After Growing up in Illinois, How the Hell Did I Become a Democrat? (pt. 1)

When you look back on it, it's quite remarkable, really. That I could come of age in a place dominated by a single political party and despite the decades of corruption emanating from that party, grow-up to embrace them on a national level.

How the hell did that happen?

Some backstory:

First there was Richard J. Daley: The Boss. His iron-clad tenure was earmarked by the slogan “Chicago: The city that works”—at long as you followed the dictates of your precinct captain and voted the right way.

You see, Daley developed a system of patronage that would have been the envy of medieval kings and queens. You either voted for Daley or discovered your garbage wasn't being picked-up in a timely fashion. Or that the burned-out streetlight in front of your house stayed that way for months. Or even years.

Maybe the police paid unusual attention to your car and the state of its registration. Or meticulously observed local parking ordinances as they pertained to your conveyance.

It went on and on and on.

Like all good crime bosses, Daley inserted layers and layers of bureaucracy between him and his functionaries, ensuring it would be difficult to draw a line between him and these civic punishments for non-compliance.

Only death could stop him. And in December of 1976, it did.

Then there was Paul Powell, the Illinois Secretary of State who died in office in 1970. In the time-honored tradition of Illinois Democrats, shoeboxes (shoeboxes!) stuffed with cash were found in his office and the hotel where he lived.

The haul amounted to $750,000 (nearly five-million in 2020 dollars), which was an entirely natural consequence for a civil servant bringing home 30k per.

But Daley and Powell are just the tip of the iceberg. I would be remiss if I didn't name-check George W. Dunne, who as a politically-oriented friend of mine noted bitterly, was the first man to become a millionaire after being elected to public office.

I can't substantiate this claim, but you get the idea. Crooked as a pubic hair.

Then there's Edward “Fast Eddie” Vrdolyak, who, as his nickname implies, could talk his way out of a sunburn. As an alderman, Fast Eddie had a profound ability for making slimy deals and vanishing before the slime even had a chance to dry.

To insert a particularly-relevant feather in Fast Eddie's cap, he unashamedly led the anti-Washington contingent against Chicago's first black mayor, repeatedly stymieing him as he sought to enact municipal policy.

When being an alderman wasn't enough, he ran for mayor as a Republican—twice. But being a Republican candidate for mayor in the city of Chicago is like being the drummer for the fictional heavy-metal band Spinal Tap. The future is not so bright one requires shades.

While death or political miscalculation ended all of the notable careers above, Edward M. Burke has persisted for over half a century.

He was initially elected to the Chicago City Council in 1969 and has served (for lack of a better word) ever since. He has amassed considerable power, and like the businessmen-slash-pols above, it's difficult to tell where his business ends and his position as an alderman begins.

And vice versa.

Until recently, Burke considered himself a very important person, hence the chauffeur-driven limousine and bodyguards. But a federal probe has put the kabosh on his high falutin' ways, and presently Ed and his legal team are sweating out the details on how to beat the charges stacking up against him.

Fifty-years on, you could argue that ship sailed a long time ago. But I'm fine with the idea of Burke enjoying an uncomfortable retirement.

Manners prohibit me from neglecting the fine quartet of Illinois governors who selflessly blazed a trail from the cushy Governor's mansion in Springfield to federal prison. Yep. Otto Kerner, Dan Walker, George Ryan and Rod Blagojevich all did time.

So there you have it. The Elite Eight of Illinois Infamy. A handy and compact guide to the Illinois politicians who have distinguished themselves while answering the call of public service.

Thing is, the were unusually adept at reversing the charges. (For those of you too young to know what that means, Google it.)

Join us here at The Square Peg next time as we take a look the career of the Babe Ruth of Illinois politics.

Ta ta for now.