Chicago's Dilemma

While most of the nation's politicos were still rubbing liniment into their campaign-sore muscles, Chicago's Republicans last week plunged feverishly ahead to the next event. All over the nation's second largest city billboards shouted: "Root for Mayor."

That the name meant nothing at all to most voters was no oddity in long-suffering Chicago. Republican mayoral Candidate Russell William Root had been hand-picked by Governor Dwight Green, who sent him over to the Tribune Tower for approval. Colonel Bertie McCormick, who had long maintained a cynical truce with local Democrats, rumbled his assent. After what had happened to the Democrats in November, he was sure the G.O.P. could now take the mayoralty--with anybody.

But G.O.P. small fry gulped with amazement when the word was passed down. Huge (6 ft. 2 1/2in., 220 Ibs.), bear-like Russell Root's greatest claim to political fame was a vague resemblance to Wendell Willkie. In his 48 years he had never held a political job above ward committeeman until he was lifted into the Cook County G.O.P. chairmanship last spring. Even he admitted that last month's Republican sweep was due more to a vote against the "ins" than to his own ability.

"I'll Go Along." Trying to figure out what was in the bosses' minds, the precinct captains could think of only two reasons for Root's candidacy. For one, he had smoothed over many an old sore in the Republican camp with his easy back-slapping affability and a judicious use of amiable profanity. More important, he had never questioned orders or policies from above. His stock political pronouncement: "I'll go along."

Over in Democratic headquarters there was another theory. Sharp, spry Jake Arvey, now the real boss of the failing Kelly machine, thought Root might be a decoy to be replaced by a stronger candidate as soon as the Democrats had committed themselves.

Whether right or wrong the theory did not move the Democrats to tip their own hand. Boss Ed Kelly was still keeping mum, hoping for a draft call. If he did not run himself, Ed's choice would probably be Gael Sullivan, his onetime administrative assistant and now second assistant postmaster general. The choice of his underlings (who did not cotton to absentee Sullivan): big, smart State's Attorney William J. Tuohy.

In the long run, Chicago's apathetic voters would take the licking. In the January primary they would merely be called upon to confirm the bosses' selections, as they had in 1943. Then, on election day in April, they would only decide which machine would run the city.

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