56 sLAde goRton: A hALf centuRy in poLitics
one else.” Like Gorton, he rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Too
smart; too ambitious, they said. The crafty Catholic and the cerebral Epis-
copalian were locked in perhaps the greatest battle of wills the Legislature
has ever seen. The stakes couldn’t have been higher.
Greive dismissed the Evans bloc as “tennis court Republicans.” They
were a bunch of politically ambitious rich kids, he said, “from rich par-
ents and a rich constituency that was solidly Republican, and they were
going to get themselves re-elected.” Gorton was peddling their redis-
tricting plan as more fair to all concerned, Greive scoffed, “just like you
launch a new advertising campaign for a soap or for tobacco” when all
they wanted was what he wanted—control. They were running around
telling the press, “We want something where the Legislature truly re-
flects the vote. It’s a bunch of hogwash!”^16
In crisp sentences that radiated self-confidence, Gorton kept asking
why a majority of the people shouldn’t be able to elect a majority of the
legislators. He was gleeful that he was getting under Greive’s skin.
Jimmy Andersen and Tom Copeland—pals since grade school in Walla
Walla and decorated World War II combat veterans—scoffed at the tennis
court crack. They told Gorton to not give one damn inch. While Copeland
viewed Evans and Gorton as rivals for the leadership of the caucus, he
harbored a visceral distaste for Greive, who in time drew him into a fleet-
ing alliance that cost him dearly. “Now, let’s get something crystal clear,”
Copeland said years later, jaw tightening. “Senator Greive never, ever
came up with any kind of legislative redistricting program that did a
damn thing for statewide Democrats.... His total emphasis was to take
care of 13 to 17 Democrat senators that would vote to maintain him as Sen-
ate leader, and that was it.”^17
Gorton worked with his well-liked seatmate, Don Moos, a rancher
from Eastern Washington, to ensure that rural legislators weren’t short-
changed. They drafted a constitutional amendment calling for automatic
redistricting and a special commission to oversee the task. Crucially, the
Moos-Gorton “little federal plan” required that the line drawers provide
as much representation to rural areas as permissible under the popula-
tion standards. In other words, the districts with the least population
would be the rural ones. Greive, facing pressure from rural senators, be-
gan to draft his own constitutional amendment. It was contingent on the
Legislature approving his redistricting plan.
giveonsignedRe c the House bill to committee. The sorcerer had a gifted
apprentice of his own. Young Dean Foster ran the numbers, tweaked the