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One candidate appears not to live in the district she’s represented for more than a year and another is a former Death Row inmate with ties to past and present street gang members.

It would be an understatement to call the primary contest for the South Side’s 6th House District unusual. Then again, it embodies so much of the grand–and unseemly–tradition of Chicago politics, one that has long included gangs and patronage-backed political power.

The March 16 primary pits Aaron Patterson, who until a little more than a year ago lived on Death Row in an Illinois prison, against Patricia Bailey, a freshman legislator backed by the city’s pre-eminent political muscle.

It’s believed to be the first case in Illinois, and perhaps the nation, of a former Death Row inmate seeking elective office. For help in his uphill effort, Patterson has reached back to his roots as a leader of the Blackstone Rangers, one of the most violent street gangs in the city. He makes no secret that many of his campaign workers and volunteers are past and present gang members and ex-offenders.

“I got influence because I got history,” said Patterson, who insists his campaign is about more than just angry opposition to the death penalty. “You want those studs off the corner? Put them to work. That’s what I’m doing.”

Jerry Washington, a third candidate in the Democratic primary, didn’t respond to requests for an interview. He is a former Illinois House member from Chicago.

The race, in a heavily Democratic district that includes the starkly contrasting neighborhoods of Englewood and Bridgeport, would have received little attention had Patterson not challenged Bailey, someone he describes as “missing in action.”

Whether that’s a fair assessment of her legislative record is a matter of debate, but Bailey does seem to be missing–at least as a resident–in the district. Neighbors say she lives in her mother’s home at 4217 S. Wells St., which is outside the 6th District.

“She’s lived there as long as I can remember,” said Tondra Ingram, 39, who has lived next door to the Wells Street address most of her life.

In October, Bailey changed the address on her voter registration to 4538 S. Hermitage Ave., which is in the district.

But the apartment building at that address has just one resident and Bailey does not live there, according to Rev. Bruce Wellems, pastor of Holy Cross/Immaculate Heart of Mary Church. The building, in the process of being converted to another use, is on church property.

In a brief telephone interview, Bailey, 50, said she moved into the apartment on Hermitage about a year ago.

Asked to provide a copy of a utility bill or other proof of residency, Bailey ended the telephone call.

Representatives from the Democratic Party of Illinois later said Bailey had asked them to answer any questions about her residency, but they have been unable to provide documentation.

State law requires legislators to have lived in the district they serve for at least two years prior to election. But a residency claim has to be contested to get a candidate tossed off the ballot or a legislator ousted from office, and that has not occurred in Bailey’s case.

When Patterson filed for office in December, he acknowledged he had lived in the district for only six months. But he called on Bailey not to challenge his candidacy on residency grounds because his incarceration prevented him from complying with residency rules.

Bailey didn’t challenge his residency but did urge a woman who lived in the district to challenge the validity of the signatures he collected on nominating petitions. The Chicago Board of Elections later ruled that Patterson could run.

In some ways, Patterson’s street gang experience has prepared him for campaigning in a city where for generations Irish, Italians, Latinos and African-Americans have blended gangs and politics. The city’s most famous politician, former Mayor Richard J. Daley, honed his skills in the Hamburg Social Club, a group of Irish lads in the Bridgeport neighborhood who were described as either a social organization or a gang.

Patterson, 39, a son of a Chicago police officer, spent 13 years on Death Row following his conviction in the murder of a couple in their South Side home in the spring of 1986. Before his murder conviction, Patterson had been sentenced to serve 9 years for shooting a fellow gang member in April 1985.

But after nearly 17 years behind bars, Patterson was freed by then-Gov. George Ryan.

Patterson has since protested on behalf of laid-off workers at a suburban discount store, rallied against the war in Iraq and marched against alleged police brutality in Benton Harbor, Mich.

More recently, Patterson and Fred Hampton Jr., son of the slain Black Panther Party leader, loudly disrupted a news conference held by Mayor Richard M. Daley.

But upsetting the mayor likely only rallied those who stand in Patterson’s way. Bailey is backed by the 11th Ward Democratic organization run by Cook County Commissioner John Daley, the mayor’s brother.

“She has strong support,” said John Daley, as he rattled off the names of other local officials backing her candidacy.

To see the impact of the Daley support in the race, one need only attend one of Bailey’s fundraisers. On a recent evening, city, county and state workers poured into a South Side restaurant for a private gathering over chicken wings and beer.

When a reporter tried to enter, Bailey summoned Tom Gray, director of community relations in the Mayor’s Office of Special Events, who said Bailey was not available to answer any questions that evening. A few minutes later, two police officers showed up.

Gray said the officers were there because the mayor might make an appearance. But the officers later said they knew nothing about a potential mayoral appearance and had been told to park outside the restaurant in case of trouble.

Entry of a former Death Row inmate into the race appears to be bringing added support for Bailey from the law enforcement community. “We’ve been in law enforcement for 20 years, so we’re not voting for any ex-cons,” said one woman.

Other Bailey supporters also openly questioned whether Patterson is even capable of serving as a lawmaker.

“He’s been isolated and hasn’t served his community,” said Noreen Lanahan, who attended Bailey’s fundraiser and works in the Cook County Department of Public Health.

Since surviving the challenge to his nominating petitions, Patterson has been arrested and charged with a misdemeanor after arguing with a pastor at a soup kitchen as Patterson tried to register people to vote. Asked what’s next in his bag of campaign tricks, Patterson suggests plenty.

“Stay tuned,” he said. “I’m about to pull another stunt.”