Every Picture Tells a Story 7/28/14

Public Land, Private Gain, Part 4

"Aldermen must reject the [Chicago Children's] museum plan," says the editorial page of today's Chicago Sun-Times, "if only to show voters that we live in a democracy, where such quaint concepts as the people's will matters, and not the whims of one man intent on getting his way, no matter how poor the plan, no matter how high the cost."

On June 8, the Chicago Tribune spoke directly to the elected officials: "Aldermen, think of the heroes of earlier centuries. Think of your legacy—stewardship or betrayal?—to your descendants, the kids of future centuries. Then tell the museum executives they cannot have Grant Park."

Unfortunately, the majority of those aldermen, not burdened with independent thoughts, spinal cords or an iota of concern for "such quaint concepts" or for what future generations might think, voted 33-16 and approved the plan.

There will no doubt be lawsuits over this (one has been filed already), but don't be the least bit surprised if, in the middle of some night in the very near future, ground is broken and construction is started--because that's exactly the kind of straightforward, forthright, principled leader Mayor Richard M. Daley is.

Public Land, Private Gain, Part 3

Yesterday, the Chicago City Council's Zoning Committee met to "discuss" the proposed move of the Chicago Children's Museum from its current cramped home on Navy Pier to a plot land in Grant Park immediately east of Millennium Park.

I set "discuss" in quotation marks because no actual "discussion" took place, nor was one going to with William Banks, an alderman staunchly (one might say "blindly") loyal to Mayor Richard M. Daley--who staunchly (one might say "arrogantly") supports the move--as chairman of the committee. Banks shut down testimony that he deemed redundant from protesters, yet allowed equally redundant testimony from the museum's architect and attorney. The measure passed on a 6-3 vote, just as it had passed on a vote by the city's Planning Commission a few weeks ago.

It doesn't seem to matter to city government or the museum that the plot of land they're obsessed with is a bad location for the museum, that there is substantial vocal opposition to the plan (including the alderman of the ward, Brendan Reilly) or that the design of the museum has been compromised so thoroughly by revisions to make it possible to stand up to the inevitable legal challenges (one suit has already been filed). Next week, the measure goes before the full City Council--it will likely pass.

At this point, the whole fight seems to no longer be about the museum or the park, but about Mayor Daley reasserting his control over the City Council, even if it means the Council will have to slit its own collective throat by giving up one of its most sacred unwritten "rules" (aldermanic prerogative) while also allowing Daley to slap down an independent thinker, the freshman Ald. Reilly.

You might have assumed that this fair city was part of a democracy. If so, you were mistaken. It's as if Daley were putting into action something a co-worker said the other day: "That's my opinion, and that's your opinion, too."

The co-worker was joking. Daley isn't.

Public Land, Private Gain, Part 2

As I (and many others) predicted yesterday, the Chicago Plan Commission approved the move of the Chicago Children's Museum from their cramped quarters on Navy Pier to new, spacious, subterranean digs in Grant Park by a vote of 13 to 2. Kudos to Commission members Doris Holleb and Lyneir Richardson for proving that they are, in fact, vertebrates. The rest of the members? I'm not so sure. (Do not be surpised if Holleb and Richardson are wished into the cornfield--and off the Commission--by His Honor in the near future.)

Not that the museum will be jammed into the turf tomorrow. There are many steps to be taken before the first shovel of dirt is thrown aside--the next being the City Council's zoning committee, which must approve the measure before it's brought up before the full council.

While many members of the City Council also do whatever the mayor tells them, they have a more difficult decision with consequences that reach well beyond the placement of the museum itself. The alderman of the ward in which the proposed new museum location resides, Brendan Reilly, opposes the plan. Usually, if an alderman opposes a project within the boundaries of his or her ward, that project dies a swift death.

So...are the members of the City Council willing to incur the considerable wrath of the mayor by protecting their longstanding privilege of giving a stamp of approval to anything that happens within their individual wards? Or will they cut out the middleman and slit their own throats by approving the measure over the local alderman's wishes, opening up the substantial probability that their own ward projects will now be fair game for the whims, wishes and warfare of their fellow council members? We shall see.

We shall also see if the Chicago Children's Museum's reputation, already damaged by the museum board's eagerness to jam this ill-conceived plan down the throats of the citizens of this city, continues to erode to the point where so much ill will has been generate that no one will want to go anywhere near their institution, no matter where it is eventually built.

Public Land, Private Gain

Millennium Park in downtown Chicago has always provoked mixed feelings.

Carved out of the northern end of the much larger Grant Park, Millennium Park is undeniably one of the most spectacular locations in the whole city: It has memorable sculptures (including the ultra-shiny Cloud Gate, better known locally as "The Bean"); a fountain visitors are encouraged to walk in that has building-high video screens at either end that spit water out of the faces projected there; a relaxing cafe; a wintertime iceskating rink; a bridge and music pavilion designed by world-renowned architect Frank Gehry; and a panoramic view of one of the greatest skylines on the planet.

The park also, unfortunately, represents much civic blundering: It ran well over budget; numerous deadlines for completion were blown (as the name implies, it was supposed to open in 2000--it didn't open until 2004); and that relaxing cafe is run by a group that just happens to have connections to the city's longtime mayor, Richard M. Daley and just happens to have gotten a great deal on the lease. (Daley has long denied that he had anything to do with what, to all appearances, was a sweetheart deal. However, given the numerous investigations and subsequent convictions for corruption throughout Daley's administration, doubts continue to linger.)

Now, the city is trying to add more to the area, already ten pounds in a five-pound bag, by moving the Chicago Children's Museum from its cramped quarters at Navy Pier to a a spot in Grant Park adjacent to Millennium Park currently occupied by a plaza named for Daley's father, Richard J. Daley (also a long-serving mayor of the city).

Numerous objections have been raised to this plan by groups concerned about protecting the intergity of the parks (and point to decades of legal precedents prohibiting buildings in public parks), by condo owners concerned about the increase in traffic in what is already a congested area, and by average citizens who worry that such a deal opens the door further for giving public land over to private institutions (even a not-for-profit one like the Children's Museum).

The mayor has no such concerns. He has been a vocal--even vehement--supporter of the move, sometimes literally and hysterically shouting down detractors of the plan as anti-child or racist.

I think it's a bad idea as well, but mostly because of the age-old realtor's mantra: location, location, location. It's a lousy spot for a hot dog stand, much less a museum. It's an awkward, out-of-character attachment to either park, a square peg being rammed into a round hole with excessive force. Other sites have been proposed, especially by the Chicago Tribune which has run a series of editorials suggesting alternate sites where the museum might be a better fit, like the "museum campus" immediately south of the downtown area (a campus that already attracts millions of visitors, including many children, every year) or areas that could use the attention the museum would attract, like Garfield Park on the city's West Side, a long-ignored jewel that could bask in the light shined on it by the presence of such a world-class institution.

The museum's choice of location--and the objections to it--have caused the board to attempt to please everyone with changes to the design of the structure, which now would reside mostly underground. That would be great if the children were moles or earthworms. That would also be great if citizens who, funny enough, would like to use the park land as park land could actually do so; the footprint of the new museum, even after it's been shovel as far into the ground as possible, still makes the land above it virtually useless.

It does not seem, however, that either the museum board or the mayor have any interest in entertaining suggestions for other, more suitable locations. The proposal for the move goes before the city's Plan Commission today, and it's expected to pass with little oppostition from the Commission board, which is entirely appointed by (guess who?) Mayor Daley. While civic groups and individual protestors will likely make noise at the Commission meeting today, I would not be the least surprised to see each commissioner take turns curling up in the mayor's lap and getting a tummy rub from His Honor. That would be far more likely than even one of the commissioners standing up and saying, in a clear and firm voice, "This is wrong, sir."

It does not matter whether this move is what's best for the parks, the city, the museum or, most importantly, the children. It's what the mayor wants. And what this mayor wants--from the midnight demolition to the lakefront airport, Meigs Field, to the hideous "renovation" of Soldier Field, the Bears' football stadium that now looks like the mothership from Close Encounters of the Third Kind has crashed within its classically columned walls--this mayor gets.