By PAUL M. GREEN

How Thompson did it: downstate again the key

Confounding pollsters, Adlai Stevenson came within an eyelash of beating Gov. James Thompson in the most dramatic gubernatorial election in Illinois history. The campaign lacked surprises; the election abounded with them: the resurgence of the machine, the emergence of tremendous black voting power, Thompson's slippage in the suburbs, Stevenson's weakness downstate and the hardly noticed 15 percent increase in turnout in the "other 96" counties, which ultimately gave Thompson an unprecedented third straight term

ON ELECTION eve in 1952, Democratic presidential candidate Adlai E. Stevenson II reflected on his campaign, "Looking back I am not wholly content that I have said or said well everything that was in my heart. . . . I am not sure that I have made my views on all of our concerns as clear and precise as I would have liked. . . . [However] I am content. Win or lose I have told you the truth as I see it. I have said what I meant and meant what I said. I have not done as well as I should like to have but I have done my best. . . ." Thirty years later his son Adlai E. Stevenson III could have used the same speech to characterize his eyelash loss to successful third-term Illinois Republican Gov. James R. Thompson. The tragedy for

Table 1 Thompson v. Bakalis, 1978
	THOMPSON (R)	BAKALIS (D)
CHICAGO:
Votes (%)	330,827 (40%)	497,270 (60%)
(winning margin)		(166,443)
Wards won	13	37
SUBURBAN ½: Cook Township
Vote (%)	479,616 (73%)	177,046 (27%)
(winning margin)	(302,570)
Cook Townships won	30	0
Collar County
Vote (%)	324,434 (75%)	106,599 (25%)
(winning margin)	(217,835)
Collar Counties won	5	0
Total ½ Vote (%)	804,050 (74%)	283,645 (26%)
(Total ½ winning margin)	(520,405)
DOWNSTATE 96 COUNTIES:
Votes (%)	724,807 (60%)	482,219 (40%)
(winning margin)	(242,588)
Counties won	86	10
STATEWIDE TOTAL:
Total Votes (%)	1,859,684 (60%)	1,263,134 (40%)
(winning margin)	(596,550)

"young Adlai" was that his best was not good enough even though in 1982 it should have been.

Many political pundits claim there is a definite rhythm to political campaigns. They argue that most candidates find a political rhythm and lyric, and then proceed to harmonize the various notes of the campaign into a single winning theme. However, in the 1982 Illinois gubernatorial campaign there was little rhythm, no pace and very little style.

Recapturing the spirit of this campaign is very difficult; no single event dominated the campaign, neither candidate gave a distinguished speech or uttered a memorable line (although the Democratic challenger did make the word "wimp" famous), and in the end the campaign meandered to a stop instead of climbing to a crescendo. Yet election night 1982 ranks as the most exciting night in Illinois politics since the legendary John Kennedy-Richard Nixon presidential battle in 1960.

The combatants

Coming into the 1982 governor's race, incumbent Jim Thompson had lived a charmed life in Illinois politics. His two previous successful gubernatorial campaigns had been shoo-ins; the press and media had treated him with kid gloves, and as the state's chief executive he had avoided a major political or governmental miscalculation. As a former U.S. attorney, he projected an image of an incorruptible crimefighter doing the people's business in a professional manner. At the same time he developed a colorful political style that balanced his conservative administrative posture. Thompson was assured and relaxed campaigning anywhere in this heterogeneous state. He "twanged" in southern Illinois, whooped it up on college campuses throughout central Illinois, talked "farmerese" in western Illinois, resembled a hard-drinking steelman in industrial south Chicago neighborhoods, preached like a minister in black Chicago churches, and handled himself adroitly on the cheese-and-chablis circuit in Chicago's affluent northern suburbs.

Facing the incumbent's arsenal of political weapons, the Democratic challenger, former U.S. Sen. Stevenson, was hardly defenseless. He was heir to one of the grandest names in Illinois politics and had won four previous statewide contests. Throughout his public life friends and critics alike praised his integrity and diligence. In late 1981 he moved deftly to capture the Democratic slatemakers' endorsement without antagonizing either supporters of Chicago Mayor Jane Byrne or Cook County State's Attorney Richard M. Daley. Furthermore, he helped put together a first-rate state ticket which included a woman running mate, Lake County Clerk Grace Mary Stern, for lieutenant governor, and former Lt. Gov. Neil Hartigan for attorney general.

Stevenson seemed like a man in command of his life and his destiny. When asked why he wanted to run for governor, he summoned up memories of his father and claimed that the governorship was in his bones. Later he added, "I've been training for it all my life." Yet this respected and confident man seemed ill at ease when facing Big Jim "one-on-one." His unorthodox view of modern political campaigning might seem courageous to some, but to party professionals and political commentators it seemed foolish not to have a real press secretary, a tight political campaign staff, organized fund-raising efforts, polling and media advisers and a public campaign style that suggested he wanted "to run for office rather than stand for it." In sum, the Democratic candidate was not the "squire of Hanover," the elitist tag Thompson attempted to place on Stevenson; rather he was a perplexed man who became caught up in his own image — he had to run as a Stevenson and not as a gubernatorial challenger.

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The debates

If polls measure momentum in political campaigns, candidate debates divide the campaign into political rounds, as in a boxing match. Each round has a winner and a loser, and most voters would rather read about who won the debate than listen to or watch the event. Overall, the four Stevenson-Thompson debates cast more light on the personalities of the candidates than on campaign issues. By eliminating the media middlemen in some of the debates both men were able to question each other directly, thereby bringing more interest and drama to the confrontation.

Admittedly, the 1982 debates do not conjure up images of Lincoln and Douglas or Gladstone and Disraeli. In the first debate Thompson and Stevenson called each other liars; in debate No. 2 they argued over who was more against a tax hike; round three was highlighted by Stevenson likening Thompson to Iran's Ayatollah Khomeini, and in the final debate both candidates tore into each other on every issue. Yet the rancorous exchanges between the two men did reveal some traits usually painted over by media and political advisers. For example, in the third debate in Carbondale the governor was visibly upset with the challenger's scattershot accusations concerning the legal problems of running mate George Ryan, the governor's use of state planes and the Khomeini barb dealing with the death penalty. Thompson's alleged political thin skin was pierced, and he sounded shrill and out of control during most of the debate. On the other hand, Stevenson almost always looked as if he were forcing himself to appear tough, hardnosed and down-to-earth. The image of Stevenson the debator was one of an individual who would be most happy if he were the only one participating.

In the end the debates favored Thompson. At no time was Stevenson able to link the governor with the country and state's economic hard times and severe unemployment. For a moment imagine a reversal of roles with Stevenson as the incumbent governor and required to defend Carteromics to the Republican challenger Thompson. Thompson would never have allowed Gov. Stevenson to escape from a series of four debates without lambasting him and his party for the state's economic woes. It is easy to conjure up Thompson arguing emotionally for the near immorality of such an incumbent governor seeking another term. In the actual debates Thompson adroitly defended the good points of his record and never allowed the challenger to make the election a referendum on Reagonomics and Illinois' fiscal condition. This, perhaps, was Stevenson's fatal error.

The homestretch

Little seemed to go right for Stevenson as the campaign headed down the homestretch. In the debates and in campaign appearances he could not convince voters that "Thompson was Reagan's chief cheerleader in Illinois." The polls were indicating a looming political disaster, and his campaign treasury was constantly near rock bottom. Even the good news that the black voter registration drive in Chicago was reaching unbelievable levels was tempered by Stevenson's strained relations with many powerful city ward committeeman and the mayor of Chicago herself.

Mayor Byrne made little effort to hide her disdain for Stevenson. Without attempting a Machiavellian analysis of Chicago politics, it is enough to assume that the mayor saw Stevenson as an ally of her deadly rival and coming 1983 mayoral primary opponent, Richard M. Daley. Moreover, she and her supporters generally had good relations with Republican Thompson. This mutual admiration surfaced during the gubernatorial campaign when Ed Kelly, 47th Ward Democratic committeeman, Chicago Park District superintendent and "currently" a strong Byrne backer, held a late September cocktail party-fundraiser. It was election time and Chicago Democratic hoopla was as expected — except the invited gubernatorial candidate was not Democrat Stevenson but Republican Thompson. Stevenson showed up anyway, although he was overshadowed by Gov. Thompson and embarrassed in his explanation that his invitation had been lost in the mail. Indeed, Stevenson made points at succeeding Democratic rallies by claiming it was good to be the only gubernatorial candidate in the room. Yet the impression arising from the Kelly party was clear — some very important Democrats had gone out of their way to hurt their party's gubernatorial candidate.

As the campaign wound its way to the end it was clear that Stevenson was in big political trouble. Limited by a lack of campaign money, bruised by apparent disunity within his party and obviously incapable of moving his campaign into a higher gear, Stevenson, in Chicago parlance, looked like "a dead bang loser."

What happened?

Stevenson did a great deal better than anyone (except him) expected. Certainly Thompson supporters did not imagine it would take such an agonizingly long time for the governor's downstate and suburban totals to edge past Stevenson's Chicago lead. At this writing (December 1), three points seem to stand out as contributing to the Stevenson surge. First, the economy was an issue that Thompson's campaign skill and Stevenson's campaign bungling could not blow

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away. Second, the Cook County regular Democratic organization, led by chairman Edward Vrdolyak and an aroused black electorate, went all out to "Punch 10" (vote straight Democratic). Third, many people (especially old liberal types who remembered the elder Stevenson) began to feel both sympathy for young Adlai and a twinge of embarrassment at seeing the Stevenson name and perhaps memory about to be crushed. For these (and other) reasons, Illinois voters made the 1982 gubernatorial election outcome the closest in state history and in doing so discredited the pollsters.

In my January 1982 Illinois Issues article on the gubernatorial contest, I painted a bleak picture for Stevenson. I wrote that even if he surpassed Michael Bakalis' 1978 totals by 10 percent in Chicago and the suburban 5 1/2 counties (suburban Cook plus the five surrounding collar counties of DuPage, Kane, Lake, McHenry and Will), he and Thompson would still be neck and neck coming out of Cook and the collar counties. In 1982, Stevenson improved on Bakalis' totals in the 51/2 by 10 percent and did better than this in the city. Largely because of the huge city turnout, Stevenson had a surprising 130,000-vote lead heading downstate. And, downstate holds the key to victory in statewide contests. Stevenson cut into Thompson's 1978 downstate strength, but the governor maintained enough muscle to overtake his challenger by around 5,000 votes. Losing downstate by over 136,000 votes was the tragic event on election night for Stevenson. It is also the great electoral mystery of the election.

Besides the computer problems in counting the ballots, the other major story on election night was the state's enormous voter turnout. Statewide there was a 14 percent (504,310 votes) increase from 1978 in the two-party vote for governor. Chicago led the surge in voter participation with a 16 percent jump from 1978, but the downstate 96 counties were close on Chicago's totals with a 15 percent increase. Lagging behind was the suburban 5 1/2 region which still had a significant 11 percent increase. Much has been written about the Chicago voter turnout, but the nearly equal surge downstate has gained little comment. In central Illinois The Champaign-Urbana News Gazette and the Bloomington-Normal Pantograph called local turnouts surprisingly high, and they backed this assertion by quoting several county clerks who termed the turnout incredible and extraordinarily heavy. In northern Illinois the Rockford Register post-election headline was "Big Voter Turnout Keeps Election Judges Hopping," while in northwestern Illinois, the Rock Island Argus banner read "Big Numbers Mark Election." Political scientists will question for many years why such an unexciting gubernatorial campaign mobilized so many Illinois voters.

Chicago results

Stevenson annihilated Thompson in Chicago. The numbers speak for themselves. Stevenson received about 231,000 more votes than Bakalis in 1978, while Thompson lost almost 71,000 from his 1978 city totals. Over 40 percent of Stevenson's statewide total came from Chicago; Thompson got a little over 14 percent of his totals from the city.

Thompson lost 11 of the 13 city wards he had carried in 1978, winning only in the far northwest side 38th and 41st wards. Thompson improved his vote percentage in only two wards (the 23rd and 25th), and in many wards his percentage decrease was astounding. This was especially true in the city's black wards and in the liberal-independent lakefront wards.

In several black wards Thompson's vote percentage dropped over 20 percent from 1978. Coupled with the increased black voter turnout, this dropoff gave his opponent vote margins nearing 20,000 in many black wards (the 6th Ward gave Stevenson a 21,028 plurality). The size and dimension of the black revolt against Thompson and the Republicans can be seen by comparing the 11th Ward's vote margin in the 1978 and 1982 elections. As most Illinois political observers know, the 11th Ward is the home of the Daleys and traditionally the best Democratic vote producer in the city. In 1978 the 11th gave Bakalis his largest vote margin (over 6,000 votes more than his second best ward); in 1982 it upped its margin for Stevenson by another 1,000 votes. Yet because of the black turnout, the 11th Ward was only Stevenson's eighth best margin ward.

The much talked about black turn-out deserves special mention. Black columnist Vernon Jarrett of the Chicago Tribune dismissed the importance of Edward Vrdolyak and his Democratic organization in getting out the black vote. Jarrett said the turnout was not pro-Stevenson or even anti-Thompson. He argued it was "armies marching to the ballot box" to register their dislike for Reagan and to send a warning message to Chicago Mayor Byrne.

Whatever the reasons, the end result was an enormous black turnout. For example, in the 1978 gubernatorial contest only two black wards (8 and 21) made the top one-half of the city ward turnout list. In 1982 eight black wards (4, 6, 8, 16, 17, 20, 21, 34) were ranked in the top one-half with turnout increases reaching record heights. Many Chicago black wards more than doubled their turnout between 1978 and 1982. The far south side 6th Ward moved from a turnout rank of thirty-third in 1978 to the fourth spot in 1982. On the west side, the once powerful and nationally famous 24th Ward rose from the near bottom of the turnout rankings to a respectable twenty-seventh spot by increasing its turnout 125 percent above its 1978 figures. Most important is the fact that these wards gave over 90 percent of their vote to Stevenson.

Thompson also received an electoral jolt along the lakefront and in the 5th Ward (the Hyde Park-University of Chicago community). To be sure, changing racial residential patterns had turned the 5th Ward into more of a traditional south side black ward, but even this cannot explain the astonishing 36 percent drop-off in Thompson's 1982 ward vote totals. Here and in other independent wards, Thompson's Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) performance, the drag of Ryan and a lingering sympathy for Adlai combined to give the Democratic challenger percentage vote increases equal to percentage increases in the black wards.

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The magnitude of Stevenson's Chicago support can also be seen in raw percentage figures. Thompson received less than 10 percent of the vote in 13 black wards; he received less than 25 percent of the vote in a majority (26 wards); and (including the two wards he won) the governor received 40 percent of the vote in only 11 wards.

In sum, Thompson's totals went down drastically throughout the city — thereby turning his Chicago vote performance away from the expected reasonable defeat to a surprising and near-fatal debacle. Thompson ran better in the city's peripheral all-white wards than in any other part of the city (he received a respectable 47 percent of the vote in the near north side reform-minded 43rd Ward but in 1978 this ward gave him 66 percent), but even in these areas the governor's totals were significantly lower than four years earlier.

Stevenson's city vote margin nearly equalled that of Jimmy Carter against Reagan in the 1980 presidential election. What saved Thompson was that despite the surge in Chicago's voter turnout, the city's share of the total statewide vote went up less than 1 percent. Thompson would have lost the election without a strong upturn in voter turnout outside the city. In the end, this upturn barely staved off the Stevenson juggernaut in Chicago.

Suburban ½ area

In the last several statewide elections, the suburban 5 1/2 region of Illinois has acted as a Republican balance of power to Democratic Chicago. In 1982 the five collar counties were only 7 percent (38,156 votes) short of their 1978 vote margin for Thompson. Suburban Cook County residents were less kind to the governor this time around. They still gave him 60 percent of their vote, but this figure amounted to a margin reduction of 145,475 votes, or 12 percent from 1978.

In short, there was a 183,631-vote turnaround in the suburban 5 1/2 leaving Thompson 131,843 votes behind going downstate. In 1978 Thompson carried every suburban Cook County township, receiving at least 70 percent of the vote in 20 of the 30 townships (Stickney was the only township which did not give him at least 60 percent of its vote). In 1982 Thompson received 70 percent of the vote in only six townships. Stevenson bettered Bakalis' best showing (58 percent in Stickney) in 10 townships. Moreover, Stevenson carried two townships (Evanston and Calumet), and he reduced Thompson's suburban Cook percentage in every single township. In a majority of the townships the Thompson percentage decrease was over 10 percent. Clearly, the governor's popularity declined in suburban Cook County. A change of a few votes in several townships would have placed six or seven more in Stevenson's victory column.

As in the city, two types of townships backed away from Thompson. One were townships with significant black populations. For example, in Evanston Thompson's percentage dropped almost 30 points. In other townships with double-digit black populations, Thompson's losses were well over 10 percent. The other type of township which backed off on Thompson were those with strong liberal-independent, pro-ERA voting blocs. Evanston also fits this definition, as does Oak Park, Niles, New Trier and Rich townships.

Another factor hurting Thompson in suburban Cook was the inordinate number of straight Democratic votes. In one of the Republicans' major vote-producing areas, there were only 10,000 more Republican straights than Democratic. Obviously, the Punch 10 campaign had its effect on voters outside Chicago and gave Stevenson a strong boost in suburban Cook. However, it must be remembered that the suburbs like the rest of the state are suffering economic hard times. It was the economy, not political organization, that produced so many Democratic straight votes. Finally, as Don Rose and other Illinois political observers have pointed out, changing residential patterns have placed more Democratic voters in suburban Cook County.

Thompson was most successful in holding down his losses in hardcore Republican northwest Cook County and the conservative western and southwestern ethnic suburbs. However, his plurality drops were staggering in several other townships. Evanston cut him 16,000 votes while Niles was close behind with a 13,000 margin reduction.

In short, the governor still did well in suburban Cook, but his margins were now merely solid instead of being remarkable or awesome.

The collar counties were Thompson's best area in the state. Led by DuPage (the Orange County, Calif., of Illinois GOP politics), Thompson racked up some impressive 1982 vote totals. Overall, he captured 68 percent of the collar county vote while receiving nearly a 180,000 vote plurality. Yet because of past record performances in the collars, Thompson's performance did not measure up to his 1978 statistics. In Lake County the governor's percentage drop-off was 12 percent (Grace Mary Stern obviously helped Stevenson here), while in Will County (the most Democratic of all the collar counties) Thompson received less than 60 percent of the vote — a first for any collar county in a Thompson gubernatorial campaign. Though urban areas within the collars had been hard hit by the recession, most collar county residents, especially rural voters and suburbanites, have not felt its full effect. Moreover, Thompson's problems with ERA or Ryan's legal difficulties were not viewed as big issues in collar county Illinois, and since Stevenson made little effort in the collars, these voters found little reason to shift away from Thompson.

Downstate's 96 counties

Downstate saved Thompson in 1982. Stevenson would have been elected governor if only Chicago and the suburban 5 1/2 counties were counted. Though Thompson's overall downstate winning percentage was down 5 percent from his 1978 totals because of a 15 percent voter turnout increase, Illinois' other 96 counties gave Thompson a plurality large enough to overcome Stevenson's lead.

In recent statewide elections the other 96 counties have been the largest vote-producing region of the state. Because of huge geographical distances and diverse media markets, this massive chunk of the Illinois electorate has often gone unnoticed by Chicago area commentators, pundits and sometimes candidates themselves. For the record, in the 1982 Illinois gubernatorial contest the other 96 counties of Illinois

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cast 39.1 percent of the statewide vote which was 5.5 percent greater than the suburban 5½ county totals and over 12 percent greater than Chicago's.

Of the three voting regions of the state Thompson suffered the least slippage in downstate. Compared to 1978, Thompson lost only 105,671 of his 242,000 downstate vote margin that buried Bakalis. Nevertheless, the governor was hurt in several of these 96 counties as the economy, the general Democratic trend and, to a lesser extent, ERA and Ryan pulled down his totals. In 1978 12 of the 96 counties gave Thompson at least 70 percent of their vote; in 1982 that number was reduced to three. In 1978 43 counties gave the governor 60 percent or more of their vote; in 1982 only 28 did so.

Stevenson was able to win 18 downstate counties (eight more than Bakalis) and improve on Bakalis' vote percentages in 57 other counties. Interestingly, of the 18 counties Stevenson won, only three of them were north of Macoupin County in central Illinois. In the northwestern part of the state, Stevenson's neighbors in Jo Daviess and unemployment in Rock Island County helped drop Thompson's vote percentages over 13 percent. In the latter, County Democratic Chairman John Gianulis proclaimed, "When you have 18.9 percent unemployment . . . voters take it out on the ins. The pocket book issue prevails." Indeed, in the populous counties with high unemployment Thompson suffered plurality losses ranging from 5,000 to 12,000 votes.

As mentioned in my January 1982 article, Thompson had twice done extremely well in large university counties in downstate Illinois. But in 1982 Champaign County (University of Illinois) and DeKalb County (Northern Illinois University) were leaders in the downstate percentage drop-off for Thompson. Whether this was due to his policies for higher education, unemployment in those areas or dissatisfaction with his ERA performance is open to speculation. What is undeniable, however, is that in rock-ribbed Republican Champaign and DeKalb counties Thompson's popularity took a nose dive.

Only in central and north central Illinois did Thompson come close to maintaining his 1978 vote performance. According to the Bloomington-Normal Pantograph, "Democrats may have done well in other parts of the state . . . but area results show central Illinois is still friendly territory for Republicans." Thompson even pushed up his vote percentages in several central Illinois counties, producing gains that gave him his very thin margin of victory.

Why didn't Stevenson do better in the other 96? Although Thompson had run extremely well downstate twice before and was the incumbent, 1982 was a Democratic year. Adlai identified easily with his downstate neighbors and unlike Thompson's previous opponents, Stevenson had no name recognition problem. The ultimate irony of this campaign is that if Stevenson had run as well downstate as unknown Jimmy Carter did against President Jerry Ford in 1976, he and his wife Nancy would be picking out curtains for the state mansion.

To be sure, Stevenson did nearly cut in half Thompson's 1978 vote margin in the downstate 96, but it wasn't enough. The voters in the other 96 mirror political sentiment in Illinois with greater fidelity than voters in Chicago or the suburban 5 1/2. They are more open to change, usually more willing to switch parties and in general more adept at responding to the personal and political traits of the candidates. In 1982 Stevenson was unable to convince enough downstaters that he would make a better governor than Jim Thompson.

Conclusion

Election post-mortems are usually predictable and perfunctory. However, this was not the case in the 1982 Illinois gubernatorial contest. The campaign bitterness between the major contenders peaked in the tension-filled hours and days of ballot counting and "drying." Stevenson claimed victory, started forming a transition team and when the official canvass went against him refused to concede, stating he would demand a recount. Thompson called his triumph a miracle and a humbling experience and let it be known to all that he intended to be sworn in as governor. One of his chief aides, Paula Wolff, claimed, "It was a great victory for Thompson because unlike other midwestern Republican governors, he ran for reelection when they all took a pass."

The election night drama and excitement saved Stevenson from having to answer critical questions about his campaign. From the outset his campaign appeared to be poorly organized and miserably financed. It never achieved a political rhythm. Stevenson was up against a political "high-stepper," but he did not use his own considerable intellectual talents to good effect. Even Stevenson's attack on the media for demanding simple capsule answers to complex questions proved futile. As Tribune columnist David Axelrod pointed out, when given the time "Stevenson never really . . . explained what his ideas were."

Stevenson labeled himself a "public servant and not a salesman" and complained that a sober man of ideas may not have a place in today's politics. In deed, perhaps his campaign's most effective theme emerged late in October when sympathy for this honorable and distinguished man was mounting as the polls showed him falling farther and farther behind. Stevenson told a TV interviewer that if he lost to Thompson, "there's no place left for me in this business." Ultimately, Stevenson's harping about modern political technology and new campaign techniques seems more of an excuse for his inability to communicate his ideas to Illinois voters than an indictment of the media-oriented politics of the 1980s.

The 1982 Illinois gubernatorial campaign will be debated and refought in family rooms, corner saloons and county court houses for months and years to come. The formerly undefeated Democratic challenger might wish to recall the words of state Rep. C. L. McCormick as he ponders his own political future. Defeated in 1982 for the first time in his career, McCormick was asked by a reporter how he felt following his loss for a state Senate seat in far southern Illinois. "Old C.L." replied, "It's almost a sin I feel as good. . . . I found out I can take defeat just as well as I can take victory." □

Paul M. Green is director of the Institute for Public Policy and Administration, Governors State University at Park Forest South. The author wishes to acknowledge the assistance of Ms. Pat Freeman, Illinoi Board of Elections, and Ms. Connie Kaplan, Chicago Board of Elections.

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