“Hey, we don’t have any coverage of City Hall. Is it okay if I set up a news beat?”
“Sure, kid, go ahead, “my editor replied.
I was a journalism student working part-time and summers at the Austinite, a weekly newspaper serving the Austin neighborhood on Chicago’s West Side. That the paper’s three-person news staff did not cover City Hall was not unusual: Neighborhood and suburban papers in the 1960s had an intensely local focus. It was said that if the Russkies nuked the Loop we would not run a story unless the fallout spread west of Cicero Avenue.
But there still was news to be reported at City Hall, so I began stopping there when I took the El from my classes at Northwestern to the newspaper office at Central and Lake. I introduced myself to the aldermen who represented Austin, Paul T. Corcoran of the 37th Ward and Daniel J. Ronan of the 30th (who later served in Congress), and dropped by their offices once a week. There wasn’t a lot going on beyond the occasional street project or sewer repair. The neighborhood was in decline but had not yet become the high-crime ghetto that emerged a few years later.
And there I was, at age 19, a reporter covering City Hall! I stopped by the press room, mostly to gawk at the byline stars of the downtown dailies who had permanent desks there. Eventually I learned to navigate some of the city government offices, interview bureaucrats and pore through public records in search of story angles.
Once I attended Mayor Richard J. Daley’s regular news conference. I had no questions to ask, but there was a chance he might announce something relevant to my readers. The news-conference room had a long table at the front, several rows of chairs and space for TV cameras at the back. When the mayor entered the room he was suddenly bathed in a golden aura: It took me a moment to realize that the room had built-in floodlights for the TV cameras. The mayor spoke from behind the table and answered questions as radio reporters held up their microphones. When he decided the news conference was over he began ambling toward the exit. Reporters continued to fire questions and followed him with their microphones, dragging their tape recorders the length of the table as the mayor departed: like an unvanquished whale swimming away festooned with harpoons.
In 1962, the biggest city project in Austin was moving the Lake Street El trains from street level to the adjacent railroad embankment. A month or so after the move the unused gatekeepers’ shacks along the old tracks had not yet been removed, and some of our readers expressed concern that bad people could hide in them and prey on small children. When I could not get an answer from the transit authority about demolition plans I called Ald. Corcoran. “The shacks will be gone by next week,” he pronounced. And they were.
Ald. Corcoran passed away in 1964 and his funeral was a news event. Mayor Daley attended, and I waited in the gaggle of news photographers to get a photo as he emerged from the funeral home. When the mayor walked toward his car we raised our cameras. The mayor spotted the cameras and — instinctively and probably unconsciously — flashed a politician’s smile. We lowered our cameras and the mayor changed his expression. We raised our cameras and again the mayor smiled. Finally one of his aides said: “How about a somber shot for the papers, Mr. Mayor.”
The street where the El tracks used to be was renamed Corcoran Place.
The pandemic and institutional co-morbidities
It’s probably a healthy sign that people are beginning to talk about what will change once the coronavirus has run its course. There’s a lot of speculation about how things will work now that people are concerned about social distancing and have acquired the habit of washing their hands.
One characteristic of this virus is that it is most deadly to people who have co-morbidities such as immune deficiencies, diabetes, obesity and respiratory ailments. The same effect applies to institutions: businesses and organizations that were ailing before the virus hit will face a reckoning and may not survive. The pandemic’s wake-up call is an opportunity to reform dying institutions and re-think some common assumptions. Here are some possibilities:
Retailers — It’s not surprising to see chain stores like Macy’s and Nieman-Marcus closing. Brick-and-mortar stores have been teetering for years. The pandemic is giving them a final nudge while stimulating even more hiring by Amazon and Walmart. Supermarkets and big-box stores have adapted to social distancing. Smaller businesses easily can do so if they survive until the politicians allow them to reopen. The pandemic is forcing consumers to use low-contact services such as online ordering, delivery and drive-up grocery pickup and some of this behavior will be permanent.
Higher education — Colleges and universities are rife with co-morbidities. With the pool of 18-year-old freshpersons declining, their shaky economic model has been artificially propped up by Chinese oligarchs and easy-money student loans. Soaring costs, political conflict, admission scandals and worthless degrees have diminished the value proposition of a college education. Colleges were beginning to close before the virus hit. States now are cutting funding to public colleges and we are going to see a shakeout.
It’s an opportunity to re-think higher education. Institutions that embrace and integrate online learning, as Purdue University is doing, will thrive. Many others will close and some ought to. Can colleges re-purpose themselves from merely indoctrinating the young to lifelong learning and career development? And will college sports accelerate its transition to a fully professional enterprise?
K-12 education — Elementary schools have stepped up during the pandemic to continue feeding children who depend on subsidized meals. Educating them, not so much. Some public schools have put lessons online and obtained laptops for needy kids, others have not. The pandemic has forced millions of kids and parents to sample online learning and home schooling. Some of them may like it, and we are likely to see greater demand for online charter schools and home schooling. Public schools will have an opportunity to integrate more online learning into their classrooms and offer distance-learning options, but teachers’ unions are likely to checkmate such reforms.
Urban planning — For decades, city planners and the politicians who hire them have tried to shame us into abandoning our wasteful suburban homes and SUVs for virtuous high-rise apartments and public transportation. We now know that the high-density lifestyle these experts were pushing was a petri dish of contagion in cities like New York and Wuhan. Big cities were losing population before the pandemic hit and this trend is likely to accelerate. Will anybody listen to urban planners in the future, or will they be forced to seek honest work?
The Postal Service — The post office is an employee-benefit organization that delivers mail as a sideline. It’s been a financial sinkhole for decades and now is asking for a federal bailout because — wait for it — the pandemic has cut its revenues. I’m getting hysterical emails from a Senatorial candidate claiming that MY local post office will close NEXT MONTH unless we somehow remove Sen. Mitch McConnell from office. The Postal Service is a mess because Congress has thwarted attempts to streamline its operation and control costs. The pandemic has made the mess worse and probably merits at least a short-term bailout. This gives Congress an opportunity to combine an aid package with long-needed reforms. Don’t hold your breath.
News Media — While local news coverage of the pandemic has been generally responsible, the national news media have stepped-up their political activism. Most of the rumors and panicky predictions that dominated the headlines — firing of public health officials and the big ventilator shortage — have proven false. The White House press corps is putting on a good show at the daily coronavirus briefings, especially when President Trump plays into their hands, but the media’s already low credibility is taking another hit.
State and local government — Decades of unsustainable employee pensions and out-of-control spending have made many states and cities financially precarious. Unprecedented demand for state unemployment assistance has exposed the frailty of bureaucracy and outdated computer systems. States certainly need federal help to cope with the pandemic, but some states also want federal taxpayers to bail out their pension plans and have shown no willingness to curb spending.
At the same time citizens are pushing back against governors and mayors who have been shutting down the economy and society, sometimes with fascist zeal. Taxpayers whose elected officials have put them out of work may be less willing than in the past to fuel the government spending machine, especially if they must subsidize states that are more irresponsible than their own. Calls for accountability are being met with the usual political outrage, but maybe things will be different this time. Maybe.
Lots of things will be different when the pandemic has run its course and so will we. Americans who are cheering first responders and volunteering to make masks may emerge from the pandemic with a renewed sense of values, a little more healthy skepticism and a willingness to reform or replace the institutions that have failed them. We can hope, anyway.