Remapping: the decennial poker game

REAPPORTIONMENT is one of those occasions when no one can afford to lose. Dividing the state into election districts is an intensely personal matter. Why him? Why her? Why us? Power pure and complicated is at stake. How could it end in such a spectacle? How could it not?

It was Friday night, October 2, and only 72 hours before the last of the deadlines: midnight, October 5. That is the last date set by the Constitution for filing a new map for legislative reap-portionment. The Illinois Legislative Redistricting Commission was holding its final meeting. The nine-member commission was voting on the new boundaries for the 59 Senate districts and the 118 new, single-member House districts (as provided by the 1980 Cutback Amendment), boundaries the Democrats had drawn and were about to approve by virtue of their 5-4 majority. This was the last chance legislators had to do it themselves; the last in a series of chances carefully meted out by the framers of the 1970 Constitution with the implicit knowledge that the lawmakers might fail anyway.

The commission's final, fateful meeting had drawn fair attendance: the old hearing room on the second floor of the south wing of the Statehouse — an ornate and properly intimidating chamber that once held the Illinois Supreme Court — was half full. The press corps was there in full strength. Like everyone else there, from legislative leaders and staff to assorted hangers-on, they weren't about to miss this political show of shows, a classic that wouldn't play again for 10 years. Undoubtedly, the next act would be the Republicans taking the Democrats' map to court. The Democrats would have sued the GOP if it had been the other way around. But this was the crucial scene, and reporters, like the rest of the audience, wanted to see it. Up to now, there had not even been a sneak preview; only a scene or two — out-takes or coming attractions, who could say? If this was a western, no one had seen the barroom brawl, much less the poker game. But tonight everyone would get to see the gamblers fly out of the saloon's plate glass window.

There had been one glimpse of the ongoing remap fight in June, after House Speaker George Ryan rammed a Republican map through the House Rep. Doug Kane, a Democrat from Springfield, had "stormed the podium" trying to force his way inside the walled rostrum to confront Ryan. And there was another glimpse a few days later when Senate President Phil Rock rammed a Democratic man through the Senate. Sen. Mark Rhoads, a Republican from Western Springs, had called Rock a "son of a bitch," and Sen. Sam Vadalabene, a Democrat from Edwardsville, had punched Rhoads in retaliation. But both conflict and compromise disappeared from public view in July when the General Assembly, to no one's surprise, adjourned without approving a new map. Now the struggle moved behind the tightly shut doors of the Legislative Redistricting Commission.

As prescribed by the Constitution, the four legislative leaders appointed the members of the commission by July 10, and the four Democrats and four Republicans got down to some hard bargaining. Or so it seemed. The commission's public meetings were enigmatic to say the least. Most of them lasted only 60 seconds.

The eight-member commission was nowhere near filing a new map by the Constitution's August 10 deadline. So on August 13 (beating the next constitutional deadline of September 1), the Illinois Supreme Court nominated former Democratic Gov. Samuel H. Shapiro and former Republican Gov. Richard B. Ogilvie to be the ninth, and tie-breaking member of the commission. The process then continued its measured pace, as outlined in Article IV, Section 3 of the Constitution. On August 25, well before the September 5 deadline, Secy, of State Jim Edgar held a public drawing to select the tie-breaking ninth member. But now, it seemed as if the framers of the Constitution had themselves written a western scenario. In their poker game script for reapportionment, the winners take all: Edgar, a Republican, pulled Shapiro's name out of a hat once worn by Abraham Lincoln. Once again, remap was public spectacle.

Shapiro announced he would be a mediator, not a tie-breaker, and the

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four Democrats and four Republicans went back to the bargaining table. Or so it seemed. On September 23, however, Shapiro stopped mediating and started tie-breaking. He ordered both sides to send him their maps and went home to Kankakee to wait for the mail. On the morning of October 1, a Thursday, Shapiro announced he'd drawn his own map, a composite, he said, of the 20 state and regional maps the two parties and others had sent him.

The Democrats unveiled Shapiro's map at a news conference Thursday night. The cards were on the table. By Friday morning the Republicans were calling the Democrats cheats. They held a news conference of their own Friday night, accusing House Minority Leader Mike Madigan, a Chicago Democrat who was not a member of the commission, of drawing the map himself. Shapiro, Republicans said, had been "duped" into approving it.

Now came the showdown; the Democrats armed with their 5-4 majority were going to win the high stakes bet, sweep up their chips and end the game.

It was hot under the television lights in the second floor hearing room where the nine commission members sat behind the two-tiered, semicircular dais. "Pate" Philip, the Senate minority leader, and Art Telcser, the House majority leader, were the spokesmen for the Republicans. The Republican reaction to Shapiro's map had been smoldering all day, and reporters had fanned the flames at the news conference a few hours earlier. But out in the audience their Democratic counterparts, Rock and Madigan, were calm and assured. For months they had worked behind the scenes, but tonight they were just two more spectators.

Rock stood in the back of the room and adopted his usual self-contained stance: one hand folded under the other arm, the other hand supporting his chin. He leaned to the right or left now and then to converse with this staffer or that reporter. But Madigan, who at one point was laughing with Ryan in the back of room, couldn't resist coming forward and sitting down next to reporters at the table reserved for the press. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, folded his arms and grinned. The fun was about to begin.

As soon as the meeting was called to order, the Democrats moved for approval of Shapiro's map. Philip immediately accused Madigan of drawing the map; everything the Republicans had received, Philip said, had come straight from Madigan's office with Madigan's name on it. Madigan, sitting only a few feet away at the press table, just laughed. Republicans then made a substitute motion to approve their own map. As he had at the news conference earlier, Philip accused the Democrats of not giving the Republicans the required 24 hours to study Shapiro's map before the commission voted on it; the Republicans still didn't have the legal descriptions of all the districts, let alone the census tracts, Philip said. Madigan just laughed.

The Democrats disposed of the substitute motion and returned to the main motion. Telcser, taking his time, asked Shapiro if his map met the constitutional requirements that districts be "compact, contiguous and substantially equal in population." Shapiro believed it did. Telcser asked for the figures: Chicago districts, suburban districts, black districts, latino districts. Shapiro said he didn't have the figures offhand, he'd have to study the map some more. Madigan just laughed.

Telcser and Philip renewed their attack, again raising the issue of who drew the map. That was enough to set off former Rep. Corneal Davis, a black Chicago Democrat on the commission, whose preaching style of oratory is legendary. Davis shouted Philip and Telcser down. They lost their tempers, just as he probably knew they would. Madigan just laughed.

Having given the Republicans their say, the Democrats dispensed with the debate, approving the map 5-0, and proceeded to sign it. In a last futile protest, the Republicans refused to sign. It didn't make any difference.

So much for the spectacle. So much for the personalities. So much for Abe Lincoln's hat. Reapportionment involves power, something no one can afford to lose. But somebody has to; that's the way it works in a western. Reapportionment is not supposed to be political, but as the framers of the 1970 Constitution knew, it has to be political. That's the way it works in a democracy.

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