Daley Regnant

In the last weeks of the campaign, Chicago's city workers scurried about removing dead trees, filling potholes and handing out shiny new garbage cans to voters. On primary election day, Democratic-machine lieutenants stood two and three abreast at street corners on the predominantly black West Side to steer people to the polls. Assistant precinct captains in the 31st Ward solicitously helped voters find parking places and brushed the snow from their windshields. Ward heelers elsewhere rounded up the elderly, the infirm and even the West Madison Street derelicts and took them to the voting booths. In these and other ways, Chicago's 25,000 or so patronage workers--and many of their relatives--helped Richard J. Daley overwhelm three Democratic opponents last week and assure himself of winning an unprecedented sixth term in the general election on April 1.

No Giant Killer. He hardly needed such help. Even Daley's staunchest foes had to agree that he won on his popularity among the city's voters, not just because of the machine's tactics. The opposition had attacked Daley's age and frail health (he suffered a stroke last spring), the scandals of his administration, rising crime and deteriorating public schools. But most Chicagoans hold an abiding admiration for Daley and went overwhelmingly for the status quo. Explained former State's Attorney Ben Adamowski, a onetime critic who endorsed Daley this time: "When the ship is in trouble, you don't throw an experienced captain overboard." Daley carried 47 of the city's 50 wards, piling up 432,224 votes in the unofficial count to 217,764 for his chief opponent, Independent Democrat William Singer, who was handicapped by his youth (34) and inexperience. Farther behind were black State Senator Richard Newhouse with 58,548 votes and former State's Attorney Edward Hanrahan with 37,034. None of the challengers had the stature of a giant killer, and in Chicago Dick Daley rates as a giant.

Special Relationship. Along the way to renominating their man, Daley workers shattered the political fortunes of the token G.O.P. nominee for mayor, John Hoellen, 60, who was also running for re-election as the city's only Republican alderman. He was beaten, in part because the machine made a special point of turning out votes for his opponent, Eugene C. Schulter, 27, a real estate appraiser and protege of the Democratic ward committeeman. Afterward, Hoellen considered dropping out of the race against Daley. Said the Republican: "If I can't be elected alderman of the 47th Ward, it's impossible for me to be elected mayor." He called Daley's victory "the ultimate in precinct power. They could have elected a gorilla." Don Rose, a leader of the antimachine Democrats and former publisher of a community newspaper, added more fairly: "The man is an institution. He has a unique and special relationship with the city that borders on the religious."

Daley appeared subdued after his triumph. "After this great victory, we must unite all the people of our city. I shall embrace charity, love, mercy and walk humbly with my God." Many Chicagoans believe that he will have to do all that and more if he is to deal successfully with Chicago's problems over the next four years. More important for the machine, he must also arrange for an orderly transfer of power to a successor. He is now 72, and this campaign was almost certainly his last hurrah.

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