What's In A Number?

What's in a number? That which we count four
By any other number's not a score.

Today marked the start of the filing period in Missouri, the culmination of a colossal fustercluck in preparing the maps for the 2012 election. A process which still isn't done, as the map for state senate was only initially approved for public review Feb. 23.

Already one major concern has cropped up, the inexplicable renumbering of some districts, which has left Chesterfield Republican Jane Cunningham scrambling for a new constituency and Kansas City Democrat Jolie Justus representing six counties in the eastern half of the state. What makes the renumbering even more inexplicable is how clustered odds and evens are around our major metropolitan areas.

(Firstly, it needs clarified for those that require it that senators serve staggered terms; odd-numbered districts are elected in years when the governor is elected, even-numbered two years later.)

Starting with the Kansas City area:
Among the four counties which contain portions of the city, there are five odd-numbered districts, including the District formerly known as 10. If you count Ray and Lafayette counties to the east, there would be six districts being contested in the metropolitan out of eight. The only even districts present are eight in eastern Jackson and 12 in rural Clay, which is now appended to the rest of the Northwest.

Now to St. Louis:
Of the districts depicted in St. Louis, St. Charles, Jefferson and Lincoln, seven are even numbered and six are odd-numbered. Luckily, this works out within St. Louis. However, among rural districts, four of the five northernmost are even-numbered (the entirety of the border with Iowa and Nebraska), and Arkansas is bordered exclusively by odd-numbered districts, as are Kentucky and Tennessee.

And then there's Springfield:
District 20 for the city, District 30 for the surrounding area. Might help stave off the persistent sideshow candidates, but again it's a lopsided approach.

We're left with this shortcoming in this map because the previous map ran roughshod over a provision in the state constitution which requires counties be kept whole unless a county can wholly contain another district. Unfortunately, this gives us wonky-looking districts which has Shannon County attached to the Bootheel, Sedalia and Lebanon in the same district anchored by Highway 65, and Boone County's Kurt Schaefer again switching his second county (now Cooper rather than Randolph or Howard). Compact and contiguous, which provides better proportional representation, is incompatible with this requirement.

The maps are marked tentative, and the commission is expected to meet March 9 to formally adopt the proposals. Although any changes would be just as chaotic as outright rejecting the map, at least switching 10 & 7 back would alleviate some headaches. After all, someone's going to have to move to Warrenton soon.

This situation also has me thinking outside the box, and I'm tempted to jabber about single transferable vote or party-list proportional representation. However, I'll save that rumination for a future post.

End Of An Era… Or Is It?

This is my obligatory "boo, we lost" entry. This afternoon was a spirited game that certainly proved the conventional thinking: KU's a tough team and Mizzou still resorts to shooting behind the arc more times than the sun rises in the east.

And along with that comes the chatter about whether the rivalry, rooted in the Civil War and the border skirmishes years prior, should continue. Tiger fans overwhelmingly support it despite the overwhelming disadvantage in the wins and national championships columns, while Jayhawkers would rather find a new conference rival around the corner in the Octogon of Doom and from a far-flung, insulated state notorious for shaving down entire mountains. And while the end of the Border War (excuse me, Border Showdown) will hopefully decrease the vitriol between the two fan bases (and the cross-border job poaching too), the rivalry could easily be replaced from the same history book. While it won't have the same ingrained lore and appeal, it has the same roots from 150 years ago.

Enter March 8-10, 1862:

Image from Library of Congress

Just south of the Missouri border, outside the bustling town of Leetown, was the largest battle west of the Mississippi: The Battle of Pea Ridge. Or Elkhorn Tavern, if you prefer the South's name (which might make more sense, as Pea Ridge was just a ridge at the time and not the current town four miles west of the brilliantly preserved battle site).

Eager to keep the southern-minded General Assembly and their Confederate backers out of Missouri permanently, a Union army led by Brigader General Samuel Curtis invaded Northern Arkansas and pushed Southern armies deep into the Boston Mountains. (Interestingly, the Union took positions that required Confederate Major General Earl Van Dorn to attack from the north.) While the Union armies were outnumbered, their positions around the tavern and superior artillery caused larger casualties among the Confederates, forcing their armies to scatter.

Although marauders and raiding parties would threaten the western half of the state the remainder of the war, the Confederates were never able to seriously threaten Union control of Missouri after Pea Ridge. And although militia were able to make a push up to Cane Hill & Prairie Grove later in 1862, the Union had free reign over Arkansas when the Confederate government opted to focus on protecting states that produced their precious cash crop cotton.

Union armies consisted of volunteers from Iowa, Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, and Missouri (Too bad Jim Delaney wasn't paying attention), while Confederates relied on troops from Arkansas, Missouri and the Cherokee Braves from the neighboring Indian Territory. Today, areas of Southwest Missouri are practically Razorback territory; the principal newspaper in McDonald County is owned by Little Rock-based Stephens Media, whose Morning News is now grouped with the Northwest edition of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Go driving through Seligman or Thayer on game day, and chances are they're watching Bobby Petrino's gridiron warriors instead of Gary Pinkel's.

But for anyone worried about Hogs and Tigers turning into fire and gasoline, Pea Ridge also provides some historical closure. The 25-year anniversary was marked not just with a reunion, but a unified remembrance, with both sides present for memorials to the dead on each side. A candlelight memorial planned for the 150th anniversary of the battle will not differentiate between Union and Confederate losses. And although Leetown was obliterated in the battle, the city of Pea Ridge was organized years later, and Union generals continue to cross their Confederate counterparts daily by way of the city's street names.

While the majority of critics will try and label an Arkansas/Missouri rivalry as the "Hillbilly Bowl" or anything involving a certain Sooner State transplant who attended both schools and from both states began his vast retail empire that turns 50 this July, the Battle of Pea Ridge can provide a good historical context for a sensible, spirited yet friendly rivalry between the Hogs and Tigers.

Sure the Hogs will join KU in reminding Mizzou that they're about as successful in the championship department as Arsenal (which happens to be majority-owned by a Mizzou alumnus), and Mizzou will look at their southern neighbor as their little sister (we did snip the bootheel out of their turf before becoming a state). And while keeping a 105-year tradition going would be nice, perhaps a new one with less rabidness and bitterness will be fruitful to everyone's sanity. It'd certainly reduce the need to rush after an AED.

Les Québécois perdent-ils la capacité de conduire leurs voitures quand elles croisent le Mississippi?

I'm still hoping that one of my 12 predictions will come true this Saturday, but given Mizzou's lackluster display on Tuesday, I suspect anyone hoping to visit Phoenix next month will have just added Frank Martin's number to their speed dial. Unfortunately, another prediction is set to come true (and it's still not Adele filming a music video in McDonald County.)

And it occurred to me on Mile Marker 123 of Interstate 70 this past weekend, when I passed a semi-truck with a license plate from Quebec. Were House Bill 1186 to arrive on Governor Nixon's desk and receive his signature, this driver would likely not be able to get a license in Missouri.

Under the provisions of HB 1186, the state would only be allowed to administer driving tests in English. Currently the Department of Revenue provides tests in 11 other languages, having started in 1962. Supporters claim this would make roads safer by making sure everyone on Missouri's roads know English.

That doesn't stop Québécois, Latinos, or Patois-speaking Bahamians and Jamaicans from driving through the Show-Me State. And if someone can't get a driver's license in Missouri because they're still struggling to learn English, they could easily get one just by moving to Springdale, East St. Louis or KCK, and still drive through Missouri with ease. They'd still be the "safety hazard" the measure's supporters seek to deter. In the House committee that heard testimony on the bill, representatives from insurance companies within the state warned that not allowing foreign speakers to obtain drivers licenses could increase premiums, as those drivers would not be able to purchase insurance, let alone operate a car legally.

Frankly, this is what I'd have to classify as a boogeyman bill targeting illegal immigrants and thus baiting votes from people who recognize the problem (or are generally xenophobic). Unfortunately, the collateral damage of making it more difficult for legal immigrants and refugees to integrate into everyday Missouri life (where a century ago, a sizable population spoke only German!) will not prove fruitful in the long run and deter job creators when Missouri still hovers above eight percent unemployment.

And if the target is truly to keep illegal immigrants off the roads, this is just a symptom of the gross inaction of an unwilling, gridlocked federal government. Citizenship standards are suppose to be a national standard. Patchwork efforts to curb illegal immigration, even if pursued uniformly, fall apart if just one state remains a sanctuary. And even then, the manner in which Arizona enforces their crackdowns on illegal immigrants differs from Alabama and Oklahoma. In effect, you get 50+ different legal definitions of who is and isn't suppose to be in the United States, and states exporting their symptoms to their neighbors as such laws go into effect.

There are more effective ways to identify, publicize, and curtail the problem of illegal immigration and the issues that arise from it. Maligning all non-English speakers and essentially chasing them off to neighboring states is not the way to do it, especially if you're not going to set up checkpoints along every dirt road that crosses the state line to make sure everyone crossing can read and understand English.