Daley's Chicago worked financially, supporters like to say, especially in comparison to New York. Indeed, the mayor was an adept fiscal manager and the city is solvent. But observers are wrong in attributing that to some magic on Daley's part, some ability to have his cake and eat it too--to satisfy labor and management, black and white, rich and poor, and keep taxes down at the same time.
Chicago has no city hospitals, no extensive city college system, no share of the welfare burden. The city is fortunate, since unlike New York it shoulders none of these costs. But the fact remains that much of Daley's success stems from his ability to hide the trade-offs he made: high wages and benefits to keep labor happy, tax breaks for businesses, large-scale downtown construction, patronage jobs for the faithful, instead of better education, health care, housing.
Blacks, of course, suffered the most in Daley's Chicago. It never worked for them. Although clever management by the mayor's ward bosses kept the huge black community in Daley's corner, recent years have seen them chafing under the yoke. They rose to throw Daley's states attorney out of office after he allegedly engineered the murder of two Black Panthers, and in the 1975 Democratic mayoral primary Daley failed to get a majority of black votes for the first time. Last spring black voters stood off an organization front man's challenge to Rep. Ralph Metcalfe (D-I11.), who had angered the mayor with his charges of police brutality.
As for dissidents in general, Daley's Chicago obviously did not work for them. Recent revelations show that the Police Department's Red Squad spied on thousands of Chicagoans. Senior citizens groups, church groups, women's groups, community groups and dozens of others were infiltrated. Police filled files with information on reporters who wrote stories critical of the Machine, people who spoke or even signed petitions against the war in Vietnam and activists of almost any kind. The revelations probably won't stir up much resentment against the Police Department, though. Many Chicagoans approve of the spying.
And that's the way it was with a lot else that went on in the Daley years. The mayor was frequently attacked in the press ("They have vilified me, they have crucified me, yes they have even criticized me"), but he knew nothing could touch him.
Even when he blatantly showed just whom Chicago really worked for by shifting much of the city's insurance business to his son's firm, the people understood. As for his critics, they could "kiss my mistletoe," which the mayor described as attached to the seat of his pants. In explaining his action, Daley knew he spoke for many of his people in the "neighborhoods". "If a man can't put his arm around his sons, then what kind of world are we living in?" He loved his city but he loved his sons too. Chicago bought it.
The truth is Chicago did not work, but Richard J. Daley did. Daley worked. He worked because he embodied the city, reflecting the feelings, moods and characteristics of many of its citizens. And he was genuine. He lived his entire life in the same Irish back-of-the-yards neighborhood. He talked like his constituents. He revered God and family. Daley made the transition from boss to father figure, columnist Mike Royko wrote, and that holds the clue to how this brontosaurus succeeded.
The patronage Machine preceeded him and will continue--strong--after his death, but Daley's success was a personal success. Few under 30 can remember anyone else being mayor. Chicagoans worshipped the man. He received over 70 per cent of the vote in four of his six elections; he carried every one of the city's 50 wards in the '75 primary, except the liberal-chic University of Chicago neighborhood and the professionally liberal 43rd ward. Many wept in the streets when the end came, and all citizens, whatever their views, felt a sense of loss. The mayor touched the lives of every single person in Chicago and that meant a lot. To those who went along--a large number--it meant they had a stake, however small and easily manipulated, in their city. What is unfortunate is that many mistook that stake and all its varying degrees of convertibility into power for evidence that Chicago actually "worked" as a city, rather than just a means of providing for their selfish patronage interests.
There are others, the poor and voiceless among them, who will also mourn Daley. But they will mourn the passing of the man, not of his city. For them Daley worked, though Chicago did not. They welcome the changes that will take place. Last week the acting mayor, under pressure from the Latin community, ordered Spanish taught to firemen working in Latin areas. That wouldn't have happened in what are now quickly becoming the old days--the Daley years.
When people look back for Daley's legacy they will not see the city he left, the city he said "worked." Rather the legacy of Richard J. Daley will be Richard J. Daley himself and his approach to government. The image of that man, however monumental a force he was, may well wither with time