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n523  0330  03 Nov 82
BC-ROYKO-11-03
    A COMMENTARY column
    By Mike Royko
    (c) 1982 Chicago Sun-Times (Field News Service)
    CHICAGO - For many Chicagoans, the preliminary skirmishing is over.
Choosing a governor, congressmen and the others can be entertaining.
But now we get down to the serious war - the election of a mayor.
    Oh, what a gory battle this promises to be, with Prince Richie of
Bridgeport trying to reclaim the family throne from Queen Bossy.
    And there could be others: Harold Washington, the great black hope,
and Roman Pucinski, the great Polish hope. Even Billy Singer, who was
once the great liberal hope, is giving serious thought to jumping in.
    For the spectator, it will be great entertainment. A Byrne-Daley
debate could be as much fun as the old Abbott and Costello ''who's on
first, what's on second,'' routine.
    Daley, of course, has been taking intensive speech lessons ever
since it was discovered by his advisers that he had never exited from
the same sentence he entered. Sources say that he has progressed to
the point where he not only can complete a sentence, but he even
understands some of what he has said.
    And Mayor Byrne has been working hard on her new calm, reasonable,
dignified demeanor. Only in private does she occasionally shout:
''Off with his head!''
    But as entertaining as it will be for most of us, it will be a
gut-wrenching experience for the city's ward bosses, aldermen, and
other politicians, and for the countless business executives, real
estate men, lawyers, contractors, and consultants who make their
living through clout with City Hall.
    They will have to decide whose side they're on. Making the right
choice could mean prosperity and influence. The wrong choice could
lead to banishment and financial disaster and the ultimate tragedy -
being forced to go out and earn an honest living.
    It's a double-strength Maalox decision, accompanied by tormented
cries of:''What if I back Byrne but Daley wins? What happens to my
zoning deal?'' Or: ''What if I back Daley but Byrne wins? What
happens to my patronage?'' Or: ''What if I make a contribution to
both? Will my consulting deal be OK?''
    For some, the choice has already been made. Daley, son of former
Mayor Richard J. Daley, is surrounded by a mixture of old-line
members of the Daley clan and Byrne-haters. Every time Byrne exiles
somebody from City Hall, he rushes to join the Daley campaign.
    And Byrne has a large following among those who are motived by
loyalty, fear, admiration, fear, distrust of the Daleys, fear, and
also by fear.
    But most of the people who can help swing an election through their
political influence and money won't make a final decision until they
stick a trembling finger into the air to see which way the wind is
blowing.
    I know this won't come as much of a surprise to Chicagoans, but the
power dealers' decisions won't be based on what is best for the city.
They'll be thinking about what is best for themselves.
    There are many ward bosses and other politicians who, while not
caring much for Byrne, still believe they are better off with her as
mayor than with Daley.
    That's because they remember what happened the last time a Daley
held that office. He kept it for 21 years, hoarded 99.9 percent of
the power, and youthful potential successors grew old waiting for
their opportunity, which never came.
    Knowing the Daleys' clannish approach, they fear that there would be
another decade or two of being dominated by Richie, his shrewd
brother Billy, Tom Hynes, and the other members of the Daley inner
circle.
    These politicians look in the mirror and say: ''I am young and I
have all of the statesmanlike qualities for leadership in Chicago:
I'm ruthless, ambitious and greedy. But if another Daley wins, I will
become toothless, arthritic and senile before I get my main chance.''
    So they figure that they would be better off with Byrne for another
four years because she might be easier for one of them to eventually
dislodge.
    They also figure that while she's in there, they might receive a
more gratifying response to the traditional Chicago question and
unofficial slogan that says: ''Ubi Est Mea,'' which is Latin for
''Where's Mine?''
    That's because the Daley clan's approach could always be summed up
this way: ''What's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine, too.''
    Because Byrne has a natural flair for turning calm into confusion
and confusion into chaos, many believe that in all the confusion they
can't help but snatch a thin slice of the pie. Some are content with
less than a slice. Even a crumb makes them delirious.
    Some thoughtful readers are probably saying: ''But what is best for
the city? Who would make the ablest leader? Who could best lead us
into the perilous years ahead?''
    I'm afraid that's not main consideration - at least not to those who
will be doing the pushing and shoving. If it were, neither of them
would be running. We could probably just drop the names of all 2.9
millions Chicagoans into a hat, pick one out, and do just as well.
    END
    
nyt-11-03-82 0630est
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n506  2222  21 Nov 82
BC-ROYKO-11-22
    COMMENTARY
    By Mike Royko
    (c) 1982 Chicago Sun-Times (Field News Service)
    
    As a reformed male chauvinist pig, I'm always working at being a
modern, sensitive, caring male.
    Through self-discipline, I've purged my vocabulary of offensive
words, such as broad, broadie, fluff, dame, babe, doll, chick, bird
and bimbo, and no longer use them to refer to females.
    I've taught myself to remain unflinchingly calm when modern women
swear a blue streak in my presence. I no longer leer at attractive
women, or refer to parts of their anatomy as gams or bumpers.
    It's a constant learning process. Why, just the other evening I
learned something new.
    While watching Linda Yu broadcasting the news on TV, I heard her say
they would be back in a moment with the weather and a report on ''Old
Person Winter.''
    Immediately my consciousness was raised.
    ''Old Person Winter,'' she had said. All these years, I've been
saying ''Old Man Winter'' without realizing that it apparently was a
sexist phrase.
    Sitting there, with my feet up on my ottoperson, I could feel my
consciousness rising faster and faster.
    Sure, we now take certain phrases, such as chairperson and
spokesperson, for granted.
    But there are so many others - like Old Man Winter - that have not
yet been corrected.
    I was still thinking about Old Person Winter the next morning when I
arrived at work.
    On the elevator, I overheard a conversation in which one of the
people was saying: ''Man alive, I told him ...''
    I interrupted and said: ''Sexist. You should have said: 'Person
alive.'''
    Then I stopped in at the entertainment section and told an editor:
    ''I think we should start printing the proper names of some of the
movies and plays we list in the paper.''
    ''Such as?''
    ''Such as 'Person from La Mancha.'''
    '''Person from La Mancha?'''
    ''Right. And 'Superperson,' 'Batperson' and the 'Person for all
Seasons.' As well as 'The Marathon Person' and 'The Quiet Person.'
And 'Person with the Golden Arm.' And, of course, 'The Person in the
Iron Mask.'''
    '''The Person in the Iron Mask?'''
    ''Right. Just raising your consciousness.''
    ''I see.''
    Later I bumped into another editor and I said:
    ''Could we have a person-to-person talk?''
    ''Sure,'' he said.
    ''I think we should be more careful about some of the sexist phrases
we use in the paper.''
    ''For example?''
    ''Well, we could say that a suspect has been arrested on a charge of
personslaughter. Or that the police have organized a personhunt.''
    ''A personhunt?''
    ''Sure. And I recently read a story about the hunt for a man-eating
tiger. It is, of course, a person-eating tiger.''
    ''Oh.''
    As I walked away, I said: ''By the way, that's a nice suit you have
on. Is it wool or personmade fibers?''
    ''Wool.''
    ''Very spiffy. You look like a real person-about-town.''
    Later, at lunch, I overheard two sports fans at the next table
arguing the merits of football defensive tactics. I had to lean over
and say:
    ''Excuse me, but I think that what you meant to say was that the
zone defense is superior to the person-to-person defense.''
    He said: ''Huh?''
    When I returned to my office, I turned on the radio and enjoyed
listening to two of my favorite songs: ''Old Person River'' and
''Can't Help Loving that Person of Mine.''
    The announcer broke in with a report on the latest space shuttle and
I thought of the immortal words that had been spoken on the moon:
''One small step for a person; one giant step for personkind.''
    As I left the building that evening, somebody said: ''Getting
colder. Might snow.''
    ''Yes,'' I said, ''pretty soon the kids will be out there making a
snowperson.''
    While I was having a beer later, an acquaintance came in and joined
me. He's a city sewer inspector and he was rubbing the small of his
back.
    ''Back bothering you?'' I asked.
    ''Yeah. From lifting all those manhole covers.''
    I shook my head. ''You mean personhole covers.''
    ''What?''
    ''Personhole covers. Those are what you lift.''
    He picked up his beer and headed for another part of the bar. As he
walked away, he said: ''That thing out in the street, that's a
manhole.''
    Then he pointed at me and said: ''And you - you're some kind of
personhole.''
    You just can't raise some people's consciousness.
    END
    
nyt-11-22-82 0128est
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