Walker's downfall: his holier-than-thou attitude

He could have joined a large law firm and carved out a very comfortable life for himself, but Dan Walker wanted to get rich — quick. So the former governor became an entrepreneur. He got in over his head, and he resorted to fraud to bail himself out. And now he's headed for prison.

He's been out of office for 11 years, and not much in the news, but I'd see his name and his picture in the society columns, having attended this or that fancy charity ball with his new wife, and I'd think: It's just like when he was governor — more style than substance.

Dan Walker had wonderful potential as a politician. He was a Naval Academy graduate, a corporate lawyer in Chicago, president of the Chicago Crime Commission, and author of the much-publicized Walker Report, which described Chicago police action during the tumultuous 1968 Democratic convention as a "police riot." He was a brilliant man and a fine speaker.

He walked across the state, 1,197 miles, shaking hands with voters in a hokey but effective campaign gimmick, and he beat the Daley machine's candidate in the 1972 Democratic primary, Lt. Gov. Paul Simon, and incumbent Richard Ogilvie in the general election.

When I came to Illinois in 1973 and joined the Statehouse press corps, Walker had just taken office. At first glance, he seemed like a breath of fresh air in contrast to the machine, but I discovered that the Springfield reporters were extremely hostile toward him. In time, I learned why: He was a phony and a stuffed-shirt, and he was a person whose every governmental decision seemed aimed solely at advancing the career of Dan Walker. He was the Richard Nixon of Illinois.

He had a superiority complex and a holier-than-thou approach to politics that turned off other politicians, and that was his downfall. Politics is the art of compromise. You don't have to sell your soul, but if you want to accomplish something, you have to show respect for the other side. Walker's "I'm right and you're wrong" manner alienated the legislature and everyone else with whom he had to deal.

(Interestingly, Walker's Annapolis classmate, Jimmy Carter, elected president the year Walker lost reelection, had the same problem. He came to Washington denouncing the Washington establishment, and as a result, Washington gave his programs the cold shoulder.)

Walker himself wanted to be president, and had he been reelected, he undoubtedly would have been testing the waters. But his term as governor was something less than successful. One big accomplishment was the creation of the Regional Transportation Authority to coordinate mass Transit in the Chicago area. Another was passage of legislation requiring the disclosure of campaign financing. But the legislature turned down most of his major proposals.

Along the way, Walker lost support. Liberals had loved him for the Walker Report and because he had beaten the machine, but they deserted him after he signed a death penalty bill.

Walker was a terrific campaigner. It wasn't unusual during the 1972 primary campaign for him to have 15 or 16 events in a day. Up at 5 a.m. to stand outside a factory gate in Danville, then to Champaign for a Rotary breakfast, lunch in Peoria with a women's group and dinner in Chicago, then a swing by some suburban bowling alleys to shake hands until 11 p.m.

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The governor didn't seem tired, but we reporters sure were.

However, it wasn't enough. Mayor Daley's candidate, Secy. of State Michael J. Howlett, won the nomination. Howlett lost in November to James R. Thompson.

After leaving office, Walker established a "statewide" law firm, with several offices around the state, specializing in group prepaid packages, a kind of HMO for legal matters. But it wasn't successful. Then he joined with Oak Brook millionaire Frank Butler to set up a quick-oil-change franchise business, and he bought a savings and loan association and used its deposits to support the the business. The savings and loan was declared insolvent and was seized by federal regulators in 1986.

In August, Walker was charged with bank fraud, misapplication of bank funds and perjury in connection with improperly obtaining nearly $1 .4 million in loans. He was accused of submitting 11 false financial statements to five banks and saving and loan associations; of using his son and a friend as surrogates to obtain five loans for him at a time when he had reached his borrowing limit; and of lying under oath to the Federal Home Loan Bank Board about his finances. He pleaded guilty.

In addition to getting loans for his business, Walker got them for personal expenses, including the operation of a $1.2 million luxury yacht he called "The Governor's Lady." The 76-foot yacht featured a custom dining table with inlaid diamonds and a hydraulically operated bar that disappeared into mirrored storage cabinets.

Walker's lawyer, former U.S. Atty. Thomas Foran, blamed the ex-governor's troubles on his inability to make the adjustment from being governor, with all its perquisites and privileges, to the relative anonymity of private life. He "ran too fast and fell on his face," Foran said, appealing for leniecy. But the prosecutor recommended a stiff sentence. He said Walker's altitude toward the court was one of "arrogance" and his explanation of his crimes was "disingenuous" and "offensive." He said Walker alluded to persons who never held elected office as "pedestrians."

And I thought, yes, that sounds like Dan Walker.

The judge sentenced him to seven years in prison.

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