State legislators are rebelling across the country.
You’ve heard about the Texas Democrats who fled to Oklahoma in order to kill a Republican redistricting bill? Here are some other stories:
In Arizona, the Republican Senate rejected the Democratic governor’s budget, then put together its own plan. But the Republicans can’t pass it because one of the party’s members sided with the governor before leaving on a 30-day Australian honeymoon. Even if she ends up voting for the budget, the governor has vowed to veto it.
In New York, the legislature rejected Governor George Pataki’s budget, passed its own spending plan, then overrode all of Pataki’s 119 vetoes.
Maryland’s new governor vetoed a corporate tax hike after the legislature killed his property tax increase. At last check, the two sides remain bitterly deadlocked.
Missouri’s governor has vetoed most of the budget and is demanding legislators return for a special session. Legislative leaders gripe that the governor is wasting his time.
Nebraska’s governor is expected to veto just about everything in that state’s budget, but defiant legislators have rounded up enough votes to override him.
In Illinois, the General Assembly came close to joining these national rebellions. Governor Rod Blagojevich has repeatedly slammed the legislature for its corrupt, hidebound ways, while patting himself on the back for fighting to change the “insider” culture.
To legislators, the governor’s ceaseless attacks are cheap shots transparently designed to increase his own poll numbers at their expense. After all, the governor hasn’t done much to change the system. His own inner circle is packed with lobbyists, pollsters, and fund-raisers. He cut that notorious backroom deal in support of a corporate welfare bill for SBC, while publicly insisting he was neutral.
But there he was on TV, triumphantly claiming to all who’d listen that he was a force for change. He’d brag about how he loves to get out among the people, though the only people he ever sees are Chicago reporters.
The straw that finally broke the camel’s back came last week, when the governor announced he would veto any gambling expansion bill. For months, the governor’s top advisor, politically connected roofing contractor Chris Kelly, has been working behind the scenes to help put together a gaming bill.
The governor seemed to encourage gaming expansion, allowing others to assume he proposed a 70 percent tax on some riverboats to maneuver the legislature into coming up with its own plan. But things got out of hand. Legislators began crafting proposals to add three new casinos, put more gambling positions at every riverboat, allow racetracks to install slot machines, and even put video poker machines in taverns.
The combined bills would have generated $2.5 billion, and legislators furiously devised ways to spend the new cash. A fever gripped the statehouse, and everyone from human service organizations to road construction unions started believing that the considerable pain in the governor’s original budget would be eliminated.
But then Blagojevich abruptly nixed everything during a speech in Chicago, calling the General Assembly “irresponsible” for proposing to use gaming revenues to balance the budget. Legislators were stunned. How could he allow the process to move this far and then cut everything off without a moment’s notice?
Revolt was in the air. Most legislators are convinced that the governor’s budget relies on revenues that can’t possibly work and were proposed for politically symbolic value. So they threatened to let him have his way and then make him take all the blame when it eventually crashes. Others vowed to pass a gambling bill without his approval. A few have threatened to retaliate by killing Mayor Daley’s O’Hare Airport expansion bill.
Cooler heads are prevailing. House Speaker Michael Madigan and Senate President Emil Jones quickly put together a spending package and started working with Blagojevich on ways to pay for it. Reports that the Senate Democrats were subpoenaed by federal prosecutors underscored Blago’s arguments and injected a bit of humility into the proceedings.
Blagojevich’s few remaining friends in the legislature claim they’ve convinced him to lay off the insults for a while and spend more time in Springfield.
Who would have thought that Illinois could buck a national trend?
This article appears in May 29 – Jun 4, 2003.
