Barton: Pete Liakakis lived his life in perpetual motion

Tommy Barton is the retired editorial page editor of the Savannah Morning News.

Stop the presses.

It seems Pete Liakakis, who died April 14 at the age of 90 and was buried last week, was mortal after all.

Liakakis, the closest thing that modern-day Savannah had to an old-school political godfather, lived his life in perpetual motion. He was always running for something:

For political office.

To a community meeting.

To put up political campaign signs in the choicest locations in Chatham County, which he knew like the back of his muscled hands.

County Commission Chairman Pete Liakakis tries to drum up support for removal of term limits on November 7, 2011.

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To Brighter Day Natural Foods market to consult with proprietor Peter Brodhead about a natural remedy for a friend who had headaches and difficulty sleeping. Liakakis didn’t keep a medicine chest at home. He had the trunk of his big American car.

To check on the many small businesses he owned, United Alarm, United Detective Agency and a string of convenience stores (all named PAL, after his initials – Peter Antonio Liakakis).

To work the annual Greek Festival at St. Paul’s Greek Orthodox church.

To cut a ribbon for a business opening.

To cut the rug on the dance floor at a community function.

To check on his beloved wife, Mary Jean, or another family member.

To deliver a box fan to an elderly shut-in at a stiflingly hot apartment in a public housing project.

To escort a trailer truck full of food, drinking water and emergency supplies donated through his “Savannah Responds” program to a hurricane-ravaged community down in the boondocks.

And he never slowed down, not before he was elected in 1995 to the first of two terms to a city-wide at-large seat on the Savannah City Council, or in 2012 after his two terms as Chatham County Commission chairman.

Liakakis knew just one speed – all out, pedal to the medal. To him, “retirement” was a dirty word. I think he knew from experience with his contemporaries that it was a short step from being the honoree at a retirement dinner to headlining a funeral service.

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He was one of those men who could never sit still and could never say “no” to someone in need, which in Savannah means nearly everyone at one time.

Pete was a force of nature, a whirling human tornado with every strand of his orang-ish red hair perfectly in place. I prefer to believe that he didn’t die like a lesser mortal. No, he plumb wore out as if the batteries in his internal Energizer Bunny ran out of juice after 90 years. They gave his age as 90. I don’t believe that either. I would measure his age in dog years, as he packed as much activity into each day of his life as a Jack Russell Terrier. I make his real age at about 630.

Pete was born in Savannah and graduated from Savannah High School, which he attended with another iconic Greco-Savannahian, John Paul Rousakis. Rousakis went into the insurance business, then politics. Liakakis, who enlisted in the Air Force where he was trained in communications and intelligence, would link up with his old high school chum and work on his political campaigns.

Rousakis, Savannah’s so-called “mayor for life” served from 1970 to 1991. Rousakis didn’t run campaigns. He ran machines. Liakakis was a vital cog behind the scenes, making sure the mayor and his city council took care of every ethnic and demographic group – white, Black, Jewish, Catholic, elderly, young, rich, poor, liberal, conservative. It was a winning prescription and Pete learned it at the master’s knee.

Another skill Liakakis learned was the artistry of political signage. Yes, signs don’t vote. But well-placed signs boost name recognition, which translates into votes. Liakakis and his sign crew knew the best sign placements and all the landowners who would let him plant the biggest signs on their properties.

His connections and work ethic paid off for countless mostly Democratic politicians, from the city council level to statehouse to Congress. For local politicos, having Liakakis in your corner didn’t guarantee victory, but it gave you better than a fighting chance. He also paid it forward, mentoring and befriending dozens of younger people bitten by the political bug. But Liakakis, to his credit, was a classy stand-up guy who could take a punch and pick himself up and keep going.

Chatham County Commission Chairman Pete Liakakis prepares for his final meeting as Chairman on Friday December 21, 2012.

Indeed, Liakakis lost a close, heart-breaker of a mayoral election in 2003 to Otis Johnson. But Liakakis wasn’t a crybaby. He moved on to a successful run for county commission chairman, which was smart. By that time, the center of Savannah and Chatham County’s political universe was moving from city hall to the county courthouse.

Liakakis also had great insights into all corners of the community. His head was a Wiki-Pete-ia of local intel. Unlike many white politicians, he and his mentor, Johnny Rousakis, made genuine efforts to get to know Savannah’s Black community as people, not as a voting block.

When a poor Black neighborhood on the eastside or westside flooded out, Liakakis was often among the first to show up on the scene and help. He remembered the names of the people he met, and the names of their mommas and poppas, where they went to church and the names of their preachers. And he didn’t pander or talk down to people. He was remembered as a giver, not a taker. In return, they remembered Liakakis and Rousakis on Election Day.

But Liakakis was more than a successful politician, he was a hard-working businessman who often found the limelight.

Early in his business career, Pete’s security company was retained by Hollywood producers filming the movie “The Longest Yard” in Savannah in the early 1970s. Pete, who had martial arts skills, was hired to keep fans away from the movie’s star, heartthrob Burt Reynolds.

Around town, Liakakis played the role of “Burt’s bodyguard” to the hilt. I think that’s where he learned how to play it cool and dress cool – Saturday Night Fever disco style, from the top of his well-coiffed head to the bottom of his polished half-boots with the stacked heels. He favored the Hollywood look, complete with tinted sunglasses. But there was no accounting for all his loud polyester sportscoats other than he often found himself on private-eye duty and had to dress to blend into the hotel drapery.

Pete Liakakis and Burt Reynolds in Savannah for the filming of The Longest Yard. Sept. 27, 1973

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Pete’s one business deal that went sideways was his acquisition of a two-story building with a big PBR sign at the corner of East Harris and Drayton streets, better known as the city’s best dive bar, Pinkie Master’s Lounge. Liakakis was the second cousin of the bar’s politically active owner, Pinkie Masterpolis. After Masterpolis died, it fell into Pete’s hands. But all was not well with the bar’s operations and a messy court dispute followed.

Liakakis also relished being everyone’s guardian angel.

Pete’s first job on the public payroll was deputy director of civil defense, a paid watchdog for disasters. To many people, it might seem like a snoozer of a patronage job. But Liakakis took it as seriously as a Category 4 hurricane.

And he got results. He brought the “Jaws of Life” technology to Savannah, saving the lives of countless citizens. He looked for any opportunity to talk about improving disaster responses.

Liakakis was a committed chatterbox. He once called me at home at about 8 a.m. on a lazy, sunny Sunday. “What’s up, Pete?” I groggily mumbled.

Big mistake. Liakakis could talk the head off of a statue.

Never ask a guy like Liakakis, who talked in one, long run-on sentence, an open-ended question. He was fired up and gave me a thorough, and thoroughly boring, report on a hazmat drill that he had witnessed. But every community needs someone like him. We were lucky we had Pete.

Chatham County Commission Chairman Pete Liakakis unveils the plaque dedicating the Pete Liakakis Government Building on Friday December 21, 2012.

Pete’s fingerprints are on almost every non-profit organization and worthy cause in Savannah. He was a soft touch for anyone down on their luck, from cops to ne’er do wells. He was burned a few times but always kept his faith in people. In that way, he mirrored the city in which he was born and died.

Pete Liakakis was a Savannah original. His passing marks another end of an old-school soldier in local politics. He was the happiest of warriors. Indeed, after his death, the old city hall gang is almost back together behind the pearly gates: Liakakis, Rousakis, Eli Karatassos, Don Mendonsa, J.B. Blackburn, Leo Center and Harley “Nippie” Morrison.

And a final word about Pete’s impish sense of humor. I once asked Pete the one question that everyone wanted to know the answer to, but lacked the guts to ask – whether he wore a toupee.

He grinned, then challenged me to grab him by the hair and swing him around.

Not wanting to tangle with a black belt in martial arts, I demurred. And lived to write another day.

This article originally appeared on Savannah Morning News: Savannah public servant Pete Liakakis leaves a dignified legacy