Blago Puts Aside His Bogeyman
Add comment February 21st, 2008
If I live to be 110 years old, I’ll never forget the day the governor of this state made me the bogeyman of his moment.
It was in May 2004, and I gathered with other reporters in the governor’s office for a news conference he called. A Chicago television reporter asked the governor a series of leading questions about tension — already apparent during the second year of his administration — he shared with lawmakers and other folks working in Springfield.
The governor deflected the question, suggesting Capitol reporters had misled the public with their stories about him. From my column at the time:
The governor was explaining Statehouse reporters to a television reporter from Chicago. As you may imagine, this was a truly comic event: The governor has generally avoided Springfield and, to a greater degree, the Statehouse press corps.
We require detail.
Nonetheless, Blagojevich saw fit to explain our nature to his fellow Chicagoan during a news conference in his Capitol office, as if the governor were leading a friend through a strange land.
The television reporter was working on a story about how people around Springfield appear angry at the governor. So the reporter tried to coax the governor to give up a sound bite by alluding to the tense mood at the news conference.
YET, THIS GOVERNOR does not miss an opportunity to look like a regular, warm-hearted, moderately intelligent guy.
“This is what they do here,” the governor told the reporter, referring to our aggressive approach. “But they’re like that. They’re really nice people. They sound angry and mad, but they’re really nice when you get to know ‘em.”
Then the governor looked at me. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, between his podium and a row of television cameras. We were surrounded by reporters and his aides.
“Mr. Chambers over here is a nice guy,” Blagojevich said. “He just sounds very angry.”
The television reporter persisted. He told the governor that people in Springfield think he is rude.
“You think so?” the governor asked. “Who says that? Chambers?”
I was in no way participating in the exchange between the television reporter and the governor. I had not said a word.
Nonetheless, the governor saw fit to drag me in and paint me as the bad guy. Somehow, by the governor’s logic, I was individually responsible for the negative phenomenon captivating the television reporter.
Then there was the time in March 2005 I sought to cover a delegation of Rockford officials meeting with Blagojevich in his Capitol office. The governor’s aides said I couldn’t attend because the delegation didn’t want me there. But when I talked to delegation leaders, including then-Mayor Doug Scott, they said they had no problem with me following along.
At last, the governor’s staff relented. I joined the group in his office. And just as the meeting began, Blagojevich scolded me. As I reported at the time:
The governor shook a couple hands, then pointed at me. “Nattering nabobs of negativism, right there!” he declared.
THE ALLITERATION WAS compliments of Spiro Agnew, the GOP vice president who resigned from Richard Nixon’s administration amid scandal. Agnew used it to describe the press corps during a speech in 1970.
I suppose it was Blagojevich’s way of saying he wasn’t pleased that I attended the meeting. Or that he doesn’t care for my work.
Blagojevich is seldom without a bogeyman. When he wanted to take control of the State Board of Education, he called it a “Soviet-style bureaucracy.” When he wanted to generate more money for state coffers by imposing a new tax on businesses last year, he said the businesses weren’t paying their “fair share.” When Rep. John Bradley, D-Marion, refused to support his budget plan in 2004, the governor went on a local radio show and repeatedly called Bradley a “wallflower.”
Blagojevich has often played the role of the schoolyard bully. Just as often, he played the kid who refused to cooperate with a group’s rules, and then threw a fit when the others refused to play by his.
Vilifying adversaries has been integral part of the governor’s approach to governance, as a recent article in the St. Louis Post Dispatch pointed out.
Since early in his first term, when Blagojevich diplomatically set the tone with lawmakers by comparing their spending habits with those of “drunken sailors,” the Democratic governor’s MO has been clear to his fellow politicians.
In one major policy speech after another in the years since, Blagojevich has reliably identified a nemesis to vilify, as a way of building steam for his policy initiatives. Big business, bureaucrats, fellow politicians and his own schools chief have all worn the black hat at various times.
But the strategy arguably has not been effective. The governor simply cannot point to a string of victories following his rhetorical outbursts. Kristin McQueary remarked in the Daily Southtown on the governor’s “weasel” mentality. In a column that ran before his budget address on Wednesday, she predicted:
Blagojevich’s stature among legislators is so amputated, he’ll need an extension ladder to see over the podium. His agenda is dead on arrival unless he dramatically improves his approach.
The governor’s budget address on Wednesday was, remarkably, the most modest and conciliatory speech of his administration. There was no bogeyman. There was no super-charged rhetoric.
Instead, the governor pointed to bipartisan cooperation in Washington and suggested there’s no reason why he and lawmakers can’t work together too. He has this to say about his own position on how best to craft a capital construction plan: “I’m flexible.”
Lawmakers are suspicious of the governor’s new-found sensitivity. I can’t blame them. Any reasonable person must wonder whether the governor’s dramatically changed approach is sincere.
Then again, last year was quantifiably the worst of the governor’s administration. Lawmakers resoundingly rejected his policy agenda, from his universal health care plan to his gross receipts tax. At the same time, his approval rating sank to a low of near 20 percent. A fellow Democrat publicly called him “insane.”
Maybe this year, the governor wants to walk away with something he can call a success.
