Lunatics and anarchists: political homicide in Chicago.

• Author: Burke, Edward M.

As a former member of the Chicago police department, a practicing Chicago attorney and longtime member of the Chicago City Council, I am intrigued by political homicide in Chicago.

The colorful mayhem and peculiar prairie personality of Chicago provides us with no lack of curious cases and characters on which to focus our investigations.

Over the past three decades I have had a front row seat from which to observe that home grown Chicago phenomenon known as "political suicide." I am sure you too can recall those fascinating episodes of local politics in which notable Chicago politicians have crashed and burned. Often we can identify the telltale wounds that have resulted as largely being self-inflicted.

You might remember the surprise snowstorm in early 1979 during the tenure of Chicago Mayor Michael Bilandic. Many Chicagoans found themselves trapped by the blizzard-like conditions and were enraged at the weather. Chiding Mayor Bilandic for not being fast enough to remove the snow, the storm became the vehicle for the Mayor's ousting during the election that ironically followed on the heels of the storm.

Bilandic's successor, Jane Byrne, became embroiled in a bitter struggle with Chicago Firefighters over a contract early in her term of office. A firefighters strike ensued. Rancor of the highest order be came rampant. And the residue of the strike, many believe, became Byrne's undoing.

It all seemed reminiscent of the old days, during the 1850's, when Chicago Mayor Levi Boone engaged in a bitter contest with German beer garden owners, raising the fees on liquor licenses and closing the popular watering holes on Sundays. A turbulent encounter during a protest march resulted in serious causalities and became known as "the Chicago beer riots." Boone was voted out of office at the first opportunity, as Germans made common cause with the Irish. Political suicide has been a longstanding Chicago tradition.

The reality of political homicide, however, was unfamiliar to Chicagoans until the tragedy surrounding the death of the beloved Mayor Carter Henry Harrison I. Chicago was sixty years old before it had to face the trauma of political assassination.

It came, ironically, on the eve of the close of the World's Columbian Exposition, October 28, 1893. Sadly, during what was the city's most stunning international achievement--the visit of 27 million people from around the world to view the exotic fair showcasing Chicago--the erudite, five term mayor was slain.

Under Carter Harrison I, Chicago came of age and developed into the capital of the American heartland. He was popular and well respected. He was a Democrat--and a politician whose long career bridged the wide gulfs of class and ethnicity in Chicago with effectiveness and great success.

He was known as "the common man's mayor." And he loved nothing better than riding through the city's neighborhoods mounted on his white horse greeting citizens. It was said that his door was `always open.' Unfortunately, it was just such openness that led to his demise.

As Chicagoans looked forward to the dramatic ceremonies that were to conclude the World's Fair the following day, Harrison dined at home with his family in their elegant near Westside mansion at what is now Ashland and Jackson.

Following dinner, he caught a quick nap. At 7:30 p.m., Eugene Patrick Prendergast, of Lincoln Park, a twenty-five year old struggling Irish immigrant who worked as a newspaper delivery man, rang the mayor's bell for the second time that night. He insisted on speaking to the mayor himself. Shortly after being admitted to the hallway, the family maid informed the mayor of a visitor. Prendergast, impatient with waiting, boldly entered the hall and made his way to the parlor in which the mayor sat. Witnesses say that shortly after that, they heard shots ring out. And by the time they could make their way to the first floor, Prendergast was out the door and shooting back at the Mayor's butler.

Within seconds Preston Harrison, one of the mayor's sons, discovered his father mortally wounded upon the parlor floor. Blood was everywhere. Quickly, a nearby neighbor, Dr. Foster, arrived and determined the wounds were fatal. Twenty-three minutes later the mayor died.

Within forty-five minutes of the shooting, Prendergast had made his way to the Des Plaines Avenue police station. Walking in calmly and business like, still holding a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver, he announced to the sergeant on duty that he had just shot the mayor. Already alerted by telephone call of the mayor's death, police immediately placed Prendergast under arrest.

Chicago was soon seized by the horror of the news of Mayor Harrison's assassination. Fear and a sense of terror gripped the city. A genuine feeling of deep personal mourning fell upon Chicago as flags were lowered to half-staff. Inside the Harrison house family and friends gathered and grieved. The 68 year old, twice widowed mayor had planned to be married for a third time in only a matter of weeks. His finance, Miss Annie Howard, present in the home that night, was driven to hysteria by the events, necessitating sedation.

In the aftermath of the assassination, the mechanisms of the criminal justice system in Cook County went quickly to work.

Within hours of the shooting, Chicago's newspapers were reporting on the questionable mental stability of the suspect. Prendergast gladly acknowledged that he had shot the mayor because he had refused to appoint him to the office of Corporation Counsel--a job for which he had no training. Speculation as to his sanity was rampant. Chief Brennan of the Chicago Police Department, who spoke with the suspect within 20 minutes of his arrest, announced to the press, "He is crazy. As crazy as a bed bug." Another...