Tom Tunney served his credibility for breakfast
A Chicago alderman gets caught as a pandemic scofflaw in his own restaurant
Ann Sather photo
Pretty much everybody agrees Ald. Tom Tunney was out of line when he let “regulars” eat in his Wrigleyville restaurant in violation of Chicago’s pandemic rules, in effect since late October. That includes Tunney.
It would be unfortunate if super-spreader events took place in an establishment owned by an 18-year alderman who serves as Chicago’s vice mayor. But we don’t know just how many people were in Ann Sather, 909 W. Belmont Ave., at any one time. So maybe they were just somewhat-spreader events.
We may no longer be able to trust Tunney to follow his own city’s rules, but you can’t debate the wonderfulness of Ann Sather’s cinnamon rolls!
The place is famous for those things, since long before Tunney bought it from the lady who named it after herself, and he turned it into big business.
Tunney, who usually seems more well-behaved than the typical alderman, Dec. 7 called his special crime “an error in judgment.” I guess that infers that it was a rare gaffe that doesn’t reflect on the quality of his politics or his bill of fare. But he won’t say how rare it is. He hung up on a Sun-Times reporter who asked how many dined illegally, according to the newspaper.
A question hangs in the air like a virus-impregnated spit glob floating over a Belmont Avenue corner booth: does a good restaurant breakfast mitigate the crimes that made it possible, or do the crimes make you wonder about the breakfast? Or the person who provided it?
I once knew a restaurateur who was locally famous for his breakfasts, too. He taught me a lesson.
The Cottage, on Howard Street in Evanston, was one of those places that boasted of using “ham on the bone” to go along with the eggs.
One morning, I was sitting at the counter when I asked the owner if I could use the washroom.
“No, just for employees,” Bob said.
“If you have a sit-down joint, you have to have a washroom for customers,” I reminded him. “I’m going back there whether you like it or not.”
Walking through the kitchen, I had to pass the ham stand, which had a big ham propped up in it.
But I could barely see any pink. The ham was crawling with roaches.
They were big, well-fed specimens, the kind that don’t bother to run away when people approach. They were making a rustling sound as they sideswiped each other. The noise was loud enough to hear in the washroom, which was cleaner than the kitchen.
When I was back on my stool Bob leaned over the counter and whispered in my ear.
“We’ll take care of that, Irv,” he said.
“Take care of everything else, too,” I replied. “Including the things that are harder to see.”
The lesson of The Cottage’s cockroaches: The mess in the kitchen may have forced Bob to illegally deny access to the washroom. But that denial was not the only rule Bob broke. It was indicative of further problems.
As far as Tunney and Ann Sather go, I don’t wonder much about whether the hollandaise on the eggs benedict has turned. But does his admitted recent predilection for breaking his own city’s rules indicate a tendency to do that in other ways, to help his own business interests or those of others?
Tunney is not just any alderman. Thanks to the May 2019 nominations of Mayor Lori Lightfoot, he heads the Committee on Zoning, Landmarks and Building Standards and serves as vice mayor, which puts him first in line of succession if anything happens to Lightfoot.
In Chicago, chairing the Zoning Committee is a much bigger deal. As far as significant buildings being approved where they previously didn't belong, none of that happens without that committee.
Tunney, nominated by then-Mayor Richard M. Daley as alderman in 2002, ran for the position for the first time the following year. At that time, he indicated he would likely sell his restaurants to remove the possibility of conflict of interest based on that ownership. Five elections later, he still owns three Chicago restaurants.
Tunney’s citations could bring him up to $10,500 in fines. But it looks like he can afford them.
In July 2019, he announced he had sold the Belmont Avenue Ann Sather building to real estate investor Tim Glascott for $10 million. The deal reportedly allows Tunney to lease back the building for 10 years, at which time Glascott would be free to raze the restaurant and build a bigger structure.
Glascott may not need any zoning relief to build, but if he does, he can always apply to the Committee on Zoning, Landmarks and Building Standards.
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