As the media marks the “lasts” of Richard M. Daley’s dwindling mayoralty, such as his grand finale City Council meeting, it’s missed one that might best reflect a lasting legacy.
As the subject du jour at City Hall was whether he deserves ongoing bodyguards, a last-to-surely-endure came Friday in the presence of a diverse and working-class crowd of 150 onlookers on the Far Northwest Side. There, the mayor opened the 57th and final branch library of his 22-year tenure.
He’s actually approved two more but those additions in West Humboldt Park and Little Village won’t surface until after he’s gone. But you could tag his total at an impressive 59.
“No other mayor in the world has made this commitment to libraries,” said Mary Dempsey, the library commissioner and longest-standing cabinet member, whose tenure explains why Rahm Emanuel resisted an understandable impulse to change most things Daley and asked her to stay. Her Daley assessment is not hyperbole, with academic experts citing the city as a trailblazer, especially in an age of social fragmentation, building what often amount to all-purpose community centers where diverse groups can find common ground.
Before Dempsey took the job in 1994, she asked Daley about his vision. Then, as he did Friday at the 8,900-square foot branch in the Dunning neighborhood, he talked about seeing libraries as community anchors, especially for new immigrants, and as important to any pretensions of being a great city as infrastructure, culture and churches.
To him they are places where multiple generations can expand their minds, engage in their communities and help spur improvements in the form of business revitalization. Daley’s always seen a link between the coming of a library and police station to an area and the advent of both new business and new residents.
Cynics, Dempsey concedes, would surely respond, “Oh, c’mon, he didn’t really say that!” But, she assures, the man who has launched thousands of fractured lines and phrases really did.
For sure, you could listen to the mayor’s characteristic mishandling of a prepared text Friday and wonder, as he at times didn’t quite exit the same sentence he started and freelanced absent verb-subject agreement. “If you don’t have passion, it becomes bureaucracy,” he said.
But the actions of the past 22 years are unmistakable, with the Dunning tale only the latest.
The distinctly residential neighborhood has relied on a dingy 2,000-square foot store front on Addison Street rented by the city in 1960. It was jammed with books, and had no real meeting space and just a few computers. The six public and parochial schools in the area were ill-served.
Dempsey knew it had to be replaced and, over the years, with the help of former 36th Ward Ald. William Banks, his outgoing successor John Rice and former State Sen. James DeLeo, put together an initial $2 million in state funds and ward money.
The Dever Elementary School, named after long-forgotten Chicago Mayor William Dever (1923-1927), had a fair bit of property, including a play lot and garden. It donated land for $1 in a deal worked out with the principal and local school council. The old play lot would be moved and rebuilt to help make way for an 8,900-square foot library with 23 computers, Wi-Fi, a $500,000 initial collection of books and a manicured reading garden.
There’s a green roof of recycled wood, a floor of recycled rubber tires and geothermal heating and cooling. Permeable paving around the building makes sure water soaks into the ground rather than goes into the sewer system.
Banks, Rice, 38th Ward Ald. Tim Cullerton, a priest and a local Chamber of Commerce official were among those giving homage to Daley at the Friday ceremony. It was a very Chicago crowd and one could even imagine the broad-shouldered trio of former, current and soon-to-be aldermen hoisting a beer to “Da Bears!” The priest read a rather long proclamation and, after each paragraph heralding Daley, led the assembled in, “Thank you and amen,” as if in a small parish of true believers.
All this was missed by the otherwise-occupied nine small boys and girls in the nearby children’s reading section marked with colorful posters, including one of a big, friendly caterpillar declaring, “Read and Grow.” They may have a new home away from home.
After a ribbon-cutting and unveiling of a book-inspired Eli’s Cheesecake, a Daley aide came up to me on the subject of the bodyguard flap. Alas, I wasn’t nearly as interested as her regular City Hall clientele but did ask her boss about, well, the new branch.
“Isn’t this great?!” he said, a 68-year-old kid in a candy store, passion still vivid as his 22 years wind down.
“Look at this! Look at all the light. That’s the one thing we never had growing up. All this light.”
by JAMES WARREN | May 10, 2011
As the media marks the “lasts” of Richard M. Daley’s dwindling mayoralty, such as his grand finale City Council meeting, it’s missed one that might best reflect a lasting legacy.
As the subject du jour at City Hall was whether he deserves ongoing bodyguards, a last-to-surely-endure came Friday in the presence of a diverse and working-class crowd of 150 onlookers on the Far Northwest Side. There, the mayor opened the 57th and final branch library of his 22-year tenure.
He’s actually approved two more but those additions in West Humboldt Park and Little Village won’t surface until after he’s gone. But you could tag his total at an impressive 59.
“No other mayor in the world has made this commitment to libraries,” said Mary Dempsey, the library commissioner and longest-standing cabinet member, whose tenure explains why Rahm Emanuel resisted an understandable impulse to change most things Daley and asked her to stay. Her Daley assessment is not hyperbole, with academic experts citing the city as a trailblazer, especially in an age of social fragmentation, building what often amount to all-purpose community centers where diverse groups can find common ground.
Before Dempsey took the job in 1994, she asked Daley about his vision. Then, as he did Friday at the 8,900-square foot branch in the Dunning neighborhood, he talked about seeing libraries as community anchors, especially for new immigrants, and as important to any pretensions of being a great city as infrastructure, culture and churches.
To him they are places where multiple generations can expand their minds, engage in their communities and help spur improvements in the form of business revitalization. Daley’s always seen a link between the coming of a library and police station to an area and the advent of both new business and new residents.
Cynics, Dempsey concedes, would surely respond, “Oh, c’mon, he didn’t really say that!” But, she assures, the man who has launched thousands of fractured lines and phrases really did.
For sure, you could listen to the mayor’s characteristic mishandling of a prepared text Friday and wonder, as he at times didn’t quite exit the same sentence he started and freelanced absent verb-subject agreement. “If you don’t have passion, it becomes bureaucracy,” he said.
But the actions of the past 22 years are unmistakable, with the Dunning tale only the latest.
The distinctly residential neighborhood has relied on a dingy 2,000-square foot store front on Addison Street rented by the city in 1960. It was jammed with books, and had no real meeting space and just a few computers. The six public and parochial schools in the area were ill-served.
Dempsey knew it had to be replaced and, over the years, with the help of former 36th Ward Ald. William Banks, his outgoing successor John Rice and former State Sen. James DeLeo, put together an initial $2 million in state funds and ward money.
The Dever Elementary School, named after long-forgotten Chicago Mayor William Dever (1923-1927), had a fair bit of property, including a play lot and garden. It donated land for $1 in a deal worked out with the principal and local school council. The old play lot would be moved and rebuilt to help make way for an 8,900-square foot library with 23 computers, Wi-Fi, a $500,000 initial collection of books and a manicured reading garden.
There’s a green roof of recycled wood, a floor of recycled rubber tires and geothermal heating and cooling. Permeable paving around the building makes sure water soaks into the ground rather than goes into the sewer system.
Banks, Rice, 38th Ward Ald. Tim Cullerton, a priest and a local Chamber of Commerce official were among those giving homage to Daley at the Friday ceremony. It was a very Chicago crowd and one could even imagine the broad-shouldered trio of former, current and soon-to-be aldermen hoisting a beer to “Da Bears!” The priest read a rather long proclamation and, after each paragraph heralding Daley, led the assembled in, “Thank you and amen,” as if in a small parish of true believers.
All this was missed by the otherwise-occupied nine small boys and girls in the nearby children’s reading section marked with colorful posters, including one of a big, friendly caterpillar declaring, “Read and Grow.” They may have a new home away from home.
After a ribbon-cutting and unveiling of a book-inspired Eli’s Cheesecake, a Daley aide came up to me on the subject of the bodyguard flap. Alas, I wasn’t nearly as interested as her regular City Hall clientele but did ask her boss about, well, the new branch.
“Isn’t this great?!” he said, a 68-year-old kid in a candy store, passion still vivid as his 22 years wind down.
“Look at this! Look at all the light. That’s the one thing we never had growing up. All this light.”