Ald. Bill Conway, 34th Ward representative. Their remarks underscored that Scala’s legacy is less about a single victory and more about a persistent stand against power.
From Hull House classrooms to the Near West Side planning board
Born in 1918 to a family that ran a tailor shop, Scala grew up attending programs at Hull House the settlement house co-founded by social reformer Jane Addams. Those early experiences shaped a lifelong dedication to neighborly care. In the 1930s she began volunteering at Hull House’s 800 S. Halsted location, where she first learned to organize women’s mutual-aid groups – a “housewives’ secret bank” that tucked tiny coins into ribbons for neighbors in need.
By 1948, Scala broke gender barriers when she became the sole woman on the Near West Side Planning Board, a body tasked with steering the district through rapid post-war change. Her presence gave the Italian-American community a direct voice in debates over slum clearance and public housing.
Confronting urban renewal and the UIC campus
When city officials and federal agencies launched urban renewal projects in the late 1950s, the stakes rose dramatically. Mayor Richard J. Daley envisioned highways and a new campus for the University of Illinois Chicago (UIC) on the Near West Side, which threatened to erase entire neighborhoods. Scala emerged as a leading opponent, arguing that demolition would displace families who had built lives on Taylor Street.
Her activism reached a violent climax in 1962 when her home was fire-bombed amid the anti-displacement campaign – a crime that remains unsolved. Despite the attack, the university was eventually constructed, and Scala’s resistance shifted from protest to preservation. She later opened a modest restaurant, Florence’s, in her father’s former storefront; the eatery served locals until its closure in 1990.
Today’s tribute and the future of the neighborhood
The 2026 plaque ceremony also highlighted new cultural projects. An Italian-American museum at 1501 W. Taylor St., slated to open in October, will display the Christopher Columbus statue removed from Arrigo Park in July 2020. Sue Stevens noted that a statue of Scala could not be placed in the park, making the plaque the most fitting homage.
Community leaders stressed that while Scala’s fight against the UIC expansion did not halt the development, it forged lasting networks of solidarity. “She didn’t lose any battles,” said John Chandler, noting that her efforts united faith, heritage, and future aspirations. Ald. Bill Conway added, “Sometimes public service isn’t measured by whether you win, but by the willingness to stand up for what you believe in.”
As Taylor Street continues to evolve into a bustling corridor for students and diners, the bronze marker ensures that Florence Scala’s courage remains visible to anyone who walks past the historic limestone wall.
