For the uninitiated, "second city" refers to the rebuilt Chicago that  
emerged
after the Great Fire of the 19th century. It was the second city to be  
created
from the ashes of the first, like a phoenix ( hence the use of the fabled  
bird
in official city symbolism).
 
BR note
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
October 28, 2011  
The Chicago You Don't Know
By _Nicholas  G. Hahn III_ 
(http://www.realclearreligion.org/authors/?author=Nicholas+G.+Hahn+III&id=22576)
 

Chicago is a city with many names: "Second City," the "City of Big  
Shoulders," and the "Windy City," to name but a few. The names are seldom used  
correctly. Knowledge of their etymology is rarer still. For the purposes of 
this  discussion, the nickname "Windy City" is particularly relevant and  
instructive. 
Reports vary as to its first use, but its primary connotation referred to 
the  "hot air" circulating around the city from its boasting  politicians.

 
Not much has changed. 
In the wake of _Afghanistan_ 
(http://www.realclearworld.com/topic/around_the_world/afghanistan/?utm_source=rcw&utm_medium=link&utm_campaign=rcwautolink)
 
's  new government, President Hamid Karzai was having some trouble 
developing  legitimacy among the fractious Afghanis. Militias began rebelling 
against his  authority, but Karzai had the _United  States_ 
(http://realclearworld.com/topic/around_the_world/united_states/?utm_source=rcw&utm_medium=link&utm
_campaign=rcwautolink)  military behind him -- at least he thought. 
Then Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld suggested, albeit crudely, that  
Karzai should "learn to govern the Chicago way" (full disclosure: I worked 
in  Rumsfeld's Washington, D.C. office). The Chicago-born Rumsfeld saw how 
lessons  of "patronage and political incentives and disincentives" from the 
late former  mayor Richard J. Daley might keep the tribal warlords "in line." 
Well, what exactly is the Chicago way? Cinema consistently tries -- 
sometimes  successfully, sometimes not -- to answer this question for the big 
screen.  Judging from the introductory episode to Starz's new series Boss (airs 
 
Fridays at 10PM EST), the answer seems to translate quite well. 
The premiere opens with a punch to the gut. A doctor tells Kelsey Grammer's 
 character, Mayor Tom Kane, that he has no more than five years to live. He 
has a  neurological disorder similar to Alzheimer's and Parkinson's that 
will begin to  deprive the Mayor of his "orientation," "intelligence," and 
"insight." 
As he makes his way to the next event in his schedule, Kane breaks down, 
but  gathers himself before arriving at a campaign rally for the current 
Governor of  Illinois. Kane begins by talking about the city's founding. 
Here is where Boss's writing begins to burst from its seams. In a  powerful 
juxtaposition with the opening scene, Kane passionately recalls the  
Presbyterian minister Jeremiah Porter. Porter arrived in Chicago to find a  
culture of vice where "corruption, an accepted way of life, prostitution,  
boozing, cards, dice, all forms of gambling were common occupations." 
Though, as Kane reflects on those words, he suggests that the city's 
"darkest  elements have given rise to its greatest crusaders of light." 
Anthony Mockus, Sr., a veteran of the theatre and a Chicago-based actor,  
plays Kane's father-in-law, the former Mayor Rutledge. After the series 
premiere  last week, Mockus sat down with RealClearReligion to discuss Boss.  
Mockus thought the news Kane had received in the opening scene may have 
inspired  him to speak about the founding of Chicago: "There's a hint of 
religion 
in all  of us. We have a soul. Sometimes we try to beat it down and get rid 
of it, but  it is always there." 
Yet, Mockus is mindful that Kane is "capable of chicanery." Later, in a  
fascinating look at one way how Kane exercises his power, the Mayor meets with 
a  young up-and-coming politician to encourage him to join the Chicago 
machine. 
Standing atop City Hall, Kane begins to educate the young man about how one 
 mayor coalesced the city's ethnic political powers. Mayor Anton Cermak, an 
 immigrant himself, was the first to "force the Irish to share power" in 
the  early 1930s. Cermak, as Kane observes, built the "first truly dominant 
political  force this country had ever seen." 
It wasn't easy. 
The Chicago immigrant populations, having staked out their own corners of 
the  city, hated each other. But Cermak understood, as does Kane, that there 
is  "something basic about all people: they want to be led." Kane calls it a 
 "covenant." 
A covenant -- not an agreement, contract, or a deal -- but a specifically  
Biblical word. 
"In the writing it was not blatantly obvious," Mockus reflects, "but it was 
 clear -- indeed, classical -- in its delivery and explanation of a 
character.  And one of the greatest classics ever written was the Bible." 
In fact, Mockus was asked in his audition to improvise a few lines à la  
Cassius from Julius Caesar. "I thought, ‘Oh, classical. He knows his  
Shakespeare. He knows Julius Ceaser. Ah, Cassius.'" 
The deliberate choice of classical, and at times religious, writing for a  
series about Chicago politics reveals something impressive about the city.  
Impressive enough that led Kane to declare in his rally speech that Chicago 
is  "the most American of all cities." The impressive, less notorious 
Chicago  way. 
This and nearly every aspect of Boss impressed Mockus: "It swept you  away, 
really." 
And in returning once again to the cast and crew of Boss, Mockus  
succinctly concluded: "They were just damn good."

-- 
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