Chicago
By MILTON RAKOVE

Chicago's longest political day

A PECULIAR mood hangs over Chicago, a political stasis that doesn't seem to end. It is as if the sun that stood still on the summer solstice has not budged, and the summer has turned into one long day. The lethargy in Chicago appears to be the result of the way Mayor Byrne is administering the city. The long Daley era conditioned the community and body politic to look to its politicians for guidance and stimulation; they watched the sun in its movements and became accustomed to its power. With Mayor Byrne in charge, they may die from the heat.

Politics sets the tone for the civic life of Chicago. Chicago may be the Second City culturally, socially and economically, but it is the First City of the world politically. And City Hall is truly the city's nerve center and focal point — where the "sun" resides. It is from "the Hall" that the word goes forth, via the media to the citizenry, about what the important news of the day is. And when "the Hall" is quiet, there is no news of significance.

Chicago is not like New York or Boston or Philadelphia, those eastern cities of old traditions and powerful ruling classes. Nor is it like its mid-western sisters — Detroit, Cleveland and St. Louis. They are only big towns in the eyes of Chicagoans; no doubt, they have the same problems, but are nowhere near as big as Chicago, and do not have the same vitality. One-time reform alderman, Robert Merriam, a true native son of Chicago, once told the New Yorker's A. J. Liebling, that "Chicago is unique. It is the only completely corrupt city in America." When Liebling cited other corrupt American cities, Merriam's civic pride manifested itself. "They aren't nearly as big," he said.

Neither is Chicago like its far away western challengers, Dallas, Houston and Los Angeles. Those are sunbelt cities, governed by economic elites and populated by less hardy souls who could not survive Chicago's winters.

City Hall, a block square building that sits in the Loop between LaSalle, Clark, Randolph and Washington streets, is split into two parts: the city side on LaSalle Street and the County Building on the east side facing Clark Street. But nobody in Chicago ever refers to the County Building. The building is City Hall.

Ostensibly, "the Hall" is a government building. But those who know it know that it is primarily a political headquarters. In Chicago, politics takes precedence over government and public policy, and politicians are more important than elected public officials or bureaucrats.

It is from "the Hall" that the word also goes forth to the faithful in the wards and the precincts. But these messages are not sent through the media, which is forever scrounging around, guessing, and querying the assorted characters who make up the building's daytime occupants. The word goes out to the politicians through the grapevine in the same way that the word was passed in latrines and the barracks in the army during the wars.

What is the word that goes out in Chicago in these days of the long summer solstice? What messages are received by the minions of the machine who man the wards and the precincts?

"Survive!" "Don't make no waves!" "Stay out of sight!" "Don't rock the boat!" Those are the words which are being passed around in the offices of "the Hall" and in the ward offices.

Politicians are, by nature, non-ideological in their philosophy and conservative in their behavior. And bureaucrats are notoriously resistant to change. Since Chicago's City Hall is heavily peopled by bureaucrat/politicians, those tendencies are doubly reinforced.

But under Mayor Byrne, the top of the City Hall bureaucracy continues to change. The Police Department has sort of settled down under a tough, capable new superintendent, but Mayor Byrne's two top aides have resigned. There is a search on for a new fire commissioner; a new comptroller has been brought in, and a new budget director has been hired. Byrne appointed a commissioner of planning, but he was fired before he took office. Her newly hired financial adviser, Edwin Yeo, is being banished to O'Hate Airport, a sort of local Siberia where former aide William Griffin and acting Police Superintendent Joe DiLeonardi were sent after their fall from grace.

Mayor Byrne seems to have undergone a metamorphosis in her role as mayor. She began her term as a politician, taking on most of the powerful ward committeemen she considered potential enemies. But, of late, she has publicly forsworn politics and has decided to become an administrator par excellence. "Mayor Daley was a good politician," she told an interviewer, "but you have to be an administrator in this job. I'm the best administrator this city has seen in a long time."

In her new administrative role, Byrne has commissioned studies of the city's personnel system and is increasingly relying on outside management consulting firms for help in deciding who gets hired and fired. Those kinds of people — outsiders — are anathema to politician/bureaucrats in "the Hall." They are accustomed to a hiring system based on letters of sponsorship from ward committeemen, their "Chinamen" or "Rabbis" in City Hall parlance.

No one knows what Mayor Byrne's conversion from politician to administrator means for them or how long the changed role will last. So, it is best to hunker down and try to survive. Under current conditions, the long summer solstice in City Hall may continue through the fall and winter. The consequences of that possibility are difficult to predict.

32/September 1980/Illinois Issues