The Last Day

Today ends an era.  Even the Trib, the strongest critic, had to say you deserved respect.  I don't agree with everything they write about your administration. They overstate some things to further their political agenda, but the comments about your character are right on point.  John H. Stroger, Jr.,  you are one of a kind, and a kind that with your leaving public life I doubt we will see again.  I never wondered where I  stood or where you stood on something. And most of the time you were right in the end.   You are blessed with many admirable qualities.  It was hard when I didn't agree with your position, because you don't change your mind easily, but you have always given me a chance to try and do so.  You listen.  You care.  And the millions of people who benefit from your steadfast dedication to providing for the less fortunate will be cared for through the good works of others in public service for a long time to come.  You have changed the lives of many simply by setting a good example.


Chicago Tribune Editorial           July 31, 2006          President Strogers Last Day In Office

Monday begins as thousands upon thousands of other days have begun in this metropolis, with John Stroger as president of the Cook County Board. Monday night, he'll begin his retirement. After decades of influencing county government and the lives of the people it serves, he has been sidelined by medical issues beyond his control. If John Stroger ever anticipated a career farewell, he surely saw himself shaking hands with everyone--his allies, his adversaries, the bypassers captivated if only for a moment by one of the more genuine personalities in Chicago politics.

But he likely didn't anticipate a farewell. He wouldn't have enjoyed those elaborate exercises in staged finality. Politics and governance were his life; an intimate says the prospect of retirement unnerved him. As Stroger now moves on he'll be busier than he ever expected, rebuilding his strength after a stroke and, bet it all, charming every physical therapist he meets. The rest of us--the allies, the adversaries, the bypassers--will have to wait a while longer for those handshakes. Even in this awkward moment of silence, we know he leaves public office just as he occupied it: without a grudge, without a complaint, and with precious few regrets. Even at his most stubborn--like an Arkansas mule, he once boasted--he has heard out his foes. The man does have convictions. Some of the most confrontational meetings this newspaper's editorial board ever has hosted occurred with John Stroger at the table, loudly refusing to reduce bureaucracy and improve services in a featherbedded county government that always took care of his cronies. The final trajectory of those meetings was predictable: Stroger agreeing to disagree, firmly gripping every paw in the room, murmuring that no matter how fierce his intransigence, "Nothing personal." When any disagreement ends with those two words spoken honestly--which rarely they are--they ennoble the speaker and the listener alike. If arguments with Stroger never have been personal, everything else has: How's everybody doing here? You have two boys, right? What's up with my old friend so-and-so? The Chicago cliche is that Stroger, 77, is a relic of an era when taxpayers blindly tolerated subsidizing the agendas, the patronage and the insider contracts awarded by the county officials they elected to office. But he's also a relic of a steelier, less calculating politics in which loyalty, once granted, endured to the grave. In 2003, he explained in an interview the most controversial decision of his career: to support Richard M. Daley in the 1983 mayoral primary even as Harold Washington, a fellow African-American, entered the race: "I'd made my commitment," Stroger recounted, "and I had no reason to change." He smiled. Criticism? So what. Even in his recent absence, the granite constancy of John Stroger has outclassed the shabby opportunism of the lesser pols who hovered like vultures over the final months of his career. They conspired among themselves and misled voters, scheming to embezzle his personal clout as his grasp on it slipped away. Now he departs, taking with him a possession that can't be begged, borrowed or bequeathed. What he wanted most in return for his work was people's respect. He has it. He always will.