Last month, I renewed my new driver’s license and couldn’t help but shake my head and remember the worst job I’ve ever had: summer driver’s license clerk.
I was a 19-year-old college student who had been injured in a farm accident. My summer employment opportunities were limited. But I reached out to a family friend who held the exalted title of Knox County Republican Chairman. He was the guy with the jobs.
If you wanted to work for the state, he’s the fellow you went to. Illinois had 102 people like him: county bosses who doled out the jobs. Prison guards, driver’s license clerks, highway workers and state bureaucrats could point to someone with political pull who got them hired.
It wasn’t a secret. It was just the way things were done in Illinois.
When a Republican governor or secretary of state was in power, the GOP handed out the jobs. The same went for Democrats when they held one of the top spots.
It was a cozy arrangement for the politically connected. But a lousy way of hiring the best people.
I found that out my first day when I was assigned to take driver’s license photos.
Nobody likes waiting in line for driver’s license renewal. And, trust me, nobody ever likes their driver’s license photo. Ever.
But that’s not to say driver’s license photography didn’t have at least one fan in the office.
There was one career employee of the facility who would run over to the camera every time an attractive woman would walk in. A bit breathlessly he would say, “I’ll take her picture, Scott.”

He’d elbow me aside and start snapping away.
Inevitably, he’d shoot four or five photos of the woman. He’d put one on her driver’s license and the other three or four in his billfold. During slow times at the facility he’d sort through his collection of 1 inch by 1 ¼ inch photos commenting on the physical attributes  of each female.
He was a Democratic patronage hire. In case you think I’m picking on the Democrats, the Republican hires weren’t any better.
“In that era, I’d say 25 percent of the patronage of people weren’t qualified for their jobs. Another 25 percent were marginally qualified and remainder could do the job,” said Jim Nowlan, a former state lawmaker and longtime statehouse observer.
The folks were there not because of merit but because of political connections. Advancement and job security were purchased one political fundraising ticket at a time.
This pervasive patronage culture came to an end because of the work of Mary Lee Leahy, a crusading Springfield attorney. She led an 11-year fight that ended when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that hiring based on political affiliation was unconstitutional for most state jobs.
“The people who came to my mother for help were people like a mechanic for the Department of Transportation and another was a snowplow driver. They feared losing their jobs because of their political affiliation even though they had nothing to do with policy making,” Brigid Leahy said.
But even after the Rutan decision ending patronage, its corrupting culture clung to state government like mildew to a shower curtain.
Secretary of State employees were still expected to sell $100 fundraising tickets for whatever politician was secretary of state. Often, they ended up eating the costs themselves.
Several years after that summer job, when I was a graduate student in Public Affairs Reporting, I was questioning then Secretary of State Jim Edgar in a news conference and held up a handful of $100 tickets that employees had passed on to me.  I asked why purchasing them was expected of his agency’s workers.
He turned several shades of red and denied it was a problem. It was the first time I had really hacked off a politician in a news conference, but far from the last.
This type of exploitation of workers was the genesis of scandal.
 A few years later, Secretary of State employees started shaking down trucking companies who were bringing in prospective workers to test for trucking licenses. The tickets were purchased and the truckers were licensed – even if they didn’t pass the test.
Eventually, the scandal grew encompassing other aspects of government and sent former Secretary of State and Governor George Ryan to prison.
Today, at least officially, Illinois does not have political patronage. Rod Blagojevich and other governors have tried to skirt the patronage ban. But when such efforts are discovered, they are labeled scandals, not business as usual.
That shows there is hope for Illinois.

Scott Reeder is a veteran statehouse journalist and freelance reporter; ScottReeder1965@gmail.com.