on w at › pdf › 051028 › 051028_cover.pdf · , oct 28, 2005 | v ol ume 34, number 5 th e high...

CHIC A

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The high cos t of cheap parking, fighting spec ters in R

og ers P ark, a used-denim m

otherlode, the B

ridgeport Museum

of Modern A

rt, Liz A’s w

eirdest night yet, and more

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Running

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Environmentalist D

ebra Shore is raising seriouscash to run for an office m

any people havene ve r e ve n hear d of .

Movies

J.R. Jones on

Sa w II

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FieryFurnacesand theirgr andm

a toop 12

Chris War e

p 20

Running

on Wat er

October 28, 2005

Section One Letters 3ColumnsHot Type 4The women everybody’s talking about

The Straight Dope 5The geography of stupidity

The Works 8What really killed the Rogers Park marina

Chicago Antisocial 10Meet Sandra the Huntress.

Our Town 12The Fiery Furnaces; making parkers pay

ComicChris Ware 20ReviewsMovies 30Saw II, Three . . . Extremes

Theater 34Silk Road’s Ten Acrobats in an Amazing Leap of Faith

PlusBoutique of the Week 15Hip Fit

One Shot 18Ink Well 35This week’s crossword: Gonzo Films

C andidates for commissioner of the Metropoli-tan Water Reclamation District usually don’thave Web sites, don’t march in the Gay Pride

Parade, and don’t receive endorsements fromDemocracy for America meetups. The board of com-missioners is typically filled by Democratic organiza-tion veterans and longtime district employees, andcampaigning typically means buttering up the com-mitteemen who do the slating, passing out yard signs,and hoping your name comes first on the ballot.

But Debra Shore isn’t typical. A 53-year-old conser-vationist, she’s the Howard Dean of this year’s race, adark horse outsider who’s lining up heavyweightendorsements (including congresswoman Jan

Schakowsky, state representative Julie Hamos, andCook County Board commissioner Larry Suffredin),firing up young progressives, and raising some seri-ous cash, over $80,000 in the last four months.

One steamy evening this summer, Ben Helphand,a community activist with the Center for Neighbor-hood Technology (and a friend of mine), hosted asmall fund-raiser where he passed out Debra Shore-branded water bottles and solicited donations. InHelphand’s front yard, between a turquoise apiaryand a plot of sunflowers, about 40 milling twenty-and thirtysomethings drank Stella Artois andsnacked on guacamole, cheese, and crackers.

“I think some people may continued on page 22

Debra Shore

ON THE COVER: LLOYD DEGRANE (SHORE), MEGAN HOLMES (FIERY FURNACES)

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Running on WaterDebra Shore thinks the Metropolitan Water Reclamation District could be

key to the future of the region and the environment. That’s why she’s raisingreal money to win an office most candidates barely campaign for.

By Christopher Hayes

22 CHICAGO READER | OCTOBER 28, 2005 | SECTION ONE

wonder—why throw a gardenparty for someone who’ s run-ning for Water ReclamationDistrict?” Helphand said as heintroduced Shore. “I think thatno matter how far down the tick-et a campaign is it deserves all ofour attention, especially MWRD,because the more I learn about itthe more I realize how darnimportant it is.”

Shore stood on a porch stepand began her stump speech.Petite, with close-cropped hairand almond eyes, she speaks inprecise sentences and with just ahint of a Texas drawl. Her speechwas a somewhat strange mix ofboilerplate—who she is and whyshe’d do a good job—and a crashcourse in what the MWRD doesand why the assembled shouldcare. “Over the next 20 or 25years we are going to find substi-tutes for oil—there are substi-tutes for fossil fuels,” she said.“There are no substitutes forfresh drinking water. It’s an irre-placeable resource. And I thinkthe eyes of the country and theeyes of the world are going toturn to those Great Lakes com-munities that sit on 20 percentof the world’s freshwater.”

Before 1889, water in Chicagopretty much managed itself.

The lake provided a virtually infi-nite supply of drinking water, andthe river, doubling as a sewer sys-tem, flowed back into the lake.For years no one seemed to seethis as a problem, but in 1885 amassive storm flooded the riverand swept its waters so far outinto the lake that they passed theintake valves that captured drink-ing water. By luck the cityescaped an epidemic of cholera ortyphoid fever, but the close callconvinced politicians that some-thing had to be done.

In 1889 the state legislaturepassed a bill creating the ChicagoMetropolitan Sanitary District.(In 1988 commissioner JamesKirie, frustrated by the public’slack of understanding of whatthe district did, pushed theboard to change its name to theno less baffling MetropolitanWater Reclamation District.)The district’s first task was toreverse the river so that it flowedaway from the lake and into theMississippi watershed, where thewastewater could become some-one else’s problem. The pathway

established in the late 19th cen-tury is essentially the one usedtoday. Wastewater goes down thedrain, through city pipes, andinto the district’s sewage system.It’s pumped into treatment cen-ters—there are seven, includingthe one in Stickney, the largest inthe world—where it is, in thewords of president TerryO’Brien, “made 99.99 percentpure” before being released. Itflows through the Sanitary &Ship Canal to the Des Plaines tothe Illinois and finally to theMississippi River.

As regional developmentexploded in the 1950s and ’60s,this system found itself frequent-ly overwhelmed. Every squarefoot of asphalt and concrete pre-vented rainwater from seepinginto the ground and insteaddiverted it to the sewer system.The more development therewas, the more water entered thesewers, and when heavy rainsexceeded the system’s capacitywastewater had to be releaseduntreated. By the mid-70ssewage was escaping into theriver and North Shore Channelabout one day in four.

For the civil engineers at theMWRD the solution was simple:massively scale up the holdingcapacity. They proposed theTunnel and Reservoir Project(TARP), known commonly asDeep Tunnel, an enormous systemof underground tunnels and reser-voirs that would store excess stormwater during even the heaviestrains until it could be processed.

To conservationists at commu-nity groups like the Center forNeighborhood Technology, theLake Michigan Federation (nowthe Alliance for the Great Lakes),and the Community RenewalSociety, this was madness. Insteadof increased processing capacity,what they wanted was a reductionin the system’s input. “TheSanitary District’s main brochurewas called ‘How to BottleRainstorms,’” says CNT founderScott Bernstein. “We said, isn’t itbetter to catch raindrops wherethey fall instead of bottling rain-storms?” Conservationists point-ed out that rainwater could be putto a variety of uses if capturedwhere it landed or allowed to seepback into the ground, but once itentered the sewer system itbecame polluted and then had tobe treated. The system, in otherwords, was set up to convert bil-

lions of gallons of clean water intopolluted water and then back intoclean water. This was environ-mentally destructive, they argued,and economically wasteful.

Bernstein and his allies advo-cated putting cisterns on build-ings to trap rain and use it forsuch purposes as landscapingand cleaning, setting aside aerat-ed green spaces that rainwatercould easily penetrate, andincreasing the use of permeablepaving surfaces that would letwater seep back into the earth.The groups estimated that thesemeasures could reduce theamount of storm water entering

the sewer system by 50 to 90 per-cent. This was a radical rethink-ing of the role of the MWRD—from a centralized processingfacility to what Bernstein called“an entrepreneurial broker” thatwould use its budget to encour-age and subsidize local solutions.

The environmentalists succeed-ed in scaling back the Deep Tunnelproject, but in the end the civilengineers won. Constructionbegan in 1977 and Deep Tunnel’s109 miles of underground chan-nels are now nearly complete. Butlast year the General Assemblypassed legislation transferringauthority for storm water manage-

ment for all of Cook County fromthe county board to the MWRD.This means that the MWRD isnow the planning agency officiallytasked with reducing flooding inthe county’s watershed regions.Bernstein and other environmen-talists hope the change will givethem a chance to dust off some oftheir ideas from the 70s.

This is where Shore comes in.She’s firmly in the conservationistcamp. On Helphand’s front stepsshe tells the crowd about herasphalt driveway in Skokie,which she and her partner want-ed to rip up and replace with

Shore

continued from page 1

continued on page 24

Metropolitan Water Reclamation District

CHICAGO READER | OCTOBER 28, 2005 | SECTION ONE 23

died in police custody

shot by Chicago


gravel—an expensive conversionthey’d pay for with money they’dmade in the stock market. Thevillage said its bylaws didn’t per-mit gravel. “We calculated that ifour driveway was converted togravel it would save between nineand ten thousand gallons a yearthat today runs into the street,collects salt and oil and toxicchemicals, goes into the stormsewers, gets treated but eventual-ly gets flushed down the river,collecting more runoff and agri-cultural pollution and creating adead zone in the Gulf of Mexico.Now that’s not right. It’s not sus-tainable and it’s not smart. So Ithink the district could use itstaxing authority to give tax incen-tives to people and developerswho use permeable surfaces, andought to have penalties for devel-opers who use impermeable.”

Eventually Skokie gave Shoreand her partner a variance tobuild their gravel driveway. Butby then the stock market hadgone back down and theycouldn’t afford it.

Shore’s platform falls short ofthe radical reconstitution of thedistrict that Bernstein advocates.Her proposals grow out of the

conservationist perspective butdon’t threaten the commissionerscurrently running the show. Shedoesn’t want to alienate thembefore she joins them, and mostof them are pretty squarely in thecivil engineering camp. “Themajor civil works projects werenecessary,” she says. “They needto be finished. They’re importantand they do a good job. But at theend of the day they won’t beenough. We will need to thinkabout how do we keep morefreshwater in our basin.”

She’d like to see the MWRDbecome more proactive, educat-ing residents and municipalitiesabout ways to reduce the amountof water flowing into the stormsewers, simple ways like flippingdownspouts so that the rainwa-ter soaks people’s lawns. Shewants the district to use its con-tracting dollars to “drive themarket” for environmentallyfriendly products like rain cis-terns and permeable paving sur-faces, and she believes theMWRD should look into seedingbusinesses that would manufac-ture green products such as cis-terns and permeable brick.

Given the magnitude of thedistrict’s operation, these policies

won’t make much of a dent, willthey? “That’s a good point,” shesays. “The gravel driveway—what’s 10,000 gallons whenyou’re talking about two billiona day? Well, the city is putting agreen roof on part of McCormickPlace. They will now capture andreturn to Lake Michigan 55 mil-lion gallons a year, and that’s

Johns Hopkins University, shefound work writing articles forthe Johns Hopkins and thenBrown University alumni maga-zines, but eventually went backto Texas. In 1982 her then hus-band accepted an offer to tradeon the Chicago Board OptionsExchange, and they moved to

Shore



At a fund-raiser this summer; Ben Helphand is at the far left.

from just part of the roof ofMcCormick Place. It’s likeEverett Dirksen said—‘A millionhere, a million there, pretty soonyou’re talking real money.’”

Shore was born in Chicago butgrew up in Dallas. After get-

ting a BA from Goucher Collegein Maryland and an MA from

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Lakeview.Shore landed a gig at the

Better Government Association,writing up their reports on cor-ruption, waste, and inefficiency.It was, she says, “a terrific intro-duction to Chicago politics andinvestigative reporting.” In theearly 1990s Shore, who’d alwaysenjoyed the outdoors (her Website says she’s “climbed 42 of the54 mountains in Colorado over14,000 feet high”), began volun-teering for the Cook CountyForest Preserve District. “I fig-ured I ought to get to know moreabout nature right where I live.”She and other volunteers wouldspend weekends clearing weeds,cutting brush, and collecting andplanting seeds from native

plants. “I found that I liked thework and liked the people,” shesays. “In working to restore aparticular natural area itrestored me, my spirit, my body.”

Shore became more than a vol-unteer; she became one of theforest preserves’ most committedadvocates and defenders. Shecofounded a group called Friendsof the Forest Preserves and start-ed attending committee meet-ings of the board of commission-ers (which is the Cook CountyBoard wearing different hats)and testifying at board hearingson forest restoration. “Anythingyou do at the forest preserves,”says Commissioner LarrySuffredin, “there she is.”

Through her work with the for-est preserves, Shore became part

of the inner circle of Chicago con-servationists. “I can’t rememberhow I met Debra,” says CameronDavis, executive director ofAlliance for the Great Lakes,“because she’s just everywhere.Debra’s probably one of the great-est voices for making the Chicagometro area livable of anybody outthere doing work today.”

In 1996 a group of conserva-tionists launched a regional con-sortium dedicated to preservingand helping manage local wildlifehabitats. The Chicago RegionBiodiversity Council (betterknown as Chicago Wilderness)had 34 founding organizations,including the U.S. Forest Service,the Environmental ProtectionAgency, the National ParkService, the Chicago Park

District, the Sierra Club, and theNature Conservancy. Shore wasapproached by Steve Packard,one of the consortium’s leaders,about helping to put together anew magazine. She ended up theeditor. Says Packard, “She was alittle like Cheney helping Bushfind a vice president.”

Chicago Wilderness is now astylish quarterly that the Tribunenamed one of the country’s 50best magazines. Shore has won aLisagor Award for her editorials.

In 2002 Shore was accepted bythe Illinois Women’s Institute forLeadership, a training center(started by, among others, DickDurbin’s wife, Loretta) whoseworkshops prepare women to runfor elected office. Shore says thatat the time she didn’t have an

office in mind, but as her interestin electoral politics grew shejoined the board of IVI-IPO,joined the Democratic Party ofEvanston, and attended some ofthe first Howard Dean meetings.Last January Jay Rowell, a fellowboard member at IVI-IPO, raisedthe idea of her running for MWRD.“And the more I thought about it,”Shore says, “the more I realizedthis is an agency with a conserva-tion mission that is more pure andmore central than any other.”

Today’s MWRD has an annualbudget of over $800 million,

which is roughly the state budgetof Vermont. Its revenue is gener-ated by property taxes and userfees on industry, and it’s managed

Shore




by a general superintendentappointed by the board. Shoresays that the district is generallywell run, but she and her support-ers think it lacks a green perspec-tive. “Overall the place functionswell,” says Suffredin, “but it’s moreremote control than looking fordynamic ideas. I think with Debraon the board they would be moreopen to trying things.” SaysCameron Davis, “Right nowthere’s nobody on that boardwho’s cut their teeth as an envi-ronmental stakeholder.”

The commissioners’ main job isto set policy for the district andapprove all contracts over

$10,000. They recently decidedto process solid waste one stepbeyond the usual sludge (which issold as fertilizer) and turn it intosmall pellets (which are sold,apparently, as slightly more expen-sive fertilizer). They’re currentlydebating whether to purify ChicagoRiver effluent with chlorine orinfrared; Shore favors infrared.

Commissioners are elected tosix-year terms, and every twoyears three of the nine are up forreelection. The three incumbentswhose terms expire in 2006 arepresident Terry O’Brien andcommissioners James Harris andHarry “Bus” Yourell. O’Brien sayshe’ll definitely seek reelection,

and as he already has more than$100,000 in two different cam-paign war chests, and as evenShore says he’s “done a good job,”he looks like a lock. Harris willbe running again too. Yourell,who’s 86, won’t be on the ballotthis year, which leaves one slotopen for the Democrats to slate.The front-runners are LeydenTownship attorney BarrettPedersen, who touts his ownenvironmental views, also talksabout permeable surfaces, and isa vice chairman of the CookCounty Democratic Party, andDean Maragos, an attorney whoran unsuccessfully for 44th Wardalderman in 2003.

In addition to the three slatedcandidates there will probably beeight or so others competing inthe Democratic primary thisMarch. There’s a Republican pri-mary as well, but with very rareexceptions the candidates whowin the Democratic primary goon to win the general election.

Only 8,000 signatures arerequired to get on the ballot, mak-ing MWRD a fairly low-overheadoffice to pursue. But to win a placein the general election, Shore willhave to get approximately 150,000votes—no small feat. Her strategyis to raise boatloads of money. Shesays she’s aiming to raise severalhundred thousand dollars to pay

for campaign staff, literature,direct mail, and possibly someradio ads, and to try to stitchtogether votes from the variousconstituencies she has a naturalconnection to: environmentalists,Dean supporters, lakefront liber-als, and the gay community.

Despite Shore’s focus on ideasand issues, the campaign isn’tlikely to be decided by them. “It isa challenge. It’s kind of like run-ning a judge race,” says Shore’sdeputy campaign manager, AdamGypalo. “Ballot position is a fac-tor. Another factor is getting yourpeople to the poll. We’re hopingthat with a name like Shore andwater, people will get it.” v

Shore


on w at › pdf › 051028 › 051028_cover.pdf · , oct 28, 2005 | v ol ume 34, number 5 th e high...

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