Thursday, for the first time I can remember, I felt genuine admiration for former Gov. Rod Blagojevich.
Not for the hilariously tedious and tediously hilarious story he told of his rise from mediocrity and humble roots to mediocrity and great power, but for the venue in which he dared tell it: A witness box in a federal courtroom.
It took guts for him to rise from the defense table, cross the floor, raise his right hand and swear to tell the truth so help him God. Guts I didn’t think he had.
Guts that belied my image of him as the chirping little coward and grade-A phony who declared his utter innocence in sound bites and superficial interviews, but declined to sit for tough interviews or take the stand in his first trial last summer.
I dined out — literally! — on my lonely prediction a year ago that he’d never testify under oath despite his repeated insistence that he couldn’t wait to do so.
Yes, he can be charming and earnest. Blagojevich works a room and connects with people as well as any politician I’ve ever seen. He rode that natural talent to a series of electoral victories.
But his gift of gab also is his curse. He tends to babble and free-associate the way verbally overconfident people do, besotted by his ability to control any conversation with bluster and misdirection. However, witnesses under cross-examination have no control of the conversation and must answer the questions they’re asked instead of the questions they wish they were asked.
Also, Blagojevich tends to wilt under pressure. With just a few accusatory questions on last year’s “Celebrity Apprentice,” host Donald Trump turned him into a stammering schoolboy. Even former syndicated talk-show host Bonnie Hunt made him look like a weasel.
All of that’s ancient history now. Throw out all the comical, evasive news conferences, the feckless public-relations campaign that had his wife, Patti, eating bugs in the rain forest for the opportunity to explain her husband’s innocence on national TV to former Detroit Piston John Salley and even the testimony of all the witnesses so far in Blagojevich’s first and second trial.
Blagojevich hit the reset button on all of it (except the one pesky conviction last year for lying to the FBI) when he took the stand Thursday. He chose to bet not his life but certainly extended years of it on his ability to cast in a non-criminal light his own disturbing words as caught on surveillance recordings.
Note I didn’t say “innocent.” The Blagojevich heard on those recordings is, at best, a selfish, scheming, greedy opportunist who frequently looked for ways to use his official power for personal or political advantage.
His repeated declaration, “I did nothing wrong” may or may not be true in a legal sense. The jury will decide. But contrition rather than defiance would be a refreshing change.
Under the gentle guidance of his defense attorney on direct examination, our logorrheic former governor opened by telling his life story in a series of rambling, quirky answers filled with literary quotes, odd admissions and memorable one-liners. Twitter, which was the place to be if you weren’t in the courtroom, was on fire with 140-character dispatches from the viewing gallery.
That testimony, on its own, didn’t take a lot of guts. Those who’ve read his book, “The Governor,” or who listened to the weekly talk show he hosted on WLS-AM radio leading up to his first trial are familiar with his self-serving narrative of virtue and grit. Those who watched his career are familiar with his aw-shucks charisma and boyish affability.
What took guts was offering that testimony knowing that prosecutors were taking in every word, comparing it to his voluminous public remarks and to his words caught on tape, and preparing to question him carefully and relentlessly when it’s their turn to cross-examine him next week.
What took guts for Blagojevich was backing up his repeated drive-by protestations of innocence with a decision to go head-to-head with his accusers on their home field. Up until literally five minutes before he began testifying, I was sure he didn’t have it in him.
Even if he has truth on his side, taking the stand is a bold move.
Desperate? Reckless? Nutty? Perhaps.
But admirable? Certainly.
Discuss this column at chicagotribune.com/zorn
