Growing up on Chicago’s Northwest side meant reading Mike Royko’s column in the Daily News. His classic biography, “Boss,” about Chicago Mayor Richard Daley, is a classic.
Federal Way is about to have a strong Chicago-style mayor. I decided to call Royko and ask him for insights as to what direction Federal Way will go now that we have chosen to walk in the path of the Windy City. Unfortunately, the famous columnist died in 1997, so I decided to go to Chicago and interview one of his inside sources, Slats Grobnik.
The first thing Grobnik did was ask me a question in that irritating nasal twang that brought back warm memories of the Midwest. “Did you know Mike was raised on Milwaukee Avenue an’ needed a job close ta home so’s he could care for mom?”
I told him that I did not know that.
“Well, that’s how he started inta writin! He got books at duh library about bein a reporter,” he said. “So what kind of reporter are youse?”
“I’m not a journalist. I’m an attorney,” I announced proudly. “A firearms lawyer!”
I tried to say it with a kind of a growl because the other guys in the bar started looking at me like that longshoreman looked at Paul Newman in a movie that I saw once. One guy looked like he was actually reaching for a hook.
“Whadda… Whasuh firearms attorney?” Something about the way he said “attorney” made me think that the interview was not going well.
“Well, I advise folks about their firearms rights, and put on classes and represent them as criminal defense…”
Before I could finish he interrupted me to say, “Oh yeah. Say, Lenny here needs a clout at City Hall over a .357 dat duh heat pinched him with over by Pulaski. But he don’t have ten-thousand for the bag.”
I knew from Royko’s column that clout is someone at City Hall that gets you some kind of a favor, but I had to go and ask about the bag.
“Yah say yah from Chicago, kid?”
“Uh… I went to California when I was 16 years old, Slats,” I uttered meekly.
“Yuh say your little town near Chicago is gointah have a mayor like Daley’s old man?”
“We’ll either have Skip Priest or Jim Ferrell.”
“Wha’ kinda machine does Federal Avenue have?”
“That’s Federal Way, and we don’t really have a machine. Just two Republicans that…”
That was as far as I got. Everyone started laughing and drinking shots of whiskey followed by beers.
“I’ll bet they’s so polite ta each other dat everybody’s tryin ta stay awake for the big event! Whadda ya know about duh issues?”
“Ferrell doesn’t want to build a performing arts center or build high-rises until the revenue picture improves. Priest wants to keep any commitments that have already been made.”
By that time everyone was laughing at me, but Slats suddenly sobered up, narrowed his eyes and whispered, “Mister, you say you’re a firearms lawyer. Maybe you better stay in Washington where your permit will do yah some good. They don’t call dis dah City uhdah Big Shoulders fer nuttin!”
