African-American Democrats long have had to
possess a sort of double political consciousness — as party
loyalists on one hand and as members of the socially oppressed
black community on the other. In downstate Illinois, things are even more
complicated. Scattered and fewer, blacks here depend heavily on
powerful African-American Democrats from Chicago to make demands of
the governor and the Legislature, hoping that some of those ducats
trickle down. This is one of the reasons that state Sen.
James T. Meeks created such a splash when he made it known last
week that he was considering a run at the governor’s office.
An unprecedented show of solidarity by black
leaders from Chicago’s ever-feuding South and West sides in
support of Meeks also gave hope to African-Americans in other areas
of the state who’ve criticized Gov. Rod Blagojevich but
haven’t gotten any of the goodies that Chicago has. “The governor has never seen fit to
have a conversation with me, and we’re members of the same
party,” says Carl Officer, the Democratic mayor of East St.
Louis. Officer says that Blagojevich’s
administration “has not reached the standard” in terms
of boosting economic development in depressed areas such as East
St. Louis, which is mostly black.
Roy Williams, executive director of the
Illinois Association of Minorities in Government, echoes
Officer’s sentiments, saying that blacks downstate also feel
let down. “You’d think somebody over there
would be cracking a whip,” Williams says of the state
Democratic Party, in light of recent grumbling by discontented
black state workers in several state agencies. Already Meeks’ name has shown up on at least one statewide poll of the gubernatorial
race released earlier this week — and he captured 7 percent of
the vote. After Edwin Eisendrath’s weak attempt
to unseat Blagojevich in the Democratic primary (the former Chicago
alderman won about 30 percent of the vote), some are wondering just
how far Meeks is willing to take his gubernatorial ambitions. Williams, however, sees key differences
between Eisendrath and Meeks, namely religion and race. Meeks, he
notes, is the pastor of a large church on Chicago’s South
Side, so he’s likely more guided by faith. Also, he says,
“Eisendrath didn’t have a base — blacks would be
very excited to have their own candidate [in Meeks].” Donald Jackson, a Peoria resident and
president of the state conference of the National Association for
the Advancement of Colored People, says he’s not at liberty
to discuss specific candidates.
As a matter of public policy, however,
Jackson is disappointed in the governor’s proposal to build
special prisons for meth users, who tend to be white, while, as
Jackson sees it, not showing the same level of commitment to
fighting crack-cocaine addiction, which is rampant in poor
African-American neighborhoods. When asked about criticism that Blagojevich
hasn’t done enough to help the black community, the
governor’s office typically notes the more than a dozen
minorities appointed to top positions in the governor’s
cabinet. Williams, whose organization advocates on
behalf of minority state employees, responds by saying,
“I’d take 200 regular jobs over one top job.”
This article appears in Apr 6-12, 2006.
