Elections: The Real Black Power

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Many Gary Negroes had traditionally cooperated with the organization, which responded with the philosophy of "Give 'em some franks and a pint of whisky" in exchange for votes. Hatcher was all too clearly a different sort. But even after the primary, as he tells it, Lake County Democratic Chairman John Krupa came to Hatcher with the ritualistic demand that he pledge subservience to the machine and allow it to name his police chief, controller and fire chief after election. "Too many people have worked too hard in this," replied Hatcher. "I'm not going to abdicate my responsibilities or sell them out."

Professional Hazards. No one had worked harder or gone farther than Richard Gordon Hatcher himself. Born in a Michigan City waterfront jungle called "The Patch," he was the twelfth of 13 children. His father, a factory worker, was usually laid off half the year. "We had," understates Hatcher, "a very difficult time of it." Instead of surrendering to slum life, Hatcher went to Indiana University by dint of a church stipend, a small track scholarship and his willingness to wait on tables. After earning his bachelor's degree, he went to Indiana's Valparaiso University Law School, where he attended class from 8:30 to 3:30 and worked in a hospital from 4 to midnight. After graduation he moved to Gary and began the practice of law, was soon in politics—first as a deputy county prosecutor and then, starting in 1963, as a member of the city council. He was soon baptized in the hazards of his profession. His enemies attempted to hook him on a drunk-driving charge; the trap might have worked except that Baptist Hatcher is well known to be a lifelong teetotaler.

By the time Hatcher won the nomination for mayor, a crude frame-up would have been too obvious. Krupa tried the ideological tack. He labeled Hatcher a Black Power extremist and, as the smear spread, it widened to Communist. Krupa demanded that Hatcher repudiate Stokely Carmichael, Rap Brown, Joan Baez, Marlon Brando and sundry other so-called "pinkos" as proof of his patriotism. "I will never repudiate Marlon Brando," deadpanned Hatcher—though the subtlety was probably lost on most Garyites. For the rest. Hatcher would only say that he deplored "civil violence of any kind."

The organization was unappeased, and its calumny persuaded lifelong Democrats to vote for the white Republican candidate, John Radigan, a furniture dealer. The Democrats issued voters careful instructions on how to split their tickets.

Not-Too-Secret Ingredient. Taking no chances, the Krupa machine unblushingly set out to steal the election (see box). The skulduggery was so blatant that it rebounded in Hatcher's favor, bringing cash and services from citizens far from Lake County.