TIME: Almanac 1990/1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso/time/031389/03138900.054

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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.