Golden (12 page)

While Blagojevich won his state representative race almost entirely because of Mell, Axelrod said the race for Congress had to be different. Blagojevich needed to raise money for television commercials.

Kaszak had received the backing of Emily's List, a national organization with lots of cash that sought to elect more Democratic women to Congress. Word also began trickling back to the Blagojevich campaign that Kaszak
was raising more money on her own, holing herself up in a basement with little more than a phone to make fund-raising calls all day.

Blagojevich had hired one of Daley's top fundraisers, Kathleen Murray, to organize his fund-raising. One of her top employees, Joe Cini, was the point person. Soon, Cini was providing lists of potential donors and Blagojevich was burning up the phone lines and the event circuit raising cash. All the talk of fund-raising struck Mell as odd. He didn't dispute the campaign had to be different this time around, but he felt spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on television commercials in a congressional race was a waste. Axelrod argued Kaszak wasn't to be taken lightly and the notion that field troops would take care of everything was highly unlikely.

“The higher you go up the ladder, the less that is true,” Axelrod recalled in an interview.

Blagojevich was left in the middle between Mell and Axelrod. But as he improved at fund-raising, he began to side more with Axelrod.

Some politicians hate fund-raising, apologizing as they embarrassedly ask for money. But Blagojevich quickly realized he was good at selling himself, always giving an upbeat, folksy, and strong pitch about how a contributor could help a struggling cause. And while Blagojevich might not have focused much on the details of his politics, he had a laser-like focus on his fund-raising.

As a major deadline approached for both campaigns to report how much money they had raised, Blagojevich was confident the hundreds of thousands he had raised would blow Kaszak away. But when she came in with her number, it wasn't far behind Blagojevich's.

“He was real freaked out,” a campaign staffer recalled. “It was shocking how much she raised, and that pushed Rod to really ratchet it up.”

Years later, numerous campaign aides and friends of Blagojevich pointed to this moment as a turning point in his career. Not only did Blagojevich realize he was good at fund-raising, but he also began to truly appreciate the power of the dollar in politics.

Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence that around this time, in the summer of 1995, Blagojevich first met Christopher G. Kelly.

It was a warm Wednesday evening, August 9, and Blagojevich was attending a fundraiser for Chicago alderman Charles Bernardini. The alderman represented the affluent Lincoln Park neighborhood on the lakefront. Bernardini wore his Italian heritage as a badge of honor, and the fundraiser was dubbed the Forty-Third Ward Polenta Dinner, featuring variations of the cornmeal dish from some of the city's best Italian kitchens.

As Blagojevich stepped out of the party at Moran's and into the cool air, he saw two men talking on the corner of Racine and Clybourn avenues. Blagojevich introduced himself. One man was smoking a cigar. He introduced himself as Ronald Rossi, a developer. The other was Kelly, who said he worked in the roofing industry.

Blagojevich explained who he was and that he was running for Congress next year. He'd love their support, he said. Kelly indicated he might be interested in helping out.

As the race progressed, several colleagues noticed the dynamic between Mell and Blagojevich begin to change. The disagreement over television commercials and fund-raising was one thing. But Blagojevich also was starting to feel his oats as his own politician and to show some resentment toward Mell, who never let Blagojevich forget where he came from and who got him into the business in the first place.

“He almost resented the fact that he needed Mell,” a campaign staffer said. “So he began to try to distance himself from him as much as he could.”

The two men would fight and eventually smooth things over. “We both have thick skin,” Blagojevich would confide. Blagojevich also knew he depended on Mell's help in the field. The lord of his ward, Mell's army of precinct workers continued to be impressive. They not only worked hard but they also were immensely loyal to Mell and, by default, Blagojevich. Among those who were helping Blagojevich's campaign was Dominic Longo, a longtime city worker who a decade earlier was convicted of federal vote fraud for stuffing ballot boxes in the Thirty-Third Ward.

Longo had bounced around city hall. He was a city truck driver and after the conviction helped oversee vehicle operations at O'Hare Airport. Throughout it all, he had stuck by Mell. When Ronan left Mell's organization, he took several precinct captains with him because he had the ability to get jobs. But Longo and others, including another top city precinct captain, Chuckie Lomanto, didn't bolt. While the men were Mell's friends, Blagojevich was now a member of the family, and they became his friend too. Longo and Lomanto and the others had been working city elections for years, and they were good at it. Blagojevich knew he needed their help to win.

“If Rod knew you could help him, he'd be nice to you,” the campaign staffer said.

With the primary looming at Mell's annual bingo game and fundraiser the following year, the mood was electric inside Gordon Tech as the seniors once again gathered inside the tile-walled room. Aldermen arrived. An old Mell friend, Aurelia Pucinski, was in attendance, as was Secretary of State Jesse White. Rod and Patti, who was four months pregnant at the time and just beginning to show, arrived and hugged Mell, who walked around wearing a fishing cap and loose-hanging jeans. After several speeches by other pols, Mell took the microphone.

“This is a great daughter and a great sonin-law,” he started. “Five years ago, they fell in love, and because of that, my wife and I are going to become grandparents.”

“He's done everything I've asked him in Springfield,” Mell continued before handing the microphone to Rod, who instantly began blasting Flanagan and talking about Medicare payments before wrapping up his speech, “One last thing—” he began to say before Mell snatched the microphone from Rod's grip.

“Get to the punch line,” Mell yelled to the crowd. “He's giving two hundred dollars to the next game!”

Snagging the microphone back, Rod yelled, “I'm not just a sonin-law. I'm giving three hundred dollars!”

March 19 was a nasty day in Chicago. Cold with a hard wind that was blowing trash through the streets, it was another typical early spring day in a city that rarely saw much of a transition between winter and summer. Voters hit the polls as soon as they opened, and so did Rod Blagojevich and Mell's crew of one thousand precinct captains and workers.

The closing weeks of the campaign had been a flurry between Blagojevich, Kaszak, and a third candidate, Ray Romero. Blagojevich embraced his underdog status, repeating, “It's us against the world” as he vowed to be a unifying force that would bring together the yuppies and working class of the Fifth District. Blagojevich undercut Kaszak's support among women by getting help from several female legislators, including Ronen and Erwin, who found Kaszak cold compared to Blagojevich's gregariousness.

By the time the polls closed, only a handful of people were inside the Thirty-Third Ward's new headquarters on Kedzie just north of Addison. While clusters of precinct workers were at a nearby tavern on the corner, Dick Mell, wearing reading glasses, wandered in and out of his back office area. The entire office was lit up, shining light onto the darkened street.

A few minutes after 7:00 P
M,
Blagojevich arrived, smiling. So was Mell. In Mell's office, Blagojevich took a moment to thank his father-in-law for all he had done.

“I don't know what else we could have done,” Blagojevich told Mell. “If we lose you get to go fishing, and if we win we have to do this all over again in November.”

Minutes later they both realized Mell wasn't going fishing anytime soon. Reports from his precinct workers were coming in from the liberal lakefront. Blagojevich, Mell, Axelrod, and his team had war-gamed that all Blagojevich had to do was win about 30 percent of the vote on the lakefront and he would win the whole race due to what they knew would be oversized support in the Bungalow Belt.

The first precinct came in from Lincoln Park. Blagojevich had lost by only three votes. He instantly felt vindicated. He'd done better with the yuppies and reformers than most in his campaign thought he'd do.

A jovial atmosphere quickly spread throughout the headquarters. Patti arrived, followed by Blagojevich's brother, Robert, and his family. Jammed inside the cramped ward headquarters with dozens of precinct workers, the Mells and Blagojevichs began to celebrate Rod's apparent victory. Cars were double-parked outside on the street, and the windows began to steam up. Vehicles driving by honked their horns. By nine o'clock, almost everybody headed over to Mell's house to watch the returns even though Mell stayed back, continuing to crunch numbers and take calls.

Though many finally began to feel confident about a Blagojevich victory, television reports still declared he was trailing. Those Bungalow Belt votes hadn't come in yet to turn the tide. At Mell's house, Blagojevich got on the phone with his mother, who was following the results on TV. She was in tears.

“TV has you losing,” she told him.

“No, Mama, don't worry about it. We've got the numbers, we're going to win,” Blagojevich said.

Incredulous, Mrs. Blagojevich asked her son, “Have you talked to Alderman Mell's precinct captains? Ask them, they'll tell you, you lost.”

Blagojevich finally reassured his mother he had spoken to them and he was confident of his victory.

After Blagojevich took a shower, the remaining votes came in as expected. Calls were pouring in for him to make his way to the victory party, being held at an antique mall on Western Avenue. When Blagojevich arrived, Mell still wasn't there. Sitting in the car, Patti spoke to Axelrod, who told them to stay outside until Mell got there. Eventually, they called the campaign headquarters and discovered Mell was still there.

“You guys go without me,” Mell told them. “I'll get there. Don't worry.”

During his speech, Blagojevich used no script. He publicly thanked Longo, an acknowledgment that would come to follow him for years because of Longo's criminal and questionable past.

When Kaszak called to congratulate him on his win, Blagojevich began the conversation with, “Boy, you really know how to raise money.”

The day after the win President Clinton called to congratulate Blagojevich. As he was talking to the president, Blagojevich watched while Mell took down campaign signs.

“You and I, Mr. President, share a common fondness for Elvis, and this is a district that Elvis would do very well in,” Blagojevich told him, not mentioning that four years earlier he had voted for Clinton's Republican opponent, President George H. W. Bush. “Working-class, middle-income kind of district. We really want to help you.”