Democrats Against Daley

A small, possibly doomed, but significant revolt against Mayor Richard Daley is being staged in Illinois by dissident Democrats. The movement's unofficial leader: State Treasurer Adlai Stevenson III, who last month helped found a legislative study group in the state capital of Springfield. The group's aim is to end the feudal system of Democratic party politics within the state and to broaden participation in policymaking. To give the group the aura of legitimacy, Stevenson asked Hubert Humphrey to drop by and confer the blessing of his titular party leadership.

This infuriated Daley, and his lieutenants used political muscle against legislators who wanted to attend. One was warned that he would face a machine-supported opponent in the next primary if he went to the meeting. Another was told he would be reapportioned out of his seat if he continued his association with the group. A third was bluntly advised that he was keeping the wrong company.

Numerically, the Daley tactics appeared to work. Of 99 Democratic legislators, only 25 showed up for the meeting in Springfield. Humphrey, however, insisted that the absence of the Da-leymen didn't bother him. He added: "I intend to encourage the formation of groups like this all over the country, in all 50 states."

Next day, Humphrey visited city hall in Chicago for a 20-minute chat with the mayor. Emerging, Humphrey fulsomely praised Daley as a "constructive force in the Democratic Party" and "one of the truly outstanding mayors of the nation." What was the former Vice President up to? Clearly, he was out to knit together as best he could his party in Illinois while protecting his own interests. He wanted neither to outrage Daley nor to frustrate Adlai Stevenson. Daley represents the faction that had assured Humphrey the presidential nomination last year; Stevenson symbolizes the younger, more independent element that the party--and perhaps Humphrey himself--needs in future battles. But Humphrey seems to have underestimated the native antagonisms that are sundering the party in Illinois.

Daley later denied that there was any need for a peacemaker, insisting that there was no party split in Illinois. "This is being created by some media of communications," Daley protested.

Down in Springfield, Daley's team was having second thoughts. Each of the 25 legislators who heard Humphrey speak was photographed with him, and each received a press release for his home-town newspapers. Those who had stayed away realized they had passed up a chance to appear in the spotlight, at least in the eyes of their constituents. Of the study group, says Stevenson,

"It's off and running. It's a shot in the arm for demoralized Democrats all over the state."

Shambles Ahead. It is also inviting a head-on collision with King Richard, who has maintained an iron rule over Illinois Democrats for the past 14 years. When the crash comes, says Stevenson, "there'll be a shambles." He adds, "But what have we got to lose?" After all, he points out, in November Daley was unable to carry Illinois for Humphrey. The mayor's choice for Governor, Sam Shapiro, was defeated, as were several other Democratic candidates.

Next month Stevenson and his reform friends are carrying the battle to Chicago, where a special election is being held to fill six vacancies on the 50-man city council. Independent Democrats will challenge machine-backed candidates in five of the six races. They have reasonable hopes of winning two seats, with Fred Hubbard, 39, a black youth worker running in a largely Negro ward, and William Singer, 28, a lawyer who campaigned for Robert Kennedy and is running in a well-to-do Near North Side ward.

Though Mayor Daley still has plenty of political clout, he seems nevertheless curiously diminished. With Nixon in Washington, Daley will no longer be receiving those friendly phone calls from the Oval Room of the White House, nor will he be sleeping in Abraham Lincoln's bed on Washington visits. When Humphrey called on the mayor last week, he may well have noticed a symbol of change in Daley's plush office on the fifth floor of city hall. The swinging door that was once supposed to indicate Daley's accessibility to the people has been replaced by a thick hardwood portal that slides on steel tracks and can only be opened by a security guard or Daley's private secretary.

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