Schakowsky Op-Ed: The standard for integrity in public service
Politico
In my jewelry box and often on my neck is an orange coral bead necklace, a special treasure that far exceeds its actual value for me because it belonged to my friend and mentor, Dawn Clark Netsch.
I first met Dawn in 1972 when she took on the Chicago political machine and won a seat in the Illinois Senate. I stood at bus stops along with other idealistic, grass-roots supporters handing out her literature, excited about this smart woman going to Springfield. It was the first election campaign I had ever worked on. Her victory is one of the reasons I felt confident enough to run for office myself some years later.
When Dawn died this year at the age of 86, the headlines in Chicago called her a “trailblazer” and an “iconic politician.” Friends and past political foes heaped sincere accolades and credited her with accomplishments including creating “the modern era of women in Illinois political leadership” and for setting “the standard for integrity in public service.”
I saw right away that Dawn was a no-nonsense person. Her nephew got it right when he described her as a “wonderful contradiction in terms — cerebral, cigarette smoking, loved beer and champagne and liverwurst.” She was a lifelong White Sox fan, despite being a Chicago Northsider (meaning an almost automatic Cubs supporter). She was all business when it came to election campaigns and her work as an elected official.
Dawn never considered her involvement in politics in terms of gender. In fact, early on she expressed a certain resistance in identifying as a feminist, even though she clearly was breaking the glass ceiling time and time again: only woman (and the valedictorian!) in her 1952 graduating class from Northwestern Law School, first woman professor at the law school; first woman to serve in a statewide executive office in Illinois as comptroller; the first woman to be nominated for governor. For Dawn, it wasn’t about personal achievement, and it wasn’t about partisan politics. It was always about good government, about making government efficient and effective. Lesson learned? Run for office because you want to do something, not just be something.
Dawn was known as a “straight shooter” — meaning that she called it as she saw it and also that she could shoot pool.
Dawn reluctantly allowed the TV ad showing her taking a tough shot and deftly sinking the ball. She thought it wasn’t serious enough but it showed toughness, and it had a lot to do with her winning the gubernatorial primary.
Dawn was a reliable sounding board — and not a passive one. She would let me know her opinions about the issues of the day in Washington, sometimes agreeing, and bluntly telling me when she didn’t. I learned from her about being tough and true to oneself. She had little patience for mindless rhetoric.
Perhaps what I love most about Dawn is that after she lost her election for governor in 1994 and left her political career, she never left the scene. She came to fundraisers, organization events — especially for women’s groups and progressive causes. She continued to be in the Gay Pride parade. She was a valued speaker on programs. She continued to teach her state and local government course at Northwestern Law. She went to lunch with women friends, thankfully including me. Just by showing up, Dawn added heft and gravitas to any occasion. She was a role model for all aspiring women.
Just weeks before she died in March, Dawn insisted on attending a Planned Parenthood event, where she was to be honored. Many of the people closest to her counseled her not to go. But there was no stopping her. When she received her Lifetime Achievement Award, Dawn took the microphone and told the rapt audience of a thousand people that her health wouldn’t allow much of a speech. Still, she offered a strong and inspiring parting message, saying to everyone in the room, “young, old and in the middle. Keep on doing what you’ve been doing so well. We need it.”
Dawn Netsch had a “look.” While not classically beautiful (one of her campaign buttons read, “Not Just Another Pretty Face”) she was very classy and had an irresistible if a bit crooked smile. She favored colorful scarves and jewelry — often big jewelry. Some campaign advisers took exception to her choices, but Dawn knew what she liked and she wore it. After she died, a small group of her women friends were invited to pick a piece of her jewelry for themselves. I have her beautiful coral necklace. Honestly? I feel stronger and braver when I wear it. I feel her saying to me, “Keep on doing what you’re doing.”