The legislative agenda without Mayor Washington

The shock of Chicago Mayor Harold Washington's untimely death is wearing off as Illinois enters the new year, but the pall of uncertainty the tragedy cast over the state's political landscape may be a long while dissipating.

The most obvious impact came in the days immediately following the late mayor's massive heart attack, when the solid City Council majority he had forged was riven by an unseemly succession struggle. When Eugene Sawyer, a low-key south side alderman, emerged at 4:01 a.m. on December 2 as the city's acting mayor, it was with the votes of 23 white aldermen, only five of his fellow 17 blacks, and none of the four Hispanics. Fans of Sawyer's rival, 4th Ward Ald. Timothy C. Evans, accused the new mayor of "selling out" the Washington legacy to the late mayor's arch foes and vowed to oppose him in the 1989 election.

It was hardly an auspicious beginning for Chicago's second black mayor, who now faces the perhaps impossible task of keeping together the fragile coalition that elected him while building bridges to the Washington faithful. The underlying rifts could lead to a renewal of Council Wars, but with a significant twist: This time the guerrilla warriors against a black mayor would be not the white ethnics who harried Washington for most of his first term, but fellow blacks.

The shaky ground on which Sawyer's rule rests contrasts sharply with the solid power base Washington had just begun to enjoy — witness his role in shaping the Cook County Democratic ticket for the 1988 elections — and the difference will be felt in the upcoming session of the General Assembly.

It's not likely, for example, that Sawyer will be promoting an ambitious city agenda to lawmakers. Like Washington in his first few years, the new mayor will be too busy minding the store at home for legislative wheeling and dealing in Springfield. Moreover, while the late mayor's 16 years in the legislature gave him a keen feel for the players and the process, Sawyer lacks that experience, which could place him at a disadvantage in bargaining with Gov. James R. Thompson and Republican legislative chieftains.

The governor was among the new mayor's first well-wishers, emerging to say the pair "began a good working relationship" and to predict "a period of cooperation and progress with the city." Of course, it was Thompson in 1979 who talked another neophyte mayor, Jane M. Byrne, into relinquishing the state subsidy to the Regional Transportation Authority for the right to impose a local transit sales tax, in what was probably the worst deal for the city since the Cubs sent outfielder Lou Brock, a future Hall of Famer, to the Cardinals in 1964 for pitcher Ernie Broglio, 7-19 lifetime record with Chicago.

Even when there's no risk of getting fleeced, Sawyer could encounter some of the same confusion that plagued the Washington administration's early dealings, when no one was quite sure who could speak for the mayor in negotiations and make the deal stick. At one point, for example, in the critical talks that led to passage of the temporary income tax increase shortly after Washington took office in 1983, some purported spokesmen for the mayor were denying Washington had agreed to the plan at the same time others were assuring the governor's agents and legislative leaders that he had.

But the dangers such potential pitfalls pose for Chicago's interests will be lessened by other, saving factors. Most significantly, both House Speaker Michael J. Madigan (D-30, Chicago) and Senate President Philip J. Rock (D-8, Oak Park) can be counted on to defend the city against depredations from suburban or downstate legislators, and presumably the new mayor

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will heed the Democratic leaders' advice. In addition, Chicago has nothing vital now pending at a critical juncture in Springfield. Among big-ticket items, the $120 million stadium for the White Sox is far enough along that the change in city leadership is unlikely to jeopardize its completion; on the other hand, the city and the state had not even begun discussions over possible state help in building a new facility for the Bears, so little ground has been lost there.

Chicago and Sawyer do have a stake, of course, in the debate over raising taxes. A tax hike coupled with a more generous income tax share for municipalities could boost Sawyer's stock by easing property tax pressures on city bungalow-dwellers. In addition, increased school aid could enable system change to be sugarcoated with pay raises, thus making reform more palatable to the Chicago Teachers Union.

Last spring, Washington — preoccupied with his reelection — was at best an ineffective supporter of Thompson's tax hike proposals. Some allies expected the late mayor to be more forceful this time around, and although the role seems unlikely for Sawyer, the distinction may not matter, for once again the key figure on taxes will be Madigan.

At the same time, revamping the Chicago school system is sure to be a key condition for approval of a tax increase aimed at boosting state school spending. For widely divergent reasons, it's possible Washington's untimely passing may lend impetus to the reform drive. Consider its impact on Washington foes among white ethnics, who might find renewed concern for city schools as they ponder whether black divisiveness could lead to a white mayor in 1989, in a reversal of the three-way Democratic primary fight Washington won in 1983. And knowing that city school improvement is a major item of unfinished business on the Washington agenda could energize "Harold's people" to demand meaningful change to afford Chicago youngsters the same chance for a decent education as suburban and downstate children. That, indeed, would be a fitting memorial for the late mayor, a larger-than-life hero to so many ordinary folks precisely because of his life-long commitment to the simple notion of equal opportunity for all.

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