Ex-watchdog Joe Ferguson has the credentials to run for mayor. But he can’t — because of city law.
A funny thing happened on the way to next year’s race for Chicago mayor, and it wasn’t “thanks but no thanks” announcements by potentially formidable candidates such as U.S. Rep. Mike Quigley and anti-violence crusader Arne Duncan.
Or well-intentioned wannabes who say they’re running, despite their inexperience, personal peccadillos and failed efforts in previous campaigns.
Or Mayor Lori Lightfoot’s bravado in the face of poor job performance ratings.
No — the funny thing, and it prompts more of a sneer than a belly laugh, is a potential challenger who has stellar credentials and claims that he’s ineligible to run because of a dubious, politically motivated city ordinance that’s probably unenforceable and may be unconstitutional.
As my former newspaper colleague and legendary City Hall reporter Harry Golden Jr. used to say, with his inimitable North Carolina-by-way-of Brooklyn accent, “Good staw-wee!”
Or how about: only in Chicago. The ballot pariah is Joe Ferguson, who stepped down as Chicago’s inspector general last fall after more than a decade of highly visible investigations of waste, fraud, inefficiency and corruption in city government.
Ferguson’s office took deep dives into the way top city and police officials mishandled (and, in some cases, covered up) the Laquan McDonald shooting, the Antoinette Young raid, civil unrest following George Floyd’s murder, David Koschman’s death at the hands of a Daley family member, the Little Village smokestack implosion and the red-light camera program.
His team also conducted award-winning audits that led to accounting, contracting and procurement reforms and enhanced transparency, efficiency and accountability measures.
And the IG partnered with federal authorities on corruption cases that led to the indictment of three aldermen.
Is that an impressive oeuvre or what?
Ferguson’s keen understanding of how city departments, agencies and the City Council function or should function, along with his administrative experience managing the multimillion-dollar IG office and his years as a federal prosecutor in Chicago, have equipped him with impeccable credentials for a mayoral run.
But when I asked him if he had enough fire in his belly to go for it, his answer was a shocker:
“There is a law on the books,” he told me, “the Municipal Code, that is, that precludes my running for office for two years.”
That’s something I had never heard of in my decades of political reporting and watchdog work, so I assume it’s also news to almost everyone else.
Well, it turns out the City Council in 1989 quietly passed an ordinance prohibiting an inspector general from running for any citywide office while on the job and for one full year after stepping down. In 2012, the council lengthened the prohibition to two years and expanded it to all political offices — city, county, state and federal — adding a requirement that the IG pledge in writing to abide by the prohibition.
For what it’s worth, Ferguson can’t recall signing such a pledge, and his old office couldn’t find any clarifying documentation.
Meanwhile, I spoke to former aldermen who were in the City Council when both ordinances were passed, and they view the measures as clear attempts by the incumbent mayors — Richard M. Daley in 1989 and Rahm Emanuel in 2012 — to prevent aggressive IGs such as Ferguson and his predecessor, David Hoffman, from using the IG platform as a launching pad for a political campaign.
No one has ever challenged the legality of the statutes, and Hoffman did in fact run unsuccessfully for the U.S. Senate in 2010, after his IG term expired and before the ordinance was broadened, but several lawyers I’ve spoken to say that, signature notwithstanding, it’s probably unconstitutional to prevent a current or former government employee from exercising his or her First Amendment right to participate in the political process by, among other things, running for office.
The city ordinance may also be superseded and rendered moot by a state law that prohibits local units of government from enacting laws that abridge those same rights.
Suffice it to say that if Ferguson is interested in challenging the city ordinance and running for mayor — and that’s an iffy “if ” because he’s moved on to an exciting array of academic, legal and civic pursuits and may not want to launch a campaign on the heels of a court ruling — a lot of hotshot lawyers would happily handle the case pro bono.
Let me be clear, though: I’m not encouraging a Ferguson candidacy or implying that I’d support him if the statutory impediment were removed and he decided to run.
Unlike almost everyone I know, I haven’t quite given up on Lightfoot, despite the mistakes she’s made, the people she’s offended or alienated, and her recent failure to keep a campaign pledge to support ward remap reform that ends gerrymandering.
I recruited her to join the board of the Better Government Association shortly after I took over the reins of the watchdog organization in 2009, and I’ve always admired her intelligence, her grit, and her commitment to social and economic justice.
I’m also looking forward to the emergence of another qualified candidate or two.
But fair is fair, and no mayoral hopeful should be hamstrung by a dubious city ordinance drafted and passed for all the wrong reasons.
So I’d like to see a legal challenge as soon as possible, whether or not it prompts a Ferguson candidacy, because the sooner this bogus measure is relegated to the trash heap of bad legislation, the better.
And I’ll be cheering on the legal beagles who toss it on the top of the pile.