infested with mice. But to Blagojevich, it was exciting. He was finally really seeing Chicago politics from the inside, and he was part of it.
Beyond the front lobby area, Blagojevich looked down a long hallway dotted with doors on both sides. The first door on the right was the offices of a neighborhood newspaper, the
Chicago Post,
which Mell owned with James Boratyn, a precinct captain. The free, twice-a-month publication wasa propaganda sheet filled with positive news about Mellâs efforts to rid the neighborhood of crime, litter, and abandoned cars.
Across the hallway from the
Post
âs headquarters was Mellâs wood-paneled personal office. His desk, also dark wood, was kept tidy. Slid under a glass topper sat a map of the cityâs Thirty-Third Ward, detailing every precinct, block, and alley. But there was no sign of what Mell was most famous for.
Mellâs picture had been splashed around the country after the November 1987 death of Mayor Harold Washington. Chicago and the nation were stunned by the loss, and the days that followed shook the city to its core. With both allies and foes seeking to fill the resulting political vacuum, emergency meetings of the Chicago City Council suddenly became must-see local television as aldermen elbowed one another and lobbied behind closed doors to pick the next mayor.
As thousands jammed the streets outside city hall during the debate to pick Washingtonâs successor, Mell stood up on his desk in the council chambers, waving several pieces of paper in an effort to be heard. Photographers captured the bizarre scene, which became symbolic of the cityâs wild and outrageous political landscape. Alderman Eugene Sawyer was eventually selected to replace Washington. He was an African American that white aldermen could agree on.
The next office down the hallway was Rodâs.
As Mellâs number one, Blagojevichâs job was to show up at the ward office on Monday and Wednesday nights as well as Saturday mornings to deal with constituent complaints and services. On those weekdays, Blagojevich arrived around four in the afternoon and would stay until nine at night. On Saturdays, he would work from nine in the morning until two in the afternoon. Blagojevich loved the job and came off as earnest and interested. And his law degree didnât hurt either, helping him talk his way through the cityâs and countyâs bureaucracies. But at $13,000 in his first year, it wasnât a fulltime career, and Rod was still trying to get his law practice off the ground. He opened storefront legal offices on the North Side, a little east of Mellâs ward, at Montrose and Lincoln avenues, overlooking Welles Park, then at Lawrence and Ashland avenues. Millie answered telephone calls and helped organize things. He later rented space from his previous employers, Kaplan and Sorosky, downtown at 415 N. LaSalle.
Romantically, Rod and Patti were getting closer. The pair joined Perdomo to go skiing, their first time together, in Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. Mell was also getting closer to Rod. Mell was telling close friends and associateshe was growing fond of the young man and felt like he was doing a good job at the ward offices.
âThe kid has a knack for politics,â he would say.
In Mellâs family, Blagojevich at the time looked to be the closest thing there was to a successor to the alderman. Dick Mellâs son, Richard, showed little interest for politics. Patti majored in economics at University of Illinois and was helping out the familyâs spring factory. She also was showing a little interest in real estate. Youngest daughter Deb was young and still trying to figure out what she wanted to be. Still, the Mell clan had several connections to government. Richard had a job with the cityâs aviation department. Patti had worked a summer at city hall, and even Mellâs mother was on city payroll. Over the years she held numerous city jobs,
Beyond the front lobby area, Blagojevich looked down a long hallway dotted with doors on both sides. The first door on the right was the offices of a neighborhood newspaper, the
Chicago Post,
which Mell owned with James Boratyn, a precinct captain. The free, twice-a-month publication wasa propaganda sheet filled with positive news about Mellâs efforts to rid the neighborhood of crime, litter, and abandoned cars.
Across the hallway from the
Post
âs headquarters was Mellâs wood-paneled personal office. His desk, also dark wood, was kept tidy. Slid under a glass topper sat a map of the cityâs Thirty-Third Ward, detailing every precinct, block, and alley. But there was no sign of what Mell was most famous for.
Mellâs picture had been splashed around the country after the November 1987 death of Mayor Harold Washington. Chicago and the nation were stunned by the loss, and the days that followed shook the city to its core. With both allies and foes seeking to fill the resulting political vacuum, emergency meetings of the Chicago City Council suddenly became must-see local television as aldermen elbowed one another and lobbied behind closed doors to pick the next mayor.
As thousands jammed the streets outside city hall during the debate to pick Washingtonâs successor, Mell stood up on his desk in the council chambers, waving several pieces of paper in an effort to be heard. Photographers captured the bizarre scene, which became symbolic of the cityâs wild and outrageous political landscape. Alderman Eugene Sawyer was eventually selected to replace Washington. He was an African American that white aldermen could agree on.
The next office down the hallway was Rodâs.
As Mellâs number one, Blagojevichâs job was to show up at the ward office on Monday and Wednesday nights as well as Saturday mornings to deal with constituent complaints and services. On those weekdays, Blagojevich arrived around four in the afternoon and would stay until nine at night. On Saturdays, he would work from nine in the morning until two in the afternoon. Blagojevich loved the job and came off as earnest and interested. And his law degree didnât hurt either, helping him talk his way through the cityâs and countyâs bureaucracies. But at $13,000 in his first year, it wasnât a fulltime career, and Rod was still trying to get his law practice off the ground. He opened storefront legal offices on the North Side, a little east of Mellâs ward, at Montrose and Lincoln avenues, overlooking Welles Park, then at Lawrence and Ashland avenues. Millie answered telephone calls and helped organize things. He later rented space from his previous employers, Kaplan and Sorosky, downtown at 415 N. LaSalle.
Romantically, Rod and Patti were getting closer. The pair joined Perdomo to go skiing, their first time together, in Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. Mell was also getting closer to Rod. Mell was telling close friends and associateshe was growing fond of the young man and felt like he was doing a good job at the ward offices.
âThe kid has a knack for politics,â he would say.
In Mellâs family, Blagojevich at the time looked to be the closest thing there was to a successor to the alderman. Dick Mellâs son, Richard, showed little interest for politics. Patti majored in economics at University of Illinois and was helping out the familyâs spring factory. She also was showing a little interest in real estate. Youngest daughter Deb was young and still trying to figure out what she wanted to be. Still, the Mell clan had several connections to government. Richard had a job with the cityâs aviation department. Patti had worked a summer at city hall, and even Mellâs mother was on city payroll. Over the years she held numerous city jobs,
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