SPRINGFIELD — Following the indictment of former House Speaker Michael Madigan last week, the 19 House Democrats who stood firm last year to deny the longest-serving state House speaker in American history another term took a victory lap of sorts.

State Rep. Kelly Cassidy, D-Chicago, deemed it “a watershed moment” that validated the stand that the bloc — mostly lakefront liberal and suburban members — had taken.

“The possibility that this day was coming and would distract us from our work on behalf of the people we serve was top of mind for many of us as we took this position, even as we faced intense pressure to maintain the status quo,” Cassidy said.

The pressure was immense. Madigan, until the end, maintained heavy support from key Democratic constituencies, such as organized labor. And he had sustained significant support among House Democrats, especially with members of the Black and Latinx caucuses and white moderates.

So much so, 51 House Democrats supported Madigan on the first ballot in 2021, well below the 60 needed to win a record 19th term as speaker but still nearly 70% of the caucus.

This just months after Madigan’s right-hand man Mike McClain and three others with ties to utility giant Commonwealth Edison were charged in a bribery scheme that alleged that the utility awarded jobs and contracts to associates of a top state official — identified as Madigan — “with intent to influence and reward” the official.

This was enough for enough Democrats to say “enough” of Madigan, who pleaded not guilty Wednesday to federal racketeering and bribery charges.

But the support of Madigan until the very end among most House Democrats invites an inquiry as to how the speaker maintained an iron grip on his chamber for as long as he did and what the implications might be for the party at the polls in November.

According to Illinois political operatives and experts, Madigan’s hold on his caucus was the result of his near-unilateral control over the legislative process and a dominant political organization with a tried-and-true method for getting Democrats elected across the state.

“He was just really, really good at that,” said Chris Mooney, a political science professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago, adding that the most fundamental task of a legislative leader is to “gain or maintain a majority.”

“He raised money like a maniac, he basically took all of the things that the legislators in his caucus had to do to to maintain their reelection — he basically did it for them,” Mooney said. “He raised the money (and got them) campaign people as needed.”

After winning the speakership in 1983, Madigan would only lose it once. In 1994, Republicans won the majority by taking advantage of a national midterm wave and legislative districts they had drawn after winning control of the redistricting process a few years prior.

But just two years later, Madigan’s House Democrats won six seats in the rapidly-changing south suburbs of Chicago, allowing the man known as “The Velvet Hammer” to reclaim his gavel. By contrast, the Illinois Senate would remain in Republican hands until 2003.

At the center of this electoral success was a multi-layered political operation that at its most basic level emulated the ward-based politics of Chicago’s Democratic political machine, which was led for more than two decades by former Mayor Richard J. Daley, who was Madigan’s political mentor.

Madigan’s organization was based out of Chicago’s 13th Ward, where he has served as Democratic committeeman for more than 50 years. The 13th Ward has included a roster of professional precinct captains and political operatives over the years that have helped run Democratic campaigns across the state.

“If he’s provided people that helped you pass petitions and financed your campaign, you’ve got reason to be grateful and loyal to the speaker,” said Kent Redfield, a retired professor of political science at the University of Illinois Springfield.

There was a name for this effort to get Democrats — especially those in swing districts — elected: “The Program.”

“So the program is essentially knocking on doors,” said Alaina Hampton, a Democratic political operative who worked for Madigan for nearly five years. “Madigan and the 13th Ward Organization really prioritized knocking on doors, constituent services-type stuff. The program works on the legislative side and the political side.”

“And essentially, you’re building relationships by actually talking to people while knocking on doors,” Hampton said. “And then maybe you’ll send a follow-up letter in the mail. And then they’ll see that logo again. It takes approximately seven times for someone to remember their name. So it’s like constantly about follow-up. The candidate knocks on the door and then maybe two or three weeks later, a volunteer knocks on the door. And then the next week a mail piece hits the mailbox.”

Though much of this could be described as “Campaigning 101,” Madigan’s program stood out for its meticulous and relentless nature. Candidates would often be required to knock on a certain amount of doors in their district every day. And staffers would ultimately report back to Madigan on the candidate’s progress.

“They were meticulous about record-keeping, about setting goals and hitting them,” said an Illinois Democratic operative. “And that’s what Madigan did really well.”

A Republican political operative who has run campaigns against Democratic House candidates added that Madigan’s operation “was organized, it was methodical, it was thoughtful.”

And it extended beyond door-knocking. It also meant protecting members from difficult votes in the House, whether that be blocking unfavorable bills from being considered, allowing targeted members to vote against Democratic bills if it went against their district or temporarily replacing them on a committee to avoid a politically tough vote.

In his role as speaker, Madigan held control over what bills were considered in the House. Every bill filed is first assigned to the gatekeeping Rules Committee, whose members were handpicked by Madigan.

Redfield said timing was on Madigan’s side. Bill Redmond, the previous Democratic speaker who served from 1975 to 1981, had presided over an unruly House where nearly every bill got out of committee and received a floor vote, “chaos in terms of organization” that Madigan was determined not to repeat.

And though members complained over the years about centralized control, they appreciated the order it brought to the process.

Madigan also became speaker after the implementation of the Cutback Amendment, which reduced the size of the Illinois House from 177 to 118 and eliminated the state’s unique system of cumulative voting with multi-member House districts. This change is generally believed to have centralized power among the four legislative leaders.

In addition, Madigan centralized control of House staffing in the speaker’s office, limiting the independence of committee chairs and individual members.

“The committee chairman has a staffer that’s assigned to him in the committee by the speaker,” Redfield said. “And so that control over staff limits the ability of committee chairman, but also individual members, to use staff to build their organizations that surround them to empower themselves.”

But at a higher level, Madigan maintained control over Democratic members because he controlled one of the most important resources in politics: money.

In addition to his role as state representative, House speaker and 13th Ward committeeman, Madigan from 1998 to 2021 was chairman of the Democratic Party of Illinois.

Madigan controlled separate campaign committees through these different roles, which allowed him to collect high-dollar donations from key Democratic constituencies like labor unions and trial lawyers and move the money seamlessly to races where it was needed.

“On political campaigns outside of the Democratic Party of Illinois, you normally have your candidate … doing the fundraising themselves,” Hampton said. “But inside the Democratic Party of Illinois when they’re working on these House races, many of these candidates aren’t raising their own funds. Madigan was directing funds to their campaigns.”

“So if those candidates weren’t doing what they were supposed to do, they could potentially have their funds for their campaigns cut off and lose that support,” she said. “And I think money was used as a way to control them.”

Many members were content with this arrangement as it meant less work for them. But it made Madigan “absolutely vital to their political survival,” Mooney said.

“Just like a fish that lives in a cave loses their eyes and their skin, a lot of them lost their ability to do these things over the years — to fundraise, to campaign, to figure these things out, because they were just sort of spoon fed,” Mooney said.

Since Madigan’s departure, things have started to change as House Democrats look to rebuild their muscle memory. Several members have started to fundraise on their own.

And all but one Democratic House member seeking reelection has filed their petitions for the 2022 campaign, putting aside concerns by some that the departure of Madigan would lead to structural problems for the party.

State Rep. Sam Yingling, D-Grayslake, one of the 19 who opposed Madigan last year, said this has been a welcome change for many newer members, who hail from the suburbs and inherently desire more freedom to control their destiny.

“You’re representing a different demographic who are used to operating in a political system that is different than Chicago and different than suburban Cook,” Yingling said. “I think it’s more of an independent political structure and I think that that lends to suburban members wanting to have greater autonomy so they have more flexibility to be able to to represent the political realities of their districts.”

Despite being free from Madigan’s iron grip, it’s an open question as to whether voters will punish Democrats at the polls for their longstanding backing of their longtime leader.

“When you’re explaining you’re losing,” said the GOP political operative, who predicted that Democrats, especially in the swing suburban and downstate seats, would be hit with ads and mailers pointing out all the money they have taken from Madigan over the years along with any other ties.

However, the Democratic operative dismissed this, pointing out that Republicans have for years tried unsuccessfully to make Madigan a campaign issue for House Democrats largely without success.

“I would just be very surprised if high gas prices and some of what is aggravating the country nationally isn’t more of a subject matter in the fall,” the Democratic operative said.

Redfield said he doubted that the issue would be enough to cause the Democrats to lose their majorities in the legislature or cause problems to statewide elected Democrats like Gov. J.B. Pritzker, but said that it “strengthens one of the parts of the narrative” being weaved by Republicans about crime and corruption.

“It feeds into the narrative,” Redfield said. “It’s not just ‘corrupt Madigan and his cronies under indictment,’ it’s now ‘Madigan under indictment.’ So this makes it a much more serious political issue.”

He said that Pritzker has “a solid record for an incumbent to run on” in a Democratic state, but “he’s going to be playing more defense and doing more explaining” than he otherwise would have if Madigan had not been indicted.

Hampton, whose allegations of sexual harassment against a Madigan operative in 2018 was viewed as one of the first chinks in the armor of his vaunted political organization, said “it has been like night and day” in terms of how she’s been treated by Democrats since Madigan left.

But even as Democrats try to move on, Madigan’s shadow will be hard to outrun.

“I think it can be a new day in some ways and an old day in other ways,” Hampton said.