If you lived in Chicago during the Richard M. Daley years, you lived in what I call, the real Chicago. We were a bare-knuckled city where people were born with tough hides. It was a city with taverns on every corner and people who asked what parish you were from because everyone was Catholic. This is the city where Mike Royko was born, and he is one of my writing heroes. Royko: The Toughest Man in Chicago was brought to life by writer and actor Mitchell Bisschop at the Chopin Theatre. Bisschop with director Steve Scott regale an appreciative audience with music and projections of the Sun-Times and Tribune buildings on the Chicago River.
Bisschop plays Royko with a blend of "this is the naked city" vibe and channels Royko through his words and inimitable Chicago style. It's a good performance with scenes divided between a re-creation of Royko's desk and the Billy Goat Tavern on lower Michigan Avenue. I emphasize lower because Chicago had a whole world underground that lit my imagination as a kid. Eric Luchen's scenic design makes a good frame for the projections by Smooch Medina. Garret Bell's lighting design with hues of blue and red bathe the stage in the familiar vision of a newspaper office and tavern from the old days.
This is a good show because of Royko's words. To his credit, Bisschop did not attempt to imitate Royko's deep voice but did pretty well with the Chicago accent. I grew up in a house where reading was mandatory and my mother worked for Richard J. Daley's personnel department aka human resources. Every newspaper was delivered to our apartment including the maligned "Republican" Tribune. Royko's columns in the Daily News and later the Tribune exposed the contradictions that made Chicago a great city.
I felt enveloped in the feel of Chicago in the '60s and '70s. The bebop sounds of Charlie Parker play as an intro and I could almost smell the city. Bisschop gives us the Royko who smoked and drank a couple of beers or shots after work. Royko grew up working in his father's tavern, where they lived upstairs. He was 13 years old and his dad cut the local bagman in on the profits to not squeal about an underaged tavern worker. I have been in a similar tavern with Naugahyde booths where my uncle would plop while he talked to his girlfriend who tended bar.
BIsschop's script follows a timeline rather than a typical dramatic style. The words are adapted or straight from Royko's columns. Everyone in the audience appeared to be my age or older and knew the autobiography and times when Royko got in trouble with his no-bullshit style. He took on Frank Sinatra—and his toupee—over a 24-hour police guard. Royko received threats and faced angry readers including the Boss, Richard J. Daley. He wrote a book titled Boss that told the story of Chicago power and how Daley and mob boss Sam Giancana got John F. Kennedy elected. "Vote early and vote often" was more than a pithy saying. It was real with dead people on the voter rolls to meet a precinct captain's quota.
After Daley died right before Christmas 1976, Royko was there to document how the machine would carry on. That is when Royko hit his stride on political observations and ways that Chicago was still the city that worked. The Machine was still at work with Daley's goons (Vrdolyak, Burke, et al) as the power behind the next mayor Michael Bilandic. Wilson Frost was president pro-tem of the City Council and was supposed to step in as mayor should anything happen to Daley. Frost was Black so that was not going to happen with Daley and his cohort being special Chicago bigots. Bisschop includes the ugly side of Chicago with its strict segregation; Daley lived in Bridgeport where no sane Black person would be caught after dark. The 1979 blizzard finally broke the Machine and gave us Mayor Milquetoast (my nickname for Bilandic) and then Jane Byrne, nicknamed Bossy by Royko. The eyes of the world were again focused on Chicago almost as much as when Daley died.
The private side of Royko was rarely seen. He wrote characters who were amalgams of childhood friends like Slats Grobnik. Bisschop tells Mike and Carol Royko's love story with a projection of her on the screen. I remember when she died and felt that same need to give condolences as the photo slowly faded leaving Bisschop in the spotlight. That was another Chicago contradiction because even the people who would spit in Royko's direction shared his grief. He was one of us and Royko: The Toughest Man in Chicago did right by his memory. I felt the same grief again when the clips of the real Mike Royko played with photos from Ribfest and that wry smile.
I got my first dog as an adult because of Royko's column on the AKC dog show, on February 11, 1983. I'm a Chicagoan and would not dare entertain the ignominy of a "dustmop dog." I got a German shepherd and named him Jake instead of "Pain Inflictor of Old Chicago." Royko was right. I could walk that dog any time of the night and the sea would part.
I highly recommend Royko: The Toughest Man in Chicago to get a history lesson in journalism, why the Chicago hot dog should never have ketchup, and that deep-dish pizza is not a Chicago thing. Bisschop does a great job of giving enough of Royko as an invitation to pick up one of the many books about him. Should you want to continue that Royko buzz, see the exhibit called Chicago Style: Mike Royko and Windy City Journalism at the Newberry Library.
Royko: The Toughest Man in Chicago runs two hours with one 10-minute intermission. Shows play through September 29 at the Chopin Theatre, 1543 W. Division St. For more information and tickets, please visit royko.brownpapertickets.com.
For more information on this and other plays, see theatreinchicago.com.
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