Hey, it’s almost summer, and the Chicago Cubs are in first place in their division.
(The less said about the sorry White Sox, the better.)
So in the spirit of the season, why not hold a corruption double-header at the federal courthouse in Chicago? After all, cynics often say that watching Chicago’s and Illinois’ rancid politics and politicians is one of our favorite sports — rain or shine.
So play ball!
Leading off will be former longtime Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan. Few pols were ever faster on their feet than Madigan, who controlled state politics for decades.
Despite being fleet of foot, the 83-year-old Madigan finally was cut down on a steal attempt by rifle-armed federal prosecutors.
Nicknamed the “Velvet Hammer” for his quiet and effective way of whacking opponents, he faces a June 13 sentencing hearing before U.S. Judge John Blakey for his February conviction on corruption charges.
Filling out the rest of the lineup will be the “ComEd Four.” They’re a group of heavy hitters who represented an all-star team of power players in Chicago and Springfield before their fortunes turned south.
Convicted in May 2023, former Commonwealth Edison CEO Anne Pramaggiore and utility lobbyists Jay Doherty, Michael McClain and John Hooker were implicated in a conspiracy to bribe Madigan in exchange for his support of company-favored legislation.
Their sentencings are scheduled to begin on July 14.
Madigan’s rendezvous with destiny represents an event once deemed unthinkable by Illinois’ political cognoscenti. Few ever thought Madigan would end up on the wrong end of the law. He was considered too smart and too careful. Few argued that he was too honest.
Madigan operated through cut-outs, kept a low profile and made a point of never using a cellphone or email that could be used to turn his words against him. It was no accident when an FBI agent testifying at Madigan’s trial compared his evasive style as akin to that of an organized crime boss.
Others were not as circumspect, and their recorded words came back to haunt them.
Ultimately, too many people knew too much about ComEd’s efforts to curry favor with the all-powerful House speaker. When squeezed by the feds, some were eager to testify for the government.
The yearslong conspiracy was sophisticated, even somewhat ingenious. Finding patronage jobs on public payrolls harder to come by as times changed, Madigan turned to private sector entities that needed state help.
ComEd provided the positions in the hope that Madiagan would embrace their issues — including a rate hike.
It was not a traditional quid pro quo — you do this and I’ll do that. But ComEd’s stream of benefits lavished on Madigan persuaded jurors there was trickery afoot.
The money ComEd spent to influence Madigan was chump change — more than $1 million — compared to utility revenues generated by a controversial rate hike. So it was easy to see why the company was so willing and worked so hard to turn Madigan from foe into friend.
Madigan & Co. argued the phony jobs, among other favors, represented legal politics as usual, not a criminal conspiracy.
Thanks to a recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling in the case of an Indiana mayor convicted of bribery, that’s still a live legal question.
Indeed, it might explain why the defendants, particularly Madigan, are granted an appeal bond that would allow them to stay out of prison while their convictions are appealed.
Nonetheless, the June/July doubleheader represents big doings. The mighty are on the verge of hitting rock bottom.
