When
Ramon Ocasio decided to run for Cook County judge last year he
figured he'd be a shoo-in if he could win over the local committeemen
who put the Democratic Party label next to judges' names on the
ballot. And he didn't see why he couldn't: He was a lifelong resident
of the Sixth Judicial Subcircuit, where he was running, and had
16 years of experience as a lawyer in the county's criminal courts;
he now supervises 17 other attorneys in the public defender's
office. The Chicago Bar Association, which rates candidates as
either "qualified" or "not recommended," had found him qualified,
as had the Chicago Council of Lawyers. And he was Hispanic, which
only 4 percent of county judges are, even though the county is
22 percent Hispanic.
But
the 11 committeemen settled instead on Gloria Chevere and Edward
Lechowicz for the two vacancies in the northwest-side subcircuit,
so it's their names that will have the party's imprimatur on the
March 21 primary ballot. Chevere, a 53-year-old Hispanic attorney,
has been practicing for 25 years, served in Harold Washington's
administration as deputy commissioner of the Department of Streets
and Sanitation, and was once a CTA executive. Lechowicz, a 36-year-old
attorney, has been practicing law for only nine years--but two
of them were in the law firm of Ed Vrdolyak, a family friend.
And he has a franchise last name--his father is Ted Lechowicz,
a 30th Ward veteran who was a state senator and a Cook County
commissioner. Ocasio thinks politics trumped merit. "I was even
told by some committeemen that after reviewing my resume they
could tell I was qualified," he says.
A
politician's son gets slated over an outsider: dog bites man,
right? Well, yes, but Ocasio and state senator Miguel del Valle
say there's a bigger issue than mere patronage. The reforms that
created judicial subcircuits 15 years ago were supposed to clear
the way for a more diverse bench, sweeping aside the old boys'
network that kept judgeships in the hands of the usual suspects.
And Edward Lechowicz, they say, is definitely a usual suspect.
So was the judge he's slated to replace, the late James Jorzak,
who slipped into the job at the tender age of 31 with an assist
from his dad, a county judge at the time.
Before
1991 there were two ways to become a judge in the Cook County
Circuit Court, which has jurisdiction over state and local cases
involving everything from traffic violations to murders. You could
be elected a circuit judge in a countywide election, or you could
be appointed an associate judge by the sitting circuit judges.
About half the 300 judges got their jobs one way, half the other.
The chief problem with this system, according to its critics,
was that it placed a tremendous amount of power in the hands of
the Democratic Party's central committee, which got to choose
the candidates who would get the party's nod on the ballot, almost
ensuring their election. Generally it chose white men, and for
years the ranks of county judges were dominated by attorneys with
Irish surnames and strong connections to the party--judicial races
were called the "Irish sweepstakes." The sitting judges usually
appointed judges from the same demographic.
Even
as the city and its governing class grew more diverse in the 80s
and 90s the judges remained blindingly white. By the early 90s
only around 13 percent of judges were black, 2 percent Latino.
Frustrated, an unlikely coalition of black and Latino Democrats
and white Republicans from the suburbs--who rarely got on the
bench either--pushed to open up the process so that more of their
own could become judges. In 1991 a state bill created a third
way of electing judges, setting aside 165 circuit judgeships to
be elected by the voters in 15 newly created subcircuits in the
county, many of which contained a majority of black, Latino, or
Republican voters. The power to slate candidates in these races
shifted to local committeemen in each subcircuit.
Did
the new system work? "The subcircuits have led to an increased
level of diversity on the bench," says Malcolm Rich, executive
director of the Chicago Council of Lawyers, "but it's limited
in its impact." Chicago Lawyer's 2005 diversity study shows just
how limited: of 397 judges, only 16 were Latino (4 percent) and
only 8 of them had been elected from the subcircuits. (The county
is 26 percent black, and 20 percent of judges are black; of the
remaining judges, 34 percent are women, 4 percent Asian-American.)
"There's a long ways to go," says Rich.
This
is what has del Valle so exercised about the Sixth Subcircuit
race. "What's ironic this time around, you have Hispanic committeemen
who were there when the subcircuits were created," he says. "They
were there advocating for Latino political empowerment--and today
they turn around and give away the seat to someone less qualified
than the Hispanic seeking their support. There's still a need
to increase the diversity of the bench. They had an opportunity,
and in my book an obligation, and they let the community down."
Most
of the committeemen don't see it that way. For them, it's simple.
There were two openings in a subcircuit with two major ethnic
groups, Latino and white ethnic. With one of each on the slate,
they satisfied the diversity imperatives. "The district is pretty
much half-and-half," says 31st Ward committeeman Joseph Berrios.
"We've got to take consideration of the ethnics that are in there,
so we try to do a balanced ticket." Other committeemen point out
that the Sixth Subcircuit has put more Latinos in the court than
any other subcircuit precisely because they know how to compromise
with the non-Latino committeemen. "Of course there's not enough
Latinos on the bench," says 26th Ward committeeman Roberto Maldonado.
"But the only place where Latinos have a real chance of getting
elected has been at the subcircuit level. We have not grabbed
100 percent of the people that have gotten elected, but the majority
from our subcircuit have been Latino."
Leaving
aside the question of what the proper ethnic calculus is, Ocasio's
chief contention is that while he may not have the resume of Chevere,
he's a lot more qualified than Lechowicz. Lechowicz says that's
just sour grapes and points to his trial experience in Vrdolyak's
firm and his current position as clerk for Cook County chief judge
Timothy Evans. He hasn't submitted his qualifications to the Chicago
Bar Association or the Chicago Council of Lawyers to assess, perhaps
understandably since they don't usually rate candidates with less
than ten years experience in the law. He also says he and Ocasio
each had the opportunity to make a presentation before the committeemen.
"I don't know all of them," he says. "I wouldn't say there was
any guarantee." Billboards soon went up around the neighborhood
with the names of both Chevere, the Harold Washington reformer,
and Lechowicz, the Vrdolyak protege, under the slogan working
together for equal justice.
Ocasio
refused to pack it in. On his own he managed to get the required
2,000 signatures, survive a series of ballot challenges from Lechowicz's
lawyers, and win the endorsement of the Tribune, the Cook County
Democratic Women's Organization, and 35th Ward alderman and committeeman
Rey Colon, who says his precinct workers will be distributing
Ocasio's literature. He also won the endorsement of the IVI-IPO--the
only Sixth Subcircuit candidate to do so.
Ocasio
and attorney Roxanne Rochester (rated "not recommended" by the
Chicago Bar Association, "not qualified" by the Chicago Council
of Lawyers, but "qualified" by nine other local bar associations)
will face off against Lechowicz in the primary. Ocasio says some
committeemen hinted they'd help him in the future if he got out
of the race, but sticking it out has become a point of pride.
Lechowicz
says he too is running hard. "Just because you're the slated candidate
doesn't mean you're guaranteed to win," he says. Though he immediately
adds, "This district has yet to lose a slated candidate for judge."
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© 2006, Chicago
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