New Illinois governor stark contrast to "Blago"

CHICAGO — Temperate, unfussy and, at times, so independent he can be out of the loop, the 41st governor of Illinois could not be more unlike the man he replaced: attention-loving showman Rod Blagojevich, who was removed from office Thursday.

The new governor, Pat Quinn, was once known as more gadfly than political heavyweight. He eased his way into state politics more than 30 years ago on the dry work of petition drives (one led to a reduction in the size of the Illinois General Assembly), getting ahead despite shallow pockets and a disdain for the Democratic Party machine.

Quinn, 60, can be so unassuming that he watched the inauguration of President Obama in Washington crunched down on his knees so that people behind him could get a better view. When prone to boasting, which is not very often, it can be about miserly stuff, such as staying in budget hotels and eating discount meals.

His idea of a political stunt is walking more than 150 miles from the Mississippi River to Lake Michigan to raise awareness of health-care needs. And with a hairline more John Lithgow than Elvis Presley, he doesn't even look the Blagojevich part.

"What you see is what you get," said one of Quinn's longtime allies, state Rep. John Fritchey, a Democrat. "He is an apolitical creature in a political world."

As a team, Quinn — who was until Thursday the lieutenant governor — and Blagojevich were always more odd couple than twins, thrown together in their first race for statewide office in 2002 after winning separate Democratic primaries. Soon after their re-elections in 2006, they stopped speaking altogether.

In his first hours as governor, Quinn began charting his own course: in a series of interviews and public appearances he promised an honest, transparent and accessible administration. He reached out to include in his decision-making some of the state's other elected officers who had long been shut out by Blagojevich. And he signed an executive order that made an official state entity out of a reform commission he established as lieutenant governor last month.

Unlike Blagojevich, who disdained the capital and lived in Chicago, Quinn, a divorced father of two adult sons, plans to move into the governor's mansion.

"He's the anti-Blagojevich, for sure," said state Rep. Jack D. Franks, a Democrat.

Blagojevich is, apparently, not a fan.

"He's going to raise taxes on people," the former governor said of Quinn after being ousted from office. "He's going to hurt people. And that's part of the deal here. Get me out of the way."

But even Blagojevich vouched for Quinn's straight-as-an-arrow reputation. Asked whether Quinn was corrupt, Blagojevich said, "No."

Still, this being Illinois, Quinn probably should not grow accustomed to such political generosity.

Although far from a political novice, Quinn is untested at meeting the kinds of challenges before him: a crisis of confidence in government, a $4 billion budget gap and a record level of unpaid bills to day-care and health-care providers and others.

He knows it. "This is not a garden-variety crisis," Quinn said in an interview. "It will be a test for all of us, starting with me, to keep our eyes on the common good."

Quinn said he is not sure whether he will run for re-election in 2010, when Blagojevich's term ends. As it was, he had not decided what to do when his term as lieutenant governor was up.

One thing he will not do, he said, is let his newfound popularity go to his head.

"You want to know my philosophy?" Quinn said. "One day a peacock. The next day a feather duster."

A White Sox fan who was born in Chicago, Quinn has a law degree from Northwestern University and, years ago, used to teach tax law and consumer economics at two local colleges. Growing up, his mother worked as an assistant at a middle school. His father was a personnel director for a group of cemeteries.

In 1980, one of Quinn's petition drives ended the practice that allowed Illinois legislators to collect their entire salaries on the first day in office. Along with his other petitions, such as the one that reduced the size of the Legislature, he was not earning a lot of friends in state government.

One afternoon in 1976, he visited the Capitol and took a seat in the gallery.

"They said, 'Up there in the gallery is that Pat Quinn,' " he remembered one lawmaker saying. "And they stood up and booed for three minutes. One guy called it a standing boo-vation."