What could O'Neal have done differently?

By ROBERT KIECKHE

IT SURE would be easy to say that Dave O'Neal had no chance against Alan Dixon.

You could make a real good case, in fact. Dixon started with a lot of things that O'Neal could only dream of — 80 percent name recognition, the fealty and dedication of local party organizations all over the state, a bombastic, yet captivating, speaking style. Even more important, Dixon came out of the March 18 primary with a 30-year career in government, devoid of scandal and legitimately claiming a wealth of experience that his opponent could only envy. The key, perhaps, was Dixon's experience in the legislature — 20 years of wheeling and dealing that O'Neal could never quite convince the voters would not be beneficial in Washington.

The lieutenant governor, on the other hand, had as many drawbacks in the senatorial sweepstakes as he had pluses. No matter how hard he tried to emphasize his family background, his personal dedication to politics as a way to improving society, O'Neal still had to contend with the fact he had no — count them, no — experience in government above the county level. His only elective office other than lieutenant governor was as sheriff of St. Clair County. As opposed to Dixon's 80 percent, he had about 20 percent name recognition. And his credibility with Republican organizations around the state was at best questionable — certainly not in the same league as Dixon's with Democrats.

You also couldn't fault O'Neal if you looked at the game plan as the two candidates came out of the primary. Dixon took a powder, knowing he was far enough ahead to benefit from absence. O'Neal, knowing he needed to make an impression, began recruiting prestigious team of advisors and reaped a fair amount of ink by at least being available.

O'Neal also maneuvered for debates. The techniques may not have been the smoothest but they were at least effective — Dixon eventually agreed to meet with O'Neal four times in forums which should have greatly benefited the underdog Republican challenger. But it was about at that point that O'Neal seemed to lose it.

It could be argued from either side — events conspired against him, or he was unable to cope with the kind of pressures a statewide candidate has to expect will be brought to bear on him.

The "big ticket" item, of course, was the Chicago Tribune story charging O'Neal used state airplanes for more than $60,000 worth of campaign travel. No matter how you slice it, that's a pretty damning charge, even when the electorate is not in an anti-politician mood. But O'Neal totally failed to deal with the allegation.

First he delivered a rambling, almost incomprehensible response, which touched only tangentially on the central issue — whether he spent taxpayers' cash on his campaign. Then he flatly denied he did anything wrong. Then — after even his own tame bear analyst decided he'd been at fault, O'Neal agreed to repay part of the $60,000 — but still denied he'd done anything wrong. To put it bluntly, O'Neal came off looking not only crooked but also dumb.

Now let's not make any bones about it. Dixon's people were planting stories about O'Neal's indiscretions all during this period. The air travel story may or may not have been part of the campaign. But there were a lot of stories — some written and some passed — that were the direct result of Dixon's staff's diligent digging. There's nothing wrong with that. O'Neal did it, too. The difference is in the way the candidates handled the issues — or non-issues — raised by that kind of campaign.

Dixon stood aloof and pointed to his record and reputation. O'Neal blundered and fumbled, perhaps feeling he didn't have the kind of reserve of public good will Dixon was using to get by without explaining himself.

Of course, O'Neal made it pretty easy for Dixon to stand on his reputation. The lieutenant governor hit with broad strokes. He charged Dixon with shaking down his office help — but the only concrete example he offered was a man Dixon described as sick and later fired. O'Neal was unable to follow up on the allegations. He charged Dixon with voting for tax increases — never noting it would be hard to serve 20 years in any legislative body without doing so. And Dixon didn't even dignify those charges with replies.

What could O'Neal have done differently? Well, with perfect, 20-20 hindsight, there are several things.

First, he had to handle the airplane charges better. He could have done that either way — saying the flights basically were legitimate state business and therefore justified, or saying he'd made a mistake and would repay the state for whatever had been spent. The point is — he couldn't both pay back part of the money and claim innocence. The voters might have brought either course — but not both.

Second, O'Neal should have made a much stronger effort to tie himself to Ronald Reagan. Since he parroted virtually every one of the presidential candidate's issue stands, he had nothing to lose. And given the fact that Dixon was only a little to his left anyway, O'neal might have benefited substantially from the identification with Reagan.

Still, it's hard to be too harsh with O'Neal. Even if he had done everything right, he probably wouldn't have been able to overcome Dixon's head start. And those who followed his campaign closely are convinced his goals and motivation are sincere — that he really hoped to go to the Senate to make a difference in behalf of the honest, hardworking majority of Americans.

Now, having lost the election and won the enmity of his nominal mentor Gov. James R. Thompson, O'neal faces little better prospect than a return to the practice of pharmacy.

January 1981/Illinois Issues/38