Primogeniture in The Windy City

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.