August 5, 2020
THE END OF THE MADIGAN ERA? NOT WITH $23,529,621 CASH ON HAND

ANALYSIS & OPINION BY RUSS STEWART

by RUSS STEWART

It is said that all good things must come to an end. It is said in some political circles that Mike Madigan's 36-year reign as speaker of the Illinois House is now and has always been a good thing. It is said in other circles that it must come to an end and that it is a bad thing.

One thing is for sure, his tenure has been a good thing for many, including sitting Democratic state representatives, trade unions and lawyers, and it is not going to come to an end anytime soon. The 78-year old Madigan may hang onto his power deep into the 2020s. He said in news reports that he isn't going anywhere.

The abstemious speaker has a few enduring (and irritating to some) serendipitous quirks: He eats an apple a day for lunch. He has no cell phone or at least he didn't for the longest time. And he never sends e-mails to anybody. The feds have dropped a subpoena on the speakerÕs office, but they likely won't find any electronic digital trail, only apple cores.

The feds are busy digging up some things about the speaker's chummy relationship with a couple of lobbyists for the state-regulated public utility monopoly ComEd, and parent company Exelon, which makes an annual profit of $100 million. The investigation has been ongoing since 2017, the year when President Trump appointed U.S. Attorney John Lausch. No indictments have been forthcoming, and no specific wrongdoing by individuals (including Madigan) has been charged.

The gist of the situation is that ComEd has entered a "deferred prosecution agreement" with the feds, admitting to a scheme of bribing Madigan pals and confidantes by giving them jobs in exchange for using their influence with the speaker when necessary. ComEd agreed to pay a $200 million fine (which, in effect, will be passed along to electricity consumers, just watch), and agreed to "cooperate" for 3 years. The "agreement" lists Madigan anonymously as "Individual A."

But there is no tangible proof thus far that ComEd's flunkies used any "influence" on Madigan for anything. This is unlike in Ohio, where Republican Speaker Larry Householder was arrested in late July for accepting $62 million in bribes to his dummy corporation from unnamed donors in exchange for enacting a $1 billion taxpayer-funded bailout of two nuclear power plants.

The clock is ticking on Lausch, whose term expires in January 2021 when a new (or current) president is inaugurated. Lausch also has an ongoing probe of former county assessor Joe Berrios, which could affect Governor J.B. Pritzker and his property tax breaks. Lausch needs a trophy before he leaves office, or at least some reason to stay in office to continue his prosecution. But Madigan is wasting no time doing what he does best, which is raising buckets of money. On one day, July 28 for example, he raised $914,100.

He got $362,500 from LiUNA Chicago Laborers District Council PAC and $250,000 and $263,000 donations from Chicago Land Operators Joint Labor-Management PAC, which is Local 150 of the Operating Engineers union. These are union dues being used for political purposes. Chicago Plumbers Local 13 gave Madigan $25,000, and even the Chicagoland Chamber of Commerce gave him $5,000. Which certainly begs the question: Why? What's in it for them?

Madigan has perfected the art of "scooping" and "parking." He has a timetable. His goal is to scoop-up an aggregate $1 million-a month from unions and special interests, and then park those bucks in his or another leadership member's account. Like $652,592 on-hand in conference chair Kathleen Willis's account and $983,338 in assistant majority leader Natalie Manley's account. He allegedly uses them as blinds to transfer funds to other candidates, as they gave a combined $110,000 to Michelle Darbro in the 20th District primary, leaving no direct Madigan fingerprints.

As of Aug. 1, Madigan had $23,529,621 cash on hand of, including $14,544,269 in Friends of Mike Madigan, $2,449,732 in the Democratic Party of Illinois, of which he is chairman, $4,300,413 in the Democratic Majority Fund, which he uses to elect/re-elect Members to retain his 74-44 House majority, and a whopping $2,235,207 in the 13th Ward Democratic Organization, of which he is the committeeperson. Wrap your brain around that: $2 million-plus in donations to a ward Democratic organization? The donation norm (excepting Ed Burke) is around $15,000.

And let's not forget daughter Lisa Madigan, the former state attorney general (2002-18) whom many thought would be governor. Even though out of office, she has $2,081,190 on hand.

The quid-pro-quo or pay-to-play is kind of foggy here. Sometimes it's not getting a donor-friendly bill through the House, but killing a donor-averse bill. Or maybe it's just future insurance. But the speaker does not get (and maintain) this kind of largess without reciprocity. And the feds' investigation is eroding that factor, particularly within the Democratic caucus, the 74 Democrats who pick the speaker, who then picks the leadership (9 reps) and the committee chairs, all of who get a $12,000 "stipend" atop their $67,836-a year salary. With his largess, Madigan is every incumbent's de facto campaign manager, and many are dependent on the speaker to spend it to keep them in office.

But there is restiveness. Minority leader (R) Jim Durkin has introduced a resolution calling on Madigan to resign. This is all window dressing because the only one who can call for a vote for a new speaker is the governor or the speaker himself. The resolution is supported by 43 of 44 Republicans, including Brad Stephens (R-20), who faces Darbro on Nov. 3.

"The charges (against Madigan) are pretty specific," said Stephens. Four Democrats have also demanded Madigan's resignation: Stephanie Kifowit of Oswego, Terra Costa-Howard of Glen Ellyn, and Kelly Cassidy and Yoni Pizer of Chicago (Pizer lost on March 17 to Margaret Croke). Madigan has been calling around to his caucus in recent weeks, and his support is thus far solid - as would be expected in a pre-election period.

But problems portend for next January. Women outnumber men 39-35 in the caucus, and many of the newer, younger women want a woman as speaker sometime in their lifetime. At present Greg Harris is majority leader and the presumptive heir. The deputy majority leaders, Jehan Gordon-Booth and Art Turner Jr. are both African American and of the six assistant majority leaders, three are women, two are Hispanic and one is Black. The only White guys left are Madigan and Downstater Jay Hoffman. Ironically, both Barbara Flynn Currie, from Hyde Park, and Lou Lang, from Skokie, both deputy majority leaders, patiently spent over 30 years waiting for Madigan to retire. They both are now retired.

A Madigan indictment at any time would seal his ouster. The House's 74-44 supermajority was important during former governor Bruce Rauner's (2014-18) governorship, but less so now. A Democratic gain of two to three seats is plausible, knocking off Stephens and Palatine's Tom Morrison (R). The winners (D) would win because of Madigan's money, and owe him.

Madigan deserves credit for transforming the speakership into a formidable instrument of power, unlike any of his 65 predecessors, most of whom saw their job as a steppingstone, not a career. They failed to understand the magic of money. It is dollars that win the districts that send the votes that the speaker needs to stay in power.

Prior to Robert Blair (R), who served 1971-75 and famously battled with Governor Dan Walker (D) on everything, speakers were obscurities. A few speakers have risen beyond their limitations: Lawrence Y. Sherman (R) was speaker 1899-1903, and U.S. senator 1913-21. David Shanahan, a Chicago Republican, had the pre-Madigan longevity record, serving 1915-21, 1923-25 and 1929-33. Hugh Cross (R) was speaker 1933-41, and then Dwight Green's lieutenant governor 1941-49.

Venerable Downstate Democrat Paul Powell has achieved immortality through his shoeboxes. He was speaker 1949-51 and then again 1958-63, winning the second time because of support of renegade Republicans known as the "West Side Bloc." He was elected Secretary of State in 1965, and re-elected in 1968. When he died in 1970, shoeboxes stuffed with cash were found in his Springfield hotel room. Powell obviously knew how to raise serious money.

Speaker Ralph Tyler Smith (R), who served 1967-69, knew the art of the deal. Downstater Smith (R) wanted to run for governor in 1968, but so did then-County Board president Dick Ogilvie and Peoria businessman John Henry Altorfer. Veteran U.S. Senator Everett Dirksen (R-IL) was then dying of cancer, so Smith and Ogilvie cut a deal: Smith endorsed Ogilvie and Ogilvie, if elected, promised to appoint Smith to any Senate vacancy. Smith as speaker was crucial in passing OgilvieÕs state income tax plan in 1969. Dirksen died in Sept. 1969, and Smith then went to Washington. Smith lost big - 2,065,054-1,519,718 Ð to Adlai Stevenson III (D) in 1970, a margin of 545,336 votes. Smith should have stayed put.

The ubiquitous (and later indicted and convicted) George Ryan bailed after one term (1981-83) as speaker, to be succeeded by Madigan when the Democrats retook the majority in 1982 after the Legislative Cutback Amendment cut the House from 177 to 118 members. Ryan got himself elected lieutenant governor in 1982, then Secretary of State in 1990, then governor in 1998. Then went to prison for taking bribes regarding driver's licenses.

I recall an old "Dirty Harry" movie (Magnum Force) wherein the Clint Eastwood character ruefully remarked "a man's got to know his limitations." Madigan never knew any limitations. But sometime, probably sooner than later, he will encounter some.