Legendary Chicago progressive alderman Leon Despres has died at the age of 101. Despres, who represented the Hyde Park neighborhood that produced our current president, was a champion of Civil Rights and foe of machine politics (no mean feat, as he took office on the same day in 1955 that also saw Richard J. Daley become mayor). He was one of the rare white aldermen in the 1950s and 1960s who sought to desegregate the city's neighborhoods, schools, and parks. His long, distinguished life should be an inspiration for progressive across the nation.
Details from that life below the fold.
Despres was a constant thorn in the side of Daley's machine, and often the most vocal voice in city government decrying institutionalized racism.
In 1962, Despres tried to force the Chicago fire department to hire more minorities after learning just 200 of the 4,500 department employees were black. But minority hiring of firefighters didn't begin in significant numbers until the 1980s, and whites still make up nearly 70 percent of the fire department today, even though Chicago's population is less than 40 percent white.
In 1963, Despres tried to get the City Council to withhold tax funds from the city's school system until it ended racial segregation. Chicago schools didn't begin to desegregate until the 1980s, when ordered by the courts to do so, and to this day, most neighborhood schools are attended by students of only one race.
Despres' push for housing desegregation in the '60s made him known as "the lone Negro on the City Council," even though he was white. The six African-Americans on the council were known as "the silent six."
His actions earned him scorn from Daley, who he called a dictator. Despres represented the best of Hyde Park politics, which was often not appreciated north of 47th street. The Sun-Times's obituary (a lengthy remembrance that deserves to be read en toto) drew on the Daily News' archives to describe Despres.
"One of the prime attractions at any council meeting is watching Despres lecture the mayor, his finger wagging practically under Daley's nose, pouring out a dazzling array of statistics and studies and sociology and sheer guts,'' longtime Chicago reporter Lois Wille wrote in 1970.
Such antics bewildered and angered aldermen who unwaveringly toed the Daley line. The late Ald. Vito Marzullo once called Mr. Despres "wholly irresponsible, a nitwit, a vicious person and a menace to the City Council and the public at large.'' "Sit down before I knock you down,'' said Ald. Thomas Keane, one of several aldermen to physically threaten Mr. Despres.
"Despres has been told to shut up -- in one form or another -- more than any grown man in Chicago,'' Mike Royko wrote in the old Chicago Daily News in 1972.
I grew up in Despres's Hyde Park, as progressive activism built an effective movement in response to the segregation of Daley's machine. Because of Depres, I assumed that it was normal for our political representatives to be champions of social justice.
I was spoiled in ways I would only come to appreciate when I got older. Later, I would be roundly disabused of the notion that all politicians shared Despres's vision, but let us not remember the Reagan years now.
Despres retired from the City Council the year before Daley died, but saw Harold Washington ascend to the House in the years before Washington shocked the city and became mayor. Despres may have retired, but he remained a constant presence in neighborhood politics, championing new candidates and arguing (in both public forums and in private practice as a lawyer at his firm Despres, Schwartz & Geoghegan) for social justice.
Age hardly slowed Despres down. Four years ago, he published his memoirs. Last summer, he opined on the legacy of injustice in the city's founding. This winter, he endorsed his partner Tom Geoghegan in the primary to replace Rahm Emanuel. Last September, the then-100-year-old Despres considered Barack Obama's candidacy.
Our local Hyde Park newspaper did an "Obama Advertising Supplement," apparently assuming his election and including photographs of presidential libraries. I called the editor to leave word that adjoining Woodlawn would be appropriate. Woodlawn was all white, then all African-American, and is now beginning to be mixed. I decided that after Obama is elected, I will pursue this with the Obama group and the University of Chicago. An Obama library would be a great asset to the university as a neighbor.
Despres lamented that age had slowed him down a little.
Thanks, FDR, for pushing Social Security, and thanks, LBJ, for Medicare. I wish I were mobile and could knock on doors for Obama, where needed in adjoining states. I spent much of many campaigns knocking on doors, and it hurts that Illinois is so solidly for Obama that I don't have to work here, and can't do so elsewhere.
Later he predicted that Obama would win "by a big vote" and declared that he was "perturbed by the hockey mom." How great is that? I am glad that Despres saw Obama become president, even if he did not live to secure the Obama Presidential Library for Woodlawn. Though I wouldn't be shocked if his vision is realized sometime about a decade from now. It would be a fitting cap to one of the great political careers in the city of Chicago.
Barack Obama recognized this trailblazer whose contributions to Hyde Park's politics set the stage for our president's own ascent.
In a statement Wednesday, President Obama said, "Through two decades on the Chicago City Council and a long lifetime of activism, Leon Despres was an indomitable champion for justice and reform. With an incisive mind, rapier wit and unstinting courage, he waged legendary battles against the corruption and discrimination that blighted our city, and he lived every one of his 101 years with purpose and meaning. I have been blessed by his wise counsel and inspired by his example."
RIP, my first alderman. Thank you for everthing.