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At the time of his death, Mike Royko of the Chicago Tribune was the most widely published news columnist in the country. His general interest column was syndicated in over 600 papers, and his targets became the topic of discussions in offices, cabs, and sidewalks all over the nation.
Raised on Milwaukee Avenue on Chicago's north side, Royko began writing in the mid 1950s while in the military. He needed a job that was close to his home so that he could care for his mother. Glenview Naval Air Station had no openings for policemen, but the had a space for a writer. Royko allegedly checked books out from the library on journalism, and before long was churning out columns that made people at the base sit up and take note.
Before long, he was a staff writer at the now-defunct Chicago Daily News, working alongside colleagues such as John Fischetti and Bill Mauldin. He began writing a general interest column which had as its spot a location well inside the paper. Before long, Royko's work was appearing on page three in a coveted spot. Later, he would make it to page one.
His topics were numerous. They included city hall, especially Mayor Richard J. Daley. Political favors and dealings were a way of life during the Daley reign, and Royko pulled no punches in broadcasting the corruption and underhandedness he saw. He once suggested that the city of Chicago should adopt the phrase "Where's Mine?" as its official slogan. He published a book about Daley in 1971 titled "Boss", the cover of which depicted Daley as a Roman emperor.
He lambasted bureaucracy and the slow nature and red tape that was a natural part of them. A Vietnam war-era column discussed the plight of one young soldier who's face had been disfigured by gunfire. He had also lost the ability to swallow. The soldier had repeatedly written to the Veteran's Administration, pleading for them to pay for an operation not to restore his face, but only to give him the ability to swallow his food. The Administration repeatedly denied him his request.
Royko's column changed all of that. Ripping into the Administration, Royko focused on the basic fact that the human dignity of the soldier was being ignored. The next day, the soldier got a phone call saying that the operation would be granted and paid for. Royko wrote a follow-up column, taking pride in the fact that he knocked some sense and human decency into a nameless office person of a huge bureaucratic institution.
Other writers marveled at his prolific nature. Five days a week, he churned out his column, fretting sometimes for hours over a single idea or sentence. "It wasn't that he just wrote five days a week," one writer said, "it was that he wrote the best damn pieces over and over and over. No one said it better."
Though the Daily News eventually closed, Royko ended up at the Sun-Times, and later the Tribune. His columns reflected the chaos of the times. They could also get personal. After the untimely death of his first wife, in one of his most touching columns, he wrote about the summer home that he and his wife shared. Reader response was overwhelming. It would be the only time in his newspaper career where Royko did not publish anything for several weeks.
Royko never retired. He wrote up until March 1997, when he was hospitalized for a brain aneuysm. He died at the age of 64, leaving behind plans to cut back his work schedule so that he had more time for travel.
Several of his columns have been reissued in volumes. The latest, entitled "One More Time", was published shortly after his death.
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