How the mighty have fallen!

How the mighty have fallen!

I’m not sure if I’ve told this story before. During my official Sun-Times suburban newspaper days, I struck up a friendship with former WBEZ host and political strategist Chris Robling. I sought Chris out because he was the only journalist ever granted an audience with the great Mike Royko and I desperately wanted a copy of the proceedings.

Not only did Chris oblige, but he graciously invited this fledgling columnist to a 2006 Chicago Club luncheon celebrating sportscaster Pat Summerall’s Summerall: On And Off The Air book launch. Pat’s anecdotal recollections of Cubs radio partner Ron Santo’s unintentionally humorous hijinks had the rapt audience rolling on the floor. My autographed copy of that literary effort remains one of my most prized possessions.

As we stood laughing in the lobby on our way out, someone called out Chris’s name. We both turned only to be confronted by a smiling 63-year-old Chicago alderman Ed Burke.

Standing somewhere between six-two to six-four with ramrod straight posture made him quite the imposing figure – and his political reputation only added to the mystique. He removed an impeccable classic dark gray fedora as he spoke, revealing a thinning but perfectly coifed head of swept back white hair.

He was clad in an expensive dark gray overcoat, his thousand-dollar dark gray blue pinstriped suit fit his fit frame perfectly, you could see your reflection in his black oxford shoes, and his royal blue satin tie was the perfect exclamation mark.

But the alderman’s blue steel gaze was even more impressive than the outfit.

I didn’t catch all of the conversation because I was far more focused on the man than what he was saying, but it had something to do with something Chris could do for him. As he started walking toward the elevator, getting up a little gumption, I said something to the effect of, “I was truly sorry to hear about you losing your daughter in that adoption case.”

Burke stopped, briefly turned to consider me, curtly said “It was my son,” and then he stepped into the elevator and disappeared.

As Chris and I continued towards the exit I said, “I picked the wrong time to get something like that wrong, didn’t I?” adding, “I’m not quite sure I actually exist after that transaction.” Chris laughed, adding, “You can’t do anything for him.”

That declaration summed up the great city councilman in six short words.

If you’ve been paying as close attention to the press coverage of the Burke corruption trial as I have, then you already know the former alderman’s fortunes have faded quite a bit since we ran into each other 17 long years ago.

Though the defense has yet to submit their summation, given the damning nature of prosecution testimony, including Burke’s own recorded words, a conviction is as inevitable as the sun rising over Lake Michigan tomorrow morning.

But what strikes me most is, having encountered the alderman in his prime, the frightening and frightened figure I’m seeing in all the news reports is a mere shadow of the man who ruled the city council’s finance committee with an iron fist and so perfectly put me in my place.

Sure, some of the slide can be attributed to the inexorable march of time, but that doesn’t account for his strangely slumped posture, his uncharacteristically vacant and lost countenance, and the way he clings to his wife Anne as they walk into the Federal Building as if he might crumble into dust if he didn’t.

Sure, he’ll make an effort to put the old bravado on when he sees a plurality of the press watching, but it’s nothing more than a thinly veiled act. It’s as if, like me, he knows he’s already convicted.

Were I granted another equally brief audience with the legend, I’d ask him a simple one-word question, “Why?” It’s not like the current charges stem from alleged criminal acts committed years ago. Most of the 2019 indictment covers acts from 2015 through 2017.

Why would a seventy-something man with unbridled clout, a political legacy few will ever enjoy, a great family, and a reported nine-figure personal wealth risk it all on something as stupid as a Field Museum internship for a friend’s daughter and what would only be minor business for his law firm? What more could any man possibly need?

I’m tempted to say it’s as simple as “absolute power corrupts absolutely,” but that would be doing the alderman a grave disservice. He’s a bit more complicated than that. But whatever the basis of the addiction to political power is, it’s more powerful than crack cocaine, fentanyl, and crystal meth combined. It clearly has a more powerful pull that family, status, and money combined.

Ed Burke should be sitting at a Florida poolside regaling his fellow Second City expats with tales of the glory days while sipping on a margarita, not enduring a 14-count racketeering and bribery trial that will inevitably result in his conviction. Whether the 80-year-old serves a day in jail with all of the potential appeals is questionable, but his prized reputation is forever tarnished.

Please don’t mistake my sorrow for sympathy. In the end, the alderman brought this on himself.  But his family did not, and the fact that he so callously put them in the position to suffer this indignity is very difficult to fathom.

Regardless of the trial’s outcome, though I’m sure I’m long forgotten, I will never forget the day I met Edward M. Burke.

8 thoughts on “How the mighty have fallen!

  1. Are you sure he lost his child in the adoption case? It seems to me it went up to Illinois Supreme Court and he got custody. And that was a totally wrong decision as the mother of the child had complied with everything she had to do to regain custody from DCFS and I mean everything. Anne Burke was on the Appellate Bench then but would soon move up to Supreme Court. And every Judge out of Cook County got the judgeship from Burke. It was unseemly then and still is. Also nothing against Justice Burke but she benefited from his clout as much as anyone. Pride goeth before the fall. He earned it.

  2. That was in march another article in October

    Powerful Couple Wins Child Custody Case

    Washington Post
    https://www.washingtonpost.com › 1999/10/20 › pow…
    Oct 20, 1999 — Circuit Judge Judith Brawka said the child, known as “Baby T,” should remain for “the foreseeable future” with Chicago Alderman Edward Burke and …

  3. ok I don’t want to show my annal qualities and I will try and find the Illinois Supreme Court case tomorrow but I still think I am right. You show a March article I show an October article. I was deeply involved in child abuse cases then and I remember how shabbily, in my opinion, the Mom was treated. And of course she was not June Cleaver but she was trying.

  4. Lots of paywalls out there but her is from Wikepedia
    Baby T
    In February 1996, the Burkes became foster parents to an African American child, known in public by his court name “Baby T,” born to a woman suffering drug addiction. The child’s mother, Tina Olison, an addict in recovery, sued to regain custody of her child several times in a protracted, racially charged court battle that drew extensive media attention. The suits ultimately reached the Illinois State Supreme Court, which ruled in favor of custody for the Burkes in 2001.[167
    And Burke made him a delegate for Hilllary

    LOCAL NEWS
    Alderman’s Son Among Youngest Delegates At DNC
    chicago
    JULY 25, 2016 / 1:07 PM CDT / CBS CHICAGO

    CHICAGO (CBS) — One of the youngest Illinois delegates to the Democratic National Convention said his love of politics came from his father, who is one of the most powerful Democrats in Chicago.

    Twenty-year-old Travis Burke has been to conventions before with his father, Ald. Edward Burke (14th), who chairs the City Council Finance Committee, but this was the younger Burke’s first as a delegate.

    For fun of it try walking your dog around the mayor’s street

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