The Illinois attorney general has fought for years to levy millions of dollars in fines against the owners of an illegal landfill that towers 80 feet over an impoverished Chicago suburb.
But if a group of local officials has its way, a new casino would be built near the dump in Ford Heights — a move that would potentially raise the value of surrounding property, creating a windfall for the landfill owners.
It’s a striking contradiction: One arm of government could help the landowners cash in, while another is suing them in court. But it’s just the latest twist in a decades-long history of controversy for the dump’s owners — who include a well-connected municipal attorney — and one of the poorest communities in the state.
One critic who spent years fighting the construction-debris-filled dump said those who profited from it shouldn’t gain from a state-licensed casino, even if the benefit is unintended.
“After what our village has been through, to have them guys benefit from something like this would be a shame,” said Russ Melby, a former mayor of neighboring Lynwood who wants a casino in his town.
At the center of the controversy is landowner Vincent Cainkar, an attorney who represents several suburbs and has long had business dealings in Ford Heights. Cainkar strongly disputed assertions that his land would increase in value if Ford Heights secures a casino.
“I’m telling you, there is no benefit to being next to a casino. Period,” Cainkar said.
Yet, an attorney for the proposed casino developers, Anthony Bass, said the value of nearby land undoubtedly would rise as other businesses moved in to profit off casino traffic. Bass said developers were leery of the dump’s legal issues, but they ultimately decided it was the best location.
Lawmakers could move legislation in coming weeks to add new casinos in the Chicago area. The measure leaves it to regulators to pick the final south suburban site, but Ford Heights has made moves to be a lead contender.
Bass and Mayor Charles Griffin said Cainkar is not lobbying for the casino and has no part in the development. Cainkar said the same.
Records show a company that Cainkar co-owns with his cousin controls more than 100 acres of land in the area of the proposed site, including the landfill and two parcels that would flank an entrance road to the casino.
The son of a noted municipal attorney, Cainkar and his small law firm represent more than a dozen south and southwest suburban governments, including Burbank, Bridgeview, Evergreen Park and McCook, along with several park and library districts.
As a businessman, Cainkar said he has tried to assist Ford Heights. The town of 2,700 at the far southern end of Cook County is littered with burned-out homes and can’t even afford a police force despite high crime.
“I’ve always tried to help the poor community,” Cainkar said.
‘Rotting fish’
The attorney general considers Cainkar to be a rule breaker who put profit ahead of environmental laws — and even tried to change those laws once he was accused of skirting them. Cainkar declined to comment on the lawsuit and certain details of the landfill.
About two decades ago, Cainkar started a company with his cousin Donald Clarke and their wives. They bought dozens of acres around Clarke’s landscaping supply store on U.S. Route 30, off Illinois Route 394. The attorney general’s office says Cainkar directed the firm’s actions. Clarke referred Tribune questions to Cainkar.
The company first seized on the emerging industry of large-scale composting, taking advantage of a new state law that barred grass clippings from traditional landfills. To operate the facility, Cainkar signed up a large waste hauler, which brought in yard waste from dozens of suburbs.
It didn’t take long for neighbors in nearby Lynwood to complain about a foul odor — “dead rotting fish” is how one resident described it. Authorities launched legal fights against Cainkar and Clarke’s company. Cainkar and his attorneys said they were following the law.
Back then, the property was not part of a municipality, so it fell under Cook County’s environmental rules. But with the facility in a legal fight, Ford Heights decided to annex the land into its borders.
The Cook County state’s attorney complained the move was aimed at undercutting county rules.
By 1993, the state Environmental Protection Agency refused to extend Cainkar’s permit and the compost facility shut down. But Ford Heights officials had gained an important ally.
After annexing Cainkar’s land, the village turned to him for help when the suburb’s meager bank accounts were set to be garnished to cover a six-figure legal judgment. Cainkar’s company paid off the debt.
That meant the town owed Cainkar’s company the money, but he didn’t try to collect — later calling the debt purchase a “humanitarian decision” in a deposition. Cainkar said in an interview that the debt purchase was not tied to the annexation.
A decade later, Ford Heights’ debt would come up again as Cainkar pursued another business.
Building hills
More Top Picks Best Luxury Cowboy Boots Brands
For years, dump trucks filled with chunks of concrete and bricks chugged past Clarke’s landscaping supply store — and the land he owned with Cainkar — on the way to a construction debris dump rising just down the street.
Authorities labeled that operation illegal, filed suit and even leveled criminal charges against the operator, businessman John Einoder, and his companies.
Still, it was Einoder whom Cainkar and Clarke picked to run a similar landfill on 40 acres behind the supply store.
Cainkar and Clarke later testified they didn’t know that Einoder had legal issues with the EPA.
Ford Heights officials supported the landfill deal between Cainkar’s company and Einoder. Village officials were promised new tax revenue and told the future 150-foot-high hill of debris would be turned into a recreation center — featuring a ski slope — to draw visitors and businesses.
Another perk sealed the deal for Ford Heights: Cainkar said he agreed to the mayor’s request to erase the town’s debt to his company.
“The mayor, more or less, said: Listen, if this thing goes through, will you forget about the judgment, or however you want to say it, that you have against us?” Cainkar said in a later deposition, according to a transcript.
The mayor at the time, Saul Beck, didn’t return phone calls seeking comment.
By the summer of 2002, dump trucks were rumbling to Cainkar’s property from construction sites across the Chicago area.
The money, and debris, added up fast.
The operation signed up 23 firms early on, leading to scores of trucks dumping every day — one count came in at more than 10 an hour, records show. The traffic and dirt, spilling over onto the main road, led a state transportation official to deem it a “major safety concern for the motoring public.”
Every day the mound grew wider, longer and higher. And every month, court records show, Cainkar’s company was taking in an average of $40,000 from Einoder’s operations.
Some residents of Lynwood were up in arms — again. And the EPA was paying attention, leading to inspections that at times turned testy.
During one visit, records show, Clarke insisted the inspector needed a search warrant while then-Mayor Beck showed up and told the inspector the EPA was being racist against his largely African-American town.
The visits turned into violation notices.
Under fire, Cainkar — the man hired by a slew of suburbs to navigate state law and developments — didn’t move to abide by state law, the attorney general’s office says. Instead, the state says, Cainkar tried to change the law.
‘Baby-sit’
In 2004, a seemingly innocuous piece of legislation started gaining support in the General Assembly. With just a clause added to state law, the measure allowed the trucks to keep dumping on Cainkar’s land so long as they were ultimately building a “recreation facility.”
Cainkar’s name didn’t come up publicly. But court records show he was working to craft the legislation behind the scenes over two years.
Several faxes from Cainkar to Einoder’s attorneys discuss the efforts, including strategizing about which lawmaker should introduce the measure and “baby-sit” it through the Legislature.
The EPA and attorney general opposed the change. But it cleared the General Assembly anyway.
“That’s as crooked as anything I’ve ever seen, and shame on those of you who voted for it,” veteran state Rep. Bill Black, R-Danville, fumed on the House floor.
Before then-Gov. Rod Blagojevich acted on the legislation, the attorney general filed suit against Einoder. Days later, the governor vetoed the proposal. It wouldn’t be until late 2007 that the dump officially shut down under a court order agreed to by all sides.
Einoder’s attorneys argued the law was vague and that the operation didn’t require state permitting. Meanwhile, attorneys for Cainkar and Clarke pointed the finger at Einoder, arguing their contract required him to follow the law. The pair have also said the contract prevented them from unilaterally closing the dump.
At first, Cainkar wasn’t named directly in the state’s lawsuit, only his company. But this year the attorney general amended the suit to name Cainkar as a defendant.
The attorney general accuses Cainkar in court filings of not only allowing the dump, but at one point having “no interest or desire” in shutting it down. The state is seeking fines that could amount to millions of dollars and orders to force Cainkar and his cousin to remove the hill.
Rolling dice
Today, a new business could be emerging near the dump — with state help.
Lawmakers have passed legislation twice in two years to roughly double the number of casinos in the Chicago area, including adding one in Chicago and another in the south suburbs. Gov. Pat Quinn has so far balked at the expansion, but lawmakers could push the issue again in coming weeks.
Ford Heights has signed up a multistate casino operator, secured the backing of several area mayors and rounded up a coalition of ministers. Officials argue it is finally time for the impoverished suburb to catch a break.
Cainkar called the overall plan’s prospects “pie in the sky.”
“I have more important things to do than spend my time on a dream. And it’s not my dream anyway,” he said.
Bass and Mayor Griffin said any benefit to Cainkar would be incidental to the main goal of bringing business and jobs to the area.
“I could care less how much money (Cainkar) is able to make,” Griffin said. “This is America.”
The attorney general’s office declined to comment on the prospect of a casino benefiting Cainkar. And as the state’s lawsuit against Cainkar continues, a resolution could be years away.
The state’s 12-year suit over Einoder’s other dump is still dragging on. He also has pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor.
More Top Picks Best Smart Bulbs For Bedrooms
Cainkar insists the town benefited financially from the landfill and testing found no dangerous groundwater contamination.
Over about four years, court records show Ford Heights was paid about $600,000. Cainkar’s company was paid nearly $1.8 million.
The state has estimated it could cost $38 million to clean up the site.