Cheerleader mayor: Maloof of Peoria

Photo by Peoria Journal Star

On a Sunday afternoon in November 1984, James A. Maloof summoned 40 friends and confidants to his Peoria real estate office. Quickly and vigorously, he dropped onto them a directive he believes to have gotten from God. At age 65, Maloof, a political novice, planned to run for mayor.

Maloof, a Roman Catholic who once considered priesthood while attending parochial schools in his native Peoria, believed he "heard a voice" telling him to run. "I really believe that," Maloofsaid. "A lot of people think they have a calling. That's from God. My business was getting no better. More people were losing their homes. I went to a few council meetings. But nobody seemed to be doing anything to help turn it around. It wore on me and wore on me. I woke up one morning, and it was like the Good Lord said to me, 'I've got a job for you.' "

Indeed, divine intervention appeared necessary for him to stare down the odds. He never had been elected to any public post. He lacked political acumen. He knew even less about local government laws and regulations. Furthermore, two of the city's best councilmen — Leonard Unes and Dan Gura — thirsted for the job. Thus, Maloof faced a political scrap that would make even veteran politicians squeamish.

In the February 1985 primary, Maloof finished second to Gura but ahead of Unes in the nonpartisan election. Then Maloof —invigorated by a primary drubbing — became mayor by besting Gura in the one-on-one April general election. The proletarian victory ushered in a feel-good type of leadership that superseded protocol. Veteran councilmen winced. Maloof recessed City Council meetings for "potty breaks." He wore pajamas to a clothing store's grand opening. He started a mayor's rib cook-off and boogied there with A-Team star Mr. T. When BusinessWeek magazine declared New York "out" and Peoria "in," Maloof sent flowers and expressed regrets with a sorrow-soaked telegram to New York Mayor Ed Koch. "If I couldn't live in New York," Koch replied, "I'd live in Peoria."

Alas, gone were the seemingly colder days of former Mayor Richard Carver, who failed in a bid to be a U.S. senator and then left before his third term expired to take a U.S. Air Force undersecretary position in Washington, D.C., under Reagan. Without a doubt, the singing mayor became Peoria's head cheerleader. His bellowing tenor voice became lengendary —if not quite always enjoyable. He crooned to councilmen, serenaded South Koreans while on a Far East trade mission and whipped out ad lib whimsies whenever he had or hadn't an excuse. It was as if he had never stepped away from his "Jimmy Maloof Sings" live radio shows of four decades earlier. The man who has sung for about 600 weddings and nearly as many funerals gave an offbeat-upbeat musical dimension to the mayor's office. When Maloof and a band of other citizens won an All-America City award for Peoria last summer, he turned the acceptance ceremony into a stage.

This theater, some suggest, is just what a mayor should do under Peoria's form of government, which uses the City Council to set policy and a city manager to administer. "An asset of the mayor is his sights are set on the city of Peoria and not his own personal gain," said state Sen. Richard Luft, the Pekin Democrat who carries many of Peoria's programs. "The mayor's true belief is in the city of Peoria."

Even so, City Council woman Dorothy Sinclair thought Maloof should have gotten the hook after one term in the so-called

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part-time job for which he is paid $19,000 a year. But she became the third council veteran to lose to Maloof when he collected 76.7 percent of the vote in his reelection victory last spring. "He's won, and he's in for another term, for better or worse," sighed Sinclair. As long as he stays healthy, he likely will run for a third term in 1993. After all, his latest campaign theme was "We've Only Just Begun."

One of Maloof's greatest assets is his creativity and willingness to try anything. During his first campaign, he created "Forward Peoria!" The volunteer program, patterned after one in San Antonio, Texas, established committees to solve problems ranging from hospital turf wars to housing relocation needs. "It was like lightning struck over night," Maloof said. "What Forward Peoria! did was bring people into the process from all these different sections of the community — people who hadn't been involved in politics before. It brought some ideas to the table that are still being discussed today."

But ideas alone are not enough, according to John Gwynn, president of the Peoria's NAACP chapter for three decades and former state president. "I don't think he has come up to par relative to race relations," said Gwynn. He contended minorities are given short shrift in housing concerns and are behind in jobs with the local fire and police departments and building trades. "He's not listening. He's not acting. The city of Peoria should listen to civil rights and social groups." Maloof's public relations skills are little different from "sophisticated plantation methods," Gwynn charged. "As long as he feels he can keep us happy, he thinks everything is all right — regardless of the results."

"His promotional skills and his marketing talents have been a great benefit," said Rep. David Leitch, a Peoria Republican and vice president of Commercial National Bank. "Peoria was in the dumper when he took over, and Peoria needed someone with his particular brand of enthusiasm."

Caterpillar Inc., Peoria's internationally renowned earth-moving machine maker, had racked up nearly $1 billion in losses during the previous three years before Maloof took office. The firm had cut in half the 36,200 Peoria area work force of 1979, and a 205-day strike in 1982 and 1983 left the local economy reeling.

Despair was everywhere in Illinois' third largest city of 124,000. Maloof's own realty sales dropped from $50 million in 1979 to $21 million in 1984, and he needed financial assistance from friends to keep his business afloat. "At Christmas of '83, I thought it was all over," remembered Maloof, who had no idea then of his future in politics.

Only two years later, the new mayor — always willing to do what others merely think of — actually danced in the streets when Caterpillar posted a profit. But he received a maelstrom of criticism — from city union members at odds with their employer over lengthy bargaining — when he suggested throwing a party to celebrate a settlement between Caterpillar Inc. and the United Auto Workers in 1986. International UAW Vice President William Casstevens, bristling over Maloof's no-strike plea, retorted: "I'm going to see if I can make a deal with the mayor the first time I come to Peoria: that he'll stay the hell out of our business, and I won't try to sell real estate."

Now, Peoria has rebounded with Caterpillar, which posted record profits of $616 million in 1988. The unemployment rate is nearly one-fourth of the 19.2 percent unemployment rate that drove more than 25,000 people from the area in the early 1980s. Favorable swings in the international marketplace and the country 's trading policy translated directly back to Peoria. "Maloof had zip to do with that," Leitch said.

Furthermore, Maloof believes the state began gearing up in economic development efforts just as Peoria was in the direst of straits. "Jim Thompson is criticized for taking business trips in Europe and wherever. But it's a case of selling Illinois to the world," said Maloof, who believes Peoria also benefits from Thompson luring Diamond-Star Motors Corp. to nearby Normal. And he quickly pointed to millions of state dollars given to train workers at Caterpillar and nearby Bartonville's Keystone Wire and Steel Co., Build Illinois dollars for a variety of infrastructure needs and aid for relocating poor residents of the city's Southtown area.

The city of Peoria also will receive an additional $3.6 million annually from the new two-year state income tax increase, and Maloof said the money is likely to be used for capital projects.

"He's really taken credit for things that he shouldn't be taking credit for," said Betty Menold, the former Republican County Board chairman who clashed fiercely with Maloof in 1985. The vitriolic pair fought inexorably for months over the city's use of financial incentives to lure businesses — and their tax revenues — into Peoria from an unincorporated area. "He very quickly learned you don't come in like Rambo," Menold said. Maloof conceded, "The first two years I was kind of combative. I may have done some things — kind of off-the-wall kind of things."

A dreamer extraordinaire, Maloof never let the boundaries of conventional thinking impede him. He threw full support behind an idea to build an investor-owned tollway between Chicago and Kansas City and then huddled over the idea with Chicago Mayor Harold Washington, who favored studying the concept now under review by state and federal officials. "It would be," Maloof said, "one of the major contributions we could leave to our children's children."

Children and family are important to Maloof. He joined another Lebanese, Danny Thomas, in 1959 on the board of directors for St. Judes Children's Research Hospital in Memphis, Tenn. An affiliate has been in Peoria since 1972.

Born of immigrant parents, Maloof and his three brothers had the work ethic instilled in them while they washed rugs in the family cleaning business — one which allowed young Jimmy to play only baseball in high school. Football and basketball took too much time. But rather than sit in the stands during those games, Maloof became a cheerleader.

Today, it's not just a game he cheers. It's his city. "It's a labor of love," Maloof said. "I see a community now that has regained confidence. I know I played some part of that."

Ray Long is Statehouse correspondent for the Peoria Journal Star.

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