As I stood on the Australian shore last month, I pondered the majesty of the Pacific, but when I looked down, I couldn't help but think of Rod Blagojevich.
There at Rex Lookout in the Australian state of Queensland stood a plaque that once identified the politician who made the scenic overlook possible.
But an acetylene torch had been used to melt away the name of that elected official. After 35 years of covering politics, I didn't need a tour guide's explanation to figure out what had happened.
Nonetheless, our guide informed us that the fellow whose name was obliterated was an Aussie pol who was mired in scandal in the 1980s. His name was Martin Tenni. He didn't go to prison, but a number of his buddies did. Despite this, someone in power removed his name.
This is a lousy practice.
Take a walk on the Illinois Capitol's second floor and you'll see 42 portraits of the state's chief executives. All but one of the state's past governors stares out onto the marble hallway. Three of the men represented there went to prison: George Ryan, Dan Walker and Otto Kerner.
Others, such as William Stratton and Len Small, were indicted but never convicted. And more than likely there are others who should have gone to prison but were never caught.
And then there is Rod Blagojevich. He served eight years in prison on corruption charges and is the only Illinois governor to be removed from office. His portrait is the one missing from the Statehouse.
Why? Shortly after removing him from office, Illinois lawmakers passed a measure prohibiting the state from spending money to create a portrait for Blago. So, portraits in the hall of governors skip from No. 39 to No. 41.
It's as if Blagojevich never led the state for six years. His absence ignores that Illinois voters twice selected him as their leader. He did some bad things while he was governor, but he also did some good things. No one is all good or all bad.
For the record, I wasn't a fan of Blagojevich while he was in office. This column frequently criticized him. I never voted for him.
But denying him a place in the hall of governors is petty. Little is accomplished by scraping his name off of the state's collective memory.
Please note there is a difference between honoring someone and acknowledging their role in history.
I talked to Blagojevich about this recently. He said he has had several potential donors approach him about paying for the creation of a portrait. But he said he is holding off.
"The question is going to be what color my hair will be," he said of his helmet-like mane that turned snow white during his period of incarceration. Hair dye is not allowed in federal lockups.
"Well, I don't want the white hair. It was never black, by the way. It was sable brown, No. 47D, he said of his hair dye. "I'm not pushing for it. It's not a priority. It is true people have come up to me and offered to actually pay for it. And there will be a time when I think my portrait will be up there. I do believe there will be a time where I'll be vindicated. I do believe there will be a time where the truth will be exposed on what was happening. And I think these things are happening now."
Blagojevich's archnemesis, Mike Madigan, now faces corruption charges of his own. Madigan, who led the Illinois House longer than any leader of any state legislative chamber in the history of the United States, also does not have a portrait hanging in the Statehouse.
Even Paul Powell has a painting hanging in the building. Powell, who was secretary of state 1965-1970 and served twice as House speaker, became known for corruption after $750,000 in cash was discovered in his hotel suite residence at the time of his death, and another $50,000 in his office. Whether he is convicted or not, Madigan should be recognized as well. It's about history, not canonization.
In the wake of the Commonwealth Edison scandal, lawmakers are scared voteless on the matter.
Over the years, I've taken family members and friends on tours of the state Capitol. When I walk by the paintings of governors, I point out the ones that went to prison – and the others who probably should have.
I remember taking my then-19-year-old niece up into the balcony of the House and pointing out Powell's portrait. I told of how his closet was full of ill-gotten loot and how he died of a heart attack in a Minnesota hotel room he was sharing with a woman who was not his wife.
As we walked away, I reached out and gave the frame a nudge. Some politicians just deserve to be remembered crooked.
Scott Reeder, a staff writer for Illinois Times, can be reached at [email protected].
