Illinois Governor J. B. Pritzker has said that he lives “rent-free” in Donald Trump’s head. He also lives part-time in the official governor’s mansion in Springfield. “It’s the largest governor’s mansion in the country,” Pritzker told me when I met him in Chicago late Friday afternoon. His wife, M. K. Pritzker, oversaw a major redecoration of the 16-room, Italian-style manor after her husband was first elected, in 2018. The governor raves about the job she did. But does it have a ballroom? I asked. Pritzker declared this to be a “funny question.” No, he told me, although there is a “large gathering place.” “Do we call it the ballroom?” he wondered, in the general direction of an aide. She shrugged. (They do.) Pritzker and I were tucked away in a hybrid conference/break room that was definitely not a ballroom. My opening question felt timely, given that Pritzker’s main political nemesis of late has embarked on building a ballroom at his own official residence, a process that began with the shocking demolition of the White House’s East Wing. In the scheme of things, this landmark leveling was a small, if highly symbolic, step on the path of havoc that Trump has blazed across much of the federal government and blue America. Chicago and Pritzker have figured prominently as targets. Last month, ICE and Customs and Border Protection officers surged into the greater metropolitan area, engaging in conspicuous raids and stopping people “because of their brown skin,” in the governor’s words. The agents were acting at the behest of Trump, who is also trying to send National Guard troops into what he has called the “most dangerous city in the world.” A judge has blocked the deployment until the legality of Trump’s order is settled in court. [Read: Democrats bet on a billionaire in Illinois] Pritzker is currently a focal-point Democratic leader against the activist aggressions of the White House. One could make a case that a state-versus-federal discord of this magnitude has not existed since the civil-rights movement, or even the Civil War era. Throughout our conversation, the governor seemed to project disbelief, bewilderment, a sense of Are you kidding me? over what have now become commonplace parts of his job—asking citizens to film federal officers acting improperly, volleying daily insults with the president, even suggesting that the nation’s commander in chief is “suffering dementia.” While the Guardsmen’s status remains in limbo, Pritzker has remained in constant action, and in constant demand. Events have been whipping fast around the chief executive, who has been popping up everywhere—in person and on TV screens, often in the midst of chaotic police or press scrums. Corralling the governor for an interview took me three weeks. He granted me 27 minutes of his time. When we spoke, Pritzker had just finished a ceremony to mark the reopening of the Kennedy Expressway, which connects downtown Chicago and O’Hare International Airport, following the completion of a three-year, $169 million rehabilitation project. It was a gorgeous fall afternoon in the windy “war zone” (Trump’s words), with sun sparkling off of the skyscrapers and Lake Michigan packed with sailboats. The only real hazard I encountered during my day in the city involved dodging bikes, scooters, and jogger-strollers on Michigan Avenue and Lake Shore Drive. I witnessed none of the “ongoing violent riots and lawlessness” (the White House spokesperson Abigail Jackson’s words) that the president apparently believes to be the defining characteristics of America’s third-most-populous city. I suggested to Pritzker that these must be unprecedented times for him. He disputed this, and said that he has become well accustomed to unprecedented times. In fact, he maintained that since he was elected governor, he has enjoyed only about eight months of “precedented times”—a stretch in 2019 and early 2020, before COVID. “Then, the migrant crisis, which was started right, basically, as COVID was waning,” Pritzker told me. “And then now we get the Trump crisis.” This “Trump crisis,” I suggested, has ensured that Pritzker receives an overwhelming amount of national attention, perhaps more than he ever has. Winding up in a Chicago beef with Donald Trump might be welcome, of course, for a Democrat with possible presidential plans. Pritzker disputed this, too, or at least smirked at the idea that the intense spotlight is a big deal to him. “I think Gavin Newsom gets way more attention than I do,” he told me, referring to his counterpart in California, who has also been mentioned as a possible presidential candidate in 2028—and who, like Pritzker, Trump has said should be arrested. [Read: The week that changed everything for Gavin Newsom] At the Kennedy Expressway event, I watched Pritzker standing behind a podium, surrounded by a cluster of state and local politicians, members of his administration, business and labor leaders, and a few dozen people in hard hats and vests. The governor has a thick helmet of brown hair; a large, round, sculpted-looking face; and an overall bowling-ball bearing—something between Babe Ruth and Ralph Kramden. When it was Pritzker’s turn to speak at the ceremony, he seemed to relish the highway reopening as a tactile triumph, something that felt blissfully like normal governor’s stuff. “It isn’t the flashiest project,” he said, after mentioning the 16 new overhead signs and 1,200 new LED fixtures that now adorn the revamped road, which carries 275,000 vehicles a day. He described the project as “gritty, foundational, and absolutely essential work.” “At a time of historic division in our politics, there is one idea that we can all rally around,” Pritzker said. “And that’s ‘Traffic sucks.’” This reprieve from the “Trump crisis” ended for Pritzker as soon as he commenced with questions from the press, about half of which involved ICE, CBP, or the president. The governor talked about a new “accountability commission” that he had introduced the day before, composed of a variety of community leaders. The commission’s charge will be to document any potentially illegal behavior that federal authorities engage in while they are in