Governor Sam

Sam Shapiro loved it when people addressed him as “Governor” as he chatted with folks at a huge family get-together, years after his political retirement.         

He had married my grandmother’s niece, but I had only met him once before, when he attended my Bar Mitzvah. He was Lieutenant Governor at the time, and my friends were impressed when they saw his limousine, sporting a “U2” license plate and a state driver, parked in the no-parking zone out front.

He became the state’s Chief Executive in 1968 when Governor Otto Kerner resigned to accept a federal Judgeship, but he lost a bid for a full term later that year.              

“I’m running for Alderman,” I told him, as we began an informal conversation.              

“Is that so?” he replied.              

“Yeah. I’m running against Bernie Stone,” I said.              

“I don’t know the fella,” he said with a squint, as if trying to put a face on that name.              

Baloney. He knew everybody. He just didn’t want to get involved. And I didn’t know him well enough to pressure him.              

I had just announced my candidacy for 50th Ward Alderman, and being endorsed by a former Illinois Governor, especially a Jewish one, would have been fantastic. But I didn’t want to seem desperate.              

I found out later that my grandmother had called him a couple of times to get him to support me, but her rantings were interpreted as the well-meaning pleas of an old, naive woman.  

Maybe I should have driven down to his home in Kankakee and made a forceful pitch for his support, just like Bill McKay did when he visited his father at his rural cabin in the movie The Candidate. But I didn’t think it would help.