Posted by chicagomedia.org on November 02, 2008 at 19:02:00:
Fearless reporter 'never let go'
CHARLES NICODEMUS | 1931-2008 Drew the ire of Richard J. Daley and the praise of RFK in long, distinguished career
October 31, 2008
BY ROSALIND ROSSI AND ANDREW HERRMANN Staff Reporters
Chicago's grand public library on South State Street carries Mayor Harold Washington's name, but without the efforts of Charles Nicodemus, it probably wouldn't exist.
Mr. Nicodemus' tenacity as a Chicago Sun-Times reporter forced the city to abandon a plan to put the library in a former department store on State Street and build the architectural showcase instead.
For 44 years, first with the old Chicago Daily News and then for the Sun-Times, Mr. Nicodemus "proved you could fight City Hall and win,'' said his longtime friend and colleague, Harlan Draeger.
A reporter who was as admired by his co-workers as he was feared by shady public officials, Mr. Nicodemus died of pancreatic cancer Thursday at his home in Boulder, Colo. He was 77.
Mr. Nicodemus, known to many of his colleagues as "Nico,'' wrote thousands of stories in the course of his career. Some of them helped send politicians and other governmental officials to jail.
He was denounced publicly by politicians, including Mayor Richard J. Daley and Paul Powell, the longtime Illinois House speaker and secretary of state. But he was also praised by people like Robert F. Kennedy, who, as U.S. attorney general in 1962, brought criminal charges for mismanagement in military purchasing and credited Mr. Nicodemus' reporting on the subject.
Called 'a liar' by mayor
In perhaps his best-known investigation, Mr. Nicodemus' reporting in the mid-1980s revealed dire problems with the plan to put the library in an old Goldblatt's store on State. Noting structural deficiencies, Mr. Nicodemus found that much of the building's space couldn't be used for book collections because floor supports were so weak.
When the Library Board voted in 1986 to build the new library, library president Cannutte Russell said the reporter's stories had "sparked the debate, which led us to reconsider.''
Mr. Nicodemus, who grew up on the North Side, started his career with the City News Bureau, a wire service renowned as a journalism boot camp.
Hired by the Daily News in 1956, Mr. Nicodemus served in a variety of jobs, from night police and criminal courts reporter to what he once called "the banquet and VIP beat.''
After successes unearthing toll-road land-buying irregularities and police scandals, in 1960 Mr. Nicodemus took his talents to the Daily News' Springfield bureau, where he revealed Illinois House Speaker Powell's connections with the horse-racing industry. Powell died with more than $1 million in racetrack stock.
In 1962, Mr. Nicodemus was assigned to the paper's Washington bureau, where he turned his attentions to uncovering Pentagon waste and problems with the M-16 rifle being used by the U.S. military in Vietnam.
Mr. Nicodemus was known for his fearlessness. By 1968, he was back in Chicago and had a notable clash with Mayor Richard J. Daley. Mr. Nicodemus asked the mayor if, on the floor of the Democratic National Convention being held in Chicago, Daley had screamed an obscenity at Sen. Abraham Ribicoff. Daley furiously shouted at Mr. Nicodemus, calling him "a liar.''
When the Daily News folded in 1978, Mr. Nicodemus jumped to its sister paper, the Sun-Times. But he was outraged over what he saw as the company's favoritism in deciding which reporters to keep. That outrage led him to get involved in the reporters union, the Chicago Newspaper Guild.
Mr. Nicodemus would serve as Guild president during much of the 1980s. He was the "most stalwart Guild leader that we ever had, a tower of strength,'' said the organization's executive director, Gerald Minkkinen. "He was the last guy management wanted to hear from when there was a problem."
Mr. Nicodemus was also known for writing long memos to his bosses, critiquing the operation of the newspaper.
One story that won a place in Chicago newspaper lore involved the time, in 1999, when a Commonwealth Edison spokesman left a message on Mr. Nicodemus' voice mail. The spokesman was on a conference call with another executive and thought he had disconnected from the Sun-Times phone system. Instead, in a conversation that ended up being left on the reporter's voice mail, the spokesman told the exec that he should never give Mr. Nicodemus his pager number: "For the rest of your life, this man will get you. And, for God's sake, don't give him your home number! You'll have to have it changed!"
Overflowing files
When Mr. Nicodemus retired in 2000, Sun-Times columnist Mark Brown, who teamed with him on investigative reports over the years, wrote that "once Nico sank his teeth into something, he never let go."
Sun-Times editorial page editor Tom McNamee recalled how Mr. Nicodemus, in questioning officials, would "ask the same question six different ways if he didn't get an honest answer."
"He'd finally say, 'I'm asking this question over and over because you have yet to give me an honest answer,' '' McNamee said.
Mr. Nicodemus spent long hours at the paper, surrounded by overflowing files and envelopes of notes and documents. His son, James, said his father often worked at home, sometimes through the night. "He was not a 9-to-5 person," the son said.
In 1967, as the Daily News' political writer, Mr. Nicodemus wrote that he saw his job as "making clear how the straphanger on the Lake Street L, the north suburban housewife, the South Side ghetto dweller and the Old Town hippie can, and must, flex their individual political muscles to better control the politicians of both parties who are now controlling them.''
It came as a surprise to some, but the pear-shaped Mr. Nicodemus was an outdoorsman who enjoyed camping with his wife, Virginia, and their four children. He was particularly fond of rock climbing, which his colleague Draeger found appropriate.
"He was obsessed with vertical surfaces," Draeger said. "Obstacles existed to be overcome."
Besides his wife and his son James, Mr. Nicodemus is also survived by sons Matthew and Andrew; a daughter, Laura; a brother, Wade Nicodemus, and two grandchildren.
Services in Boulder are pending.
(Chicago Sun-Times)