Playing games in Springfield

Playing games in Springfield
By CAROL MARIN cmarin@suntimes.com
Copyright by The Chicago Sun-Times
July 8, 2007

"All Mike Madigan wants to do is flex his tiny little muscles," Gov. Blagojevich said dismissively last week.
One more grenade in an escalating war.

The governor and I were in the inner sanctum, his spacious, formal office on the second floor of the State Capitol in Springfield.

If Rod Blagojevich is an isolated, beleaguered shell of his former self, boy, you'd never know it by looking at him.

For months, he has been hammered by news reports that he is making few public appearances these days because of an ongoing federal corruption investigation of his administration. He has been assailed by lawmakers of both parties for doing nothing to build a consensus around his proposals for universal health care and education.

But there isn't a hint of any of that in his demeanor. Blagojevich strode into the room Thursday in a sleek, gray, pinstriped suit with an air of complete authority, if not cockiness.

This last week, he ordered state lawmakers into a special session, demanding they work seven days a week, all summer if necessary, to craft a budget that includes health care for all Illinois' citizens and pay for it without raising taxes, which Blagojevich has pledged he will not do. Critics argue the state simply can't afford the governor's grand plan.

We met at the State Capitol as his nemesis, House Speaker Michael Madigan, convened his entire chamber to dissect Blagojevich's proposals to lease the state lottery and issue bonds to shore up state pensions.

Madigan led the charge, making it clear in no uncertain terms that there are real fiscal questions here that haven't been addressed.

Members from both sides of the aisle looked bored to tears. One shamelessly played solitaire on his laptop. Another shopped for boats on the Internet while colleagues took turns rising from their chairs to condemn the governor for declining to attend their meeting.

Downstairs, in the governor's office, Blagojevich pointed to his large conference table and described the slugfests that have taken place around it as he and the Four Tops, the Democratic and Republican leaders of both houses, have periodically met trying to resolve their war over the budget.

''Madigan sits here,'' he said, identifying the chair to the right of where the governor sits. Jabbing his finger at the imaginary Madigan, Blagojevich recounted how he regularly asks the speaker, ''When did you become a Republican? When are you going to start acting like a Democrat again?''

What an amazing state our state is in.

Here you have, for the first time in decades, a Democrat in the governor's office, Democrats in every other statewide office, Democrats who control the House and Democrats who control the Senate. This should be legislative nirvana for them, with all the votes they need to do whatever the heck they want.

But they can't. Because they hate each other. And call each other names. Democrats in the House last week called the governor a ''coward.'' The governor called his House speaker a ''right-wing conservative.''

As I was about to leave, the governor asked would I like to say hello to the president of the Senate?

Absolutely, I said.

That's when I realized I hadn't been in the inner sanctum at all.

Blagojevich led the way to a much smaller office, just across the hall. Inside was his brain trust: Chief of staff John Harris; Blagojevich's point man in the House, Rep. Jay Hoffman of Collinsville; state Sen. Jimmy DeLeo of Chicago, and Senate President Emil Jones.

If this wasn't a classic political huddle, nothing was. As we talked -- off the record, I should add -- the Blagojevich team tossed a bright orange and blue football back and forth, one to another.

In its way, it's a perfect metaphor for what's happening right now in Springfield. Except the offense and defense, who are beating each other up, all belong to the same team.

By the time you read this, the first four days of the special session will have cost taxpayers more than $100,000 in food and lodging alone for lawmakers.

This is an expensive game.