IT'S AN exaggeration to say that Gov. James R. Thompson's reelection bandwagon is traveling any rough road. If Thompson has felt any bumps at all, they are the result of the popular belief that what he is really running for is not the Executive Mansion, but the White House.

Let's take a look at some aspects of situation.

There is no doubt that the news media and the general public view Thompson as what Pogo used to call "presidential timber." Virtually every national publication has included him in the litany of candidates. And his frequent out-of-state speaking engagements have not exactly cooled the rumors, despite his disclaimers. Finally, there is his frequent statement that he has "dreamed" of being president since he was a boy.

Thompson, however, won't say whether he is running, wants to run, could run, might run or won't run for president in 1980. And it's on that point that he has picked up the most criticism. The voters have a right to know, the usual argument goes, whether Thompson will serve out his full term, or whether he will abandon his state duties to campaign for — and maybe even serve as — president. The situation is compounded, the argument goes, by the fact that Thompson's lieutenant governor heir apparent, former St. Clair County Sheriff Dave O'Neal, is largely unknown and has no real experience in administering anything as large as the state government. Well, how about it?

In the first instance, Thompson probably doesn't know yet if he's going to run for president in 1980. He surely would like to, since it appears, at this point, that no one in the Republican field has more potential appeal nationally to voters across the ideological spectrum. It also appears that President Carter's popularity is slipping. Obviously, the situation might be reversed if Gerald Ford decided to get back in the race or — a more interesting possibility for Illinoisans — if Chuck Percy decided it's not too late, after all.

The most that Thompson could be expected to say, then, is that he might run if the situation is right.

Does he have an obligation to say that? If so, is it to the voters; to the other party leaders; to his financial backers?

Idealistically, a case could probably be made that candor is the only honorable course in such circumstances — that a man who wants to be elected to serve the public should confess that he might want to serve only until something better comes along.

Practically, it might not be such a hot idea for Thompson to tip his hand this year. Remember what happened to Paul Simon when he took the "high road" and told the voters just what he had in mind for taxes? He got clobbered — that's what — by an opponent who selectively emphasized the parts of the package that were most unattractive to the electorate.

Without implying any correlation between Dan Walker, who ran against Simon, and Michael Bakalis, who is running against Thompson, the governor at least avoids making Simon's mistake by holding his peace.

Perhaps the heart of the matter is this: If Thompson says he would like to run for president in 1980, the voters will have to operate on the assumption that he may turn out to be a part-time governor for two years and that the lieutenant governor then may ascend the throne. And the voters will base their decision in the voting booth on that assumption.

If, on the other hand, Thompson continues to make no commitment — his stock line is that he has no plans "at this time" to run — the voters are going to have to assume exactly the same thing. It would be a foolish voter, indeed, who considered the question and came to the conclusion that the governor's coy replies mean he is settling down in Springfield for another enjoyable four years of racquetball, dogs and children, come what may on the national front.

What does Thompson gain, then, by his refusal to meet the question head-on?

Well, he gains this: When opponents chide him for having an eye on Washington, he can honestly—if technically — continue to say, "I'm not running for president." If he said he would run if the chance presents itself, he'd be wide open for a barrage of questions on the issue that would eventually dominate the campaign.

That situation would be one of the few things that could really hurt Thompson, former Walker aide Vic DeGrazia says.

And Anthony R. Martin-Trigona, the political gadfly who is spending a small fortune running for the Democratic nomination for the Senate, agrees. The question about the presidency, Martin-Trigona said, "is a whipping post and it's a legitimate issue. Which one you view it as, depends on your perspective."

By continuing to duck the question, Thompson avoids the whipping, even if he also ducks the legitimate inquiry.

FOOTNOTES:
In an earlier column here, I said I believed Walker decided not to run for governor primarily because of his chronic funding problems. That was partly right. Walker confidantes now say, but the overriding consideration was the former governor's divorce. Were it not for the divorce, Walker would have run in the Democratic primary, they say. 

March 1978/ Illinois Issues/41