In the South Side Chicago neighborhood where I grew up, if one of the men on the block found himself stymied by City Hall bureaucracy, he would talk to Louie. I was never quite sure what Louie did for a living. Unlike the other men in the neighborhood, he drove off each day in a sleek Lincoln Continental, wore fancy clothes, sported a diamond pinky ring and always smelled of expensive (or at least obvious) aftershave. But whether your problem was getting a pothole repaired, acquiring a building permit or getting your wayward nephew a job on a “Streets & San” crew, you could call on Louie, who would inevitably respond, “Don’t worry. I got a guy.” Louie would “drop a dime.” He’d “reach out.” He would contact his “guy” in the right office who could somehow make things happen.