TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/031389/03138900.054

Text File | 1992-09-23 | 5.7 KB | 110 lines

                                                                                NATION, Page 24

Primogeniture in the Windy City


Dick Daley's firstborn son may follow in hizzoner's footsteps

By Gavin Scott

    For connoisseurs of roughhouse local politics, there is no
place like Chicago and no name like that of the late Mayor
Richard J. Daley. Last week it appeared that the fabled boss's
firstborn son might be the next occupant of the office in city
hall from which hizzoner presided for 21 years. In a Democratic
primary notable for its racially polarized voting, Cook County
State's Attorney Richard M. Daley defeated Eugene Sawyer, a
black who took over as mayor 16 months ago, after the death of
Harold Washington, Chicago's first black chief executive.
Daley's 55%-to-43% victory makes him an odds-on favorite in the
mayoral election next month. It also set up a showdown between
two of the country's most prominent black politicians: Jesse
Jackson and his former political aide Ronald Brown, now
chairman of the Democratic National Committee.

    Though blacks and whites each account for about 41% of the
city's 3 million population, there are roughly 150,000 more
white voters than black ones. Washington was able to win two
terms by putting together coalitions combining virtually all
black voters with about one-fifth of whites. But that coalition
broke apart last week as 91% of whites opted for Daley and 94%
of blacks cast their ballots for Sawyer. Turnout was a ho-hum
64.5% (compared with 74% in 1987), and the falloff in black
districts was an especially sharp 19%.

    Many blacks have not forgiven Sawyer for the manner in which
he became mayor. Backed by 23 whites on the 50-member city
council, he prevailed in a raucous all-night session a week
after Washington's death. Supporters of Alderman Tim Evans, an
ally of Washington's, smelled a sellout. Shouting "Uncle Tom
Sawyer!" they asked, "How much, Sawyer? How much?" as they
threw coins at him from the gallery.

    Sawyer, a former chemistry teacher who, like Evans, got his
political start in Daley's machine, never managed to recover
from that inauspicious beginning. So inarticulate that he was
dubbed the "Mumblin' Mayor," Sawyer made a few creditable
appointments. But he also proved indecisive, delaying for a
full week the firing of a subordinate who had made blatantly
anti-Semitic speeches. Sawyer was reduced to claiming that he
had accepted the keys to city hall in order to achieve gains
for blacks. "Had I not taken those keys," declared Sawyer, "the
ethnic rainbow we see would not be there. I'm going to keep the
keys to keep the dream alive."

    But that appeal failed to stir a large number of blacks,
despite Jackson's exhortations. Evans, after toying with the
idea of seeking the nomination in the Democratic primary, chose
instead to wage an independent campaign under the banner of the
"Harold Washington Party." Thus, having defeated one black
opponent in the primary, Richie Daley will have to overcome
another in the general election on April 4 to reclaim his
father's office. If he does, Chicago would become the third
major city (after Cleveland and Charlotte, N.C.) in which the
mayor's office, once won by a black, has reverted to white
control.

    With his stocky frame, jowly face and scrambled syntax,
Daley, 46, has a close resemblance to his famous forebear. He
also seems to have inherited some of his old man's political
skills. His well-financed campaign (run by his lawyer brother
William, 40) fielded a force of disciplined precinct workers
that would have made Dick Daley proud. Using TV ads portraying
him as the law-and-order candidate, Daley reached far beyond
his largely Irish base to affluent "Lakefront Liberals" and
other ethnics, whites who gave about 20% of their votes to
Washington but only 8% to Sawyer. "It was the best campaign
organization this city has seen in many a year," says Thom
Serafin, a Democratic analyst. "It was like the Bears going up
against Marist High School."

    Still, Daley's tendency to trip over his tongue created some
problems. A television spot by Sawyer's campaign showed an actor
portraying Daley riffling through cue cards reminding him of his
own name. In reply, Daley sought to tweak Sawyer for using the
resonant voice of actor James Earl Jones in his TV spots instead
of speaking in his own muffled accents. But he confused the
actor's name with that of James Earl Ray, the assassin of Martin
Luther King. Observed Jackson: "He doesn't seem to know the
difference." Daley's worst gaffe came in a speech to a Polish
group during which, his opponents claimed, he declared, "You
want a white mayor to sit down with everybody." But Daley's
enunciation is so unclear that despite repeated television
airings of the offending line, observers remain unsure of what
he uttered. Maintains Daley, who campaigned in black areas: "I
never said any such thing."

    With Sawyer out, Jackson has thrown his support to Evans,
because Daley did not back his presidential campaign. But Brown,
who was Jackson's manager at the 1988 Democratic Convention, has
endorsed Daley and promised that he would speak on his behalf
if Daley asks him to. By putting party loyalty ahead of race,
Brown stands to gain with white Democrats who feared that he
would carry Jackson's water at the Democratic National
Committee. By doing the opposite, Jackson risks alienating
whites if he stages another bid for the presidency. Republicans
hope the rift between Jackson and the Democrats can be turned
to their advantage. On the night after Daley's victory, Jackson
accepted George Bush's standing invitation and dropped by the
White House for a chat.