Blago the “reformer” surrounded himself with “dese and dosers.”

1 comment December 13th, 2008

When I went on a campaign trip to cover Rod Blagojevich in 2002, I flew with several other reporters to southern Illinois for a whirlwind Saturday of rallies in six towns. I was impressed with Blagojevich as a campaigner; he was outgoing, seeming to be genuinely interested in people. He was very good at self-deprecating humor, he knew the names of the prominent Democrats at every stop. In the van, as we careened from town to town with police escorts courtesty of friendy Democratic sheriffs, Blagojevich regaled us with minute details of every Elvis song, when it was recorded, who were the session men, how many copies the record sold.

But I remember thinking, “Hmmmmm” when we talked about issues relating to state government. He seemed unfamiliar, and generally repeated rehearsed sound bites, saying the same thing as he had been telling people at the rallies.

All things considered, though, I ended that day thinking that Blagojevich was an impressive candidate, running a good campaign, and that he would probably make a decent governor.

When he won, I traveled to the Finkl Brothers steel mill on Chicago’s Near North side, where Blagojevich held his victory rally.

As the ballots were counted and the crowd rolled in, certain of a Blago victory, I noticed something about them. These were not the kinds of people I would generally associate with the word “reformer,” which Blagojevich had touted himself as.

Nope. These were the “dese and dosers,” people with hardened faces, big hair — men and women — and leather. Lots of leather. 

That crowd, it turns out, said a lot more about Blagojevich than anything he could have said from the podium. The folks at Finkl Brothers expected something, and were prepared to pay to play.

Part of Blago’s problem is that after 26 years of Republican rule, there was a whole generation of Democrats who had been shut out of state government’s executive branch. No patronage. No consideration, no contracts, no nothing.

The pressure on him to deliver jobs and contracts to Democrats was enormous. But he proved up to the challenge, and then some. He cashiered professionals who called themselves “Republican” because that’ what they had to be, in favor of two-bit Democratic politicians from Rockford to Cairo.

And now we know what we suspected all along. State government under Rod Blagojevich was for sale. Everything and everyone had a price.

It will take us awhile to put Illinois back together again. To start that ball rolling, Blago must resign or be kicked out of office, pronto.