By ROBERT KIECKHEFER
Politics

THE MAIN reason the 1970 Constitution rearranged the state's election schedule was to schedule the selection of state officeholders, such as the governor, secretary of state, attorney general and treasurer, in years when there is no presidential election. That action had some impact on the 1978 election, but not as much as might have been expected.

The 1980 campaign, on the other hand, has been affected a lot by the change in schedule.

With only two statewide contests — president and U.S. senator — there will be a lot more attention paid to the big field seeking the seat that Adlai E. Stevenson III is relinquishing than there would if a lot of other campaigns were going on simultaneously. That's good, because there are some interesting issues in the campaign. And the candidates themselves make up a field the likes of which might not be seen again soon.

Two of the candidates face serious legal charges and have been forced to spend time in court when they would rather have been campaigning. Some of the others spent as much time watching the legal battles as they did planning their own campaigns. Another took off for Iran as the campaign started to heat up. And a perennial candidate who had promised never to run again returned from his brief retirement to join in the festivities.

It's a little easier to rate the Democratic field than the Republicans, mostly because the former have fewer and less serious legal problems than the latter.

The Democrats

Clearly, the front-runner among the Democrats is Secretary of State Alan J. Dixon. Even his opponents tacitly admit the lifelong public official, who boasts he has served in all three branches of Illinois government, has such widespread name recognition that he will be hard to stop.

Dixon, a Belleville resident, spent two decades in the Illinois legislature after starting his career in the judiciary, as a police magistrate. He makes no bones about liking the legislative realm best, although his undisguised ambition tempted him to leave his powerful Senate leadership position to win the office of treasurer, then secretary of state. With a clean record, a dynamic speaking style and the advantages of a very visible statewide office, Dixon senses the nomination is his.

The only political bobble on his form sheet is an aborted race for governor in the 1976 primary. Irked at the performance of Gov. Daniel Walker, Dixon, then treasurer, announced early that he would challenge Walker in the primary, only to be called off later by then-Mayor Richard J. Daley, who ran Michael J. Howlett instead. His opponents criticize Dixon for "knuckling under" to Daley.

Dixon's No. 1 challenger is Alex Seith — the Chicago-based international lawyer who gave Sen. Charles H. Percy a run for his money in the 1978 general election. Seith, who some observers felt could have upset Percy with a better coordinated campaign, counts experience in international affairs, a knowledge of the diplomatic scene and an increasing public interest in foreign affairs among his assets. Seith also benefits from the name recognition he built in his 1978 campaign —a major factor in a race against a candidate as well-known as Dixon.

The Democrat with legal problems is Anthony Robert Martin-Trigona, a Chicago-based, self-proclaimed millionaire entrepreneur. Martin-Trigona is embroiled in two legal hassles -one, a claim that he misappropriated an insurance check for damages to a Champaign apartment building in which he had an interest; the other, a slander judgment which he is still fighting.

Many regard Martin-Trigona as a slightly wacky irritation. But he used a highly intelligent media campaign, focusing primarily on radio, to win a lot of votes against Seith in the 1978 Democratic primary and might have won a lot more votes if the turnout had been heavier. A similar effort this year, while it wouldn't be enough to beat Dixon, might cut into the other candidates' vote totals.

Martin-Trigona took time off twice during the campaign to visit Iran as a correspondent for a Swiss newspaper. After his first trip, he complained that the Illinois news media weren't taking his Iranian jaunts seriously enough.

Robert Ash Wallace, an investment banker from Evanston, has had a hard time getting a campaign off the ground. With the party organization committed to Dixon, with Seith and Martin-Trigona ahead of him as independent candidates, and with early public interest in the campaign limited, Wallace made little headway. By late January, however, Wallace said he felt his campaign had started to attract serious attention throughout downstate and was finally catching on in Chicago as well.

The final candidate in the Democratic fold — and certain to finish in that position when the votes are totaled, is Dakin Williams, brother of

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author Tennessee Williams and a frequent candidate in past elections. Williams once said during a gubernatorial campaign that, if elected, he'd move the seat of government to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Chicago because it is much classier than the Capitol.

Because of Dixon's wide lead, the Democratic campaign centered largely around the efforts of other candidates to "smoke out" the secretary of state. "My analysis, bluntly," Seith said, "is that Dixon is hoping no one will know there is an election. He'll breeze by on name recognition. If you took a poll today [late January], people would say they were going to vote for Dixon. But ask them why and they'd say, 'because his is the only name I know.'''

The problem became so acute for Seith and Wallace that they joined forces for a statewide flyaround, challenging Dixon to a series of 10 debates. Dixon was unperturbed. He said he was the first to suggest debates and, in fact, had appointed former Comptroller Michael J. Bakalis to try to arrange them. He then agreed to debate three times. Asked why his opponents were still critical, Dixon said, "Of course they have to say something."

The Republicans

The Republican primary campaign centered on U.S. District Court in Chicago, where Attorney General William J. Scott sat through day after day of testimony on charges he cheated on his income tax. Scott, always something of an enigmatic figure, threw a king-sized monkey wrench into the works early in 1979. Knowing he was likely to be indicted by the federal grand jury that had been pursuing him for two years, he announced his candidacy for the Senate. Some Republican party officials think Scott announced in a last-minute attempt to head off the indictment, or to at least make it look political. Whatever the motive, the outcome of the campaign depends on the outcome of the legal battle. And the angles are so numerous and complex that it's impossible to say exactly how any given result in the courtroom might influence the election.

One consideration is that Scott was not charged with any official wrongdoing. There was no allegation he took taxpayers' money or directly misused his office. Either of those charges might seem a lot more serious to the voters than a tax-cheating charge, assuming Scott is acquitted.

Another consideration is that Scott might be forced to stay in the race if he is convicted and appeals. He has charged all along that his prosecution was politically motivated. If he's forced to continue fighting the legal battle, he could hardly withdraw from the race. Others feel the prosecution already has put an end to Scott's career. The weight of the evidence, they feel, is so great that even an acquittal would leave the attorney general crippled politically.

Whatever the outcome, the case against Scott posed no end of difficulty for his opponents — Peoria Mayor Richard E. Carver and Lt. Gov. Dave O'Neal.

Carver has been running for the Senate since 1978 — before Stevenson officially bowed out — and thought at one point he had a clear road to the GOP nomination.

A lumber dealer and head of the U.S. Conference of Mayors, Carver is one of those who feels Scott made a hasty decision to enter the Senate race, complicating what should have been a simple situation. Carver's response was to ignore, publicly, Scott's troubles. "I openly admit it's going to be a confusing primary because of Bill Scott's troubles," Carver said. "But I haven't had time to pay much attention to the trial."

O'Neal, former St. Clair County Sheriff, took exactly the opposite tack, making Scott's troubles a campaign issue. "I hope Bill's acquitted," O'Neal told an audience at Illinois State University. "If he's acquitted in time, we can go on with the campaign. But I think Mr. Scott has been hurt so badly that whether he's convicted or acquitted, he can't win in November. I think the Republican party realizes that."

Scott's troubles aside, the sniping between O'Neal and Carver centered on party loyalty. O'Neal charged Carver has not consistently supported Republican tickets in the past and, as a result, "It's very difficult to go back to the county chairmen and say, 'Endorse me.' That's why he doesn't have his own county endorsement and why he can't get it," O'Neal said. "The only type of endorsement I've sought," Carver replied, "are people whose opinion reinforces my statement about my experience, which is why the endorsement of such people as Congressman Bob Michel or former Treasury Secretary William Simon represent the kind of thing I'm talking about — people who are supporting me because of my experience in the private sector and in public policy."

The job

The field is so crowded this year because of Stevenson's decision not to run again. And he made that decision, he said in an interview with UPI's Bob Mackay, largely because the Senate no longer is a forum for action. Rather, he said, it is a pretentious waste of time and something of a frustration. The candidates for his job disagree — obviously. And they offer some reasons for their disagreement.

Seith said he feels even a freshman senator can build a reputation with his 99 colleagues that will win trust and let him accomplish meaningful goals. For

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an Illinois senator, he said, that task should be easier than for others. "A senator from Illinois has got a good opportunity because the state is so diverse. More than any other state, we're a microcosm of the country . . . A senator from Illinois who really understands that can say to any senator, 'You have a problem with the Southern point of view in your state? I've got a Southern point of view in my state, too, and I understand.' The same for an urban point of view, farm and so on."

Seith also said Stevenson's committee assignments might have had something to do with his feeling about the Senate. "Two of them, ethics and intelligence, hold secret hearings. Banking does have some significant hearings but, with the destruction of the seniority system, the place is not as manageable as it was in LBJ's days."

Wallace said of Stevenson's assessment, "I can see how he feels that way because there's a great deal of wasted motion and political posturing. That's why I want to go there — to help get that body back on track."

Dixon said the Senate might suit him better personally than it has Stevenson. "With every respect to my good friend Adlai, I still think that's where it's at," Dixon said. "The Senate of the United States is a great forum for an active person like myself." In the General Assembly, Dixon said, "Alan Dixon was an active legislator — responsible for the passage of more major legislation than any other legislator, with the possible exception of W. Russell Arrington." One need only run down the roster of senators to find activists who have achieved great things in the U.S. Senate, Dixon said — listing ("Even if you don't agree with them all philosophically") Hubert Humphrey, Everett Dirksen and Lyndon Johnson.

Dixon said he would like to work on such committees as Appropriations or Finance. He admitted there would be little chance for a freshman to land both those committees. But, he said, when Stevenson was elected, his predecessor, Ralph Smith, agreed to resign a few days early, permitting Stevenson to be sworn in ahead of the other freshmen senators and giving him a jump on seniority. "I'm not saying Adlai would do that for me," Dixon said. "He doesn't owe me. But I sure wouldn't be afraid to ask him."