Is St. Louis a city that works?

That is what people used to say about Chicago, and they did not mean "works" in the sense of putting in an eight-hour day. They meant that things got done. Say what you will about the methodology, things got done.

Credit went to the mayor. That would be Richard J. Daley, who served as mayor from 1955 until his death in 1976.

One reason the city worked is that the right hand always knew what the left hand was doing. All things were connected.

When my grandmother's sister moved in with us and registered as a Republican, my father was transferred from a nice job with the Park District to a streetlight crew. Actions had consequences.

Mayor Francis Slay does not have the kind of power that Daley had. In fact, it is easy to feel sorry for Slay. What do people care about? Public safety and education. The mayor has little control over either.

The Police Department is controlled by the state, and city schools are normally run by an elected board that owes no allegiance to the mayor. At the moment, the schools are run by a special three-person board. The mayor appoints only one member.

Still, the mayor has some power.

For instance, he appoints eight members of the 13-member Planning Commission.

The Planning Commission will meet later this month to review an earlier decision by the city's Preservation Board to reject St. Louis University's application to demolish the vacant Pevely Dairy complex at South Grand Boulevard and Chouteau Avenue and replace it with a new medical building.

Actually, the Preservation Board was upholding an earlier decision by the city's cultural resources officer to deny SLU's request for a demolition permit.

Well, fine. Pevely Dairy was once a wonderful company. I would expect a cultural resources officer to get a little sentimental about that. Milk wagons used to deliver milk and butter right to a person's house. Those were the days!

As for the Preservation Board's decision to uphold the cultural resources officer's decision, I can understand that, too. Seen in a certain light, the vacant red brick building looks nice. It's something to gaze at while you dine at the Captain D's Seafood restaurant across the street.

By the way, you don't have to fight a bunch of doctors for tables, either. Most nights, there's not much of a crowd. That is another nice thing about vacant buildings. They make for quiet neighborhoods.

So I did not fault the mayor when the Preservation Board, which is dominated by mayoral appointees, upheld the decision of the cultural resources officer.

But the Preservation Board made its decision in December. Do you remember what happened in January? St. Louis University announced it was moving its law school downtown.

This will be huge deal for downtown. Approximately 1,100 students, faculty and staff will move in August into a building at 100 North Tucker Boulevard.

Maybe some of the students will move into lofts. Certainly, they'll be frequenting downtown bars and restaurants.

The university's decision came a little more than a month after Teach for America announced plans to renovate the vacant Jefferson Arms and use it for apartments for young teachers. Also, it will be a regional center where young teachers from other cities come for meetings.

That was certainly wonderful news. Maybe downtown could come back. The university's decision to move the law school downtown took the "maybe" out of the equation.

After years of talking and seemingly dozens of plans — grand ideas like Ballpark Village and the Bottle District — something is finally happening.

Downtown is about to get an infusion of educated, young people.

The mayor owes much to St. Louis University. Moving the law school was a bold move on its part.

Now the Planning Commission will review the Preservation Board's decision to uphold the cultural resource officer's decision to deny the university a demolition permit for the Pevely complex.

The mayor can take a hands-off approach with the Planning Commission. After all, he wouldn't want to be accused of political interference, would he?

Or, he could say, "You know, I don't see a thing wrong with replacing an old vacant building with a new building." He could use his influence to make sure that the Planning Commission sees it his way.

By so doing, he would let everybody understand that if you do the city a favor, the city will look kindly upon you. That's because all things are connected. At least they are in a city that works.