CHICAGO has added a word to the national vocabulary—clout—and, in the process, has made Richard Joseph Daley the most conspicuous (sometimes it seems the only) political figure in the Windy City.
It may come as a surprise, then, to learn that Chicago, legally at least, is governed by a city council. What turned this into a legal fiction has been a series of strong mayors who also controlled the dominant political party in Chicago. And, the key members of the city council have been his political lieutenants. Today is no exception; Daley is Democratic county chairman as well as mayor; the most influential aldermen are also Democratic ward committee-men.
As a result, the city's operating budget and most of its major legislation is created in the office of the mayor, and the legal separation between the legislative and administrative branches of government are more technical than real.
Despite their restrictions, the city council members are not without power. Each of the 50 aldermen presides over a section of Chicago with the population of a fair sized city (67,000 persons on average). Basic city services are structured along ward lines and the alderman is expected to be the housekeeper as well as legislative representative of his people.
Every alderman has an office—a kind of miniature City Hall with regular staffing and office hours—which acts as a clearinghouse for individual citizens to bring their problems.
Chicago's aldermen are technically nonpartisan. They are elected to four-year terms (the current council was elected this past spring) on a ballot which contains no party label. In reality, the overwhelming majority are Daley Democrats; currently there is only one nominal Republican and four relatively independent Democrats. This means almost every alderman has his ward staffed with precinct captains (who are appointed in Cook County) who also help on reporting and solving individual problems. It is this "service" system which helps Democrats produce their election day landslides when citizens "reward" good (i.e., effective) precinct captains with votes.
As a legislative body, the city council meets just about every other Wednesday. Meetings are usually in the morning and are reported quite thoroughly by newspapers, radio and T.V.
Mayor Daley presides and some observers liken it to a school teacher and his class. There's usually full attendance and a minimum of distractions. It looks good, the way a civics textbook might suggest. On occasion it breaks down; former alderman Leon Despres, a maverick Democrat, had an ability to needle Daley into red-necked angry exchanges; so did John Hoellen whom Daley beat for mayor last April.
City laws (ordinances) normally enter the hopper as proposals by the mayor or an individual alderman. They are routed to the proper committee. Even the mayor's pet projects go through pro forma inspection, usually including a public hearing. The most powerful of the committees—finance—controls budgeting, including both raising money and spending it.
Chairman of the finance committee is automatically top man in the city council. This was the power base for Aid. Thomas E. Keane who dominated the city council until federal prosecutor James Thompson assembled an unbeatable mail fraud case against him. Another powerful committee, building and zoning, controls, among other things, whether a given piece of property is zoned for homes, apartments, business or industry. The committee is usually swayed by the view of the alderman whose ward is involved. This has been a major source of graft; in the past four years, five aldermen have been found guilty of accepting bribes in connection with zoning cases.
As with other legislative bodies, most members are indistinguishable to the casual onlooker; a few stand out. Keane's successor as city council leader, Michael Bilandic, has the title, but he is far less dominant than Keane was. Edward Vrdolyak is the man to watch—a wheeler-dealer scrambling up the power ladder. Roman Pucinski, onetime Congressman, has little personal power, but is a master at getting publicity. Terry Gabinski and Burton Natarus are the speechmakers; Ed Burke, the classic Irish politician. A former power in the General Assembly, Vito Marzullo, is the dean of the council and its most colorful member. The ranking Black, Wilson Frost, is the nominal president of the council, but he is regularly upstaged by Daley who rarely misses a meeting or leaves early.
There is, and always has been, a vocal minority in Chicago's city council. The nominal leader currently is Dick Simpson, a political science professor at Chicago Circle Campus of the University of Illinois. The power of the minority is only vocal; Daley's rule has never been seriously challenged, his right to veto never used. Any two aldermen can delay legislation, but usually for only one city council meeting; hostile legislation rarely gets the courtesy of a defeat or roll call; it just winds up buried in committee.
Over the years the minority has had an influence. Such improvements as using women crossing guards instead of police came from minority aldermen originally, was promptly rejected; then, after a suitable lapse of time was reintroduced, this time with proper (i.e., Daley) credentials and just as promptly was voted into law.
222/Illinois Issues/July 1975