Governor has friends who also have friends
John Kass
December 16, 2008
In the Continuing Saga of Gov. Dead Meat, there's a new connection among friends along the Chicago Way.
And one such fellow who will be involved in the governor's impeachment to come is the soon-to-be Illinois Senate president, John Cullerton (D-DeLeo).
"I'm really outraged and ticked off because of the embarrassment that is unfairly being brought upon our state," Cullerton was quoted as saying of the scandal involving Gov. Rod Blagojevich and his alleged plan to sell President-elect Barack Obama's Senate seat to the highest bidder.
It's nice to hear Cullerton's righteous views. But I'd like to know the feelings of Cullerton's buddy, the shadow governor of Illinois, a guy extremely close to Blagojevich who had time to install Cullerton in the Senate presidency but never got credit:
State Sen. James DeLeo (D-How You Doin?).
Sadly, Jimmy won't comment about anything these days, according to his lawyer, Lisa Damico. He's peeved about a line in the column last week, about Jimmy stopping suddenly, and the governor chipping his teeth on the back of Jimmy's head.
Recently, Blagojevich has been meeting with high-profile defense attorney Edward Genson, the lawyer of choice for Chicago mob figures and politicians.
And I'd like to think of the governor's brain as a wet sponge dripping with information. After a couple of hours in Genson's office, the governor's brain would be as dry as his fluffy coif. In criminal defense circles, as in political circles, information is power.
Yet in all the stories about the governor's lawyer, there's one thing missing from the news reports.
Lincoln Park Title Co.
Lincoln Park Title, located in Chicago's Loop, is not your average, boring title company. It has a star-studded list of officers and directors. According to reports filed with the Illinois secretary of state's office, the president of Lincoln Park Title is Jimmy DeLeo.
As if he didn't have enough to do, Jimmy is also the treasurer and assistant secretary. And the vice president is Pamela J. Cullerton, who is married to John Cullerton. She's also the secretary. The board of directors includes DeLeo and John and Pam Cullerton and another guy who knows Eddie Genson extremely well:
Morton Genson. Eddie's son.
There's nothing improper about connected politicians and the son of the governor's lawyer investing in a title company. It's not a conflict of interest, either, since Eddie Genson is the one representing the governor, not Morton.
DeLeo is desperate to know about every demon bouncing around inside Dead Meat's head these days. But how would he find out? He's no lawyer. Eddie Genson's the lawyer.
Still, I'd sure love to hang out at the Lincoln Park Title water cooler, after the governor has left Ed Genson's office, and listen to the gossip about all the fascinating stuff in the world, whatever that might be. I'm guessing, but I don't think they're into "Dancing With the Stars."
What bothers me about Lincoln Park Title, and the Jimmy DeLeo-John Cullerton-Eddie (Morton) Genson connection is this: Why didn't they brag about it, and hold a news conference outside Ed Genson's office, with Blagojevich inside, the sponge of his brain drizzling out onto Eddie's yellow legal pad.
Outside, state Sens. DeLeo and Cullerton and his wife and Morton Genson could have stood flanked by American flags, assuring Illinois that our governor is in capable hands.
At such a news conference that would never be held, I'd ask them if they had any idea how Blagojevich—who is financially busted—could afford a multimillion-dollar defense.
Interestingly, the Loop office of Lisa Damico, DeLeo's lawyer, has the same address on West Jackson Boulevard as does Eddie Genson's office. Damico is only one floor above Genson.
So I called Morton Genson.
"Give me your number and I'll call you right back," he said. "I'm in the middle of a closing."
Guess what? He didn't call.
Eddie Genson and Jimmy DeLeo go way back. In 1989, when Jimmy was on trial for allegedly taking bribes in traffic court—a case he beat—Genson told the federal jury how Jimmy, a lowly court bailiff making $20,000 a year, could afford a string of Corvettes, Cadillacs, Jaguars and Mercedes, plus a giant Rolex and a fabulous Rush Street night life.
DeLeo was a guy "from the old neighborhood," Genson said during the trial, and the mysterious $100,000 in cash Jimmy spent had really been plucked from sympathy cards from his parents' funerals, cash gifts from friends and personal loans.
The jury wouldn't convict, and Jimmy and Eddie are friends to this day. I wouldn't be surprised if they chat about almost everything, like who friended whom on Facebook, or that tawdry Jennifer Aniston magazine cover, or the latest dish from the kooky planet of Brangelina.
But about Rod? Oh, no.
Even among friends, sharing that information would be, what's the word?
Unethical?
jskass@tribune.com
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