Why
is Dick Devine waffling?
Nominating
petitions are being circulated by candidates for various offices, and
the filing deadline of Dec.15 is fast approaching. But Cook County's
two-term state's attorney is still publicly undecided about seeking
re-election in 2004.
According
to John Gorman, the state's attorney's communications director, Devine
has made no formal announcement of his candidacy because "he has
not yet made a decision" as to whether he will run.
If
Devine, age 58, seeks re-election, he will win the Democratic
nomination and the general election easily. Devine was unopposed in
the 2000 primary, and he buried Republican David Gaughan in the
election, getting 1,310,513 votes to Gaughan's meager 365,211. Devine
has run his office in a competent, non-polarizing manner, and no
segment of the electorate feels alienated or targeted by his
prosecutorial record.
Devine,
however, did undergo surgery for prostate cancer earlier this year,
but the tumor was discovered at an early stage, and he is believed to
have made a full recovery.
Nevertheless,
for Cook County political observers, Devine's perceived indecision may
be less about Devine than about Chicago Mayor Rich Daley, Devine's
longtime political mentor and ally. Devine worked for Daley as his
first assistant when Daley was state's attorney from 1980 to 1989.
According to some political insiders, Devine is delaying his
announcement so as to freeze the campaigns of potential successors --
and to give Daley time to quietly line up a friendly successor. If
Devine announces in late November that he is not running, aspirants
for the office would have to scramble to amass more than 25,000
signatures to get on the ballot. Daley's organization could accomplish
that task in a weekend.
The
state's attorney's office is particularly important in Cook County,
from both a legal and political standpoint. A low incidence of crime
enhances both the livability of any neighborhood or city and the re-electability
of public officials. Crime is comparatively low in Chicago, and the
murder and violent crime rates have declined sharply. Credit goes to
the police force, for new anti-crime initiatives and tough
enforcement, and to the state's attorney's office, for vigorous
prosecution with no leniency. And, of course, the benefit accrues to
Daley, since low crime encourages Chicago residents to remain in the
city, new buyers to move into the city, and city businesses to
prosper.
Perhaps
in some jurisdictions, such as San Francisco, the prosecutor's office
serves as a social service agency, dedicated to criminal
rehabilitation, not criminal prosecution. But that is definitely not
the case in Chicago. Devine has made it clear to his 900 prosecutors,
who handle more than 38,000 felony, misdemeanor and narcotics cases a
year, that their job is to punish lawbreakers.
In
addition, the state's attorney's office has a special prosecutions
bureau, which consists of eight units. Four of those units directly
affect city government and the police department: government fraud,
professional standards, public integrity and elections. With a
Republican appointee as U.S. attorney, Daley does not want a state's
attorney also poking about to uncover potential corruption in his
administration.
Politically,
Devine's office is a headline-grabbing steppingstone to higher office.
Daley used the job to burnish his credentials as an administrator and
to stay in the public eye. Had he not been state's attorney, he would
not have been in a position to run for mayor in the1989 special
election. Another occupant of the office, Democrat Ed Hanrahan, who
served from 1968 to 1972, was primed to run for mayor when Richard J.
Daley retired, but he got mired in controversy surrounding a police
raid in which several Black Panthers were killed. As a result,
Hanrahan became a racially polarizing figure, and black voters
abandoned him, causing his defeat. Had Hanrahan been state's attorney
in 1977, when the special election to replace Daley occurred, he would
likely have won.
So
the bottom line is this: Daley wants a political ally, not a political
rival, as county prosecutor, and if Devine retires, whoever succeeds
him -- if a Chicagoan -- will be a potential mayoral contender when
Daley retires.
In
addition, if Devine retires, a racially divisive primary will
certainly ensue, with one or more prominent black attorneys jumping
into the contest and with former judge Gene Pincham a certain
candidate. Pincham ran as the Justice Party candidate for state's
attorney in 1996, getting just under 10 percent of the vote. Pincham's
political career is a cold case, but he is still known and respected
in the black community. He ran for mayor twice, and he pulled more
than 100,000 votes in each election. In an open primary against
multiple white candidates, and as the sole black contender, Pincham
would have a chance. As state's attorney, he would be Daley's worst
nightmare.
One
candidate who would certainly run for a vacancy would be popular Cook
County Treasurer Maria Pappas, of Chicago, who is currently running
for the U.S. Senate. She'd shift to the state's attorney's office in
an instant, and she would be a definite favorite in the Democratic
primary. If elected state's attorney, Pappas would be impatiently
waiting for Daley to retire so she could run for his job.
An
ambitious woman eager to criticize Daley or embarrass his
administration. Does this sound like Miriam Santos, Part II? Pappas
would be Daley's second-worst nightmare.
Devine,
it will be recalled, toyed with the idea of running for governor in
2002. But he pondered too long, and both Paul Vallas and Rod
Blagojevich entered the race, co-opting potential support. Had Devine
announced in early 2001, and had he run on a platform to "clean
up Springfield corruption" with the enthusiastic support of
Daley, he would be governor today.
Unlike
his predecessor, Republican Jack O'Malley, Devine has encountered few
controversies. O'Malley harbored ambitions to be governor, and he may
have concluded that a criminal prosecution of U.S. Representative Mel
Reynolds for sexual misconduct would be the ticket. That was a
miscalculation of gargantuan proportions, as O'Malley thereby
alienated the black vote. After winning easily in 1992, by a margin of
476,084 votes (61.7 percent) over Alderman Pat O'Connor, O'Malley saw
his base implode in 1996. He won the suburbs by 492,481 votes in 1992,
and that margin dipped to just 155,004 in 1996; he lost Chicago by
just 16,397 votes in 1992, running well in every black ward, but that
collapsed in 1996, and he lost the city by 252,414 votes. Even though
Pincham was on the ballot, Devine got 47 percent of the countywide
vote, for a plurality of 97,410 votes.
Devine
has been a strong advocate of the death penalty, although he created a
new DNA unit to monitor and review the testing of all defendants
convicted of murder and on Death Row. He filed a civil suit against
several gun manufacturers, distributors and dealers that he claimed
illegally sold "Saturday Night Special" handguns. Devine
quickly pursued criminal charges in the Glenbrook North High School
hazing incident. The Ryan Harris case had the potential to be
polarizing: Two black youths were charged with killing Harris but were
exonerated by DNA testing, and black politicians claimed that Chicago
police mistreated the suspects and demanded that Devine prosecute
them, but he refused. The case of Jeremiah Mearday was similar; he was
beaten in a police lockup, and two Chicago police officers were fired,
but Devine refused to prosecute them.
There
is no credible Republican poised to oppose Devine, but Andrea Zopp,
who was O'Malley's first assistant, might be persuaded to switch
parties and run as a Republican if Devine retires.
My
prediction: If Devine really wants to retire, he could do so in 2005
-- after he gets re-elected. Then the Daley-dominated County Board
could appoint a successor, and that successor would have a year of
incumbency before having to run in a special 2006 election for the
remainder of Devine's 4-year term. Obviously, Daley cannot let Devine
retire. The political repercussions would be too great.