Michael J. Madigan, the Real Governor

The guy that keeps everything running. 

This is an incredible testament to the guy that has unfairly been cast as the boogie man. The brain power, the work ethic, the dedication. It's all there. A few of our local politicians could learn a few things from Madigan. 

John Kass: Illinois governor still has to deal with Speaker Madigan 

Even before Bruce Rauner declared victory in the race for governor election night, he understood the most important thing: He'll have to deal with the little guy who runs things. Boss Madigan.

He's controlled Illinois for decade after decade after decade. House Speaker Michael J. Madigan is chairman of the Illinois Democratic Party, meaning that the all that national and local political money flows through him. 

In his 70s, he apparently has no intention of stepping down. "Why should I retire?" he is said to have told a lobbyist friend years ago. "This is my life. My life!"
Whether he actually said it that way or another way, it's widely accepted as true, because power is Mike Madigan's life. Without it, he's just another guy with money. 

He is, simply, the boss, although he's so powerful and all-reaching that I often call him the Khan of Madiganistan, since Illinois has become a wasteland under his bony hands. He's made a fortune in a side law business reducing taxes for downtown real estate holders (he helps elect the Cook County assessor), and he's used political power to leverage himself a fortune at our expense. But give the man his due. His powers have nothing to do with sorcery. It's all about his brains, his will and meticulous attention to detail.
Yet when the national TV talking heads and Beltway pundits swoop into town and awkwardly gruff up their voices to talk Chicago politics (perhaps thinking they're being authentic), the one guy they don't talk to is Madigan. 

Madigan doesn't have gravel in his voice. His sentences are well-clipped. And he hardly talks publicly at all. Yet when they're telling their Chicago stories, national pundits will reference President Barack Obama, who never ran a Chicago ward, although voters put him in charge of a country. They might get a quote from his mouthpiece David Axelrod, and mention Hillary Clinton, or have a sit-down with Ari Emanuel's brother. But Mike Madigan? You'll never see him on "Meet the Press." 

"You won't see him on the talking head shows because he's not all that interested in the talking heads," said his longtime friend, Ald. Edward Burke, 14th, chairman of the city council's Committee on Finance and one of Chicago's foremost political historians. "He's not attracted to that."
"He's not one to put himself forward," said another close friend, Tom Donovan, who served for years as Richard J. Daley's chief of staff. "Mike isn't about thumping his chest in public or calling attention to himself. That never has been his way."
Madigan doesn't express his ego in metaphor. He expresses it in icy control. He controls the money. He draws the maps, meaning he picks the voters for his candidates. He listens. Then he acts.
"It's not magic, it's preparation," said Burke. "It is hard work. Making speeches is one thing. Building a political organization, understanding human nature, outworking your competition and being careful, that's something altogether different." 

Though I'm a critic, and see Madigan's iron hand and conflicts of interest as a detriment to Illinois — installing his daughter Lisa as Illinois attorney general is the stuff of a banana republic — only a fool wouldn't admire the man's work ethic. 

He's a meticulous artist in all things, from the way he draws maps and pores over field reports in every legislative district to his measured way of eating those sliced apples for lunch, lined up on napkins folded lengthwise at his desk, one by one by one. He outworks and he outthinks everyone. 

Those who believe Chicago politics is merely about brawlers or silky speechifiers like Obama don't understand a damn thing about the Chicago Way.
It's about Madigan's will, and preparation and attention to detail. 

As young men, Madigan, Burke, Donovan and former powerhouse Ed Vrdolyak learned at the elbow of the old boss, Daley the First, who also climbed up the political mountain by paying attention to detail.
"Mike learned at the mayor's elbow, and by the mayor I mean Richard J. Daley," said Donovan, a businessman who for nearly two decades was president and CEO of the Chicago Board of Trade. "We all learned. The mayor didn't teach by talking. He taught by doing. "And Mike didn't push to be recognized, but when he was asked a question, he was ready. He showed judgment. He understood not only his own legislative district but all the others, what another guy needed or wanted. And the mayor saw this judgment in him. Of course he was impressed." 

Madigan was a budding young Southwest Side Democratic ward committeeman in the late 1960s. Donovan was Daley's patronage chief (when patronage was legal) and Daley's chief of staff.
"I was at my desk at 6:00 and when Mike had something to talk about, he'd be there at 6:15," said Donovan. "That's the way he was, and that's the way he is today." 

Perhaps, said Burke, it was the stern work of those Irish Catholic nuns back in the day, the constant drilling, the repetition, all those lectures about being prepared.
"The nuns taught invaluable lessons," Burke said. "I think it stuck." 

They didn't come from fancy lace-curtain neighborhoods. Their fathers weren't rich men. They were tavern keepers, masons, political workers, blue-collar guys. But the nuns and their families hammered it home: 

"Be at work before the boss gets there. Keep your mouth shut, don't brag, keep your eyes open, try to think how the other fellow is thinking, understand him," said Donovan. "Prepare, prepare, prepare. Be discreet, but be ready." 

Is Rauner ready?
Boss Madigan will be the judge of that.