SPRINGFIELD, Ill. – Gov. Rod Blagojevich was thrown out of office Thursday without a single lawmaker coming to his defense, brought down by a government-for-sale scandal that stretched from Chicago to Capitol Hill and turned the foul-mouthed politician into a national punchline.
Blagojevich, accused of trying to sell Barack Obama's vacant Senate seat, becomes the first U.S. governor in more than 20 years to be removed by impeachment.
After a four-day trial, the Illinois Senate voted 59-0 to convict him of abuse of power, automatically ousting the second-term Democrat. In a second, identical vote, lawmakers further barred Blagojevich from ever holding public office in the state again.
"He failed the test of character. He is beneath the dignity of the state of Illinois. He is no longer worthy to be our governor," said Sen. Matt Murphy, a Republican from suburban Chicago.
Blagojevich's troubles are not over. Federal prosecutors are drawing up an indictment against him on corruption charges.
Outside his Chicago home Thursday night, Blagojevich vowed to "keep fighting to clear my name," and added: "Give me a chance to show you that I haven't let you down."
"I love the people of Illinois today more than I ever have before," he said. And in a joking reference to Chicago's history of crooked politics, he reached down to a boy in the crowd of well-wishers and said: "I love you, man. You know, this is Chicago. You can vote for me. You're old enough."
Democratic Lt. Gov. Pat Quinn, one of Blagojevich's critics, was promptly sworn in as governor and said he would work to "restore the faith of the people of Illinois in the integrity of their government."
Blagojevich's name and picture were promptly stripped from the state's official Web site, and his photo was removed from a display at the Capitol entrance. Quinn also canceled Blagojevich's security detail.
Blagojevich, 52, had boycotted the first three days of the impeachment trial, calling the proceedings a kangaroo court. But on Thursday, he went before the Senate to beg for his job, delivering a 47-minute plea that was, by turns, defiant, humble and sentimental.
He argued, again, that he did nothing wrong, and warned that his impeachment would set a "dangerous and chilling precedent."
"You haven't proved a crime, and you can't because it didn't happen," Blagojevich (pronounced blah-GOY-uh-vich) told the lawmakers. "How can you throw a governor out of office with insufficient and incomplete evidence?"
The verdict brought to an end what one lawmaker branded "the freak show" in Illinois. Over the past few weeks, Blagojevich found himself isolated, with almost the entire political establishment lined up against him. The crisis paralyzed state government and made Blagojevich and his helmet of lush, dark hair a punchline from coast to coast.
Many ordinary Illinoisans were glad to see him go.
"It's very embarrassing. I think it's a shame that with our city and Illinois, everybody thinks we're all corrupt," Gene Ciepierski, 54, said after watching the trial's conclusion on a TV at Chicago's beloved Billy Goat Tavern. "To think he would do something like that, it hurts more than anything."
President Barack Obama pledged to give Quinn his full cooperation.
"Today ends a painful episode for Illinois," Obama said Thursday night in a statement. "For months, the state had been crippled by a crisis of leadership. Now that cloud has lifted."
In a solemn scene, more than 30 lawmakers rose one by one on the Senate floor to accuse Blagojevich of abusing his office and embarrassing the state. They denounced him as a hypocrite, saying he cynically tried to enrich himself and then posed as the brave protector of the poor and "wrapped himself in the constitution."
They sprinkled their remarks with historical references, including Pearl Harbor's "day of infamy" and "The whole world is watching" chant from the riots that broke out during the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. They cited Abraham Lincoln, the Martin Luther King Jr. and Jesus as they called for the governor's removal.
"We have this thing called impeachment and it's bleeping golden and we've used it the right way," Democratic Sen. James Meeks of Chicago said during the debate, mocking Blagojevich's expletive-laden words as captured by the FBI on a wiretap.
Blagojevich did not stick around to hear the vote. He took a state plane back to Chicago.
The verdict capped a head-spinning string of developments that began with his arrest by the FBI on Dec. 9. Fderal prosecutors had been investigating Blagojevich's administration for years, and some of his closest cronies have already been convicted.
The most spectacular allegation was that Blagojevich had been caught on wiretaps scheming to sell an appointment to Obama's Senate seat for campaign cash or a plum job for himself or his wife.
"I've got this thing and it's (expletive) golden, and I'm just not giving it up for (expletive) nothing. I'm not gonna do it," he was quoted as saying on a government wiretap.
Prosecutors also said he illegally pressured people to make campaign contributions and tried to get editorial writers fired from the Chicago Tribune for badmouthing him in print.
Obama himself, fresh from his historic election victory, was forced to look into the matter and issued a report concluding that no one in his inner circle had done anything wrong.
In the brash and often theatrical style that has infuriated fellow politicians for years, Blagojevich repeatedly refused to resign, reciting the poetry of Kipling and Tennyson and declaring at one point last month: "I will fight. I will fight. I will fight until I take my last breath. I have done nothing wrong."
Even as lawmakers were deciding whether to launch an impeachment, Blagojevich defied the political establishment and stunned everyone by appointing a former Illinois attorney general, Roland Burris, to the very Senate seat he had been accused of trying to sell. Top Democrats on Capitol Hill eventually backed down and seated Burris.
As his trial got under way, Blagojevich launched a media blitz, rushing from one TV studio to another in New York to proclaim his innocence. He likened himself to the hero of a Frank Capra movie and to a cowboy in the hands of a Wild West lynch mob.
The impeachment case included not only the criminal charges against Blagojevich, but allegations he broke the law when it came to hiring state workers, expanded a health care program without legislative approval and spent $2.6 million on flu vaccine that went to waste. The 118-member House twice voted to impeach him, both times with only one "no" vote.
Seven other U.S. governors have been removed by impeachment, the most recent being Arizona's Evan Mecham, who was driven from office in 1988 for trying to thwart an investigation into a death threat allegedly made by an aide. Illinois never before impeached a governor, despite its long and rich history of graft.
Blagojevich grew up in a working-class Chicago neighborhood, the son of a Serbian immigrant steelworker. He married the daughter of a powerful city alderman and was schooled in the bare-knuckle, backroom politics of the infamous Chicago Machine, winning election to the Illinois House in 1992 and Congress in 1996.
In 2002, he was elected governor on a promise to clean up state government after former GOP Gov. George Ryan, who is serving six years in prison for graft. But he battled openly with lawmakers from his party, and scandal soon touched his administration.
Antoin "Tony" Rezko, a former top fundraiser for Blagojevich, was convicted of shaking down businesses seeking state contracts for campaign contributions. Witnesses testified that Blagojevich was aware of some of the strong-arm tactics. Rezko is said to be cooperating with prosecutors.
Quinn, the new governor, is a 60-year-old former state treasurer who has a reputation as a political gadfly and once led a successful effort to cut the size of the Illinois House.
"I want to say to the people of Illinois, the ordeal is over," Quinn said.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Next year's model?
Think your baby should be on a magazine cover? So does everyone else.
It's standing room only for some of the moms, dads, and tots who crowd into Dynasty Models on a recent Wednesday at a casting call for baby models. Over the crying and cooing, 39 adults listen intently as Dynasty owner Joe Freeman gives his 20-minute spiel about the baby modeling business. Freeman mentions the clients his models work for. A Baby Gap ad featuring Dynasty model Angelo hangs on the wall.
After the presentation, parents meet with Freeman and his daughter Kimberly Yapp, manager of the baby division, for a quick assessment. Among the hopefuls is 15-month-old Kendrick Perkins Jr., son of Celtics center Kendrick Perkins. The tyke sports a formidable Afro and a calm demeanor.
None of the parents - no matter how cherubic or precious their spawn - will hear if their child makes the cut today. Yapp always waits two days, till Friday, no later than 5 p.m., to relay the good news. And if the news isn't good, she doesn't call at all. "I don't intend to have one single little heart be broken today," Freeman says, "or one big heart be broken, either."
Of course, there's another, more pragmatic reason for the delay, he says: "the safety and health of the agent." Translation: He doesn't want any parents freaking out if their child doesn't get signed.
The baby modeling scene in Boston may not be as active as it is in New York or Los Angeles, but it's steady and competitive enough to support divisions at agencies such as Dynasty Models on Newbury Street and Model Club in the South End. Local companies like L.L. Bean, Hasbro, Summer Infant, Safety 1st, and Tufts Health Plan provide a regular stream of work. Regular casting sessions draw parents eager to see their kids in ads (and to fund their 529 college saving plans), but they have to be thick-skinned enough to tolerate industry euphemisms about their bundle of joy being "not right" for the job.
"Some months we might have several castings or jobs the babies are going on," says Tim Ayers, agency director at Model Club Inc. in Back Bay, which represents about 75 babies. "On other months, there might not be anything. Usually we tell the parent that this isn't something that they're going to find overwhelming or take too much of their time. It's something they can do on the side."
Baby divisions cover kids up to age 2 1/2 or 3 and the baby size 3T. Pay ranges from about $75 to $95 per hour, but shoots might only last a couple of hours. Dynasty also charges parents a one time marketing cost of $160 that covers the cost of duplicating photos (parents must update every three months), sending the photos out to clients and postage. The money isn't enough to sustain a family, Ayers says, but parents often say they invest the baby's earnings in 529 plans.
"It's really sort of a keepsake thing, you can look back and say, 'Oh, you were on the package for this,' " says Shannon Mignault, a 29-year-old Manchester, N.H., resident whose 7-month-old daughter Ainsley is signed with Model Club Inc. She has a 2-year-old son who's too lively to work as a model.
"My husband and I have talked about doing it only until they're 3," Mignault said. "If they get older and it's something they're interested in, then by all means. But we don't want to push them into making money."
Not every parent is so laissez-faire. One mother Ayers met quit her job to accompany her child to a photo shoot because, he says, "she thought it was her child's destiny to be a star." Mignault admitted she was the quintessential stressed-out mom during Ainsley's first shoot for Summer Infant in September. As the photographer took photos, Mignault stood nearby trying to get Ainsley to put her feet down and to stop sucking her thumb, much to the chagrin of the creative team.
"They were like, 'No, no. Don't worry about it, she's fine, she's fine,' " Mignault says. "You get kind of nervous that they're going to get annoyed with you and the baby."
Hanover resident Renee Hanna, 35, heard about baby modeling from her sister, who had a friend whose baby was in the business. Her son Robbie, now 5, signed as a model at 9 months old, competed in Gap Baby auditions in New York City twice, but never had a job. That didn't stop Hanna from getting her girls, Abigail, 20 months, and Chloe, 6 months, into the business.
Hanna estimates that Abigail has done 15 to 20 shoots consisting mostly of product packaging for local baby gear companies such as Summer Infant and Safety 1st. The 20-month-old also appears in an ad for Tufts Health Plan. Chloe has modeled in about four product packaging shoots and for a photo that ran in Disney's Wondertime magazine.
"The money's great to have extra to put away for college," says Hanna. She estimates that Abigail has made about $2,800 and Chloe, about $700.
The spectre of rejection doesn't bother Hanna and her husband. Modeling gigs are determined by the client, and an advertiser might be looking for babies with a particular hair color, ethnicity, clothing size or look.
"We don't take it personally," says Hanna. "We just have fun with it. I mean, they're so little, it's silly."
So what are agencies looking for in a baby model? Ayers says successful baby models are smilers with good temperaments who're willing to interact with photographers, hair stylists, and makeup artists. Yes, babies do get hair and makeup: At a Hasbro shoot, a makeup artist covered a spot on Abigail's face while a hair stylist fixed her hair, says Hanna.
"It's almost like if you see something you know it," says Freeman. "For a baby, pretty much you're looking for that cuteness. I hate using the term, but that all-American look. That baby with a wholesome look."
Migneault was perusing the Plymouth Rock Studio website when she noticed an ad for Model Club Inc. noting that the agency was looking for models under the age of six months old. Mignault impulsively uploaded a photo of Ainsley. A month later, the agency called Mignault and told her it had shown Ainsley's photo to a client and the client wanted to use her in a Summer Infant shoot in Providence the next day. That September experience of Ainsley modeling travel accessories for car seats turned out well enough that Ainsley shot two more jobs after that: one for organic clothing and another for a changing table and accessories.
As with many tot shoots, two babies were booked for that first gig, says Mignault. The photographer alternated taking photos with each baby depending on whether one needed to eat or be changed. The first shoot took an hour and a half and left Mignault impressed with the staff.
"There was no attitude," says Mignault. "No, 'Gosh, this is annoying.' They were really, really great."
And what about Ainsley? "She loves the attention," her mother says. "She gets to . . . see other babies and she sits there and just smiles away like, 'Wow, are all these people here for me?' "
It's standing room only for some of the moms, dads, and tots who crowd into Dynasty Models on a recent Wednesday at a casting call for baby models. Over the crying and cooing, 39 adults listen intently as Dynasty owner Joe Freeman gives his 20-minute spiel about the baby modeling business. Freeman mentions the clients his models work for. A Baby Gap ad featuring Dynasty model Angelo hangs on the wall.
After the presentation, parents meet with Freeman and his daughter Kimberly Yapp, manager of the baby division, for a quick assessment. Among the hopefuls is 15-month-old Kendrick Perkins Jr., son of Celtics center Kendrick Perkins. The tyke sports a formidable Afro and a calm demeanor.
None of the parents - no matter how cherubic or precious their spawn - will hear if their child makes the cut today. Yapp always waits two days, till Friday, no later than 5 p.m., to relay the good news. And if the news isn't good, she doesn't call at all. "I don't intend to have one single little heart be broken today," Freeman says, "or one big heart be broken, either."
Of course, there's another, more pragmatic reason for the delay, he says: "the safety and health of the agent." Translation: He doesn't want any parents freaking out if their child doesn't get signed.
The baby modeling scene in Boston may not be as active as it is in New York or Los Angeles, but it's steady and competitive enough to support divisions at agencies such as Dynasty Models on Newbury Street and Model Club in the South End. Local companies like L.L. Bean, Hasbro, Summer Infant, Safety 1st, and Tufts Health Plan provide a regular stream of work. Regular casting sessions draw parents eager to see their kids in ads (and to fund their 529 college saving plans), but they have to be thick-skinned enough to tolerate industry euphemisms about their bundle of joy being "not right" for the job.
"Some months we might have several castings or jobs the babies are going on," says Tim Ayers, agency director at Model Club Inc. in Back Bay, which represents about 75 babies. "On other months, there might not be anything. Usually we tell the parent that this isn't something that they're going to find overwhelming or take too much of their time. It's something they can do on the side."
Baby divisions cover kids up to age 2 1/2 or 3 and the baby size 3T. Pay ranges from about $75 to $95 per hour, but shoots might only last a couple of hours. Dynasty also charges parents a one time marketing cost of $160 that covers the cost of duplicating photos (parents must update every three months), sending the photos out to clients and postage. The money isn't enough to sustain a family, Ayers says, but parents often say they invest the baby's earnings in 529 plans.
"It's really sort of a keepsake thing, you can look back and say, 'Oh, you were on the package for this,' " says Shannon Mignault, a 29-year-old Manchester, N.H., resident whose 7-month-old daughter Ainsley is signed with Model Club Inc. She has a 2-year-old son who's too lively to work as a model.
"My husband and I have talked about doing it only until they're 3," Mignault said. "If they get older and it's something they're interested in, then by all means. But we don't want to push them into making money."
Not every parent is so laissez-faire. One mother Ayers met quit her job to accompany her child to a photo shoot because, he says, "she thought it was her child's destiny to be a star." Mignault admitted she was the quintessential stressed-out mom during Ainsley's first shoot for Summer Infant in September. As the photographer took photos, Mignault stood nearby trying to get Ainsley to put her feet down and to stop sucking her thumb, much to the chagrin of the creative team.
"They were like, 'No, no. Don't worry about it, she's fine, she's fine,' " Mignault says. "You get kind of nervous that they're going to get annoyed with you and the baby."
Hanover resident Renee Hanna, 35, heard about baby modeling from her sister, who had a friend whose baby was in the business. Her son Robbie, now 5, signed as a model at 9 months old, competed in Gap Baby auditions in New York City twice, but never had a job. That didn't stop Hanna from getting her girls, Abigail, 20 months, and Chloe, 6 months, into the business.
Hanna estimates that Abigail has done 15 to 20 shoots consisting mostly of product packaging for local baby gear companies such as Summer Infant and Safety 1st. The 20-month-old also appears in an ad for Tufts Health Plan. Chloe has modeled in about four product packaging shoots and for a photo that ran in Disney's Wondertime magazine.
"The money's great to have extra to put away for college," says Hanna. She estimates that Abigail has made about $2,800 and Chloe, about $700.
The spectre of rejection doesn't bother Hanna and her husband. Modeling gigs are determined by the client, and an advertiser might be looking for babies with a particular hair color, ethnicity, clothing size or look.
"We don't take it personally," says Hanna. "We just have fun with it. I mean, they're so little, it's silly."
So what are agencies looking for in a baby model? Ayers says successful baby models are smilers with good temperaments who're willing to interact with photographers, hair stylists, and makeup artists. Yes, babies do get hair and makeup: At a Hasbro shoot, a makeup artist covered a spot on Abigail's face while a hair stylist fixed her hair, says Hanna.
"It's almost like if you see something you know it," says Freeman. "For a baby, pretty much you're looking for that cuteness. I hate using the term, but that all-American look. That baby with a wholesome look."
Migneault was perusing the Plymouth Rock Studio website when she noticed an ad for Model Club Inc. noting that the agency was looking for models under the age of six months old. Mignault impulsively uploaded a photo of Ainsley. A month later, the agency called Mignault and told her it had shown Ainsley's photo to a client and the client wanted to use her in a Summer Infant shoot in Providence the next day. That September experience of Ainsley modeling travel accessories for car seats turned out well enough that Ainsley shot two more jobs after that: one for organic clothing and another for a changing table and accessories.
As with many tot shoots, two babies were booked for that first gig, says Mignault. The photographer alternated taking photos with each baby depending on whether one needed to eat or be changed. The first shoot took an hour and a half and left Mignault impressed with the staff.
"There was no attitude," says Mignault. "No, 'Gosh, this is annoying.' They were really, really great."
And what about Ainsley? "She loves the attention," her mother says. "She gets to . . . see other babies and she sits there and just smiles away like, 'Wow, are all these people here for me?' "
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