We are one Illinois

If nothing else, the last three-plus years have made clear the case for unity in our state and across the country

The sun is setting for now on One Illinois, but we insist that the future of our state looks bright if we only work together. (One Illinois/Ted Cox)

By Ameya Pawar and Ted Cox

In the three years of One Illinois, this is the hardest story to write, because with its publication this website will cease operations.

It’s been a wonderful ride, and we’re proud of what we’ve accomplished and the work we’ve done. We set out to confront shady media outlets that were telling half-truths (at best) and political forces that attempted to divide voters in order to win elections. “We are all in this together as Illinoisans,” we wrote in our keynote story, “and the sooner we all realize that, the better.”

Three years later, the political divide might sometimes seem as wide as ever, but the need for a sense of unity — and for factual news reporting — is recognized by anyone who sees Illinois as one state and the United States as one nation.

And, to be honest, we really don’t have much time or patience for anyone who feels otherwise.

We have to admit, we were tickled every time J.B. Pritzker made mention of “one Illinois,” even with a lowercase O, and when President Biden stated unequivocally that “unity is the path forward” in his inaugural address just last month, it seemed in some ways as if our mission had been accomplished.

One Illinois began as an answer and perhaps an antidote to divisive politicians at the local and national level. Throughout, we remained committed to the essential tenet of our state’s most famous politician: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” We have felt all along that there’s room for everyone in our grand Lincoln log-cabin republic, as long as they’re made to feel welcome.

That was the overarching mission of One Illinois, and for a while it succeeded better than even we thought it would. We told the stories of Savanna Mayor Chris Lain, Rock Island Alderman Dylan Parker, Father Jean deDieu Ahorloo, a Togolese priest serving as a missionary at Christ the King Catholic Church in Moline, and then-Cairo Mayor Tyrone Coleman. We spoke with Rachael Heaton at the TreeHouse Wildlife Center in Alton and Bill Kleiman as he tended the wild bison herd at the Nachusa Grasslands, and we listened to the music of Rich Krueger, a singer-songwriter who just happens to have a straight gig as a neonatologist at the University of Chicago. We heard about the pivotal Lincon-Douglas debate at Knox College and the Underground Railroad in Illinois from Own Muelder, and we cheered Lee Ann Porter’s efforts to give back to the Galesburg community through the Loving Bottoms Diaper Bank, one of the few stories that actually got better under COVID-19.

We covered the demolition and replacement of a bridge across the Mississippi River between Savanna and Sabula, Iowa, and the annual Great River Tug, a tug-of-war across that same river (believe it!) between our own victorious Port Byron and Iowa’s LeClaire.

And the bald eagles! They renewed their numbers across the state, so that in some areas they were said to be “like sparrows” — testifying, almost 50 years after DDT was banned, to the impact of responsible stewardship of the environment.

They weren’t all feel-good stories, by any means. Patrick Korellis told of surviving the mass shooting at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb on its 10th anniversary — just as another school shooting was taking place in Parkland, Fla. And environmental activist Tabatha Tripp evoked the triumph of winning a rare victory in a southern Illinois, an area dominated by Trump and Trump supporters and business interests disdainful of water rights and ecology.

Last year, in a follow-up, we covered a Black Lives Matter march in Tripp’s hometown of Anna — an attempt to put to rest the stained reputation of a former “sundown town” said to have a name that served as a particularly noxious racist acronym.

But, in the pandemic, we had to cover it in the aftermath, by phone, and that’s an insufficient way to cover the news in a state with 102 diverse counties and 12.6 million residents.

What made One Illinois work was getting out on the road, talking with people — both the famous and the unknown, politicians and plain folks — and letting them tell their own stories. It worked as well as it did thanks in large part to the supremely talented videographer Zachary Sigelko and podcaster Cher Vincent. We produced more than 1,200 stories, accompanied by dozens of videos and podcasts. But these days a news operation has to grow — in readership if not in staffing — and it wasn’t happening in the pandemic.

You can’t tell stories about Illinois over the phone — not effectively, not in a way that gives those stories any immediacy. The Garden of the Gods and Inspiration Point at the southern end of the state have to be seen to be believed, just as Cairo at the tip has to be walked and marveled at and in some ways mourned to see the incredible loss that once-thriving river town has experienced, and the equally immense promise it still holds at the confluence of the Mississippi and the Ohio — where America’s Big River becomes truly big.

We ate corn dogs at the State Fair, horseshoes at Obed & Isaac’s in Springfield, the best damn ribs in the state at 17th Street BBQ in Murphysboro and visited Ulysses S. Grant’s post-Civil War home in Galena, but we never got the chance to write about the Illinois and Michigan Canal or fishing the Kankakee River.

We covered Stop Sterigenics in the grassroots group’s hard-earned victory over a carcinogenic polluter, but we never got the chance to study the coal ash that remains piled up along the Vermillion River.

It’s our opinion that the people who write about the so-called Illinois exodus in population haven’t made an effort to see what a wondrous, spectacular state Illinois is. That’s not boosterism, it’s fact. It remains our opinion that Chicagoans wouldn’t look down on downstate if they’d seen what we’ve seen, and that downstaters wouldn’t feel so neglected if they weren’t, all too often, neglected.

There’s a place in the media for an outlet that tells the engaging stories of Illinoisans to their fellow Illinoisans across the state. But it’s not here and now.

You don’t need to tell us the 21st century is a tough environment in which to grow this sort of news operation; then the pandemic came along, which made it harder still if not near impossible.

We took an undeniable stand in favor of the Fair Tax Amendment, because we think it’s an objective truth that the state needs a graduated income tax to reform the entire tax system and pay for the programs citizens both want and need. Our “Daily Debunk” columns attempted to undercut all the lies being told about taxation in Illinois — and about a progressive income tax in particular. It wasn’t enough, however. So we remain haunted by the words of retired state Sen. Denny Jacobs of Moline. In one of the first interviews conducted by One Illinois, he bemoaned how voters want programs that benefit themselves and their regions, but they don’t always want to face having to find the funding. As Jacobs put it: “Oh, they want the stuff. They don’t want to pay for it.”

Now Illinois has to find much-needed revenue while still being hogtied by the state constitution’s demand for a flat-rate income tax. That won’t be easy.

But it must be done, and it must be accomplished across party lines. Struggling urban and rural communities both demand it. If there is an Illinois exodus, that’s where it needs to be confronted: in African American neighborhoods in Chicago losing population, in farm towns being slowly abandoned, and in former factory centers hollowed out across the state. They all need broadband, better schools, more training, access to decent food, reliable roads and bridges — in general, the basic resources to thrive. Illinois is a great state, but it needs to take better care of its people, and if we can agree on that then we can all lift each other up and do what needs to be done. We are still one Illinois, even if we are no longer One Illinois.

Maybe one day this website will revive, but for now it’s time to sign off. Thank you, Illinois, for sustaining us as long as you have. Our work goes on, together.