Daley Diminished

After 19 years in office, Mayor Richard Daley seems as permanent a part of the city of Chicago as Lake Michigan. His powerful Democratic machine has survived race riots, violent political demonstrations and endless scandals. But last week, with the boss recovering from a mild stroke, many Chicagoans were seriously thinking the unthinkable: that perhaps the end of the Daley era was in sight.

The reason is Daley's health. Although he recovered rapidly from the dizziness and leg cramps that sent him to the hospital two weeks ago, his condition is aggravated by high blood pressure, diabetes and age. Last week the mayor and his family quietly celebrated his 72nd birthday in his hospital room.

Tests have revealed that a partially blocked carotid artery that had caused occasional numbness in his right hand and cheek for several months may have caused the stroke as well. Although at week's end he was able to leave the hospital, he will soon return for an operation to remove the fatty deposits that are clogging the artery, a relatively simple procedure that ostensibly should leave Daley in better shape than ever.

But there is speculation that his present condition may be worse than his intimates are willing to admit. The news of the stroke was kept secret for a full week, and only a small circle of family and close friends were allowed to see him.

Thompson Indicts. Daley has compelling reasons to use his illness as a pretext for an honorable exit when his fifth four-year term ends next April.

He is still the undisputed boss of the nation's last surviving big political machine, but the machine itself is slowly deteriorating. The corruption that has long been one of its largely hidden ingredients is now being exposed and examined under the twin spotlights of sophisticated investigative reporting and relentless legal prosecution. In addition, charges of police brutality, much of it committed against blacks and documented in detail by the Chicago Tribune last fall, have contributed to the growing disaffection of the usually pro-Daley black voters, who make up about 30% of the electorate. With the help of a forceful civic group, the Better Government Association, the Sun-Times revealed the scandalous land deals involving Alderman Thomas Keane, the mayor's "floor leader" in the rubber-stamp city council and the city's second most powerful politician.

Two weeks ago, Keane was indicted by U.S. Attorney James ("Big Jim") Thompson, 38, whose energetic investigations may prove the undoing of the Daley machine. Among Thompson's many achievements: the indictments of 61 Chicago policemen--of whom 38, including two district commanders, have been convicted--for shaking down Chicago businessmen, mostly tavern owners; the indictments and convictions of 18 employees in the office of County Assessor P.J. Cullerton for giving tax breaks to major Democratic Party contributors; lawsuits to open up the Irish-dominated fire department to minority hiring and promotion; and the indictment of the mayor's former director of public relations, Earl Bush, on charges of mail fraud in connection with his secret ownership of a company that operated the display advertising concession at city-owned O'Hare Airport.

Daley himself has never been even remotely linked to the ill-gotten profits of cronies caught with their hands in the till, but scandal has touched his family. He never denied that in 1972 he used his influence to get the city controller to place millions of dollars worth of city insurance with an obscure suburban agency that employed his son John Patrick as a solicitor. Said Daley: "If a man can't put his arms around his sons and help them, then what's this world coming to?" The mayor has also been embarrassed by the revelation that John Patrick and another son, William, won their insurance brokers' licenses improperly.

Bowing and Scraping. In recent years Daley has grown even more autocratic and less tolerant of opposition, factors that contribute to growing dissatisfaction in the ranks of the machine. Says one alderman who publicly professes his loyalty to Daley but has deep private misgivings: "So much bowing and scraping is needed to maintain Daley's favor that I sometimes wonder. The party discipline is loosening up because a lot of guys are not willing to take it any more."

If Daley chooses to run again he will almost certainly win. But in view of his age and health, he might risk killing himself in a grueling primary campaign against upstart Alderman William Singer, 33, the lawyer who unseated the mayor's delegation from the Democratic National Convention in 1972. Once past Singer, Daley would probably face Republican Jim Thompson in another punishing battle. Some friends predict that he is ready instead to retire. In that case, he will need to pick a successor if the machine is to hold together. The trouble is, there is no strong candidate acceptable to all factions. In the manner of most absolute rulers, Daley has consistently chopped down all those who rose to threaten him.

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