If
nothing else, the unfolding of a recent sexual harassment accusation against
Rep. Lou Lang, D-Skokie, has been melodramatic.
Two
days before last Thursday’s press conference, Denise Rotheimer (whose accusations against
state Sen. Ira Silverstein, D-Pig Sty, proved politically toxic) teased the
announcement, telling reporters that a top lawmaker soon would be accused. The
morning of the big event, Maryann Loncar, identified only as M, was on
Dan Proft’s conservative talk radio program, saying that she would name names
that afternoon.
Hours
later, Loncar appeared before reporters and said stuff that was, charitably
put, hard to believe. Lang, for example, had been offered a $170 million bribe.
Who would dangle $170 million in front of a legislator? Illinois lawmakers
don’t cost nearly that much. She also accused Lang of retaliating against her
by killing a marijuana bill she’d favored. In both instances, folks in
positions to know said it didn’t happen.
Loncar
also accused Lang of putting his hands on her, telling her that her husband was
a lucky man, calling her on Sundays and after banker’s hours, sometimes in fits
of obscenity-laced anger. She says that he once called her ex-husband and said
that he’d help bury her (an allegation the ex-husband denies). It was, she
said, so bad that she feared for her life.
Loncar
presented herself as an advocate for the people, working tirelessly on
marijuana legislation without getting paid because she wanted to make the
Prairie State a better place. She came pro bono to the weasel ranch at Second
and Capitol so that the weasels would listen to their better angels. Sure. Then
again, Loncar was once part of a partnership that sought state licenses to grow
and sell medical pot.
Without
giving specifics, Loncar told the assembled press corps that she had kept the
media informed of the bad things that were happening. Blogger Rich Miller,
whose syndicated column appears in Illinois
Times, says that Loncar complained to him three years ago that she was
being bullied. Miller writes that Lang once vowed not to support a marijuana
legalization bill if Loncar was involved. Sen. Toi Hutchinson, D-Olympia Fields,
told the Chicago Tribune that Lang
used the word “crazy” in reference to Loncar and urged that she be excluded
from talks on a marijuana bill, and that’s not hard to imagine, given Loncar’s
press conference. Anyone who would accuse a legislator of being offered a
nine-figure bribe with zero proof isn’t necessarily the world’s most astute
person.
Which
is why I believe Loncar.
Pigs
disguised as men don’t prefer sharp women who have means, allies and an ability
to keep stories straight. Like lions eyeing wildebeests, they go after the weak
ones in the herd, the easy-pickings stragglers who aren’t missed when they get
devoured. And so it doesn’t matter whether Loncar is a nutball, or that her
far-fetched tales were almost immediately discounted by credible folks who were
in positions to know the truth.
What
matters are accusations of harassment by a woman who may well have convinced
herself of stuff that may or may not be true but nonetheless knows a predator
when he presents himself. What matters was Loncar’s demeanor at the press
conference, where she came across as an emotional, confused person completely
over her head in the stew that is Illinois politics.
As
much as anything, what gives Loncar credibility is Lang’s resignation from
leadership positions. He says that he walked the plank himself, but it’s a safe
bet that House Speaker Michael Madigan was on the deck pointing a blunderbuss.
There are at least two truisms about Madigan. One, he relishes power; two, he
is intense when it comes to matters of loyalty.
Lang
has been loyal for as long as he’s been a legislator. It is hard to imagine
that Madigan, tarred as he’s been by the #MeToo movement, would cut Lang loose
if he didn’t believe that there might be some truth to what Loncar says, that
there might even be someone else out there who might say “Me, too.” Madigan
ignored sexual harassment in his political organization until former campaign
worker Alaina Hampton finally went to the media late last year with verifiable
claims of harassment by an aide to the speaker who went back-and-forth between
the public payroll and the party’s dime in the time-honored tradition of
political operatives getting paychecks from taxpayers until campaign season
arrives.
Madigan
doesn’t need another Hampton, who has filed a lawsuit against the Democratic
Party that promises to make what’s already stinky smell all the more. He also
doesn’t need a caucus wondering whether their leader has their backs. And so it
isn’t hard to imagine the speaker and Lang, in whatever tete-a-tete took place
prior to Thursday’s press conference, having a heart-to-heart, with the speaker
surmising that Lang isn’t clean here. Who knows? Would it be a surprise if
Madigan asked for the truth straight up, and Lang, loyal as he’s been for as
long as he’s been, told the truth?
We
may never know the truth. What we’re left with is appearances. And this doesn’t
look good.
Contact Bruce Rushton at brushton@illinoistimes.com.
This article appears in May 31 – Jun 6, 2018.
