The post-1991 census redistricting showed that state legislative leaders had little trouble protecting their own, but were unable to come to agreement on which incumbents to sacrifice when the state's Congressional delegation dropped from 23 to 21 after the 1991 Census showed Pennsylvania growing far more slowly than other states. The Congressional redistricting process was so contentious and drawn-out that the state Supreme Court finally had to step in and impose a plan of its own.
On the state level, legislators seemed to have little difficulty coming up with a bi-partisan plan that just happened to protect the already fairly secure incumbents.
The state-level districts are drawn by a five-member Legislative Reapportionment Commission made up of the party leaders in the House and Senate and one outside member who acts as chairman (see related article on the redistricting process). The full General Assembly does not get to vote on the plan and the process is usually relatively smooth and quick. In the redistricting brought on by the 1991 Census, this cozy process did indeed produce fairly quick agreement, but it did very little to help outsiders seeking to challenge sitting members.
Clifford L. Jones, former president of the state Chamber of Business and Industry, for example, had been vocal about his intention to challenge Republican State Sen. John Hopper. When the final map, came out, however, Jones' home has mysteriously been redrawn into a new district. Jones attempted to challenge the plan, but the State Supreme Court, which mediates any redistricting disputes, refused to overturn the plan.
Potential challenger Larry Roberts, who planned a rematch of a past close contest with State Rep. Fred Taylor in the Democratic primary, was so afraid of such legislative trickery that he want on the lam, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer. The paper reported that Roberts moved to a series of undisclosed locations in the district, including a motel, to prevent legislative leaders from learning where he lived so they could draw him out of the district. He even bought a house that he never planned to live in, and finally resorted to moving in just down the street from the incumbent, inside the same voting precinct, which made it impossible to move him to another district without also moving the incumbent.
The Inquirer also reported on the district represented by Democratic Sen. Francis J. Lynch, described by the paper as a "do-nothing legislator." State legislative leaders took away some of City Center from his district, but replaced it with a bizarre goose-neck into North Philadelphia, cutting across 11 wards and including some of the most Democratic precincts in the city. The only possible explanation for such a weird district is an effort to protect Lynch from Republican Bruce S. Marks, who nearly unseated him in the previous election, the paper concluded.
Of course, the Reapportionment Commission couldn't get away only with political chicanery; population shifts forced them to make a few substantial changes. The city of Philadelphia, for example, lost two House districts to the western suburbs, helping Republicans make later gains in Harrisburg, and several city-based State Senate districts were extended into the near-in suburbs.
In the end, the State Supreme Court upheld the entire plan put forward by the Commission.
One interesting footnote to the 1991 redistricting set the seeds for a change in the next redistricting process. The 1991 plan effectively eliminated the State Senate seat of Republican Frank Pecora of Allegheny County by shifting the borders far to the east and leaving him living in someone else's district. Pecora, however, refused to go quietly, renting an apartment in his new district and surviving a series of lawsuits challenging his right to remain in the seat.
In 2001, state voters made sure there would never be such a spectacle again by passing a constitutional amendment requiring a special election be held to fill seats in any similar situation.
On the congressional level, the state legislature simply proved to be unable to figure out how to reduce the state's 23 districts to 21, as dictated by the state's stagnant population. Finally, with the April 28 primary election looming, the Supreme Court stepped in and appointed a judge to examine all the rival plans and come up with his own solution. He picked a plan pushed by Democratic lawmakers and enacted it on March 10, barely in time for candidates to file papers and get on the ballot.
The action spawned a number of lawsuits, including several by minority groups, arguing that the plan included an unacceptable variation in the number of people in each district, which undervalues the voters in abnormally large districts. Courts rejected the challenges to the plan, with one significant but technical exception - a federal court struck down the filing deadline set by the judge. The judge had set the filing deadline as March 19, giving candidates just nine days to collect signatures and prepare paperwork. The federal court ruled that the state must give them at least until April 6.
Compiled by Committee of 70
Committee of Seventy + 
