As a public service to the citizens of the world, bewildered by the latest political developments out of Illinois, I offer the following question-and-answer primer on local politics.
Question: What's with all the swearing?
Answer: 'Cause everyone in Illinois politics -- especially pols from Chicago -- swears. It's a long-standing tradition. Rahm Emanuel swears like a sailor. Of course, saying that may be doing sailors a disservice. I'm not sure why, though I believe there are a probably a couple of graduate students at the University of Chicago writing dissertations on the subject as we speak.
As you can tell by reading the Blago transcript -- at this point, who hasn't read it? -- fuck is his favorite word.
Question: How in the world did Blago get elected in the first place?
Short answer: The voters are idiots -- myself included (mea culpa time: I voted for him back in 2002, when he first ran).
Long answer: He's one of the great schemers of all time. He was a nobody lawyer for the state's attorney, prosecuting traffic ticket offenders, when he hooked up with Patti Mell, the daughter of Richard Mell, one Chicago's most powerful aldermen, who oversees an army of patronage workers. Papa Mell fell head over heels in love with Blago, considered him the son he never had, and pushed the little lad to the front of the line to run for state representative, plowing over anyone who got in the way. After a few forgettable years in the General Assembly, Papa Mell brought out the troops to make sure Blago got elected to Congress, after Dan Rostenkowski -- another august political character from our city's illustrious political past -- went to jail on his own corruption charges.
In 2002 when Blago ran for governor, Mell again brought out the cavalry. Blago quickly showed his lack of gratitude by almost immediately stabbing his papa-in-law in the back. On election night, he conspicuously failed to thank Mell in his acceptance speech. In fact, it's long been my own personal opinion that Blago got in trouble precisely because he wanted to cut off dependency on Mell, and build his own political machine. Apparently that is why he has been shaking down campaign contributions from just about anyone looking to do business with the state.
(I first heard about Blago's backstabbing when I got a call from a couple of dissatisfied loyalists in Papa Mell's camp after the 2002 election. They said the old man was heartbroken over Blago's betrayal. I took them out to eat at an Italian restaurant, and fed them pasta, and listened while they spun a tale of treachery that rivaled Shakespeare for all of its deceit.)
By the end of Blago's first term, his feud with Mell was front-page news, as was the fact that federal prosecutors were closing in on him with their relentless investigation. And yet the voters still re-elected him with about 50 percent of the vote. Hey, I told you we were dumb. (In my defense, I voted for the Green Party candidate this time around.)
Question: How in the world did Blagojevich think he was going to get away with this scheme?
Answer: He's delusional. How else do we explain why a sitting governor, already under federal investigation, would try to shake down the editorial board of the Chicago Tribune, the largest and most influential newspaper in the state?
But, in fairness to Blago, every politician in Illinois is at least a little delusional. The sense of feeling omnipotent and entitled is an essential qualification for office around here. Still, I'm not sure how any sane person could convince himself that he wouldn't get caught taking bribes. In the last forty years, three Illinois governors have been arrested on various corruption charges, including George Ryan, Blago's immediate predecessor, who's sitting in a federal prison at this very moment. In fact, it was only a few days ago that the papers were filed with Senator Dick Durbin's plea to President Bush to pardon Ryan for Christmas. By the way, I guess the Blago scandal kills that idea.
In addition, legions of Chicago aldermen, state reps, judges, sanitation workers, and cops -- hey, everyone's doing it -- have gone to jail for various shakedown schemes. In the late 1970s, Chicago's other major daily, the Chicago Sun-Times, set up a bar called the Mirage just to see how many city workers would try to shake them down. It resulted in a 25-part investigative series. They ran a picture of a fire department inspector taking cash to look the other way at fire code violations. 60 Minutes ran a feature on the operation. You would figure all the publicity might scare folks straight. But, no, the corruption beat goes on.
Question: What's next for Illinois?
Answer: How the fuck do I know? God, I find swearing liberating. It makes me feel impervious. Now I can understand why politicians around here do it all the time.
