February 8, 2017
"GRABBING SOME BENCH" IRKS STATEWIDE ILLINOIS OFFICEHOLDERS

ANALYSIS & OPINION BY RUSS STEWART

by RUSS STEWART

Here's a multiple-choice question: The best route to the Illinois governorship is: (a) To be a billionaire or multi-millionaire white businessman with super rich pals and the capacity to raise and spend $100 million-plus? (b) To be named Madigan? (c) To be the Illinois secretary of state? (d) To be the state's lieutenant governor, attorney general, treasurer or comptroller? (e) To be Dick Mell's daughter?

Of course, that begs the question, why would anyone want such a futile and unsatisfying job? Compared to being mayor of Chicago, being governor is absolute bliss. If your answer was (a), you are an astute observer of state politics.

Ever hear the sports phrase "grab some bench"? It means you're off the mound, on the sidelines, in the dugout, out of the game. In politics, and especially in Illinois politics, it once meant being the lieutenant governor, attorney general, treasurer or comptroller -- offices which provided the occupant with visibility, credibility and the ability to build a statewide network.

Not any more. Once the occupant of those offices grab some bench, they usually stay on it in perpetuity. Their "elevation quotient" to senator or governor is somewhere between dim and dismal. Big bucks, in the post-2014 era, are more important than bench time.

Since 1920, a plethora of ambitious politicians have run for down-ballot offices, harboring the illusion that if they get on the statewide "bench," greater power and glory awaits. Nothing could be further from the truth. Attorney general is a horrifically poor steppingstone. The five predecessors of current incumbent Lisa Madigan, who was first elected in 2010, -- Bill Clark, Bill Scott, Neil Hartigan, Roland Burris and Jim Ryan -- lost 10 primary or election contests for governor or senator and won none. Comptroller is even worse. The five immediate predecessors to the late Judy Baar Topinka, who was elected in 2010, lost eight primary or election contests for governor or senator and won none.

Then there's lieutenant governor, which is a great job to have if and when the governor gets appointed to a federal judgeship and then indicted or gets impeached. Good opportunities like that happen in Illinois, as in 1968 and 2009, when Otto Kerner and Rod Blagojevich embarked on their journeys to jail. Of the state's 13 elected lieutenant governors since 1936, five lost bids for governor, two lost for senator and one lost for comptroller. That's right. The office is not even a steppingstone to a down-ballot job. George Ryan and Hartigan got it right. They pioneered the "bump-up quotient," with Hartigan moving to attorney general in 1982 and Ryan moving to secretary of state in 1990.

In fact, so inconsequential is the post that two occupants, Bob Kustra in 1997 and Dave O'Neal in 1981, promptly quit after losing bids for senator. Corrine Wood, the state's first female lieutenant governor, did such a bang-up job that she got 26.9 percent of the vote in the 2002 Republican primary for governor, finishing third. Of course, being associated with Ryan, who was under investigation for pay-to-play practices while he was the secretary of state, didn't help.

Can you name Illinois' current lieutenant governor? It's Evelyn Sanguinetti, and she's bolted onto the bench, wreathed in obscurity.

Treasurer is another political graveyard. There have been 32 elections for the office since 1917 and 32 elected occupants (four non-consecutively). Prior to 1958, the term was 2 years, with a one-term limit until 1974. In the good old days, the treasurer could deposit state funds in the bank of his choice and pocket the interest The 1848 Constitution thought it wise to limit the thievery to just 2 years.

Incumbent Mike Frerichs, a Democrat, is angling to run for governor in 2018. The fate of his predecessors should give him pause. Of the 14 who tried to elevate themselves, five lost for governor, two lost for senator, and two lost for secretary of state. However, two two-termers did win for governor, Len Small in 1920 and Bill Stratton 1952; two won for senator, Adlai Stevenson III in 1970 and Alan Dixon in 1980 (after becoming secretary of state); one won for lieutenant governor, John Stelle (who lost for governor in 1940) in 1936; one won for attorney general, Bill Scott (who lost for governor in 1964 and senator in 1980) in 1968; and one won for comptroller, Judy Baar Topinka in 2010 and 2014 (after losing for governor in 2006).

The best launching pad used to be Jesse White's office. The popular White is retiring in 2018, after a record 20 years as secretary of state. White, who is black, never professed any interest in another office, and after 16 years as a state representative and six as the Cook County recorder of deeds, viewed the post as the capstone of his career. With his name plastered on all vehicle and corporate documents, an incumbent is unbeatable. Of his five immediate predecessors, four ran for governor and two won, Jim Edgar in 1990, defeating Hartigan, and Ryan in 1998. One lost, Mike Howlett in 1976, and one, Charlie Carpentier, died while running in 1964. Another, Louis Emmerson, won back in 1928.

White's longtime reign, however, has been transformative in several ways.

First, black Democrats now view the office as "their" office, to be occupied by a black forevermore. Chicago Alderman Walter Burnett (27th), White's protege, and Recorder of Deeds Karen Yarbrough of Maywood, Madigan's protege, and state senator Toi Hutchinson of Olympia Fields want the job in 2018; all are black. One will be slated, and it will be Madigan's job to clear the field. If two black candidates run, a white Downstater will win the primary.

A slew of Downstaters want to run, viewing the post as a steppingstone to governor, not a golden parachute. They include legislators Larry Walsh Jr., David Koehler, Andy Manar and Jerry Costello Jr., Frerichs, U.S. Representative Cheri Bustos and McHenry County Board Chairman Jack Franks. Costello, from the East Saint Louis suburbs and the son of a retired congressman, would be the most formidable and most likely to resist Madigan's pressure.

Second, George Ryan's ordeal forever destroyed pay-to-play. In the past it was the "custom" for the office's employees, which numbered around 2,000 in the 1990s, most of them low-paid counter clerks, to buy tickets to their boss's fund-raisers, to the tune of about $1,000 annually. Some of them recouped their losses by taking "tips" from customers. That sent Ryan to prison.
Third, the office has no fund-raising base. There is nothing it can do to get big corporate donations. White has $424,268 in campaign cash on hand, and Frerichs has $208,891. In the post-2014 era, someone like Bruce Rauner will self-fund up to $75 million to be governor but not a dime to be secretary of state.

Here's the 2018 outlook:

Governor-Lieutenant Governor. It takes 100 years to get it right. Up through the 1960s, those two offices were elected separately, with one party in both. In 1968, Republican Dick Ogilvie beat Sam Shapiro, who succeeded Otto Kerner as governor, but Democrat Paul Simon, an obscure Downstate state senator from Carbondale, won the number two spot. That meant that every time Ogilvie was out of state, Simon was in charge. The 1969 Constitutional Convention made the candidates a two-for-one team, with one vote for both. In 2010 millionaire businessman and pawn shop owner Scott Lee Cohen stunned the Democratic Establishment by winning the Democratic nomination for lieutenant governor with 26 percent of the vote over five foes, including two black state senators and two white legislators.

Mike Madigan then got energized, pressured Cohen out of the race, replaced him with Paul Simon's daughter Sheila, and changed the law so that every candidate in the primary for governor is bracketed with their running mate. In 2014 it was Pat Quinn-Paul Vallas and a bunch of nobodies for the Republicans. The Rauner-Sanguinetti team won with 40 percent of the vote, with losers Kirk Dillard, Bill Brady and Treasurer Dan Rutherford teaming with obscure women.

The "no-more-Scott-Lee-Cohens" law has dumbed down the office, diminished its stature, and paved the way for crass tokenism. Obscurities are chosen because of their race, gender or geography. No ambitious politician is going to give up his or her day job, be a copilot, tie their career to the governor candidate, and fervently hope that no health or ethical issues scuttle their future before the election. After the election is another story.

The big field of Democratic gubernatorial candidates are going to have to find some credible nobodies.

Attorney General. Lisa Madigan is thought a powerhouse because she won statewide elections in 2002, 2006, 2010 and 2014 by overwhelming margins and because she has $2,260,366 in her campaign account, but that's peanuts compared to what Rauner, with $50,835,485 on hand, who just gave himself $50 million, and Democrats J.B. Pritzker and Chris Kennedy can assemble. As long as her father is the speaker of the Illinois House, Lisa Madigan is going nowhere. She is on the verge of becoming stale and passe. Her best opportunity looms in 2020, when Senator Dick Durbin may retire.

Treasurer: On a scale of one to 10, Frerichs name identification is somewhere around 1.5. He won by 9,225 votes in 2014, and he has not distinguished himself. He would be smart to stay put.

Comptroller: The job has an advantage. When the occupant whines, bitches, forecasts doom and gloom, and does the the-sky-is-falling routine, it gets noticed. Susana Mendoza, who won the job in 2016, is a work in progress.

Send e-mail to russ@russstewart. com or visit his Web site at www. russstewart.com.