American Pharaoh (78 page)

Daley’s opposition to the Vietnam War may have been largely political. But he also had a more personal reason to feel that
it was time for the hostilities to end. In May 1967, one of Bridgeport’s most beloved young men enlisted and was killed in
Vietnam. Joseph Mc-Keon was a star — one of the few Bridgeporters or De La Salle graduates to attend Harvard — and a friend
of Michael Daley’s. “We used to socialize with him,” recalls Alderman Edward Burke. “There was nothing in his background that
would have ever indicated he wanted to be a Marine and go to Vietnam.” McKeon’s parents were friendly with Daley, and owned
a funeral home that was a neighborhood institution. “He was the neighborhood’s bright guy,” says William Daley. “He goes into
the Marine Corps, had a great future ahead of him and he’s there three weeks and boom.” The loss of young McKeon hit Bridgeport
hard, and considerably dampened the neighborhood’s enthusiasm for the war.
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Daley did not have Vietnam on his mind the night of the October 1967 Democratic Party fund-raiser. He had gone to Washington
for a specific reason: to make a pitch to host the upcoming Democratic convention. Chicago had not hosted a Democratic convention
since 1956, when Stevenson was nominated. Daley had a dozen years of building and redevelopment he wanted to share with the
world, and the national media glare of a major political convention was one of the best ways to do it. He also saw a Chicago
convention as a means of boosting the machine ticket in the November election. The Democrats were likely to have a tough fight
for governor on their hands, whether Otto Kerner ran for a third time or not, and the excitement of a convention in Chicago
could make the difference in a close race. National Democrats were also contemplating a Texas location, since President Johnson
was still considered likely to run for reelection. But intraparty fighting in the state, as well as the long shadow of Kennedy’s
assassination in Dallas, made Texas an unlikely choice. The television networks wanted the Democrats to join the Republicans
in Miami Beach, since it would reduce their costs of covering the conventions. But Daley buttonholed Johnson and made the
argument that he found worked best with presidents. Johnson might lose Illinois and its twenty-six electoral votes, he warned,
if the convention were held anywhere but Chicago.
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On October 8, the day after Daley’s appearance at the black-tie dinner, Chicago was selected to host the convention. New Jersey
attorney general David Wilentz, chairman of the site selection committee, declared that the committee was favorably impressed
by Chicago’s central geographic location and its experience in holding conventions. But DNC chairman John Bailey said the
financial incentives Chicago offered had played an important role in the final decision. The proposal put together by Daley
and his business allies had been generous: $750,000 in cash and another $150,000 worth of services. Daley had accentuated
Chicago’s positives through an aggressive marketing campaign. He mailed “A New Platform for Chicago,” a paean to the city’s
many fine points, to members of the site selection committee, and had it printed in the
Chicago Daily News
and the
Sun-Times
. Daley made his own personal pitch through his statements to the media. “It has great hotel facilities,” Daley said of Chicago.
“It has great newspaper and TV facilities. And it’s in a good time zone for viewing on TV.”
³²
Daley also promised that Johnson’s vote in Chicago would exceed the 65 percent he got in 1964, and that law and order would
prevail during convention week. “No thousands will come to our city and take over our streets, our city, and our convention,”
he said.
³³

The Democrats certainly were not coming to Chicago for its convention infrastructure. The McCormick Place fire had robbed
the city of its best convention site. What Daley had to offer was the International Amphitheatre in the stockyard district,
just a few blocks from his home. The Amphitheatre was built in 1934, after a massive fire destroyed an eight-block section
of the stockyard district and razed the area’s exposition hall. It was a rush job: the exhibition hall had burned down in
May, and contractors had a new one in place for the annual livestock show in December. The building that went up was far more
modest than the old McCormick Place. The International Amphitheatre had been the site of the 1956 Democratic and 1960 Republican
conventions, and of a 1964 Beatles concert. But it was also a popular site for cattle shows and rodeos. Two mountains of manure,
seventy feet wide and ten feet high, were just a few blocks away. The Democrats would later decide, after assessing the situation
more closely before the start of the convention, that speakers who appeared at the podium should be sprayed first with bug
repellent.
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Daley called the selection of Chicago a “great honor,” but not an unexpected one, since Chicago was the “number one convention
city.” Reporters asked if Daley had gotten the convention because of his promise to keep control over events inside and outside
the Amphitheatre. “Let someone else say it,” Daley said. “We talk about our location, our accommodations, our great newspapers
and radio and TV stations. We talk of our experience in handling conventions.” But in fact, others were saying that Daley
had won over Johnson by his promise to keep order. The unrest in Newark, Detroit, and other cities over the summer had raised
fears that the convention would be held in the middle of another long, hot, and riot-filled summer. Chicago, on the other
hand, had remained peaceful all summer. Johnson also had to be worried about disruptions aimed at him. The peace movement
was gaining force across the country, especially on college campuses, and it was likely that thousands of anti-war demonstrators
would make an appearance wherever the Democratic convention was held. “Daley and Johnson are close politically,” Cook County
Republican chairman Timothy Sheehan reasoned in explaining the choice of Chicago. “And the Democratic organization is well-versed
in controlling crowds. They’ll make sure that no strange outsiders... pack the gallery. They’ll pack them themselves.”
³⁵

Daley assured the Democratic Party and the nation that Chicago would provide a peaceful and hospitable setting for the convention.
“Our people realize that we are working in a positive direction to solve their problems,” he said. But 1967 ended on an ominous
note. In the last few days of December, two aldermen were attacked and a charity worker was killed. Independent 5th Ward alderman
Leon Despres was shot twice in the leg while walking home from his office, and 14th Ward alderman Joseph Burke foiled burglars
in his home. Mary Virginia Tunney, a forty-two-year-old bookkeeper for Goodwill Industries, was found shot to death on the
sidewalk outside her South Side apartment building. Daley vowed to put five thousand more police on the street if necessary.
“There is no excuse for violence anywhere,” he said.
³⁶

As the Democratic primaries began, it was clear that President Johnson was in trouble. Four years earlier, when he won the
White House in a landslide, a second term seemed almost inevitable. But the Vietnam War had changed everything. In early 1968,
Johnson’s chances of being reelected were looking increasingly remote. The Tet Offensive in late January had driven even more
Americans into the anti-war camp. The Viet Cong’s bloody assault on South Vietnam, waged by some 60,000 troops, was the most
persuasive evidence yet that, despite the optimistic assessments emanating from Washington, the Vietnam quagmire was nowhere
near an end. In the six weeks after the start of the Tet Offensive, Johnson’s approval ratings sank from 48 percent to 36
percent, and approval of his handling of Vietnam plunged from 40 percent to 26 percent. Anti-war activists had transformed
themselves into a political force — the “Dump Johnson” movement — that initially coalesced around Minnesota senator Eugene
McCarthy. But with McCarthy’s once quixotic-seeming anti-war candidacy gaining strength, Robert Kennedy was considering launching
his own anti-war candidacy. Kennedy had early support from California Assembly Speaker Jesse Unruh. To become a candidate,
Kennedy said, he would need to be urged to run by “one more politician of the national stature of Unruh.” It was widely interpreted
as a direct appeal for Daley’s support.
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But Daley was not rushing to jump on board. He was still a Johnson loyalist, and was uncomfortable with the idea of McCarthy
and Kennedy seeking to depose an incumbent Democratic president. Daley was also close to organized labor, an important component
of the machine, and would not lightly break with the major unions, which had started out in Johnson’s camp and then, after
he withdrew, moved on to Vice President Hubert Humphrey. Daley also had specific reservations about Kennedy. He had not shown
himself to be an organization man so far in his political career. Daley had been put off during the 1960 presidential election
when, after the Chicago machine came through for John Kennedy and helped him win the Democratic nomination, Bobby showed up
in Illinois to set up a campaign organization for his brother, independent of the machine. Nor could Daley rely on Bobby’s
political instincts. As attorney general, he had been unduly eager to investigate corruption and take on organized crime.
As a candidate, he seemed too sympathetic toward black militants. With someone like Johnson or Humphrey, Daley knew exactly
what he was getting. Bobby Kennedy was complex and constantly evolving, two qualities Daley did not particularly admire in
a politician.
³⁸

Still torn about whether to run, Kennedy came to Chicago for a breakfast meeting with Daley on February 8. The more Kennedy
talked about his differences with President Johnson over the Vietnam War, the more his candidacy appeared to Daley to be just
another variant of the municipal conflicts that ended up in his office on a regular basis. Daley, ever the believer in working
out compromises among competing constituencies, then presented Kennedy with a truly bizarre proposal. Rather than go through
the divisiveness of a primary challenge to a sitting president, Kennedy should get Johnson to agree to submit the future of
the Vietnam War to binding arbitration. It must have seemed odd to Kennedy that his presidential candidacy, viewed by his
supporters as a moral crusade, was being reduced to the level of a truckers’ strike. But Kennedy promised to think it over,
and Daley said he would mention arbitration to President Johnson, which he did by telephone not long afterward.
³⁹

With Daley still resolutely on the sidelines, Kennedy announced his candidacy on March 16. He continued to see Daley’s support
as critical, and Daley received a steady stream of phone calls from the Kennedy camp lobbying him to come around. In late
March,
New York Daily News
columnist Jimmy Breslin asked Kennedy where Daley stood in the race. “He’s been very nice to me and doesn’t like the war,”
Kennedy said. “You see, there are so many dead starting to come back it bothers him.” But at the same time, Kennedy said,
Daley was a party loyalist, which pulled him toward Johnson. When Breslin asked where he stood if Daley endorsed him, Kennedy
responded, “Daley means the ballgame.” These were flattering words, but Daley liked to make his slating decisions behind closed
doors, not in the newspapers. He remained cool toward Kennedy’s candidacy. Asked about Kennedy’s “ballgame” comment, Daley
responded: “He means I’m a great White Sox fan.” Daley spoke with Johnson by phone in March, and Johnson asked what chance
he had of carrying Chicago if he ran again. “Well, Mr. President, there are good years and bad years and I don’t think this
will be a good year for the national ticket in Chicago,” Daley said. “But I’m backing you all the way, Mr. President. It doesn’t
matter that you can’t win here.”
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Not long after he delivered his gloomy assessment of Johnson’s prospects, Daley got a phone call from White House aide Marvin
Watson. The March 31 call, which Daley took at home on a private line upstairs, was to give him advance word that Johnson
was withdrawing from the race. When he came down and joined his family in the den, they saw Johnson on television announcing
that he was not seeking reelection. Daley’s was the first call Johnson accepted at the Executive Mansion. Daley called to
offer to draft Johnson at the convention if he wanted to be drafted, but Johnson said he did not. Johnson told Daley he was
flying to Chicago the next morning to give a speech to the National Association of Broadcasters. Daley met Johnson at the
airport, with Rostenkowski and Chicago’s new U.S. attorney in tow. Daley spent the day, including the ride back to the airport,
trying to persuade Johnson to reconsider his decision. With Daley now truly uncommitted in the presidential race, he had no
shortage of suitors. Johnson made a pitch for Humphrey. Daley also began talking with mayors Joseph Barr of Pittsburgh, James
Tate of Philadelphia, and Jerome Cavanaugh of Detroit about sitting on the sidelines rather than rushing to endorse a presidential
candidate. It appeared to be an attempt to slow the momentum that was building around Robert Kennedy’s candidacy.
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