In 1879, a peculiar debate unfolded among Chicago politicians regarding a rather dubious dilemma: what to do with sour meat confiscated by the city’s health commissioner.
The City Council sought a solution that would protect local meat sellers by compelling the city to auction off the rancid steaks to the highest bidder, returning the cash to the original owner.
However, the mayor vetoed this ordinance, branding the plan as an affront to public health—an action that newspapers termed an “attempt to poison the public by statute.”
This marked the beginning of a long saga involving the veto power wielded by Chicago’s mayors, a significant aspect of the city’s governance over the past 174 years.
Chicago’s succession of 57 mayors has employed their veto authority at least 1,889 times since the power’s introduction, believed to have occurred in 1851, as documented by the city clerk’s office.
The frequency of mayoral vetoes might astonish many Chicagoans today, particularly given that the veto has rarely been exercised in recent years.
Under mayors of the 21st century, the use of the veto is almost a rarity; for instance, Mayor Brandon Johnson recently issued the city’s first veto in 19 years.
Historically, the frequency and context of vetoes illuminate the ongoing power struggle between the mayor’s office and the City Council, especially at a time when the Council held the purse strings of the city’s finances.
On the contrary, the recent political landscape reflects a major shift—one in which the mayor now exerts substantial control over City Council legislation.
Going back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the period often referred to as the ‘Council of the Gray Wolves’ (1871 to 1931) highlighted a time when Council members dominated city budgets.
The term originated from the gray-haired aldermen who, much like wolves dividing spoils, engaged in behind-the-scenes dealings with powerful businessmen.
Political scientists, including Dick Simpson, recount this era as one dominated by entrenched corruption within the first political machine in Chicago.
The public was acutely aware of the machinations; for instance, when the Council sought to pass an ordinance granting taxpayer incentives to a streetcar businessman, the newspapers reacted with skepticism.
Mayor Monroe Heath took a stand against the ordinance, citing the rush with which it had been passed.
As the Chicago Daily News pointed out, the measure benefited not just the public but also the unscrupulous merchants whose actions prioritized profit over public welfare.
That sentiment was echoed in the mayor’s vetoes regarding public health regulations.
In a notable incident from 1879, the Council voted heavily in favor of legislation allowing the health commissioner to auction off “diseased, tainted or sour meats.”
Mayor Carter Henry Harrison III still considered the measure detrimental to the citizenry at large, specifying that such a law would mainly protect dishonest dealers while risking public health.
In his veto message, Harrison emphasized the vulnerability of the poor who relied on affordable meat markets and could not seek better options.
Hence, he pointed out, it was imperative to ban the sale of spoiled meat to safeguard the health of disadvantaged citizens.
Occasionally, vetoes ventured beyond serious public health concerns.
For example, in December 1906, the Council sought to convert an old ballpark into a public skating rink, but the mayor, Edward F. Dunne, vetoed the plan due to concerns regarding private profit motives.
Legislative maneuvering often accompanied vetoes, as mayors would sometimes use them as bargaining chips during negotiations on various ordinances.
In another instance, Mayor Carter Henry Harrison IV vetoed a proposal that sought to remove newsstands from city streets, asserting the importance of accessibility to newspapers during a contemporaneous strike.
Harrison argued that newspapers were an urban necessity, and removing newsstands would hinder public access.
The struggle for authority and control manifested itself even in disputes over city land designated for sports franchises.
In 1877, the Chicago White Stockings, contemporarily known as the Chicago Cubs, eyed a location for their ballpark after the destruction of their previous grounds in the Great Chicago Fire.
The City Council acted quickly to lease public land for the team, only for Mayor Heath to veto the ordinance over concerns about how this would benefit the public.
He passionately argued against relinquishing public land to a private entity, fearing that future management might not align with public interests.
Despite the veto, negotiations continued and ultimately led to the mayor entering a contract with the club, contributing to the team’s historic success.
Navigating through the political landscape also revealed moments of profound corruption.
In the 1926 Maxwell Street Market corruption scandal, Alderman Henry Fick, under scrutiny for graft, proposed an ordinance to investigate the allegations against him.
However, reform-minded Mayor William E. Dever promptly vetoed the investigation proposal, a defining moment in Fick’s political trajectory that led to his defeat in the subsequent election cycle.
The subsequent decades saw the emergence of a strong-mayor system that further consolidated power within the mayor’s office.
Anton Cermak’s administration marked the beginning of this trend—a shift where the mayor’s office began to dominate the political landscape, diminishing the influence of the City Council.
Political scientist Dick Simpson interprets this shift as a response to the growing industrial needs of the city, which required more streamlined citywide legislation.
The ensuing strong-mayor system established by Cermak was mirrored by subsequent mayors like Edward J. Kelly and Richard J. Daley, leading to a significant decrease in veto usage.
Interestingly, while Daley is known for his unwavering success in passing legislation, his tenure included at least two recorded vetoes on minor issues.
In a dramatic shift from his predecessors, Mayor Harold Washington became known for his assertive use of the veto.
During his four years in office, he issued 44 vetoes—more than all modern mayors combined—an indication of his battles with a Council that resisted his efforts at reform.
Washington’s presidency came at a time of racial tension and significant political upheaval in the city, as his first veto addressed the Council’s organizational structure during his inaugural meeting.
His strong stance against the prevailing norms allowed him to advocate for greater representation among Black members of the Council.
The Council dynamics continued to evolve over the years, exhibiting an emerging independence that influenced mayoral power.
A pivotal moment arose recently when Mayor Richard M. Daley issued just a single veto in 22 years regarding legislation aimed at big-box retail workers.
This highlighted not only the pressures surrounding economic development but also the influence of political unions on the Council’s actions.
As the political climate evolves further, the role of the veto will remain a focal point of contention in how governance plays out in the city.
Recently, Mayor Brandon Johnson faced a similar scenario, issuing a veto of a proposed ordinance allowing police to implement curfews for minors.
In his veto message, Johnson emphasized the necessity for investing in proven community safety strategies, reinforcing the complexity of balancing public safety with community needs.
In summary, the story of mayoral vetoes in Chicago articulates a nuanced history steeped in political negotiation, public welfare advocacy, and the evolving dynamics of governance.
From protecting citizens from rancid meat to wrestling with issues of city franchise contracts, vetoes provide a window into the intricate interplay of power that has shaped Chicago throughout its history.
image source from：wbez
