But on a recent afternoon, the man who might be the next boss of the national Democratic Party was more interested in the latkes. J.B. Pritzker, the billionaire governor of Illinois, slid into a booth at the South Loop institution, a place where the city’s famously fractured factions can agree on at least one thing: the food is worth the artery clog.
Pritzker is not a man given to nostalgia for a political machine he never truly belonged to. He is, however, increasingly a man in demand. As Democrats search for a path out of the wilderness following Donald Trump’s return to power, the governor has become a leading voice on two fronts: confronting the rise in antisemitism and crafting a message that can win back working class voters. “We want to move on from losing,” he said, a phrase that could serve as the unofficial motto for his party’s current predicament.
The governor’s national profile has been rising in inverse proportion to his party’s fortunes. While the White House remains occupied by a Republican, Pritzker has positioned himself as a pugilistic counterweight, unafraid to tangle with Trump on policy and personality. He has also been one of the most prominent Democratic voices condemning the surge in antisemitic incidents, a cause that carries personal weight for the scion of one of America’s most famous Jewish families. His name, emblazoned on buildings and philanthropic ventures across Chicagoland, carries a weight that transcends politics.
Yet Pritzker is careful to frame his ambitions as a natural extension of his record in Springfield, not a personal quest for the Oval Office. He points to his administration’s achievements, from codifying abortion rights to passing a sweeping climate package, as proof of concept for a progressive agenda that can win in the heartland. The question, however, is whether a billionaire heir to the Hyatt fortune can sell that story to a national electorate increasingly skeptical of concentrated wealth and dynastic power.
His own path to power was unusual. Before winning the governorship in 2018, Pritzker’s only prior run for office was a 1998 House Democratic primary, where he finished a distant third. He was a donor and an activist, not a product of the fabled Chicago machine that once demanded loyalty before it offered opportunity. That machine, built by the Daleys and sustained by the now disgraced Mike Madigan, is largely a relic. The question of “who sent ya?” no longer applies in a city where Pritzker himself has become the new dispenser of political favors.
A Party in Search of a North Star
The governor’s influence was on full display earlier this year when he helped engineer a Senate nomination for his lieutenant governor, Juliana Stratton, a move that consolidated his control over the state’s Democratic apparatus. But the calculus for 2028 is far more complex. Pritzker must navigate a party that is split between its progressive activist base and the more moderate voters it needs to win back in the industrial Midwest. He argues that his success in Illinois, a state that includes both deep blue Chicago and more conservative downstate regions, offers a template.
Still, the shadow of Trump looms large over any conversation about the Democratic future. Pritzker acknowledged the former president’s enduring grip on the Republican Party and the challenge it poses for Democrats who have struggled to articulate a compelling counter-narrative. The governor’s strategy, for now, is to lean into his role as a foil, using his wealth and platform to hammer Trump on economic populism and democratic norms. He is betting that the party, tired of losing, will be ready for a fighter.
Whether that bet pays off depends on whether Democrats see a Midwestern governor with a famous name and a bottomless bank account as their best hope, or just another rich guy trying to buy his way into the club. For now, Pritzker is content to let the speculation simmer, focusing on the work in Illinois and the plate of latkes in front of him. The line between a local boss and a national contender, he seems to understand, is thinner than a slice of Manny’s corned beef.
