Just weeks before the March Democratic primary, a campaign operative for Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan walked into the headquarters of a candidate for state representative to deliver a message.



"You aren't going to like me," Shaw Decremer declared to those inside Carole Cheney's headquarters, according to several Cheney staffers in the room.



Decremer — a member of Madigan's platoon of campaign soldiers who work for the state when they are not working elections for the boss — said Madigan was putting his political muscle behind another Democrat in the party primary.



He strolled around the office, making snide comments about her low-budget campaign until, according to Cheney and other witnesses, Cheney said she had enough and asked him to leave. Before he did, Decremer asked if she would pose with him for a picture.



"I keep pictures of all the people we beat," he told her.



And on Election Day, she lost.



In elections and in the Legislature, Madigan is at the top of his game this spring.



As it turned out, Cheney was among at least 24 fellow Democrats who lost in part because they were on the wrong side of Madigan's campaign machine in March. It's a scenario that with rare exception has played out the same way for years: Without Madigan, you lose.



Those who win form the backbone of the House majority he commands. The Chicago Democrat's control over legislation — from a multibillion-dollar Medicaid program to mortgage foreclosure laws — has repeatedly benefited clients of his Chicago property tax law firm, the Tribune has disclosed.



Experts say the confluence of Madigan's public and private careers raise concerns about potential conflicts of interest — but those questions are seldom raised in the face of his enormous sway in both the drafting of the state's laws and the elections of its leaders.



"Madigan clearly has so much power he has made himself impregnable," said James Browning, the regional director of state government operations for the government watchdog group Common Cause, which lobbied unsuccessfully for Illinois lawmakers to keep campaign contribution limits in place. "How do you push back when one man has amassed so much control?"



That same dominance was on display in the legislative session that ended early Friday, as bills he pushed passed the House and those he opposed died.



As not only speaker but chairman of the Democratic Party of Illinois, Madigan draws the boundaries of legislative districts. He controls the flow of millions of dollars in political contributions.



And because Madigan controls both a state staff and a campaign war chest, he has a ready reserve of public employees he shifts off the payroll at will to add muscle to the most powerful election force in the state.



Decremer and other Democratic staffers are deployed to answer phone calls, schedule campaign events and scour petitions of competing Democrats to get them kicked off the ballot.



Republicans also have pulled dozens of staffers off the state payroll in election years, but after nearly 30 years as speaker, Madigan is the master at using the levers of government to his political advantage.



Even before the primary, Madigan had already carved Republican incumbents out of their Illinois House districts and redrawn the legislative maps to tip the scales in the Democrats' favor for the second decade in a row. But that wasn't good enough.



In select areas of the state — like the Aurora district where Cheney lost — the long arm of the state's most powerful politician reached out to help nearly three dozen loyal incumbents and a few handpicked newcomers to ensure they won.



And in each and every case, they did.



Public campaign records show Madigan spent more than $550,000. He scored victories in races from heavily Democratic districts in the city, where his candidates will have only nominal Republican opposition in the fall, to competitive areas Downstate where his candidates will be well-positioned to take on targeted Republican lawmakers or seize open seats.



Madigan paid for polling as well as mailings, distributing dozens of glossy fliers in districts from Decatur to Chicago. Many were identical ads except for the candidate's name, praising the Madigan ally for helping seniors or protecting taxpayers. Other ads targeted primary opponents, including Cheney.



"This is the party leader trying to decide the nominees. He's trying to pick who will be in the seat when voters are supposed to decide," Cheney said. "It's the same party. I feel like they are eating their own."



Cheney, a lawyer, was shredded by a Madigan-financed attack that alleged she was an ally of "big banks"— an ad that ignored the speaker's own ties to the banking industry.



"When the foreclosure crisis hit our neighborhoods, Carole Cheney stood with her allies defending the big banks," reads one placard featuring a doctored photo of a beaming Cheney holding a wad of cash next to a cigar-chomping man holding a cocktail.



Cheney told the Tribune she has no idea to what bank ties the ad refers. But she is a partner at the 1,500-lawyer firm Kirkland & Ellis LLP, which counts among its clients Bank of America.



Madigan & Getzendanner, the six-lawyer firm where Madigan is a senior partner, has repeatedly filed property tax appeals for Bank of America. On Monday, the Tribune reported that banks — including those who hired Madigan's firm — were unscathed by housing activists' efforts in Springfield to make them pay more for the damage foreclosures have wrought in neighborhoods around the state.



Madigan refused to answer questions, characterizing Tribune reporting on him as "garbage." His spokesman, Steve Brown, said that as head of the state Democratic Party, Madigan gets involved in certain primary races in order to make sure the best Democrat ends up in the seat in Springfield.



"Largely we make an assessment (about) who would be the strongest general election candidate and try to back that person," Brown said. "The ultimate goal is to elect somebody in the general election."



After polling and fliers, much of Madigan's campaign money went to pay state workers who took leaves from their midlevel jobs to staff key primary races.



During the March primary season, records show, nearly two dozen state staffers went off the state payroll, being paid instead by Madigan's political funds to work for more than 30 candidates. In many of the less competitive races, the staffers worked for less than a day, simply checking to see if a Madigan-backed candidate had any opponents. In nearly half of the races, which were more competitive, the staffers worked for weeks at a time.



Public records show a regular routine of House Democratic employees — from program specialists like Decremer to messengers, photographers and graphics technicians — taking time off during campaign seasons and then coming back on the state payroll when the elections are over.



Asked how Madigan can justify keeping the employees on staff when they are clearly not needed for months at a time, Brown said, "We absolutely will not allow taxpayer dollars to be spent on campaigns, so when people go to work on campaigns, they come off the state payroll."



The state workers aren't needed at their government jobs as much during election cycles because the Legislature meets less frequently during those times, Brown said.



Soon after the primary campaign was done, Decremer and other Madigan staffers were back at work in Springfield.



Decremer is a fixture at major committee meetings and can often be seen in the House chamber conferring with top Madigan lieutenants. He also moves easily through the aisles and to the desks of rank-and-file lawmakers, chatting some up and checking over the shoulders of others.



To pay for the campaign operation, Madigan has become a prolific political fundraiser with marquee events in Chicago and Springfield, including one held on Lake Springfield last month at the height of the Legislature's spring session.



Under state law, campaign fundraisers are prohibited on days the Legislature is in session, an attempt to separate politics from lawmaking. Many people avoid the issue by having their fundraisers earlier in the year when the legislative session is less busy. But Madigan, who controls the legislative calendar, ensures lawmakers are not meeting in the busy month of May when he holds his fundraiser. The only weekday in May that was not a session day this year was Monday, May 7, the day of Madigan's event.



About 1,000 people attended the event, tossing in at least $150 to shake Madigan's hand, mingle with lobbyists and lawmakers and nosh on finger foods, according to political insiders. The event was invitation-only and closed to the news media. A day later, it was back to business at the Capitol.



Madigan controls several massive political war chests, including his own Friends of Michael J. Madigan and the Democratic Majority fund. The multiple political committees give Madigan a way to go beyond restrictions on campaign contributions from legislative and party leaders.



He has doled out tens of thousands of dollars in political help to primary candidates, including state Rep. Maria "Toni" Berrios, daughter of Madigan ally Cook County Assessor Joe Berrios, and state Rep. Derrick Smith, who won despite being arrested on federal bribery charges days before the election. Newcomers like Cheney's opponent, Aurora Ald. Stephanie Kifowit, also got Madigan's money.



Madigan's primary sweep was the first step in his rebound from one of his more difficult election seasons two years ago. He lost several races in the 2010 general election amid a Republican push to power nationwide. Still, he maintained an overwhelming majority in the House and his job as speaker.



In the days leading up to the March 20 primary, streams of volunteers for Madigan-supported candidates made their way from across the city and suburbs to Madigan's political headquarters on the Southwest Side to collect campaign materials. They spread out to targeted districts to knock on doors and hand out literature.



"Everybody did their job," Madigan told supporters gathered on primary night at a Holiday Inn in Bedford Park to celebrate his own election win. "It worked out just as we had planned, and the reason is because everybody did their part."



But some of the Democrats who lost that night questioned the extent of Madigan's involvement. Neighborhood activist Michael Nardello lost to Madigan-backed incumbent Camille Lilly, a rookie lawmaker, in a race to represent parts of Chicago's West Side and near west suburbs. No Republicans were running in the primary.



"In theory, he cannot lose in this race. There will be a Democrat in this seat," Nardello said of Madigan. "So his decision to get involved says something.



"He doesn't just want a Democrat. He wants somebody who will be beholden to him."



jchase@tribune.com dkidwell@tribune.com rlong@tribune.com