Governor's cheerleader jumps off out-of-control train

"The blaze is confined to a small barn on the west side."

That would undoubtedly have been the official statement regurgitated by Abby Ottenhoff had she been the governor's press secretary in 1871 during the Great Chicago Fire.

Had Ms. Ottenhoff been spokeswoman for the Titanic in 1912, midway through the capsizing of the ocean liner, she would likely have repeated, "The ship is only half-sinking. We're optimistic."

Both statements would have been completely truthful and accurate as far as the trusty Ottenhoff was concerned, just as she no doubt believed all of her testimonials the past few years while serving as chief press agent and damage control officer for Gov. Rod Blagojevich.

Last week the governor's sleek "communications director" announced that she would soon become his latest deserter.

"I'm in a position at this point, without children or dependents, where I can take some time off to travel and do things that are much more difficult to do while working full time," she told me in an e-mail. "It's something I've been hoping to have the opportunity to do and have saved accordingly," apparently referring to what she has accrued from an annual $120,000 state salary.

During Ms. Ottenhoff's years as the governor's mouthpiece, she has become a crafty sparring partner when called for comment about investigative news stories. These have included an ABC 7 expose of Blagojevich's White House-sized security detail (complete with a state policeman to guard the gov's valuable brush known as "hair force one"), to his endless family feuds, legislative misfires and other notorious gaffes.

So, I expected nothing less from Abby in response to a few questions about her own planned exit. "I'm honored you consider me a worthy sparring partner," she said with all insincerity. Then, in a burst of heartfelt truth she added: "but… I'm not so sure being a subject of your column will feel like an honor."

See there? She's barely gone and already some healing has begun.

And the reality check will continue. At some point during her Conde Nast fantasy, perhaps while stretched out on a beach in the Biminis, she almost certainly will take a deep breath and feel good about having jumped off a train without an engineer…a train with no brakes...a train heading toward a cliff with no bridge.

She wasn't the first high-ranking Blagojevich aide to take the leap. There have been five this year alone. And she won't be the last.

Most recently, another top press aide disembarked from the speeding train and so did the governor's chief of staff.

Ottenhoff, 35, denies that she has any plans to write a tell-all book, a la Scott McClellan recently of the Bush White House. While she says there is no confidentiality agreement that would prohibit her from authoring such a book, Ottenhoff claims that she didn't keep a diary of her time serving the governor.

"I have enjoyed my job with the governor immensely. If that wasn't the case, I wouldn't have done it for more than five years. I have definitely worked hard (and a lot)," she told me.

"I also found it very rewarding to be a part of an administration that has done so many things to make people's lives better, from expanding access to affordable health care, to reducing commute times through I-PASS, to giving every 3- and 4-year-old a chance to go to preschool."

I did have one final question for the outgoing press secretary.

If (or, as you know some say, when) the governor is indicted, would you expect to testify for: the defense, prosecution or neither of the above?

"No," she wrote in her e-mail, adding in parenthesis "(and off the record, I have no reason to believe that assumption is true.)"

See that? Amusing to the very end, she teed up an important declaration with "off the record," knowing that I would ignore such silliness.

What, oh what, is the governor going to do without Ottenhoff, his sturdy and loyal spinmistress?

She is being replaced as press secretary with a person who is more press than secretary.

The new six-figure spinmeister will be Lucio Guerrero, a newspaperman by training and trade. Guerrero, late of the Sun-Times, may be far more likely to consider the validity of what he is told to say. After all, for anyone in political public relations, there will be life long after the boss quits, is voted out, impeached or indicted.

Alas though, Mr. Guerrero sounds as though he is picking up right where his predecessor is letting go. "It's a good message," he said of the governor's plans. "I look forward to promoting it."

He has a big pair of pumps to fill.