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Always a frugal man, Stevenson has bought one new suit since he became governor. A favorite item in his wardrobe is an old pair of golf shoes with the spikes removed. Besides the plane, he uses a state-owned black 1940 Cadillac sedan which has traveled over 300,000 miles. These sparing habits have gained him a reputation as a close man with a buck, whether it is his or the state's. He is not a poor man. He is said to be worth about half a million dollars, with an income, including his $12,000-a-year salary as governor and dividends from the Bloomington Pantograph stock and other property, of about $50,000 a year.
Though his life seems to be all work, Stevenson nevertheless manages to get some fun out of it. When the legislature handed him a bird lovers' bill to prohibit cats from running at large, he vetoed it with the comment: "It is in the nature of cats to do a certain amount of unescorted roaming ... In my opinion, the State of Illinois and its local governing bodies already have enough to do without trying to control feline delinquency."
Though he has been a reasonably quick study in "the art of the possible," he still feels indignation—more than he allows himself to show—over the'kind of moral apathy that makes good government difficult. Last fall, after he found out that private clubs and fraternal and veterans' organizations were operating most of the slot machines in Illinois, he threw a handful of lemons at these politically powerful groups. Said he: "I know all the arguments about 'the slot machine in the country club is one thing and the slot machine in the corner saloon another.' But I also know that the machine is against the law as it stands on the books; and I know that the citizen who "violates the law in his country club or fraternal lodge is in no position to, and does not in fact, insist that his elected officers enforce the law in the corner saloon . . . Many of our most reputable and influential citizens [thus] sterilize their power and influence to demand and get faithful performance by their local officials. They have tied their own hands and stopped their own mouths."
Was Steffens Right? This month, as Stevenson announced his candidacy for re-election (TIME, Jan. 21), he demonstrated that he has come a long way toward learning how to play practical politics. He had let word leak out that he might not run. That brought anxious looks to the eyes of Democratic slate-makers, who are sure they need him to carry Illinois this year. Then he let them know that, if he did run, he would want a strong slate. And he added that he didn't think State's Attorney John Boyle of Chicago was a good candidate. Stevenson has largely kept hands off law enforcement in Cook County, on the theory that local authorities are better equipped and better staffed to handle it. But he didn't like the way Boyle had done the job. The slate-makers promptly dumped Boyle overboard. Sir Galahad was getting to know his way around.