New City by Patrick Girondi

Author:Patrick Girondi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781510776869
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2023-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

City Hall Clamps Down

Across town, Burman was on the hot seat in the offices of the ICD: Improved City Development Corporation. Elliott Rothstein was ICD’s director and a significant shareholder. ICD was a driving force behind Mayor Redman’s election. To say that ICD had clout in Chicago would be like saying that Hitler was less than kind.

An eight-by-eight-foot map of the city was at the center of Rothstein’s office. When Rothstein entered, Burman was seated back to the door, with an unopened plastic bottle of water in front of him. Rothstein’s secretary always brought a bottle of water for everyone. Elliott was thinking of firing her for bringing one for Burman. It was not only a waste of water but set the wrong tone.

In one motion, Rothstein entered, sat behind his desk, pushed his glasses up into position, and slammed his fist on the desk. Burman instinctively grabbed the end of his penis through his pants to prevent himself from peeing.

“You’re an idiot, Burman! I’m calling the mayor right this minute! As we speak, those lots are moving up in price. The goddamn Mexicans are swarming all over Sherman Park. The biggest mass at Visitation Church on 55th Street is the Spanish mass. They’ve been seen shopping on 63rd Street, you idiot!”

Burman stared blankly. He had gotten his masters degree in city planning at Berkeley. Nothing he’d studied had prepared him for reality. Instead of analyzing graphs, charts, and demographics, he could have saved a few hundred thousand for his folks and a lot of time by grinding the lessons of Machiavelli’s The Prince into his brain. US cities were now being run like corporations. It was all and only about making the fat cats richer at the expense of who cares.

“Do you have anything to say before I cancel our arrangement, call the mayor, and have you fired?” Elliott asked coolly.

Burman’s pupils were larger than most eighth-grade students.

Rothstein stared and sensed insolence. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Visitation is on Garfield Boulevard,” Burman said meekly.

“You fuckin’ moron, Garfield Boulevard is 55th Street!” Rothstein slammed his fist down again, then moving his hand quickly enough to catch Burman’s falling water bottle, smashed it against the map of Chicago.

“You said that you’d get me a thousand lots in New City. We don’t even have three hundred! And now that the area is moving up, people are beginning to bid against us at the tax sales! Others are finding the resources to save their property! It’s a goddamn disaster!”

Burman remained perfectly still. He did not want to end up splattered across the map.

“It cost a lot of money and favors to pass the new ordinance for City Development which pushes out the deadbeats. Now people are competing with us to take advantage of the law that we passed, that we paid for, and that we instituted . . . for us! Who the fuck do they think they are, anyway?”

“Sir . . .” Burman said.

Rothstein slammed his hand on his desk. “Don’t sir me! You told me that this was a piece of cake.

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