The Audacities of Attila the Hen

She describes herself as a protege of Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley, and she learned his ruthless style well enough to qualify as probably the toughest woman in American politics --"Attila the Hen," enemies call her. But Jane Byrne is a different sort of mayor. Daley gave Chicago two decades of predictability. Byrne has given Chicago two years of ceaseless, sometimes wacky, surprise. Daley believed in saying little, honoring promises, maintaining grudges. Byrne snaps out her feelings and shifts alliances without warning. Byrne has a whim of iron: in just two years she ran through four police chiefs, three planning directors and five press secretaries. Said one bitter alderman, asked to list her strong points: "Vengeance, audacity and total disregard for human relationships."

Her image obscures her real accomplishments. She paid off a "hidden deficit," which she claimed was $100 million, by raising taxes and cutting the payroll. She confronted city unions and withstood a strike by fire fighters.

To restrain the free-spending school system, she appointed one of the best boards of education in Chicago history. She is undertaking redevelopment of the North Loop business district and the busy but shabby international terminal at O'Hare Airport.

Despite her successes, Byrne plunged in popularity polls. In a Chicago Tribune sampling last December, just 3% of residents rated the quarrelsome mayor "excellent" and 46% rated her "poor." But she dramatically recovered her standing in April through a public relations gesture that was also a sign of sensitivity and compassion. She and her husband, former Reporter Jay McMullen, moved into Cabrini-Green, a predominantly black, decaying and crime-ridden housing project. Police began patrolling more. Playgrounds were installed and a summer recreation program promised. When her building's incinerator chute was too stuffed to open, Byrne called housing authorities and got prompt relief. Even though her stay at the project lasted for only three weeks, it captivated the city and boosted her approval rating in a Chicago Sun-Times poll from 35% to 50%. Byrne got a lot of publicity for Byrne, but she also focused public attention on the rats, roaches, violence and other problems daily afflicting the poor.

Byrne's newest crisis is the virtual bankruptcy of the Regional Transportation Authority, which runs the Chicago-area bus and rail system. Byrne needs help from the state government, but she is not being conciliatory. If necessary, she says, the city is prepared to absorb the R.T.A. "as another branch of city government." A similarly defiant attitude during a transit crisis two years ago cost the system its state operating subsidy and the legal principle of equal treatment with state highways. The resulting deficit was met via a 20% increase in the city sales tax.

Next may come either another fiscal crisis in the school system or a showdown over school integration. New budget cuts may be needed.

Chicago's economy--like the nation's--is in a slump, and Byrne can do little to ease it. Moreover, she cannot get the state legislature to say yes to almost any desire, as her late mentor could, and there is a residual hostility from remnants of Daley's political machine. Most worrisome of all, Byrne has a ready, if unannounced, opponent in the 1983 election: Cook County State's Attorney Richard M. Daley, 39, son of the founder of the very political empire to which Jane Byrne has laid claim.

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