By John Kass
As the federal criminal racketeering conspiracy indictment of Michael J. Madigan came down, I was thinking of the audience of the apples.
Years ago, one of his toadies hanging around the press room in Springfield suggested it would be “a good idea” for me to have lunch with Boss Madigan, who for decades controlled the state as Speaker of the Illinois House and chairman of the Illinois Democratic Party, the Democratic boss of the 13th Ward.
So I went to lunch in Boss Madigan’s office. There were two apples sliced neatly, arranged precisely on two linen napkins. He graciously offered me a napkin, but I quickly realized I wasn’t there to eat, but to witness. He spoke methodically about some house procedure, about the Southwest Side of Chicago where each of us were born. There were pleasantries about the White Sox. It was all very polite.
But it was an audience, not a lunch. It was a theatrical demonstration of control. Of discipline. He kept this mouth closed as he chewed, and in that quiet office, his eyes widening, I could hear the disciplined crunching. One slice, then another. Silence and crunching.
And I thought of Illinois Gov. Pritzker, the state’s porcelain prince, scrambling to distance himself from Madigan now that Pritzker is the Democratic boss. He bought the state party with his inherited hotel billions.
After the indictment, Pritzker made sure to make himself available to reporters, braying loudly about how much ethics mean to him, as if he was as pure as Caesar’s wife. And he didn’t mention his toilet caper once.
Yes, you’re allowed to smirk.
Say what you will about Madigan. I’ve been his lead critic for decades, waiting for this day to come for the people of Madiganistsan. But anyone who thinks they’ll be made whole if Madigan is sent to prison is a fool.
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