Privately, Black was a man who pocketed cash in bathrooms, hit the town with an attractive young aide and slipped off to a budget hotel in South Raleigh to pay the bill of a man who broke the law.

The secret Jim Black, as it turns out, helped keep the other in power.

Now 72, an age when most men look forward to rocking chairs and grandchildren, Black is likely heading to federal prison. His sentencing is scheduled for today.

The Matthews Democrat played in a game where the stakes rose fast and antes went high. He came to power when North Carolina politics had become more competitive -- and money more important -- than ever.

His reach for power was methodical. And when he got it, he was determined not to lose it. Even if that meant breaking the law.

Black had a reputation as one of the most secretive men in state politics. Colleagues call it a product of the plots, coups and back-stabbing that often poisoned relations in the 120-member House and required near-Machiavellian skills to control. For him, it was nothing new.

"I operate on a lower level of radar," he told a reporter in 1999.

How low wasn't fully known until February. That's when he admitted taking at least $25,000 in cash from chiropractors in a series of furtive encounters.

In exchange, he protected their legislative interests just as he had those of other contributors. When keeping power meant chasing money, Black chased it with a vengeance.

"Black's selfish tyranny was motivated by a feverish lust to retain power," U.S. District Court Judge James Dever wrote this year.

In the insular world of the legislature, Black grew careless, even reckless, with the power he'd fought so hard to get. It is, said Democratic Rep. Dan Blue of Raleigh, a colleague and sometime adversary, "the classic human tragedy."

Secrecy from the start

Already a successful optometrist, Black was 45 when he first ran for office in 1980. He won a House seat that year and again two years later. A student body president in high school and college, he was fascinated by the political process.

"He wanted to be engaged, he wanted to be a player," said Charlotte Democrat Parks Helms, then a House colleague.

In Raleigh, Black learned under Speaker Liston Ramsey, a gruff Madison County Democrat who rewarded his allies and punished his enemies. The soft-spoken Black worked six-day weeks. Colleagues marveled at the workaholic who, after a grueling week in Raleigh, drove home and saw patients.

Black won his first races running at large. When Mecklenburg turned to districts in 1984, he lost the first of three straight elections. He didn't give up.

In 1989, he returned to the House. For $300 a day, he worked as an aide to the majority leader, a job that enabled him to make friends and do favors.

Elected again, he returned in 1991 as a member.

Black was not an ideologue but a tactician who loved the game. He often played behind closed doors. News reports in 1990 revealed how fellow optometrists bundled campaign checks with the payee's name left blank, and then, with Black's guidance, funneled them to lawmakers.

"The idea," he told a reporter at the time, "is not necessarily for you guys to trace it."

After Republicans took the House in 1995, Black became Democratic leader. Two years later, he challenged incumbent GOP Speaker Harold Brubaker and narrowly lost. He was determined not to let it happen again.

Rising to the top

Next page >