By ROBERT KIECKHEFER

On the road again with Dan Walker

THE MERE suggestion that Daniel Walker might run again for governor evokes images of bandanas, well-worn hiking boots, denim shirts and dusty roadside.

It was just 10 years ago that Walker trudged the length of the state, staying overnight with supporters, enjoying their home-cooked food and getting to know the "people" to whom he would refer over and over during his four years as the state's chief executive.

The image of that walk was purely folksy. Walker, a well-to-do corporate attorney, presented himself to the electorate as the common man, the candidate who would fight for the "people" against the likes of the Chicago Democratic machine and its kingpin, Richard J. Daley.

Walker told and retold the story about how he discovered hedge apples. He recited the litany of the great pies, cakes and lemonade he had been served by his succession of hosts. And he probably waved at more passing truck drivers and shook the hands of more farmers than all the candidates for governor who went before him.

Some of it was genuine. Walker really liked many of the people he met on his trek. But a lot of it was hype, and reflecting on how Walker's campaign was staged might help smooth the way for considering the 1982 campaign. The fact is, no matter how successful you are as a corporate attorney, you don't just head down to the Ohio River bridge at Brookport, start walking north and wind up in the governor's mansion. You have to get organized — and in this case that means, among other things, you have to understand how to use the news media.

Walker was already something of a media "star" when he started his walk, thanks to his report on the riot at the 1968 Democratic Convention. Few remember that it was Walker — not his investigators or any official agency who branded the events of that August a "police riot." Although it angered Daley, many in the news media who had been teargassed or clubbed by the mayor's riot squads loudly applauded Walker's description.

That's lesson No. 1 for those seeking office this year: It's a big help if you're already well-known. And if the public doesn't know you too well, it's good at least to have friends in the newsroom.

A second factor is timing. Walker announced his candidacy November 18, 1970 — right after the 1970 general election. That gave him a lot of time to organize things for the walk and stir up a lot of interest. This year's candidates, some of them every bit as unknown, find themselves already nearly a year behind Walker's timetable of a decade ago.

Walker's forces also worked hard during the walk for every scrap of coverage. His news secretary, Norton Kay, put a lot of miles on his sports car running up ahead of the hikers to alert the television and radio stations, dailies, weeklies, magazines and anyone else who would listen that Walker was coming.

A typical morning might find Walker eating breakfast while Kay buzzed into the nearest town to pick up a reporter or two. Kay then would drive the reporters to Walker's starting point for the day and let them trudge along for a half day, a full day or as long as they could match strides with the athletic, would-be governor. Then Kay would run the reporters back to their homes.

In the meantime, Walker aides, or sometimes his sons, worked ahead of the hike, setting up signs reading: "Dan Walker for Governor. Honk and Wave." There were talk shows and interviews, many of them conducted at roadside.

The hard work and discipline stood

4 | September 1981 | Illinois Issues

Walker in good stead later when he was running hard in a desperately close race with then-Gov. Richard B. Ogilvie. Reporters who covered the last days of that campaign recall a nonstop blur of bowling alleys, union halls, ward offices and fast-food restaurants.

No one worked harder to win election than Walker. The image may have been folksy but the campaign was a carefully structured product of being seen by the right groups, making the right impressions and maximizing Walker's time and appeal.

But the key to Walker's successful campaign — and something only he has really hit on again this year — was having a target. Walker ran for six years on a single platform. He was against Daley. And even when he ran against Mike Hewlett in 1976, one of his favorite lines was, "If you elect Mike Hewlett governor, you're going to have Richard J. Daley Jr. as president of the Senate."

No matter how often he was reminded that Senator Daley's middle initial was "M" Walker wouldn't let go of the image. He knew that downstate voters mistrust and dislike Chicago. And he knew that if he made that his basic issue, he could translate it into votes.

The point was that he had a target. What's happening this year? Most of the would-be Democratic candidates are giving Gov. James R. Thompson a pass even though he is a vulnerable target on several fronts. It's almost as if the members of the political club are hesitant to put on the gloves and bloody up one of their number.

Not so with Walker. He took off the gloves early in the going and let it be known that he was thinking about running solely because of Thompson's failings. And as usual, he did so like a shark attacking a wounded fish — without a hint of compassion and without hesitation.

The other candidates would do well to look back at the track record of the man who beat the Daley machine. Even if it develops that they don't have to deal with him this time around, they can learn a lot from what they'll find.

September 1981 | Illinois Issues | 5