Loner from Olympia

IF he weren't serving as Governor," says a friend of Washington's Daniel Jackson Evans, "he probably would go out and climb Mount Everest or sail around the world alone." Challenge is a key word in Dan Evans' vocabulary, to be used with intense, if low-pitched enthusiasm. Guided by the philosophy that "we have to act, not react," Evans has worked to prepare his richly forested state for the inevitable day when it moves "from a scattered open society to an urban society." Surrounded by a profusion of lakes and mountains, the Governor has the foresight to proclaim: "We have not suffered the silt and smoke of overindustrialization--yet. But time, which has been on our side, is rapidly running out."

The son of an engineer and a civil engineer himself, he bristles with impatience at imperfection, especially in his own performance. To keep his 6-ft., 182-lb. frame in shape, Evans, 42, began jogging a few years ago, long before it became the thing to do. Last year friends gave him the "Tired Tennis Shoe Award"--a scruffy old sneaker which he proudly displays in a glass case in his office. Essentially he is a loner, and his favorite sports are those that pit a single man against nature, or against the limits of his own endurance--hiking, mountain climbing, skiing, sailing.

Born into a moderately comfortable Seattle family, Evans inherited his interest in politics from his mother's side. "One of the earliest remembrances I have is watching mother dress up to go to the Herbert Hoover victory celebration when he ran against F.D.R.," says Evans. "It has become a standing family joke."

After a tour in the Navy at the end of World War II, Evans picked up bachelor's and master's degrees in engineering from the University of Washington. Recalled to duty as a lieutenant in 1951, he served as aide to Admiral William K. Mendenhall, the Navy's representative on the Military Armistice Commission at Panmunjom. When Evans told his boss he aimed to quit the Navy and run for office, Mendenhall urged him to stay on. As the now retired admiral recalls, Evans replied: "Well, the political business at home is a dirty business, and I think I can clean it up."

Old Gluefoot

Coming from anybody but an Eagle Scout and an idealist of uncommon rectitude, that would be an insufferable statement. Evans first won office in 1956 when one of the two seats in a heavily Republican Seattle district fell vacant. In 1959 he married Spokane-born Nancy Bell, the blonde, hazel-eyed daughter of a mining engineer who wanted to name her Verna Equinoxia because she was born on the first day of spring. (He was dissuaded by his wife.) The Evanses have three sons: Danny Jr., 7; Mark, 4; and Bruce, 23 months.

After four terms in the legislature--two as Republican House floor leader --Evans reached for the governorship in 1964. Few people thought that he would have much of a chance. His reluctance to mix with crowds won him the sobriquet "Old Gluefoot." Says State G.O.P. Chairman C. Montgomery ("Gummie") Johnson: "We'd go out to meet a crowd and Dan would go off in a corner to talk to some old guy about how to redesign a bridge." Even so, while Lyndon Johnson won 62% of the state's vote and both houses of the state legislature went nearly 2-to-1 Democratic, Evans trounced two-term Democratic Governor Albert Rosellini by 150,000 votes.

Evans swiftly made himself known as a forceful executive. He established air-and water-pollution controls, initiated a $242 million school-building construction program and moved to preserve recreational areas. Determined to restore muscle to the lower levels of government, Evans increased state grants to localities. An admirer of New York's John Lindsay, Evans conducted walking tours in Seattle's Central Area ghetto. Evans has promoted self-help ventures in the ghetto, also set up a center there to bring under one roof all the state's social-service agencies. Evans' efforts notwithstanding, Seattle's ghetto erupted last week after police raided a Black Panther headquarters.

Unemployment is down from 6% to 4% since he took office and personal income has risen from $8 billion to nearly $11 billion. Not that he can take credit for all this. And he has had his troubles with the legislature. During his first year, Evans vetoed 14 measures. "We used to have an Italian named Al Rosellini," quipped a Democratic representative. "Now we have Danny Veto."

Evans faces a tough re-election fight. Ultraconservatives are still fuming over his blistering denunciation of the state's small but virulent John Birch Society in 1965. His opponent, to be chosen in next month's primary, is likely to be State Attorney General John J. O'Connell, a popular Democrat in a state whose voters are 5-to-3 Democratic. As far as a vice-presidential nomination goes, Evans noted a couple of years ago, "If I had to make my choice between the two Washingtons, I would select Washington state any time." Washingtonians have come to regard their handsome Governor as a sort of natural resource, like Mount Rainier, and the odds are that they will vote to keep him right where he is in November.

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