County’s Crude Corruption Merits Chicago-Style Ribbing

When local and state Republicans badgered Dist. Atty. Michael R. Capizzi for pursuing GOP Assemblyman Scott Baugh on election-related charges, Capizzi replied, “This is Orange County . . . we are not Chicago.”

All of Chicago winced at that.

At the time, I thought I knew what Capizzi meant. I thought he meant that while political corruption has--how shall I put this so as not to offend?--flowered from time to time in Chicago, it wouldn’t be allowed to grow in our local garden.

Well, local pride is a wonderful thing to see in any elected official, and I can picture Capizzi in the lead car of a parade down Main Street. On the other hand, I wonder if he’s been reading the papers lately.

Orange County’s crime blotter is looking more and more like Chicago’s all the time. I recounted in a recent column the political figures involved in various alleged scandals or misdeeds, so let’s not go through that again.

Now comes the news that hit men working for loan sharks allegedly are operating in our midst. How much more Chicago can you get than bringing in outside muscle? Has anyone dredged Newport Bay lately? Question: Can concrete blocks fit inside a pair of Guccis?

Maybe it’s time to face the fact that, when it comes to political crime and corruption, Orange County can hold its own with anyone.

What bothers me, though, is that while Chicago corruption has developed panache over the years, Orange County has none. While Chicago had an alderman who once said, “I seen my opportunities and I took ‘em,” Orange County machine politics includes a near-universal array of uninspiring figures.

Where is our local counterpart of another Chicago alderman who reputedly had mob ties and proudly campaigned with the slogan: “Vote for Roti and Nobody Gets Hurt!”

Now, that is style.

It comes down to this: If you had the choice of living in a place where politicians were corrupt, would you prefer that they be plodding or dynamic? I’m afraid Poor Mr. Citron and his shrinking-violet felony pleas would barely cut the mustard in Chicagoland politics.

But back to Mr. Capizzi. Now that Orange County is catching up with Chicago in corruption, the district attorney would do well to quash any other comparisons between the two locales. It’s one thing to thump our chests when we’re squeaky clean, but once we discover both places have dirt under their fingernails, I’m afraid Orange County doesn’t do well in tiebreaker categories.

Last time I was there, Chicago still had:

* Wrigley Field, a baseball fan’s dream ballpark.

* Lake Shore Drive, splitting your view between Lake Michigan and magnificent high-rise apartment buildings.

* World-class architecture amid a classic urban downtown commercial district.

* Grant Park.

* The Art Institute of Chicago, considered one of the world’s finest museums.

* The Billy Goat Tavern, a notorious watering hole for Chicago’s rollicking reporters.

* Sears Tower, 110 stories and until recently, the world’s tallest building.

* The Shedd Aquarium, with more fish and water animals than any indoor aquarium in the world.

* Da Bulls. Michael Jordan.

Chicago may have its legacy of political corruption but has turned it into the stuff of legend. Stories of how the late Mayor Richard Daley rose the dead to vote for John F. Kennedy have come to sound more appealing than appalling.

I don’t see anyone on the local Orange County scene with that undefinable something that can make them both corrupt and compelling. So far, we’re stuck with just plain old corrupt.

In that vein, I suggest the state of Orange County political crime may be at a crossroads. Politicians should decide either to quit being corrupt altogether, or, failing that, develop at least a smidgen of style.

As for Capizzi, I’m starting to wonder if maybe he isn’t getting too powerful.

For example, was he behind the decision of a Huntington Beach restaurant to change its name from “Chicago For Ribs” to “Orange County Barbecue”?

Given his obvious condescension toward Chicago, don’t you figure he must have been behind it? After all, would any restaurateur make that change on his own?

I doubt it. Aside from all those other things I mentioned, Chicago is known nationwide for its eateries, whether you’re talking about pizza parlors or steakhouses or rib joints.

Orange County? Well, let’s be honest--we’re not quite there yet.

Capizzi may think Orange County is no Chicago, but a man can be too prideful for his own good. When it comes to ribs, the district attorney is out of his league.

Sheesh, if it were up to him, he’d probably come up with a pitch like:

“Orange County: Come for the Weather, Stay for the Ribs!”

* Dana Parsons’ columns appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at the Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.