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As Democratic candidates for governor pitched their cases to the Cook County Democratic organization on why they were best to take on Republican Gov. Bruce Rauner, something bothered me.

The man who wasn't there.

I just couldn't shake it. It was like some aggravating pebble in my shoe, but not your average pebble.

It was huge pebble, about the size of a wizened 75-year-old ward boss from the Southwest Side of Chicago.

The Democratic candidates who spoke at the pre-slating on Thursday each gave a good accounting of himself.

Chris Kennedy asked the Democrats not to endorse a candidate, and he talked of ethics, which irritated a few. But he made sense when he said the Democrats must "help restore faith in government because, if we don't, we'll never get the funding we need to make changes."

Billionaire J.B. Pritzker, who has this thing wired through Illinois House Speaker Michael J. Madigan, said fellow Democrats who criticize him or even mention Boss Madigan are doing the work of Rauner.

Then he talked of how he's spending time and effort "building the party," which is code for "I'm paying for a lot of stuff, so don't mention Boss Madigan."

Young progressives Daniel Biss and Ameya Pawar talked of reaching out to young voters from the Chicago area. Each has a future.

And Pawar seems to be positioning himself not as much for a run for governor but for some other office down the line, perhaps mayor of Chicago.

Downstate farmer/educator Bob Daiber said bluntly that he was the only one running who could get Republican votes out of central and southern Illinois.

But as they spoke, there was that darn pebble again, itching inside my 4EEE Oxford.

And it had eyes, the terrible icy blue eyes of the Night King in "Game of Thrones" or the oculist in "The Great Gatsby."

Those blue eyes see every weakness. They open earlier than yours do and they close much later than yours. Those are the eyes boring in on a tired Rauner, getting him to almost cave in supporting a tax increase, which would end Rauner's political life.

These are the eyes of the man who runs things in Illinois, the man didn't have to be there Thursday to hear the candidates.

Boss Madigan.

And this is what I've been wondering:

Why would these Democrats work so hard, spend millions of dollars and kiss so many behinds to become governor, all the while knowing that if they succeed, Boss Madigan will tell them what to do?

Don't think he won't boss them. Because he will. He runs the legislature and always tells governors what to do. Especially Democrats.

Ask former Gov. Patrick Quinn, a Democrat. He's got the psychic scars to prove it. Unfortunately, you can't ask another Democrat, former Gov. Rod Blagojevich, who is in federal prison and won't be available for quotes any time soon.

So knowing this about Madigan, why do they run?

I hoped J.B. Pritzker would explain it, since he's the one linked to Boss Madigan, but he said anyone who brought up Madigan was doing Rauner's work.

He wanted to talk about how he would lead Illinois once he got rid of Rauner.

"It's clear that Illinois wants a leader," Pritzker said. "Illinois needs a leader."

It seemed heartfelt, because I think Pritzker truly wants to be a "leader." And it's a lot more dynamic than saying, "Illinois needs a son-in-law."

But isn't that what a Democratic governor would be in Illinois? A son-in-law?

A Democrat running for governor with Boss Madigan around is like a wealthy bridegroom stuck with paying for the entire wedding in the hopes of joining the family business. Traditionally, the son-in-law isn't expected to foot the bill, but this is Illinois.

So the groom pays for the band and the banquet hall; takes care of the priest and the bartenders; the florists, the pastry chefs, the wine merchants, the bakers, the butchers and the cooks. He pays them all.

He also pays for the wedding dress, and the photographers, and the video people and airline tickets for the relatives and one for Aunt Ida's evil little ferret, Pepe paying for every dang thing.

But after he marries the bride and joins the family business, he realizes that the thing he most worried about is coming true, like those nightmares that continue even while you think you're awake at the kitchen table and then the goblins arrive, eating your dog.

That bridegroom paid for so much, and reporters write glowingly about his great promise and a "New Day for Illinois"; and people expect him to do something. Because he is something. He's the governor.

But then he learns that, governor or no, he's just the son-in-law in the family business; and now that all the bills are paid, the Boss is happy. And the Boss isn't going anywhere.

He's the Boss. And the son-in-law is the son-in-law. He might be a rich son-in-law like Pritzker, who can buy the house next door and remove the toilets for a tax break on his own mansion; or a relatively poor one like Quinn, with paper napkins and a picnic table in the dining room. It really doesn't matter.

The son-in-law is the one who gets sent out for coffee, and for apples for the Boss' lunch. If you don't think it works that way, you're either a stranger to these lands or you're sucking up to Madigan for biscuits.

Because that's politics in Illinois. And this thing is just beginning.

Listen to the Chicago Way podcast with John Kass and Jeff Carlin and our guest, Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart, here: wgnradio.com/category/wgn-plus/thechicagoway.

jskass@chicagotribune.com

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Why would any Democrat want to be Boss Madigan's footman, aka ... - Chicago Tribune