I PICTURED federal Judge

Ronald Buckwalter tucking himself into bed last night, unbuttoning his robes to reveal a Vince Fumo T-shirt, with the letters "WGSD" emblazoned across the chest.

The letters stand for "we get s--- done," the staff motto that embodied the workaholic, results-oriented, cut-through-red-tape mentality Fumo was so proud of.

Because in sentencing Fumo yesterday to just 55 months in jail for his conviction on 137 felony corruption counts, Buckwalter was telling us that he values Fumo's extraordinary talents for the art of government more than he's troubled by Fumo's extraordinary theft of taxpayer money.

It's a tougher call than you think.

As I watched Fumo's trial unfold and considered his 30-year political career, it often occurred to me that I'd rather have him representing me in the state Senate than 98 percent of the politicians I've known.

He hired smart people, understood budgets, thought creatively about problems, and pushed bureaucracies in ways that got results. If he was putting all that energy behind good policy most of the time, you could kind of tolerate the fact that he could be a little irrational, petty and venal sometimes.

And you might almost forgive his dipping in for a little extra for himself now and then, as long as nobody knew about it.

The problem is, once we know he's helping himself to public goods, we have to draw a hard line. If we forgive an effective politician raiding the cookie jar, we're saying it's OK for everybody.

And the scale of Fumo's grubbing for freebies as revealed in the federal indictment is truly breathtaking - he got everything from maid service to a bulldozer for free.

It's clear the jurors were appalled and found Fumo guilty on all 137 counts, despite his looking them in the eye and insisting it was all a big misunderstanding.

Often when a defendant gets convicted after taking the stand and denying everything, he's in for big trouble at sentencing. Prosecutors yesterday argued that Fumo had clearly lied about his conduct on the stand, citing 27 instances in which they said Fumo perjured himself.

Prosecutors also pointed out that the many good deeds cited by Fumo supporters in letters and testimony amounted to Fumo doing his job, and using public money, not his own, to help people.

Judge Buckwalter was unmoved. He noted from the bench how impressed he was by Fumo's staff and concluded that Fumo had done an extraordinary job as state senator.

And even though Fumo showed little remorse in his remarks, saying he never intended to steal from anyone, Buckwalter decided Fumo's record justified a lighter sentence than called for in federal guidelines.

We should remember that Fumo isn't getting away clean. He's lost his office, his reputation and his law license, and will be ravaged by multimillion-dollar legal fees and restitution payments.

Indeed, the sight of Fumo in court yesterday was pitiful. He sat between his fiancee and daughter, often clutching the hands of both. His expression was vacant, and a facial tremor became more acute as the day wore on. His lawyers say he's now dependent on tranquilizers.

When he rose to speak with Buckwalter, his voice was soft and he began to weep almost immediately. For those who remember Fumo in his blustering and confident prime, it was shocking to behold.

And Fumo will serve four years in prison, a significant term for a 66-year-old man in poor health.

But the fact is that Fumo's sentence is less than half the 10 years former city Treasurer Corey Kemp got for less serious offenses, and less than a third of the 15 years piled on former Independence Seaport Museum director John Carter, who pleaded guilty.

Former city Housing Director Thomas Massaro was one of the few in court yesterday who wasn't there seeking lenience for Fumo.

"He gets 12 days per felony," Massaro said. "No expression of remorse, no admission of guilt, nothing. It's unbelievable." *

Contact Dave Davies at daviesd@phillynews.com or 215-854-2595.