The Fuss over Gus

By Richard Lacayo

Chicago Congressman Gus Savage has a way with words. He calls Ron Brown, the African American who is chairman of the Democratic Party, "Ron Beige" because he is not militant enough to suit Savage. When a reporter tried to question him about charges that one of his sons was a no-show employee on the payroll of Walter Fauntroy, Representative from Washington, D.C., he snapped, "Are you still wearing your wife's underwear?"

Last month, during a rally a few days before the Illinois primary, the five- term Democratic lawmaker outdid himself. Clumsily parodying a calypso song about a suspicious husband who wonders why his wife's purse is filled with money, he accused his black opponent, Mel Reynolds, of receiving more than $26,000 in contributions from pro-Israel political-action committees or from individual Jewish donors who were members of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. "He who pays the piper calls the tune," said Savage. "Where did he get all that money?" Attended by security men from the organization of Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, Savage read at length from a list of Reynolds supporters with Jewish-sounding names.

Savage's tirade unleashed a storm that sent Democratic leaders running -- or rather, tiptoeing -- for cover. By failing to condemn Savage quickly, they left themselves open to accusations that their party, anxious not to offend black voters, applies a double standard: denouncing bigotry when Republicans utter racially insensitive remarks and keeping mum when similar slurs are made by African Americans. Such accusations are all the more damning because Republicans, whose veiled appeals to anti-black prejudice have helped win five out of the last six presidential elections, only recently confronted a similar problem and appeared to deal with it firmly. Last year, after former Ku Klux Klan leader David Duke was elected to the Louisiana state legislature as a Republican, G.O.P. Chairman Lee Atwater denounced him and read him out of the party.

Racist rhetoric is nothing new in American politics. Blacks have been its most consistent victims. But when politicians make offensive comments these days, they are usually sufficiently embarrassed -- or shrewd enough -- to offer fast apologies or disassociate themselves. True to form, Ron Brown declared that he was "appalled" by Savage's remarks and promised that Savage would receive no help from the party's campaign treasury. That did not matter much, since the funds generally are reserved for candidates in tight races against a Republican -- and Democrats running in Savage's Chicago district are invariably shoo-ins. Said Savage: "We never got a dime from the Democratic Party. I guess he's not going to give me what he's never given me before."

No one was more mortified by Savage's outpourings than two prominent black Congressmen, House whip William H. Gray III of Pennsylvania and New York's Charles Rangel. Both appeared at the Savage rally to offer their endorsements, though they left before he began his denunciation of Jewish influence.

As word spread of Savage's outburst, Rangel stepped forward to condemn it. "If I had known that such foul statements would be made in my presence or out of it," he said, "I would not have gone to Chicago." Gray, the third- ranking Democrat in the House and a man who has been mentioned as the first black vice presidential nominee, waited to see a videotape of Savage's remarks before declaring them "unacceptable, divisive and bigoted." A private lunchtime meeting last week of the Congressional Black Caucus turned into what one member called "a knock-down, drag-out" on Savage. Said a participant: "I think members are trying to say to him, 'Cool it. Don't continue to try and tear things apart.' " The next day, Savage screened a videotape of his speech and asserted that he had made no anti-Semitic remarks.

Savage has developed a reputation on Capitol Hill as something between a rascal and a scoundrel. An energetic promoter of minority set-aside contracts, Savage's most notable achievement was to push the construction of a 27-story federal building that wound up in another Chicago congressional district. He is also known for sponsoring seven resolutions honoring heavyweight boxer Joe Louis. All died in committee. Recently, the House ethics committee reprimanded him for making sexual advances to a female Peace Corps volunteer during a trip to Zaire.

Savage has always had an uncertain political base in his district, a mostly black area that encompasses parts of Chicago's South Side and some adjacent working-class suburbs. Running against divided fields, he has never won more than 52% of the vote in a primary contest. This year his opponents rallied behind a single candidate, Reynolds, a former Rhodes scholar with support from a number of prominent blacks in the district. Savage may have decided that a low-road campaign of race baiting and anti-Semitism was the safest way to stymie a strong opponent. Even so, he squeaked past Reynolds with only 51% of the vote.

With reporting by Julie Johnson/Washington and Gavin Scott/Chicago