In Springfield at the State House, the political scene plays like a Shakespearean drama. In early scenes the young hero, a man of stature and promise, twice receives overwhelming ovations from the populace. As the complex action unfolds he joins forces with a woman whose rise to and use of power provides an unusual subplot. Recently they have been under attack by a young pretender who has ambitions to gain the throne of his late father. The characterizations and action are worthy of Shakespeare at his best.

JAMES Robert Thompson at 43 is the tallest and third youngest of the 37 chief executives of Illinois, and is the Republican winner of landslide elections in 1976 and 1978. He is at the midpoint of his six years as governor. During a precocious boyhood on Chicago's west side, he developed a lifetime interest in politics. Following a spectacular career as a federal prosecutor, he became governor of the largest state in Republican hands. His brilliant intellect, unorthodox personality and moderate political stance attracted national attention and led to speculation, which he did not discourage, that he might become president, or at least vice president.

National conventions keep their eyes open for centrist candidates who have carried big states and have platform poise. Thompson excels as an extemporaneous speaker whether or not he is wearing a T-shirt. It seems safe to predict, however, that 1980 won't be Big Jim's year. Delegates will think twice about nominating a man who would be a drag on their ticket in the most Republican portion of Illinois, the 30 country towns of Cook County and the collar counties of DuPage, Kane, Lake, McHenry and Will.

The RTA subsidy

In that area, a special sales tax — one cent in Cook and a quarter cent in the outlying region — is now levied as a result of Thompson's sponsorship of an increased subsidy for the Regional Transportation Authority (RTA). His motivation is a belief that Chicago, his native city and legal residence, cannot survive economically without a workable mass transit system. That idea is not original with the governor, and there also is expert opinion that the previous subsidy had been inadequate, The logic behind that argument is that Chicago and its suburbs are a single economic entity and that the good health of the hinterlands depends upon the survival of the metropolis.

The RTA, an umbrella agency designed to enlarge the area from which financial help is given the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) and commuter lines, is bad medicine in the region outside Chicago. Traditionally, the suburbs fear that they will be swallowed by the big city, and for generations Republicans have won elections by being anti-Chicago. When the RTA was created as a result of the only agreement reached by Gov. Dan Walker and Mayor Richard J. Daley,

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House Speaker W. Robert Blair, a Will County man, was defeated for renomination because he helped pass the law.

At the start of his administration Gov. Thompson gave close attention to Chicago problems. On his initiative, an agreement was reached with Mayor Michael A. Bilandic to free federal funds tied up in the Crosstown Expressway controversy. When Jane M. Byrne was elected mayor last winter, Thompson advised her to give high priority to local transportation. Twice, the financing proposals they jointly sponsored were rejected by the legislature, but at a September special session, the governor and the mayor pushed to enactment a many-faceted subsidy program highlighted by the localized sales tax. The suburbs think it is a bad deal. The prevailing sentiment is that the bulk of the Republicans there will vote against Thompson if they get another chance. No Republican has carried Illinois without that area.

The moral is that what is good economically and socially for Illinois and Chicago is not necessarily good politically for Big Jim Thompson.

Midterm speculation about his place in history is premature. All governors are politicians, but some — such as Edward Coles, Thomas Ford, John P. Altgeld and Richard B. Ogilvie — were also statesmen. Their common denominator was that they did what they thought was right, regardless of the consequences.

The art of the possible

No one in government wants to emulate the man Thompson replaced, the combative Dan Walker, who loved his daily quarrels as he practiced the politics of confrontation. Politics is the art of the possible. And Thompson knows that he must make government work, that he must try to get along with the legislature which is both Democratic and fragmented. With his feet-on-the-desk informality, Thompson prefers to be a compromiser, and he has had considerable success working out bipartisan agreements about the conduct of government.

At the same time, however, Thompson can be stubborn and tenacious, especially if he believes that a matter of principle is involved. During his three years as governor he has made a specialty of taking the unpopular side of financial and emotional controversies.

The prize for the unpopular stand of the 1970's goes to Thompson's veto of the major Democratic bill for a five-year phase out of the sales tax on food and medicine. He did it out of fear that the rapidly growing surplus in the state treasury might melt away in a recession. He was supported by Mayor Byrne, who was afraid that a reduced rate would lower Chicago's cut of the sales tax. Together they twisted arms and defeated an attempt to override the veto; but, for the governor, it might be a case of winning the battle but losing the war. The override fight split both parties with the suburban members taking the Democratic side. Sen. Richard M. Daley played political hardball and organized a coalition of sales tax opponents who demonstrated against the veto. That will be an issue if Thompson runs for a third term in 1982, and by challenging Byrne, young Daley came off looking like a future candidate for mayor of Chicago, the post long held by his father.

His sudden change of position looked like a flip-flop to many people. They wondered if the governor was abandoning program and principle and might turn out to be another Jerry Brown, who has turned backward somersaults in California

As Thompson's political enemies mobilized, he caused trouble for himself by countering the override attempt with an offer, intended as another compromise, to reduce the food-medicine sales tax a penny now and let the future take care of itself. Because he had taken a strong stand against any reduction, the sudden change of position looked like a flip-flop to many people. They wondered if the governor was abandoning program and principle and might turn out to be another Jerry Brown, who has turned backward somersaults in California.

Thanks to Mayor Byrne, the governor eventually signed the bipartisan bill that cut the food-drugs sales tax one cent. Her faction of the Chicago Democratic party provided votes that cancelled suburban defections. It would be too much to expect that the Thompson-Byrne alliance will continue during the campaign year of 1980, when the major stake will be control of the decennial legislative and congressional reapportionments that must be made the following year.

The sales tax issue has been the most troublesome for Thompson and is the most promising for the Democrats, who can be expected to exploit it as

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In political style . . . Thompson bears some resemblance to Sen. Charles H. Percy. Both started in politics by running for top-of-the-ticket offices and both have carried the state by spectacular majorities

aggressively as Thompson prosecuted Otto Kerner, Theodore J. Isaacs, Edward J. Barrett and Thomas E. Keane. There is some consolation for the governor that, due to the influence of the strong woman who occupies the mayor's office, the majority leaders from Chicago — but not young Daley — did their own flip-flops and landed on the Thompson-Byrne side. It provided an interlude of California-type comedy relief as part of the main drama.

Some people contend that it is somehow obscene for any governor, regardless of party and circumstances, to join with a mayor of Chicago in a legislative program. It has happened in every administration since Dwight H. Green and Edward J. Kelly joined hands when the Chicago Transit Authority was created. The growing complexities of government, especially those that make metropolitan mass transit troubles an integral part of downstate highway financing, require that the top state and city officials stay on speaking terms.

There are other examples of unpopular positions taken by the governor. Two quickly overridden vetoes challenged the antiabortion forces that, in their single-issue determination to force acceptance of their views by legal and constitutional mandate, are equivalent to the Anti-Saloon League of the preprohibition era. In a 1977 veto message, Thompson said that a bill outlawing the use of public aid funds for abortions denied poor women a constitutional right. Two years later the former law professor, who once was a Presbyterian deacon, noted that a comprehensive right-to-life bill ignored rulings of the United States Supreme Court. On another emotional issue, Thompson disapproved a bill to permit treatment of terminally ill cancer patients with the drug laetrile, which had been banned by the federal government. To sign it would be an act of deception, the veto message said. That veto also was overridden.

The critics of coasting

In the frustration of his 1978 campaign for governor, Democrat Michael J. Bakalis complained that the incumbent did not have a program for the state and hence did not merit public support. He said that Thompson was coasting through a two-year transition term without standing for anything. Milton Rakove also argued that Illinois was being short-changed on leadership ("Gov. Thompson: What Kind of Politician is He?" Illinois Issues, October 1977). If they were correct, the voters did not mind, for the governor was reelected to a four-year term with 60 percent of the vote. He had slipped five points in two years, but 60 percent is still a landslide.

The critics missed the main point, for 1978 was the year of Proposition 13, and Illinois was not an island in that high tide of sentiment for lower taxes and less spending. Thompson started with an empty treasury and achieved a major goal: balancing the budget for two years without increasing taxes. He did it by standing for slow-growth government and fiscal prudence and by refraining from advocating more than a minimum of new programs. He held the line on spending in the face of demands for higher appropriations, and his three annual budgets have increased less than the rate of inflation. Howard Jarvis could not ask for more.

The financial line

By holding the financial line, Thompson and Budget Director Robert L. Mandeville have supported each other. Mandeville, an old State House hand whose competence is unquestioned, is the second most powerful man in state government. As head of a professional staff of analysts that has been expanded since the bureau was founded by Ogilvie, he estimates revenues, gauges the cash flow and scowls at requests for increased appropriations. The job specifications call for a crusader for fiscal soundness who is a bit of a politician. The two top officials decide on the percentage increase for expenditures, knowing that if an exception is granted for one agency, a cut must be made elsewhere.

Traditionally, Illinois government has been penurious. After the massive 1837 internal improvements debt was paid off, the tax levy on property was kept at a minimal rate for almost a century. Depression emergencies forced Henry Horner to ask that the property tax be replaced with the original sale tax. Dwight H. Green and Adlai E.

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Stevenson II, who followed, have been the only Illinois governors without financial dilemmas. Stevenson's general fund was flush with money that Green couldn't spend because of World War II restrictions on public works. Since then William G. Stratton and Otto Kerner raised the sales tax. Ogilvie sacrificed a second term when he sponsored the state income tax, which provided a cushion that enabled Walker to maintain the status quo. Thompson has an unusual distinction; he started with nothing and became the first governor to have too much money in the state treasury. Early in the 1980 fiscal year the balance exceeded a half billion dollars. The surplus was the result of increased tax collections due to inflation and tight-fisted budgeting. The gigantic nest-egg encouraged the Democratic drive to exempt foods and drugs from the sales tax. As the amount grew, the governor conceded that some compromise would be acceptable without risking future insolvency. (See Diane Ross, "Thompson's Balancing Act and Tax Relief Review," Illinois Issues, November 1979.)

The sales tax veto message, written in July, expressed hope that tax rates would not be changed until the 1980 session had a chance to consider a reform program for the state's entire revenue system. The governor did not then indicate what he had in mind. Most people seem to have forgotten that, in his 1979 State of the State message, Thompson submitted detailed recommendations for a constitutional amendment that would establish limits on governmental growth. Future spending from the general and road funds would be pegged to the rate of increase in the state's total personal income. An emergency cash reserve fund would be created. To increase state taxes, a three-fifths legislative majority would be required. The state would be forced to fund fully any program mandated upon local governments. Increases in local property taxes would be limited and provision made for rate rollbacks. Two competing amendments, both under Republican sponsorship, have been submitted, and the question of limitations is still unfinished business.

Had it not been for the fearful legislature, Thompson would have increased motor fuel taxes and vehicle license fees. Such proposals, twice submitted by the governor and Mayor Byrne, were rejected before the two houses passed a third plan that includes the sales tax subsidy for mass transit. For the next four years highway modernization, extension and repairs will be financed in part by bonds and in part by miscellaneous new revenues that include a tax of $30 on the sale of automobiles between private parties. In recent years some bond financing has been used to rebuild hard roads. Back of Thompson's reluctance to reduce the sales tax was concern about gigantic bond interest and retirement costs in the future.

Highway officials report that the hard road system, which has been upgraded several times since Gov. Len Small pulled Illinois out of the mud in the 1920's, faces another crisis. Thompson contends that if prompt action isn't taken, the pavement and bridges soon will be barely adequate to handle the automobile and truck traffic of the post-railroad era.

The style of Big Jim

Big Jim is like no other governor of Illinois. Casual and relaxed, he is the opposite of the stereotyped executive who wears a vest and pauses reflectively before speaking. His most effective speeches are spontaneously made when, faced with an unusual situation, he discards the manuscript prepared by his staff. Thompson, who has had trouble with some state code departments, believes that government agencies can and should solve public problems. His objective is to seek agreement through compromise. Quick to grasp the complexities of a situation, he is available as a referee when agency heads disagree. As a result, the state is on a firmer foundation than during the Walker administration when subordinates were encouraged to take adversary roles. In his first year a tough anticrime law was finally enacted as a compromise that included Class X sentencing for definite terms, a Thompson specialty. Law enforcement has been a major priority, and money and time were spent on the troublesome and long-neglected prison system. When a demand arose to do something about abused children, money was found for more caseworkers. By executive order and by statute, a start was made on reorganization of state government. An excellent event-by-event recital of Thompson's first two years in office is found in Robert E. Hartley's Big Jim Thompson of Illinois (Rand McNally, 224 pp. $9.95). Good biographies of Illinois governors are rare, and Hartley has written one of the best.

In political style but not in physique, Thompson bears some resemblance to Sen. Charles H. Percy. Both started in politics by running for top-of-the-ticket offices and both have carried the state by spectacular majorities. Both remember that many of their votes came from independents and Democrats, and neither is regarded as a blood brother by the hard shell conservatives of the GOP establishment.

Big Jim reached the top as a result of brilliant mental equipment, a unique personality and a series of lucky breaks. His grandparents came from DeKalb County, the heartland of Republicanism. His father struggled through the Depression and, eight years after the birth of the future governor, graduated from medical school and became a pathologist at Municipal Tuberculosis Sanitarium in Chicago. The boy's first home was an apartment in the Garfield Park neighborhood. He commuted to North Park Academy, a private high school, to the Navy Pier classrooms of the University of Illinois and to Northwestern University law school.

A nonpolitical background

On his way up, he never participated in precinct or ward politics, which are almost extinct among Chicago Republicans anyway. In law, his specialty was prosecution. He had no political sponsorship and his appointments from State's Attorney Benjamin S. Adamowski and Attorney General William J. Scott were in recognition of his legal ability. As a law professor at Northwestern, he was co-author of three textbooks. On Ogilvie's recommendation, he was appointed United States attorney at Chicago by President Nixon. (The post as federal prosecutor at Chicago is one of the stepping stones to the governorship. Earlier it was held by Dwight H. Green, who sent Al Capone to prison, and by Otto Kerner, who was sent there by Thompson. Gov. Charles S. Deneen was state's

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Without the guidance of an elder statesman, the governor has been guilty of political gimmickry and strategy goof-ups, chiefly the disastrous Thompson Proposition

attorney of Cook County at the end of the last century.) Thompson attained high name recognition as a result of his indictment and conviction of politicians and policemen. His willingness to run for governor solved a Republican problem. An all-star campaigner and philosophical middle-of-the-roader, he won his first office by 1,400,000 votes, a record, but he had never held elective office, had never been in contact with a legislative body, and knew little about government at Springfield.

For his on-the-job training, from which politics has frequently diverted his attention, Thompson has received generally satisfactory grades. Among lobbyists and legislators there is a consensus that he doesn't yet understand the complexities of government. Such criticism is not unusual in those quarters, for propinquity leads to over familiarity and occupational frustrations. He has been called an amateur by those Democrats who consider running against him in 1982. A new breed of legislators objects to being led, and Republican senators have never been inclined to be charitable when a governor appoints Democrats to such important positions as secretary of transportation.

The mistake he didn't make

Thompson didn't make the mistake of putting at his right hand a personal crony, such as Kerner's Ted Isaacs and Walker's Vic DeGrazia. Many of his top officials are either Illinois amateurs or Easterners who held jobs with the Ford administration. He needs an elder statesman, someone with decades of legal and practical experience with state and local government, someone with a long memory and a wide acquaintance in both parties and most counties. He could use a reincarnation of Werner W. Schroeder, who several decades ago was elder statesman for a series of Republicans.

Without such guidance, the governor has been guilty of political gimmickry and strategy goof-ups, chiefly the disastrous Thompson Proposition. Bakalis, whose campaign had not caught fire, was trying to make headway with a tax rebate proposal. Instead of relying on his record as a budget-balancer, the governor countered by asking for a referendum on whether the people wanted a ceiling on taxes and spending, both state and local. On election day 83 percent said they did. The question was put on the ballot by petition, and in some cases petitions hurriedly circulated at Thompson's urging were fraudulently signed and notarized. Anyone with experience in metropolitan area politics would have known that it is impossible to collect 600,000 untainted signatures. In northeastern Illinois, a dozen Republicans, some of prominence, pleaded guilty and were fined for roundtabling the petitions, and Lt. Gov. Dave O'Neal's secretary refused to testify before the State Board of Elections. In the biggest scandal of his administration, the governor's defense was naivete, which is not accepted by federal prosecutors.

A public apology

A public apology, made in his second inaugural address, softened some of the criticism of Thompson's after-midnight veto of the salary increase bill which both he and members of the legislature wanted enacted. He had promised to veto the bill, but by prearrangement did it by long distance from South Carolina so that the vote to override could be taken while the two houses were still in session.

Because state officials henceforth will be elected in nonpresidential years, Thompson was able to win two elections in two years. In view of his penchant for sticking out his neck and doing unpopular things, it seems doubtful that, if the old constitution were in effect, he could win in 1980. Only General Richard J. Oglesby, one of the great orators of the post-Civil War period, was elected governor three times. In 1983 or later, Gov. Thompson can take his pick of Chicago law firms or open his ownoffice with his wife as partner. If he doesn't run again for state or national office, politics will be duller. He is a colorful man of ambition, ability and courage, and he is one of the best campaigners in the history of Illinois, especially when he has Jayne Thompson at his side with Samantha in her arms.

Robert P. Howard, author of Illinois: A History of the Prairie State, has been a close-up watcher of Illinois governors since 1933.

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