"No Dog in the Manger"

At 11 o'clock each weekday morning for nearly 14 years, Chicago's political reporters have trooped into the big, green-carpeted office on the fifth floor of City Hall. Big, genial Ed Kelly was there to greet them. He would usually lean back in his chair and start off his press conference with an Irish story. Then the boys would ask a few questions. Usually Ed would ask a few in return. The boss took great pride in his slogan: "I'm not only mayor of Chicago, I'm father of it."

But one morning last week no reporters showed up. There was not even a stray ward committeeman on hand, thumbing through an early paper. Sitting silently in his big, green-cushioned chair, staring at the picture of his dead son, Mayor Edward Joseph Kelly had come to the end of the trail, alone.

The absent newsmen and politicos had gathered elsewhere, in Room 331 of the Morrison Hotel. There smart, ulcer-ridden little Jake Arvey, the new boss of the old Kelly machine, was introducing the Democrats' candidate to succeed Ed Kelly as mayor: a husky businessman, Martin Kennelly, 59.

End of an Era. While the committeemen listened dutifully to Candidate Kennelly's acceptance speech, they thought about his record. He had started out as a $2-a-week Marshall Field employe, had risen to the top of Allied Van Lines, Inc. and of the Werner-Kennelly warehouse company to boot. He had slugged away at civic reform as a member of the police-badgering Chicago Crime Commission, had worked hard during the war for the Red Cross and Army relief.

Martin Kennelly pulled no punches. He reminded the committeemen (who needed no reminding) that he had successfully fought the Kelly-Nash machine in 1936 when he backed Henry Horner for the governorship; that he had fought Kelly again, though unsuccessfully, when he boomed Tom Courtney for the mayor's seat in 1939. He had not changed a bit, he said. He was going to go ahead on his own; if his ideas clashed with the machine, the machine would have to yield.

The committeemen applauded with great heartiness. Boss Arvey, they knew, would still control the mass of minor patronage. But an era was ended. The symbol of that era was Ed Kelly, the onetime sanitary engineer, the confirmed tormenter of the English language, the kingcog of a ruthless machine which kept Democrats in power in Chicago and Washington.

Nudging the Boss. Boss Ed, now 70, had not bowed out very gracefully. Last summer he had turned over the Cook County chairmanship to Jake Arvey (TIME, July 22). Jake immediately began working on the boss to retire. Ed held out, finally agreed not to run if Jake could find someone the Boss could accept.

Three weeks ago it seemed to be all set. Martin Kennelly had agreed to run; Boss Ed had given grudging approval. But then Kennelly backed down. There were too many strings attached to the offer. Jake started all over again, and Ed began making unmistakable candidate's noises.

Finally, last week, Jake sent an emissary to Kennelly again, this time guaranteeing him a free hand. Kennelly accepted. Ed Kelly, tired of fighting a losing game, capitulated. Puffing nervously on a cigaret, he strode into the Morrison Hotel the night before the formal announcement, to face the selection committee. Said he: "I haven't tried to be a dog in the manger. I am for you and I am with you. Let's nominate Kennelly and get through with it."

Through Kennelly, shrewd little Jake Arvey hoped to regain the losses which the Democrats had suffered in November, start his new machine off right, still fueled by the mayoralty.

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