Building bridges
To get anything done, the black caucus has to pick fights
carefully, build agreements slowly and find allies in unlikely places
by Burney Simpson
Trying to explain the phrase "driving while black" to some members of the Illinois General Assembly can be, well, trying. But Rep. Monique Davis made the effort this spring. When her proposal to study racial profiling got sidetracked by Senate President James "Pate" Philip, the frustrated Chicago Democrat suggested that maybe the suburban Wood Dale Republican simply had no frame of reference.
"I don't think he's ever been profiled or pulled over for this. He can't identify the need for the legislation," Davis concluded. "He needs to have more understanding of what happens when you're profiled."
Racial profiling, a long-suspected police practice of stopping minority drivers without cause, is garnering increasing attention throughout the country. And Davis' proposal to study the issue was this year's top priority for the Illinois
Legislative Black Caucus. But the difficulty she faced was hardly news to this group's members. After more than three decades, they're still working at the margins of the legislative arena.
In part, that's because the state's social culture is slow to change. But mostly, it's because Illinois politics is a largely mathematical art. The Black Caucus now counts 26 members who serve in the Illinois House and Senate, including all of the African-American and three of the Latino legislators. While the voting strength of this interest group does generate respect, it still accounts for less than 15 percent of the members of the General Assembly. And that means a lot of lost battles.
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To get anything done, members say, they have to pick fights carefully, build agreements slowly and find allies in unlikely places. Then zealously protect the ground that's been gained.
"I spend so much time just trying to ward off bad bills," sighed Rep. Wyvetter Younge as she worked the House floor last month. Surrounded by the buzz and hubbub of debate, Younge was busy buttonholing votes against a Republican-sponsored get-tough-on-crime proposal.
Younge has represented East St. Louis since 1975, making her the longest-serving African-American member of the House. To her, the role of the caucus is clear. "We are the watchdog for the interests of the poor whose rights need guarding."
She has won a few victories outright, though. In 1993, she landed a minority-owned riverboat casino for her
economically hard-pressed community, part of a larger riverboat deal.
In fact, over the years, success for this caucus has resulted from just such political bridge-building, sometimes in surprising places. In 1989, for example, minority and suburban Republican lawmakers joined forces to win creation of judicial subcircuits in Cook County, which called for election of 165 judges. Both interests got something out of the temporary coalition: the possibility that more Republicans and blacks will serve on the bench in a district dominated by old-line organization Democrats.
"They needed every one of our votes," says Sen. Miguel del Valle, a not-so-old-line Chicago Democrat. Del Valle, the senior Latino member of the caucus, has been urging other Hispanic legislators to join the group. "Our similarities go beyond minority status," he says. "We are often neighboring districts, and our constituents face the same issues."
The caucus could use the added strength. While more legislative districts are represented by blacks -- 23 -- the Latino population is the fastest-growing minority in Illinois. A legislature that once counted no Latino members now has six.
In the meantime, this caucus more often holds on by holding out. That was apparent last spring when the gaming industry fought to get a floating casino for suburban Rosemont. As it happens, gambling is one of those issues that cuts across partisan and regional lines. So every vote to change the rules is tight. The black caucus stood together and used its size to defeat the original plan. Negotiations followed. In the measure's final form, minorities and women were guaranteed ownership of at least 16 percent of the Rosemont boat. Dealmakers tossed $30 million for low-income communities into the agreement, too. The plan became law, though it now faces a court challenge.
That ability to play deal-breaker also gives the caucus access to the state's most powerful official. The group met with Gov. George Ryan last February. Says Sen. Donne Trotter, the Chicago Democrat who has chaired the caucus since 1992:
"It was a fruitful meeting. [Gov. Ryan] issued an executive decree to put more faces of color in the Cabinet."
But the caucus has a lengthy agenda. The members want to ensure that minorities have a fair shot at state contracts, too. Of the $4 billion spent on Ryan's Illinois First infrastructure program last year, only 3 percent went to minority-owned firms, according to Trotter.
Nevertheless, though Trotter calls the caucus "the conscience of the legislature," its legislative record has been spotty. Trotter's proposal to send expelled students to alternative schools so their education wouldn't be interrupted got stuck, along with Davis' profiling study, in Senate committee. "Things don't happen overnight,"
he says.
Even now, the caucus is preparing for what is shaping up as the next major race-related debate: affirmative action in the state's public universities. Race-based admission policies have been knocked down in California and Texas. And some legislators think it's inevitable affirmative action admissions programs will be eliminated in Illinois.
Already, West Chicago Republican Rep. Thomas Johnson has floated a plan to give high school seniors who graduate in the top 5 percent of their classes automatic admission to this state's public universities. A similar program in Texas has become a substitute for affirmative action programs. While Davis continues to support affirmative action, she voted for Johnson's proposal because she believes it will help students from urban areas go on to college. Like the effort to add subcircuit judges 10 years ago, Johnson's plan received support across party and racial lines. It has already passed the House and could be
considered in the fall.
As could Davis' racial profiling proposal. Last month, she took advantage of the annual House-Senate softball game to corner Philip. After making her pitch, Philip said he didn't think he could help her. "So I asked, 'Is that your final answer?'" He deadpanned, "No," Davis recalls. "That left me with some hope. We're drafting a letter to him now. "
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