Fighting Illini: will a Buchanan Democrat become the next governor of Illinois?

Will a Buchanan Democrat become the next governor of Illinois?

MARION, ILL.

As a farm boy growing up in southern Illinois, Glenn Poshard spent many summer evenings the same way. He would wade into a pond as his brother shone a flashlight from the shore at bullfrogs floating near the water's edge. ''Those frogs would freeze in place, just like deer caught in headlights,'' says Poshard. ''They never heard me coming.'' Sneaking up from behind, Poshard would raise his barbed spear, and gig the stunned amphibians. On a good outing, the Poshard boys would bring home about 150 frogs. Nobody in White County was a better gigger than Froggy Poshard.

Today, Rep. Glenn Poshard is the Democratic nominee for governor in Illinois. He is stalking a GOP establishment that, like the bullfrogs he hunted forty years ago, isn't quite ready to face him. He is arguably to the right of his Republican opponent, Secretary of State George Ryan, on a range of issues. Poshard is pro-life, pro-gun, and a deficit hawk. He has alienated the Sierra Club for putting the interests of his district's coal mines ahead of the Greens. Gay activists in Chicago hate him. His anti-NAFTA protectionism wins praise in blue-collar bungalows. A fiery stump speaker who mixes cultural conservatism and economic populism, Poshard is Pat Buchanan without the personal baggage. He is what Dick Gephardt or David Bonior would be if they hadn't bartered away their principles to the feminist Left. Poshard is a longshot against the well-liked and better-financed Ryan; his fortunes in November will suggest whether his style of politics has any future among Democrats, or whether Poshard is one of a vanishing breed.

If the 52-year-old Poshard were to let his silver hair grow a little longer and his thin mustache a bit bushier, he'd be a dead ringer for Captain Kangaroo, the 1970s children's television personality. He is a soft-spoken, churchgoing man who rarely drinks and never curses. A favorite expression of exasperation is ''Good gravy!'' A former high-school teacher, Poshard likes to explain his ideas and policies with chalkboard drawings. Everything about him exudes a working-class sensibility, including his tan 1990 Dodge Dynasty with 260,000 miles on it. ''It's durable,'' explains Poshard, ''nothing fancy.''

But that is not to say that he is out of place in Washington, D.C., or on the campaign trail. On a walk from his congressional office to the Capitol, the five-term representative says hello to everyone from fellow congressmen to elevator operators and security officers -- and he knows them all by name. Before a crowd, Poshard's ruddy complexion turns scarlet. The simple man who oozes humility at all other moments becomes a finger-pointing, fist-waving shouter. He hollers about education, social-service programs, workers' rights, and out-of-control campaign spending. ''When he gives those speeches, he's like an old-time Baptist preacher,'' says Ralph Rivera, a veteran pro-life activist in the state. And as with the best of the preachers, Poshard has a passionate following in his southern-Illinois political base. ''Anywhere south of Springfield, he's like Elvis,'' says Rich Miller, the publisher of an Illinois political newsletter.

Chicago and its suburbs are just now getting to know him, but his enormous popularity downstate was enough to allow the dark horse Poshard to capture his party's nomination in March, when he won a four-way primary with 38 per cent of the ballot. In forty southern counties, he earned more than 90 per cent of the vote. This region is closer to Memphis than the Windy City, geographically and culturally; the accents sound like those in North Carolina. And apart from a few years in the 1960s serving with the Army along the DMZ in Korea, Poshard has spent his entire life here.

No Democrat has lived in the Illinois governor's mansion since 1977. Centrist Republicans have dominated gubernatorial contests, usually by beating wealthy liberal lawyers from Chicago who would get lost if they strayed more than a few miles from Lake Shore Drive. Many Democrats in the state, including the powerful Speaker of the House, Michael Madigan, and most of the state's congressional delegation, didn't want to work again from the same losing playbook. They rallied around Poshard, who, thanks to a big push from the AFL-CIO, surged late to beat his competitors, including one favored by Chicago Mayor Richard Daley.

Ryan and the Republicans weren't expecting to face Poshard. Ryan is a longtime conservative who earned his stripes beating the Equal Rights Amendment in Illinois in 1982. Over the last few years, however, he has been running away from his past. Realizing that suburban women have made the difference in a number of recent statewide races, Ryan has tried to soften his image, to the great irritation of right-wingers. He is now unexpectedly to the left of his opponent on several important issues. Ryan allows rape and incest exceptions to his pro-life position, whereas Poshard does not. Ryan aggressively supports gun control; Poshard has a strong rating from the National Rifle Association. Ryan has also made overtures to gay activists. He asked for the endorsement of the Illinois Federation of Human Rights, the largest political organization for gays in the Midwest. In May, his campaign bought tickets to a Federation fundraiser and sent Ryan's handpicked liberal running-mate, Corinne Wood, to the event. Poshard has refused to meet with the group. ''His voting record on gay issues is awful,'' complains the Federation's Rick Garcia.