It's Live! Live, I Tell You!

It probably goes without saying that a world-class city like Chicago always has something to offer. It has two major-league baseball teams, one major-league football team, several highly-regarded museums, more than a handful of historic sites, numerous fantastic attractions, and a wide assortment of restaurants and nightclubs.

I’m probably most fond of the local public radio station, especially the locally-produced and nationally-recognized shows, like This American Life and Wait, Wait . . . Don’t Tell Me! Once I finally got around to discovering podcasts, I’ve been downloading and time-shifting these shows every week. I’ve even been fortunate enough to catch a live taping of TAL (episode #328: What I Learned from TV) and several tapings of Wait, Wait—like the free show in Millennium Park I attended tonight.

The free-and-in-Millennium-Park part was only one (OK, two) reasons this show was special. The third reason was the guest for the “Not My Job” segment—United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois Patrick Fitzgerald. You know, the special prosecutor in the Valerie Plame identity leak case; the guy who got I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby convicted of lying to prosecutors during that investigation (and then, of course, President Bush swooped in and bailed out his loyal henchman, but more on that later).

Fitzgerald rarely gives interviews, so his appearance on the show was something of a coup for the Wait, Wait crew, something host Peter Sagal made a point of mentioning, albeit in is usual humorously self-deprecating manner. Before the show started, he told this (paraphrased) anecdote about talking with Fitzgerald back stage:

I was talking with Mr. Fitzgerald back stage, and told him that his public appearance was so rare that a reporter called me up to ask me about it. I explained [to the reporter] what Fitzgerald would be doing on the show, and the reporter asked me what I was going to ask him. I explained that we like to keep the “Not My Job” questions a secret, since we like to surprise the guest with them, but the reporter explained, “It’s OK, I’m writing a story that won’t come out until after the show is broadcast.” So I told him. At which point Mr. Fitzgerald looked at me rather archly and said “So you leaked.”

And then I had to change my pants.

The best joke of this entirely excellent show, however, came about halfway through the taping, once Fitzgerald was actually on the stage. After quickly getting the obvious question out of the way (“Who leaked Valerie Plame’s identity?” at which Fitzgerald only chuckled), Sagal continued with some relaxing banter, inquiring into Fitzgerald’s past jobs (he once worked as a doorman and a janitor, and said it was easier being a janitor), past prosecutorial successes, and the fact that he now lives in Chicago.

Peter Sagal: We hear you live on the north side.

Patrick Fitzgerald: Yes.

Peter Sagal: But you work downtown.

Patrick Fitzgerald: Yes.

Peter Sagal: So, how do you feel about . . . commuting?

I am ashamed to confess it took me about ten seconds longer to get that joke than it should have (I blame Sagal’s completely deadpan delivery), but once I got it, I was howling along with the rest of the crowd.

And yes, the scooter jokes flew fast and thick every moment Fitzgerald was on stage. And if you want to hear them all, I suggest listening to the broadcast of Wait, Wait on your local public radio station, or you can go to iTunes and sign up for the weekly podcast (which you should do anyway—you’ll laugh and learn a thing or two about the state of the world. Nothing that’s really useful, but still).

The last reason you should listen to this show is because I was there. And if you listen carefully, you might even pick out my cackling all the way from the back row of the Jay Pritzker Pavillion in Millennium Park in downtown Chicago (Richard M. Daley, Mayor).