Over the years, various rabble-rousers have led sit-ins, marches, and boycotts to protest one municipal plan or another. But Pat Quinn and his band of neighborhood activists are using a relatively unusual strategy to fight the proposed $587-million Bears stadium–shame.
The Bears deal is backed by Governor George Ryan and Mayor Daley and by former governor James Thompson, who lobbied for it on the statehouse floor. So far it’s been approved by the City Council, the state legislature, and the Chicago Plan Commission, because very few elected officials have seemed willing to defy its powerful supporters.
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Of course the deal has opponents. The Tribune has editorialized against it, and the advocacy group Friends of the Parks sued to block the deal on the grounds that it violates the Lakefront Protection Ordinance. The criticism of Tribune architecture critic Blair Kamin has been particularly withering–he’s called the 16-story, steel-framed structure, which looks a lot like the new Comiskey Park, a “monumental eyesore, one that brings the gargantuan modernism of McCormick Place smack into the middle of the handsome classical ensemble of the museum campus.”
The fight is about more than just symbols. The Bears intend to help pay for their end of the deal with money raised by leasing naming rights to the new stadium; an article in Crain’s Chicago Business says such a lease might make them $10 million a year. And as Quinn points out, “If they can’t change the name, they can’t sell the naming rights–and maybe they can’t build the stadium.”
Daley contends that’s a loaded question, guaranteed to generate a strong negative vote just by playing to voter hostility toward a big payout for the Bears, whose owners, the McCaskey family, are unpopular with fans. And sure enough, says Gallagher, voters have been eager to sign the petitions.
The Bears have taken a little more conciliatory approach, at least toward the veterans. They have pledged to give at least $200,000 a year to veterans’ groups and to keep the Soldier Field name as part of the new title. “The Soldier Field name will not go away–it absolutely will stay on the stadium,” says Scott Hagel, the public relations director for the Bears. “Also the historic south wall, with its dedication to the soldiers of World War I, will remain untouched.”
It’s a normal weekday practice for the Demons basketball team, with a dozen teens and preteens racing across the floor, barked at by coach Michael “Skeet” Horton. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” says Horton as the players, chests heaving, break between sprints. “I’m not tired yet.” And with that he has them run some more.
