"Any sensitive judge realizes that a lengthy prison term effectively robs the convicted person of what we all value most: months and years with loved ones, some of whom will no longer be there when the sentence has been served. Mr. Ryan, like other convicted persons, undoubtedly wishes it were otherwise. His conduct has exacted a stiff penalty not only for himself but also for his family."
—U.S. District Judge Rebecca Pallmeyer,
Dec. 21, 2010
George Ryan and the clubby Illinois political establishment always seemed to find an escape route. From the moment of the former governor's indictment in 2003, his cronies waited for his legendary clout to reward him with full acquittal at trial. Or, when he was convicted of racketeering and other crimes, a wrist-slap sentence. Or, when he went away to the gray-bar hotel, presidential clemency from his old pal George W. Bush, or his fellow Illinoisan Barack Obama. Or why not an outright pardon? Or at least an early release on grounds of compassion. Hopes for that soared when Judge Pallmeyer signaled she would rule — four days before Christmas — on Ryan's wish to go home to his terminally ill wife, Lura Lynn.
But in 2010 judges — like this state's citizens — are taking cases like Ryan's more seriously than at many times in the past. The convictions of four of the last eight governors on felony charges has focused public attention, laserlike, on what Pallmeyer's opinion called "Illinois' distressing history of public corruption." Her decision was respectful of the 76-year-old Ryan and "the sad news" about his wife: "The Ryans' advanced years and their obvious devotion to one another were significant to the court at sentencing, and remain so, and the court recognizes that Mr. Ryan poses no risk of recidivism nor danger, were he to be released."
Ryan will not, though, be released. Pallmeyer ruled that if you do these crimes, you do the time — in this case, a 61/2-year sentence that isn't half over.
No one takes pleasure from the Ryans' agonizing situation. We do, though, hope other pols who still perpetuate the Illinois culture of political sleaze see Ryan's case as a sorry lesson in how they, too, can destroy themselves, their families — even the lavish public pensions they've engineered for themselves: As the Illinois Supreme Court said Feb. 19 in exterminating Ryan's claim to $197,000 a year, "Ryan gets nothing. … As the victims of Ryan's crimes, the taxpayers of the state of Illinois are under no obligation to now fund his retirement."
The victims of Ryan's crimes.
That's you, and the other 12.8 million people of this chronically abused state.
This slog to end our decades-festering culture of political sleaze will be long and demanding. This liberation struggle moves at its own pace, neither conforming to calendar years nor giving anyone a sense of total victory.
The point each year is to make progress — and 2010 has seen plenty of that. Next year arrives with its own list of imperatives.
With the rejection of George's Ryan's petition for freedom framing the end of 2010 in the realm of corruption and clout, here's where other battles stand in what this page long has called "The State of Corruption":
• Come 2011, some among you will be asked to serve as jurors at the retrial of another ex-governor, Rod Blagojevich. His first trial, in 2010, marked him as a convicted felon. His second trial, to consider counts on which jurors deadlocked, will tell us whether the judge who sentences him will be concentrating on one crime, or on more. May the courts find whatever is just.
• In Cook County, which has a population larger than those of 29 states, voters — bless them — ousted County Board President Todd Stroger. That has put an end to Stroger's notorious Friends and Family Hiring Extravaganza. A court-appointed federal monitor bid Stroger farewell with a tough report on his lameduckery: She detailed how his henchmen were using the county payroll to reward people who had backed his failed re-election campaign, and to punish those who had not. Among the illicit acts: slashing job qualifications for patronage mopes, and feeding test answers to applicants with political sponsors.
We strongly endorsed Stroger's successor, former Chicago Ald. Toni Preckwinkle, and view her early paeans to ethical conduct as welcome disruptions of this corruption-plagued government. Preckwinkle still is stuck with the carcasses of many Stroger cronies on her payroll, but she has begun to clean house. Among the Stroger-era criminal probes now to be resolved: charges that, within 10 days of her arrival from Stroger's failed campaign as his deputy chief of staff, Carla Oglesby was steering $300,000 in taxpayer-funded contracts to herself and others who did no work for the money.
And don't forget that $79,000 party at Brookfield Zoo, paid for by Team Stroger with federal funds meant to … restore the homes of flood victims. The list goes on.
• The University of Illinois has cleaned up its act since the Tribune's disclosure of a secret admissions track. The rigged system benefited applicants with powerful friends and victimized would-be students whose parents didn't make fat campaign contributions. A new university president, chancellor and a reconstituted board of trustees evidently has returned integrity to admissions. In 2011, we'll keep pushing to end so-called legislative scholarships — tuition waivers at state universities. Lawmakers have abused this indefensible perk to give free educations to their friends, staffers, donors, relatives, even their own kids. Lawmakers don't, though, appropriate funding for these freebies. So who pays? Every student who does pay tuition to a state school. Outrageous.
• That's only one of several needed reforms on which Illinoisans have to squeeze their legislators. Incumbents dedicated primarily to preserving their incumbency have refused to alter a redistricting plan that lets them choose their constituents, rather than the other way around. They've already begun to undo the 2009 strengthening of the state Freedom of Information Act. And they've enacted a campaign finance law that limits campaign contributions from everyone except legislative leaders. That lets the leaders funnel huge sums to the most obedient members in their caucuses.
• Lawmakers will need to be reminded that malfeasance at the Metra commuter rail system didn't die with Phil Pagano. The executive director made off with nearly a half million dollars in improper vacation pay and other compensation and, when he got caught, committed suicide by stepping in front of one of his trains. Metra's directors, clueless for decades, somehow thought the public would be reassured after they hired themselves an internal auditor. A measure that would put all of the region's transit agencies under the eye of the Illinois auditor general has passed the Senate. The House must finish that job.
• An emboldened inspector general's office has, in recent years, parlayed pervasive corruption at Chicago's City Hall into a succession of criminal prosecutions. Even in its early throes, the contest to replace departing Mayor Richard M. Daley is drawing plans for ethics reforms from several leading candidates. This perceived commitment to scouring City Hall is, for now, a work in progress. But as the campaign picks up steam, we'll help voters separate the serious proposals from the eyewash.
Barring the unexpected, 2011 will bring the 10th anniversary of Patrick Fitzgerald's arrival as the corruption-busting U.S. attorney in Chicago. Fitzgerald has made this a better state. So have citizens who now pressure their officials to reform Illinois' scandal-plagued governance.
When Judge Pallmeyer wrote of "Illinois' distressing history of public corruption," she was giving the rest of us reason to hope. History is ours — what we demand, how we lead our lives. We can change history. Let's.
