Politics By BARBARA J. HIPSMAN and BOB SPRINGER

For Adlai: advice from Aesop

THIS month's State Fair in Springfield signals the first turn in what promises to be a dramatic race for governor of Illinois. The field's two mighty horses — incumbent Gov. James R. Thompson and his Democratic challenger, Adlai E. Stevenson III — have completed pre-race training. They practiced what each hopes will be the campaign's major themes before partisan fans — who cheer no matter what idiocy, inanity or incomplete thoughts spring forth from their favorite's mouth — and before special interest lobbies where the only ones really paying attention were the news media.

The State Fair marks the climax of the summer parades, county fairs and soaking up sun and suds with the crowds. Strategy grows in importance to both men as they head for Labor Day and the backstretch; it will be even more critical when they will make that final turn into the homestretch in late October.

Now we get down to the nitty-gritty. Now we are at the day-in, day-out evaluation of the two steeds by a populace that wants work, but can't find it; by people who would rather sign home mortgages than rental contracts, and by a citizenry that prefers worrying over what to barbecue than whether it has enough to eat.

Downstate, as it has in other gubernatorial elections of recent years, holds the key to each camp's strategies. Votes from the 96 counties outside the Chicago area often make the difference between a heavy Democratic turnout in the Windy City and an equally strong push from GOP suburban strongholds. To downstaters, Thompson appears saddled by his affiliation to economic programs fashioned by Ronald Reagan. Seeking an unprecedented third straight term, Thompson is one of only two big-name, big-state Republican governors seeking reelection this year (the other is Pennsylvania's Gov. Richard Thornburgh). That is sure to attract a national spotlight to his matchup with Stevenson, whose name is synonymous with Democratic politics in any Illinois household with a voter over 40. The greater the national focus on Thompson's bid, the more likely his race will be depicted as a referendum on President Reagan. Thompson knows that isn't accurate or fair; but, he knows it will happen nevertheless.

"People, I don't think, see Adlai as an alternative, but as an expression of disapproval of Jim Thompson," says Republican Sen. Aldo DeAngelis of Chicago Heights. "If the economy leaves 16 percent of my people unemployed on election day... Jim Thompson is going to get the heat...."

Thompson, with a record of nearly six years as the state's chief executive, has made thousands of decisions that had nothing to do with the national economy or anything else outside Illinois' borders. And he has a style worlds apart from the more conservative, more dogmatic Reagan.

"Illinoisans must realize that the state has truly nothing to do with the overall economy," says Sen. Kenneth McMillan, a Republican from Bushnell who is running for Congress. "The state is not responsible for running businesses and it cannot issue money, nor can it control inflation," McMillan says. "If the governor pushes the fact that the state has remained financially sound, he'll have no trouble."

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"Big Jim," his southern twang and slurred consonants perfected for his trips south of Interstate 80 (Thompson uses a clear ill-ih-noy up north and a clever el-uh-noy down south), likely will spend a great deal of time crisscrossing southern, western and eastern Illinois in the months ahead. He'll frantically try to dispel notions that he's tied closely to Reagan, whose colors aren't exactly popular with union coal miners and Caterpillar Tractor Co. factory workers.

"He does what he does best in Southern Illinois. When he talks down home, you can hear a pin drop. Thompson just tears them up down-state," says Rep. Robert Winchester (R., Rosiclare), a close Thompson ally. Thompson will tell downstaters that the issue in the 1982 governor's race is Adlai, that gun-hating, ERA-loving, introspective, do-nothing former U.S. senator whose charmed life has kept his liberal fingernails clean and pink hands soft and uncalloused. And Thompson easily could succeed in getting his point across if Stevenson spends time in southern Illinois proving much of it true.

Stevenson's smartest strategy might be to take his cue from the tortoise in Aesop's fable and maintain a restrained gait, holding to the track's inside fence away from the bettors along the outside rail. While Thompson huffs and puffs up ahead, running close to the outer rail so all can see how hard he's trying, Stevenson can hang back and hope the economy stays dismal and that the two-term governor stumbles and falls. Downstate likely will vote more heavily for Stevenson the less intimately its citizens know him. If known mostly only by his family name, image and party identification, Stevenson could do well in the match race with Thompson.

The growing feeling among politicians is simple: The election is Thompson's to lose, but not Stevenson's to win. Democratic Rep. Mike Slape of Vandalia put it this way: "The best thing they [Stevenson strategists] could do is to keep him out of my district. If they [voters] don't hear him, they'll love him."

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