Yes Virginia, there is a Crook County

The first time I saw the term "Crook County" was more than 25 years ago. Some shady judges and greaseball lawyers had just been indicted on federal corruption charges in a case called Operation Greylord.

"They don't call it Crook County for nothing" was the widely reported quote from wry Chicago political analyst Don Rose just after Christmas, 1983.

I'm sure the nickname Crook County had been used before by the cynics, but I'd never heard it.

When the late Cook County Treasurer Ed Rosewell was indicted on corruption charges almost 12 years ago, that snide surname surfaced again.

Rosewell's story was unusual, even by Crook County standards. Among numerous ghost payrollers brought on board by the popular, pudgy county treasurer was his window washer.

Mr. Rosewell took in the window washer (quite literally) and gave him a promotion to deputy county finance officer and a hefty raise to go with the new title.

It apparently didn't matter that the new hire wasn't qualified or didn't do anything for his pay. Eventually, Rosewell and the much younger window washer moved in together. Their relationship went sour when the county treasurer began financing his roomie's heroin habit. But that was another story.

So here we are today at the beginning of a new chapter in the glorious history of Crook County.

This story involves county board President Todd Stroger, aka "Mr. President."

The setting is Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in River North, a well-known recruiting location for top-shelf government talent.

With the aroma of corn-fed beef in the air last October, Mr. President Stroger was introduced to one of the busboys working the tables. As the busboy cleared half-eaten bowls of chop salad, cold Lyonnais potatoes and creamed spinach, Mr. President Stroger just knew the young man was destined for more.

His name was Tony Cole and Stroger brought him on board. His days of busing tables were over.

Cole, a onetime University of Georgia basketball player, was assigned to be the chief administrative assistant to county Chief Financial Officer Donna Dunnings at a salary of $58,000 a year.

Ms. Dunnings herself had already survived criticism when she was hired because she is one of Stroger's cousins, so what the heck.

But enough negativity. Stroger just wanted to give the busboy a break.

There was a problem though, that popped up in the last couple of weeks.

It wasn't the aggravated assault with intent to rape charge Cole faced in Georgia in 2002. Stroger says he knew about that and overlooked it because the charge had been dropped, although it did result in Cole being thrown off the Georgia basketball team.

Nor was it the charge that Georgia authorities dropped in 2003 after Cole was reported to have used an Uzi machine gun to threaten his girlfriend.

Cole's Crook County problem was a check kiting conviction that he had apparently neglected to mention when he was hired by Stroger.

That was complicated by an unusual relationship that developed between Cole and Dunnings, Mr. President Stroger's cousin. When Cole had some recent legal problems in DuPage County, Dunnings posted his bail on her credit card.

Despite all this, Cole was promoted to an assistant human resources director and given a raise to $61,000.

Last week, he was fired. Then, on Friday, Dunnings was dumped by her cousin, Mr. President Stroger. There are still a lot of unanswered questions about the Stroger/Cole/Dunnings situation, but now that the collateral damage has been removed, we may never know the back-story.

I'll tell you who should really be upset about the continuing chicanery that prompts cynics to call it "Crook County." The 30,707 people who actually live in Crook County.

There are two actual Crook Counties. One is in Wyoming and the other is in Oregon.

They are both named in honor of Army Maj. Gen. George Crook, a hero of the Civil War and the Indian Wars.

Despite his last name, he was beloved even by his enemies who he considered as valiant foes who deserved humane treatment regardless of who won the battle.

"Crook never lied to us," Lakota Indian Chief Red Cloud once said. "His words gave the people hope."

Gen. Crook died in Chicago in 1890.

His last name is still very much alive.

• Chuck Goudie, whose column appears each Monday, is the chief investigative reporter at ABC 7 News in Chicago. The views in this column are his own and not those of WLS-TV. He can be reached by email at chuckgoudie@gmail.com.