Of Muskie and Daley

At past Democratic national conventions, nobody showed more naked political muscle than Chicago's mayor, Richard Daley. As boss of a large, tightly controlled bloc of Illinois delegates, he was diligently courted by presidential candidates, whether they liked him or not. This year the mayor is destined to play a diminished role. Reform has made the kingmaker all but obsolete in the national Democratic Party.

In 1968, Daley hand-picked most of the Illinois delegates to the convention. Only 48 out of 154 were elected, and even many of the 48 were controlled by the machine. Under the new rules, 160 out of 170 delegates will be elected in the March 21 primary. They will not be so easily manipulated by Daley. In the past they were prohibited from declaring in favor of a candidate; now they can either state a preference or stay uncommitted. As a result, the presidential candidates are running delegate slates pledged to them in most of Illinois after only a pro forma consultation with Daley.

The mayor is on the spot. He would prefer to lead an uncommitted delegation to Miami Beach, where he can make a deal when the time is right. But there is a danger that his delegates might be beaten in the primary by rivals who are pledged to candidates. The most serious threat is Edmund Muskie.

His campaign is well organized in Illinois under the direction of Angelo Geocaris, who is also a friend of the mayor's. Geocaris has insisted to Daley that if he fails to back Muskie, he might jeopardize his position in Chicago. The Polish wards in particular are ardently pro-Muskie. He is the choice of two of Daley's top lieutenants: Daniel T. Rostenkowski, leader of the Illinois congressional delegation, and Congressman Roman Pucinski, whom Daley has picked to run against Republican Senator Charles Percy. Last week Senator Adlai Stevenson III also endorsed Muskie. A number of people have filed to enter the primary pledged to Muskie; some of them are not even known to the candidate's camp.

Help at Home. Daley has refrained from endorsing Muskie, though he has come close. At a press conference, he heaped praise upon Muskie: "One of the great men of our time. He would make a fine President." When asked if there was any other candidate he liked, he thought a moment, then replied, "Vance Hartke." Though he was badly shaken by Chappaquiddick, Daley would still probably prefer Ted Kennedy, but the mayor has given up on him for 1972. His last choice would be Hubert Humphrey, who infuriated him by criticizing the way he handled the rioting in Chicago during the 1968 convention and then by complaining that he did not work hard enough for the national ticket. That leaves Daley with Muskie.

Always much more concerned with affairs at home than in Washington, Daley wants above all to keep his machine intact; recently it has taken quite a beating from scandals involving former Governor Otto Kerner and State's Attorney Edward Hanrahan. Rather than get out of the primary as Daley instructed him, Hanrahan is battling the machine's candidate for state's attorney. Daley will have his hands full keeping Cook County under control. If Muskie can help him, then Muskie will be his candidate--provided that the Senator does not stumble along the way in the primaries.

Daley's delegates are filing as uncommitted, but the Muskie forces are confident that their man is the favorite. Like the other candidates, Muskie is not running an independent slate of delegates in the city of Chicago. As Jack English, a top Muskie aide, rather optimistically puts it, "What's the point of running against ourselves?" The Democratic Party in Illinois seems to be no longer simply the lengthened shadow of Richard Daley.

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