MANY FAUX PAS EXPECTED

July 6, 1959

Chicago

Whose bright idea was this?

Queen Elizabeth is visiting Chicago, and our mayor- Mr. Fumbles and Mumbles- is going to be her host.

This is going to be a clash of civilizations. This is going to be a disaster.

Can’t somebody stop this fight?

High standards are expected when receiving this queen. There are strict rules of decorum. Daley doesn’t even know how to spell “decorum.”

His idea of a hosting a visiting dignitary is having a shot-and-a-beer with the president of Pipe-Fitters Local 107.

The lovely young queen is as urbane as our mayor is parochial.

Radiant and idealistic, she carries the hopes of a great empire on her delicate shoulders.

Her commonwealth rules over world-scattered nations, while he dictates to stogie-chomping yes-men in back rooms.

She has traveled the globe, wowing potentates and publics throughout her realm, over which the sun never sets.

He vacations in Florida.

Her ancestors have reigned throughout Europe for centuries.

He’s got the Department of Streets and Sanitation.

She carries herself with poise and dignity, and speaks Received English with eloquence.

He calls his wife “sis.”

What’s worse: they’re going to eat together.

He wouldn’t know a shrimp fork if it poked him in the eye.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t refer to his tuxedo as “this monkey suit.”

And one more thing:

Please… please… don’t let him eat with his hands.

But seriously…

April 21, 2025

Richard J. Daley was a hometown boy whose manner screamed “provincial.”

His very appearance was that of the mayor of a backwater little burgh on the prairie in a previous century. He was short and dumpy with a pie-round face.

That face told the world its owner was well-fed, self-satisfied, and stupid.

But looks can deceive; Richard J. Daley was a clever man who ruled Chicago politics for decades. Day by day he interacted with men who were, by all appearances, smoother, sharper, and more polished than he was.

And he dominated them.

The national media consistently underestimated Daley, seeing him as weak, pompous, and almost clownish.

But candidates for president courted his support, recognizing the power he wielded as head of the Chicago political apparatus. They knew he could deliver the state of Illinois in a presidential election.

He was a president-maker.

He did it twice: for Kennedy and for Johnson.

They knew they owed him.

And he loved having people owe him.

And they had a name for it.

Patronage

The game he played was Machine Politics, and he played it better than anyone in the country.

It all started with jobs. They called it patronage.

A guy is out of work. He goes to his precinct captain, who puts him on the payroll. Now he has a good, steady job that doesn’t ask too much of him. A job that he can keep until he retires. Now he can get married and have numerous kids and buy a bungalow, and he’s set for life.

Then when the precinct captain tells him he needs his vote, of course the answer is yes.

Just like the guy on the payroll owes the precinct captain, the precinct captain owes the alderman, and the alderman owes the mayor, who presides over the whole system of patronage.

Daley knew that a man would always remember who gave him his first job.

Bridgeport

It’s a little neighborhood on the south side of Chicago, not far from where the stockyards stood. It’s heavily Irish, peopled by salt-of-the-earth, lunch-bucket citizens, and decidedly not upwardly-mobile.

It has also given the city five mayors.

Daley was Bridgeport all his life. Power and success never changed him. He was a loyal Catholic, hard-working and simple. He never moved out of the old neighborhood. He was a decent guy who cared about decency; he got rid of any Family Court judges who showed any hint of immorality.

He also wasn’t above playing up this image; he knew how much his people admired his forthright values.

At the same time, he was at home in the morally nebulous world of power politics. He had a law degree and had served in the Illinois state legislature.

And he cheated in all his elections.

Help From a Friend

In fact, he raised election shenanigans to an art form. He used every trick in the book to get the votes he needed. And he himself wrote several chapters of that book. One favorite trick was “four-legged voting,” which involved one of his people literally following the voter into the booth to “help” him fill out his ballot.

Daley got a lot of help from his friends, and never lost a reelection bid.

Homespun Malapropisms

But the sophisticated Daley worked behind the scenes. The Daley for the cameras was the simple public servant.

So simple he seemed to struggle to put together a coherent sentence.

A few Daleyisms:

“Ladies and gentlemen of the League of Women Voters.”

“The policeman isn’t there to create disorder, the policeman is there to preserve disorder.”

“They have vilified me, they have crucified me, yes they have even criticized me.”

“That is unreasonable reasoning.”

“It is amazing what they will be able to do once they get the atom harassed.”

“Together we must rise to ever higher and higher platitudes.”

He knew how to use his twisted rhetoric to his advantage.

In 1971, the first women were elected to the city council. There was no women’s bathroom- only a urinal. Of course this was a priority for the two alderwomen.

Daley shot down their concern with a line which combined wit and irrationality with his insensitivity:

“We shouldn’t talk about sex so close to Christmas.”

The Royal Visit

When it was announced that Queen Elizabeth would visit Chicago in 1959, people were worried. The Mayor would likely say something impolitic, or even downright stupid. Maybe even touch off an international incident. And embarrass the city and its inhabitants.

The visit was capped by a formal dinner. As the city’s elite sat in the presence of Her Majesty, everyone involved could say it had been a successful visit. The host had been gracious; the guest had been delighted. All was smiles and good feelings.

But… they all knew that Mayor Daley would be giving a toast. They all held their breath when he rose to speak.

Could he do it? Would he blow it?

Daley came through. He was charming- and appropriate. He didn’t say anything out of line. He had observed the proper formalities. There was a giant sigh of relief. He was about to sit down.

But he decided to say one more thing.

The exact wording of what he said has been reported in different ways. One version is:

“Come back again. And next time bring the kids.”

Welcome to Chicago.

Richard J. Daley was the third of five Bridgeporters to become mayor. The fifth was his son, Richard M. Daley. Junior was heir to his father’s unfortunate manner of speaking, along with his office.

When, during the younger Daley’s term as mayor, the execution of a man on death row was immanent, he was asked his position on the death penalty.

He responded simply,

“I’m pro death.”

Sources

Quotations From Mayor Daley, compiled by Peter Yessne

Boss, Mike Royko