CHICAGO - Mike Vasilevich skimmed a small Zamboni over the skating rink in Millennium Park, smoothing the ice below the shiny metallic hunks of modern sculpture. Starting this month, Vasilevich's paycheck has been similarly skimmed.
While Minnesota debates taxing high-end earners and Wisconsin takes aim at state employee unions, Illinois has already decided on its dramatic remedy to state budget problems -- it bucked national no-new-tax trends, imposing a major increase in taxes to try to cage its runaway $15 billion deficit beast.
With state pension funds collapsing and Illinois' borrowing ability on the verge of junk-bond status, Democrats muscled through by a single vote an across-the-board income tax increase from 3 percent to 5 percent. Corporate taxes were jacked up from 4.8 percent to 7 percent. Both rates are scheduled to drop to previous levels in four years. "They'll be as temporary as the tollways," Vasilevich predicted. "It's aggravating, but we're used to it. The state's broke so it doesn't faze me anymore. It's never going to go down, so everybody just goes with the flow."
He shrugs his shoulders in what's become a common gesture as the initial outrage over the tax hikes has turned to ambivalence, and even relief in some quarters.
"The tax increase is akin to having someone in an emergency situation and you've just put on the tourniquet," said the Rev. Denver Bitner, the pastor and president of Illinois' Lutheran Social Services. "You've not addressed the issues, but you've preserved the life and at least we've moved away from the brink."
The tax increases will drum up $7.3 billion in annual new revenues and Illinois plans to impose spending caps and borrow billions more to pay a backload of bills to schools, health care and social service agencies.
"The state used its pension funds like a credit card, then the markets crashed and the recession hit, so they absolutely could not go without a tax increase," said Ralph Martire, director of the bipartisan Center for Tax and Budget Accountability in Chicago.
Bitner's agency serves 70,000 of Illinois' poorest, helping with mental health, substance abuse, foster children and the elderly -- 70 percent of whom earn less than $15,000 a year. Alphonso Hernandez, 44, is one of them. Diagnosed with both schizophrenia and chemical dependency, Hernandez takes the bus to a mental health clinic four days a week in the Portage-Cragin neighborhood on Chicago's northwest side. "I'm happy about the tax in a way because I'd be on the street if they push us to the side and don't find a way to fund us," he said. "Where would I learn to take my medications that I need?"