Chapter 28: I Can See for Miles - The Candidates for ‘68 (Part I)
Above: George Corey Wallace, 48, former Governor of Alabama and proud segregationist, formally announces his candidacy for the Presidency of the United States as a member of the new American Conservative Party on September 1st, 1967.
In the crowded, hot gymnasium of a High School in Montgomery, Alabama, one could scarcely draw breath without feeling it immediately pressed out of them by the throng. Overhead, on banners of fine cloth mingling freely with repurposed bed sheets, the red, white, and blue bison of the newly minted American Conservative Party stood bold and defiant. The sea of onlookers and supporters, mostly working class white men, their wives and children with them, hooted and hollered as the bison was raised and event organizers took the stage to cut flags bearing the Democratic donkey and Republican elephant to shreds. Though bombastic, physical, even orgiastic in execution, this first rally for the campaign for President in 1968 was treated by its centerpiece as something far more serious. Tonight was no mere “rally”. It was the start of a political and social revolution.
That centerpiece, the lightning rod that was George Corey Wallace, stormed the stage and was greeted with a thunderclap of applause far greater than even he could have ever dreamed of receiving. Father Falwell had done his duty well, Wallace thought. Serving as the warm up speaker for the evening, Falwell had laid out, in no uncertain terms, the magnitude of the situation the United States was facing. The preacher had quoted Revelation, informing those souls wise enough to attend that evening’s congregation that “if we don’t do something quick, we could be facing the very end of christian civilization as we know it.” Backstage at the time, Wallace had snickered. He privately wondered how much he could justify the theatrics of all this. The pomp, the circumstance. Sure, at the core of Wallace there was a furnace of hate, constantly churning and pumping out the regressive rhetoric which worked its way through his teeth and into the world. But how much did he really believe it, anyway? How much of this was a genuine attempt to save the country he loved, and how much was his own ambition, working through him toward an ever larger following, more donations, more votes?
I’m going to the White House, someday. Wallace had decided, back in ‘64.
Now it’s just a matter of time, manner, and place.
The former Governor harbored no illusions about his chances this time around. 1968 would not be the year that he entered the Executive Mansion. The party he represented was new, untested, and disorganized. All they had were two charismatic firebrands manning the helm, and a powerful symbol to rally behind in that most American of all animals: the sturdy, reliable, buffalo. It was that very creature which would come to dominate the subject matter of Wallace’s speech that evening in Montgomery. Unwilling to get specific about the policy proposals of his party’s platform, Wallace was always more comfortable as an “ideas” man anyhow. Actual proposals and solutions would come later, when cooler heads and logic prevailed, after removing the scourge of leftism from America’s streets. In the meantime, he would speak to his people. The disaffected, the forgotten, those that the Kennedys and Rockefellers of the world were pompously ignoring and leaving behind. “No matter what they say about us,” Wallace began his speech. “We conservatives are not an extinct species. The white man is not a minority in his own country, and with God as my witness, I will not surrender to the so-called tyranny of progress while yet I draw breath!” Cheers filled the hall and seemed to cause the very rafters of the ancient school to shiver with their ferocity. Wallace smiled, big and honest as the day he was born.
We may not be a major party right now. He thought.
But they’re fools if they think they can ignore us forever. “There’s a change that’s a comin’ to this fair land!” Wallace roared. “And we will be the agents of that change. Together, with your support, we will reclaim our country! We will rise up and make them listen! I believe I speak for all gathered tonight when I resolve myself once again to the following promise: segregation now, segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever!”
…
Above: “Mr. Republican”, 58 year old Senator Barry M. Goldwater of Arizona. The runner up to the GOP nomination in ‘64, Goldwater began the race in ‘68 with an already established network of volunteers and supporters.
Idle speculation will be the death of this party. Thus were the thoughts of Barry M. Goldwater as he sat in his office on Capitol Hill. The July of ‘67, the summer of Love was sweltering awfully outside, and many of the Senator’s staffers were overjoyed by the recent installation of air conditioning throughout the offices. As for Goldwater himself, he could take the contraption or leave it. Unlike many of his volunteers and aides, he was accustomed to the warm bake of the Arizona sun. If anything, the luxury of coolness was just another expense at the end of an ever increasing tab to be picked up by the Federal government. This meant higher taxes for the average Joe just trying to make his way in the world. That ran counter to everything Goldwater stood for.
Idle speculation and the loss of proper direction. He corrected his prior thought.
Indeed, the question of speculation dominated headlines and talking circles of the Republican party across the nation. In particular, speculation centered on the Arizona Senator. He seemed, in the eyes of many, the natural heir apparent to the GOP nod in ‘68. He had put up a spirited campaign against Rockefeller three years prior, and up to the convention itself had been expected to seize the nomination. His supporters were not the “country club” Republicans of the east-coast elite, they were the common men and women of the United States who were sick and tired of big government. They wanted a real choice in who would be deciding their policy, not the illusion of a choice. Real, tough solutions to real, tough problems, not Democratic policies repackaged with an elephant on top. As 1967 dawned, Goldwater was the only candidate with a preexisting pool of supporters and volunteers to draw from. His grassroots efforts in ‘64 had truly paid dividends.
But not all was well and cheery for the Arizonan. His potential candidacy faced its fair share of challenges as well. Chief among them was the creation of the American Conservative Party by George Wallace and his ilk earlier that year. In ‘64, the “Goldwater base” of the Republican party had been an ideological soup of Americans, many of whom belonged to ideologies that had not even been defined yet. These included laissez-faire espousing classical liberals, social conservatives who opposed the judicial activism of the Warren Court, and yes, a fair number of racist southerners who would go on to vote for Wallace in the general election. The last of these groups had always disgusted Goldwater, who was by no means a segregationist. He had stressed over and over, to no avail, that he only opposed the Civil Rights Act of 1964 because he believed some of its provisions to be unconstitutional. He agreed with the principle of desegregation, just not that bill’s specific means of enforcing it. And to his credit, the Senator had been good to his word. He had voted for every major piece of Civil Rights legislation since then. As supporters of that final variety peeled off of the Republican Party, defecting to the American Conservatives, many of Goldwater’s closest allies questioned whether he even stood a chance in ‘68 should he decide to run.
Surely with Rockefeller’s nearly successful candidacy in ‘64, the establishment would push hard for another moderate to top the ticket in ‘68. President Kennedy, a close friend of Goldwater’s, had seen his approval ratings shoot back up to nearly 70% in the aftermath of Thurgood Marshall’s appointment to the Supreme Court. The Commander in Chief, it seemed, connected with the American people and their ideals in a way no President had since FDR. What this meant for the Republicans was that they believed the people would not vote for any candidate whose positions ran counter to the Kennedy legacy. With Wallace siphoning off the votes of Southerners, racists, and social conservatives, Republicans worried that there would be no one left to support Goldwater. It was in this analysis that Goldwater would eventually find his impetus to run again. The Senator had personal ambitions of course. But this was about more than whether or not he would ever end up in the Oval Office. This was about defining what the Republican Party was going to stand for moving forward. A new ideology would be born out of Goldwater’s decision that day, a strange combination of interventionism abroad, liberal or apathetic views on social issues, and stark laissez-faire economics at home. These beliefs, today called “paleoconservatism” would come to define one of the two major wings of the Republican Party. The other, as it turned out, would also come out of the beliefs of another major candidate for ‘68. In the meantime however, Goldwater needed his focus to be on the task at hand.
“It’s a damned good thing, Falwell and Wallace are taking all those people away from our party.” Goldwater told an aide the morning he would make his announcement.
“How do you figure, sir?”
“Wait for my speech.” Goldwater grinned. “I’ll tell everyone at once.”
Later that day, on the steps of the Capitol, Senator Goldwater threw his hat into the ring for 1968. He addressed the elephant in the room head on.“Mark my word, if these preachers ever got control of the Republican party, and they were sure trying to do so, it was going to be a terrible damn problem. Frankly, these people frighten me. Politics and governing demand compromise. But these radical Christians believe they are acting in the name of God, so they can't and won't compromise. We are the party of Abraham Lincoln, not George Wallace.” He paused and faced the television cameras.
“And if there are any Americans, and I believe there are, who believe in reasonable, competent, government that doesn’t take more of their hard earned money than it needs, while still performing its basic responsibility to protect the general welfare of the people, I present myself as an alternative to the madness that threatens to engulf us all. I am honored this morning to humbly announce that I seek my party’s nomination for the Presidency of the United States.”
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Above: Former Vice President Richard Milhous Nixon, 54 years old, and a veteran politician if ever there was one. Considered a spent political force by many in the United States, 1968 represented Nixon’s last chance to etch his name into history.
“Nelson, what do you mean you won’t support my candidacy?” Nixon’s voice and chest shuddered, both with a quiet, steadily building rage. “Don’t you see what’s going on here? Wallace is taking the South away from the Democrats forever! We have a chance to pick up all of Dixie and build our power base even further, but only if we have a savvy enough guy at the top of the ticket to make it happen. I don’t have to tell you that Barry Goldwater is the furthest thing from savvy we have in this party. Don’t tell me you plan on backing him?!”
Nixon heard Rockefeller sigh on the other end of the telephone. “No Dick, you know I’d never support Goldwater and his crazies. As far as I’m aware, a lot of them are leaving the party to go back Wallace anyway.”
The Californian snorted. “Yeah, the obvious gutter trash and so on. The Klan won’t be backing our nominee this time around, that’s for sure. I’m not talking about them, Nelson. I’m talking about the other conservatives in this country. Not the real racists, the guy who works down at the mill and wants to know where his hard earned tax dollars are going. I’m talking about the mother who watches her daughter marching off to college and becoming a harlot in roman sandals and plastic beads. Just because Wallace has formed a party of his own doesn’t mean we have to abandon the whole right of America to him! Look at what that smooth bastard Reagan did out here on the West Coast. We’re seen as the heart of Hippie-land and yet we elected a Republican over the son of Franklin Roosevelt! There’s something to this.”
Rockefeller coughed slightly to clear his throat. “I’m sorry Dick, my answer stands. I get what you’re trying to say and quite frankly, I find it disturbing. When you’re in a room full of crazies shouting all manner of nonsense, you don’t shift your beliefs to join them, you take a stand and defend what’s right. I don’t claim, nor have I ever claimed to be the most ideological Republican. I’m practical, right down to my bones. But I can’t see any good coming of us trying to cater to these hard right loons. It’s a firm no for me.”
“You snake.” Nixon spat under his breath. The former Vice President felt betrayed of course, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. Rockefeller was as slick and slimy as they come in the GOP, and if there was one thing Nixon understood better than anyone it was the personal side of politics. “Three years ago,” Tricky Dick shook his head and breathed deeply to calm his growing fury. “I took a real stand and endorsed you over Goldwater during the California Primary. Do you remember that, you son of a bitch?” No answer was immediately forthcoming, so Nixon went on. “That business with you and your woman was all over the front page; pollsters were predicting you’d lose the state and probably the nomination by nearly 3% of the vote. But I stood by you, Nelson. I got on the road and busted my ass off speaking in favor of you as a candidate. And you know why? Because I really thought you were our best chance of winning the White House back from that preppy New England prick. And now, after all that, I give you my loyalty and this is how you repay me? How dare you! What reason could you possibly have to not support me?”
The silence resumed, and for an instant Nixon wondered if Rockefeller had put the phone aside or otherwise vacated the call.
Wouldn’t put it past him, coward. Nixon thought.
At last, the Governor of New York resumed to speak. “It’s like you said, Dick, I support the Republican most likely to carry the election for us. It’s nothing personal, only business. You understand that, I’m sure. It’s never been anything more than a business to you, either. Even your endorsement of me wasn’t geniunine, it was all for show. A stepping stone for you to use to run this time around or in ‘72, should I have won that election. Well I tell you what, Dick, it might still be business, but I take great pleasure in refusing this endorsement. Furthermore, I’ve found me a candidate who’ll whip you all the way to the convention. I hope you’re ready for a fight, because you’ve certainly set yourself up for one.” Rockefeller paused to smile and steal a peak at Happy, who was playing with Nelson Jr. in the next room over from his office. “Good luck, Dick. You’re going to need it.”
Nixon slammed down the phone with authority and nearly ripped the cord out of the wall. That cheap motherfucker! His mind raced alongside his heart, but above all the anger, there was one thought which dominated Richard Nixon before his campaign announcement, which he made anyway later that night:
Who the hell could Rockefeller be talking about?!
…
Above: Governor George Wilcken Romney of Michigan was 60 years old by the onset of the summer of love. Handsome, liberal, and beloved on his home turf: a crucial, populous swing state, Romney had also catapulted himself into the national spotlight by leading the “Miracle March” of 1966 and other major pushes for Civil Rights, as well as his landslide reelection to the Governorship that year.
Compared to the desperate plea of Senator Goldwater’s announcement or the painful inevitability of former Vice President Nixon’s, the launch of Governor George Romney’s campaign was understated and refined by comparison. Romney, hearing word from many Republican insiders that Nelson Rockefeller would back his candidacy should he announce it, decided that the time had come for him to leave behind the Great Lake State which had been he and his family’s home for several years, and to at last make his stride forward onto the national stage. The Governor formed an exploratory committee in February of 1967, and embarked on an ambitious and highly publicized tour of what he hoped would eventually include all fifty states. Beginning in the northwest corner of the nation with Alaska, Romney, his wife Lenore, and their beautiful family captured the nation’s hearts as images of them racing with sled dogs and shaking hands with loggers and oil rig workers were beamed back via television and carefully placed newspaper ads.
Through his interactions with everyday people, his willingness to visit even frigid Alaska to meet potential voters, and his immaculate reputation as a faithful family man of the highest order, the deeply religious Romney seemed to many Americans like a throwback to a simpler, better time not long ago in the nation’s history. President Kennedy had brought a vigorous, youthful face to Presidential politics, and though the President had regained his sky high personal popularity, the people remained mixed on the idea of letting his successor be yet another Democrat. Sure, they insisted, the “New FDR” that JFK had been had helped the nation address many of the issues staring it down, but Kennedy’s tenure had also brought strife and confusion to households across the nation. Societal change, even positive progress, often scared some folks, especially older voters. They worried that perhaps Kennedy had moved the country along too far, too fast, and an older, wiser figure might fare better in moving things ahead in the future. Besides, since 1933 the Republicans had only been in power for eight short years under Eisenhower, who owed his election far more to his popularity and legacy from the War than he did to any special programs or new proposals on his part. To voters increasingly concerned with fair play in the wake of more than a quarter of a century of Democratic dominance, a liberal Republican seemed an ideal solution. Many swing voters and independents liked the programs of the New Frontier and War on Poverty. Those had approval ratings almost as high as President Kennedy himself. The primary concern for these and other Americans was in keeping the government that wrote the laws in check. No one wanted the Democrats getting complacent on Capitol Hill.
Bearing all of this in mind, it isn’t hard to understand why George Romney became such an appealing candidate as the spring of 1967 brought the first Gallup opinion polls to households across the nation. Besides his aforementioned personal qualities, Romney was also one of the most liberal Republicans in the country. His policies as governor had been largely pro-union and “anti-waste”, and his reputation as a crusader for Civil Rights had earned him nearly 40% of the African American vote in his last election, a figure virtually unheard of for the GOP at large. In all five years since his initial election to the Michigan Governor’s mansion, Romney had presided over five balanced budgets. His state had plans to build new roads, bridges, hospitals and schools, especially in the economically disadvantaged, inner city areas of Detroit and Lansing, all paid for through careful financial scrutiny and a slight increase in income tax for the state’s highest earners. Not a bad record at all for an aspiring Presidential candidate.
Unique among candidates in the upcoming election cycle as well was Romney’s experience and expertise as a businessman. A former CEO of American Motors, Romney had turned that company around from the verge of bankruptcy into one of the most successful auto manufacturers in Detroit by focusing its efforts on high quality, affordable cars, rather than the luxury models offered at the time by Chrysler and others. Romney responded to his time at American Motors and how it qualified him for political leadership, when asked during an interview in Nome by quoting President Calvin Coolidge: “The business of America is business.” The words, coming from the lips of the graying, handsome Romney couldn’t help but sound, in the words of the New York
Times: “Presidential”.
Romney did have several factors working against him, though. For starters, his charisma and charm seemed to come more from his appearance and actions than they did his words. The Governor was notorious for his long, often rambling speeches in which he would often make a point, contradict himself for effect, then return to his original point, leaving some audience members confused. One reporter following his campaign through Alaska joked that: “Someone ought to do us all a favor and invent a typewriter with ‘What Governor Romney meant to say was…’ as a single key.” Though Romney was capable of dramatic, powerful oratory of the sort he delivered before the Miracle March when he had time to prepare, he often struggled in situations where he was required to think quickly on the spot.
Another potential weakness of Romney’s candidacy was his utter lack of credentials or experience in foreign affairs. Serving as Governor of a heartland, midwestern state, Romney liked to joke that the most intense foreign policy talks he’d ever had were “with some polite Canadians camping on Lake Michigan, asking where they could find the nearest liquor store.” Though in other years this may have proven a fatal chink in the candidate’s armor, 1968 seemed the perfect year, at least at this stage, to focus almost entirely on a domestic agenda. American Troops were just finishing up their withdrawal from South Vietnam, where except for the occasional firefight between guerrillas, peace reigned and communism was contained. In Europe, the Soviet Union sought a continued detente with the United States and tensions were lower than anytime in years thanks to the hard work of President Kennedy and First Secretary Khrushchev. Unless some great catastrophe abroad erupted between then and November the following year, Romney believed that he could largely skate by with platitudes about “friendship and strength abroad, friendship and strength at home” and promising to hire a crack team of advisers on the subject to keep him informed.
Finally, there was the candidate’s highly publicized status as the head of the Detroit branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. A priest within that organization, Governor Romney followed the tenets of his faith devoutly. He did not drink alcohol or caffeinated beverages, never smoked a cigarette in all his life, and forbade himself to utter a swear or curse. First Lady of Michigan Lenore and he tithed annually, donating as much as 19% of their earnings to the Church as well. This was all well and good, but many Americans were concerned by what exactly this Mormon faith was, and what it meant if someone running to be their President was a practitioner. Furthermore, Romney was a natural-born U.S. citizen, but had been born and spent much of his early life in Mexico, living on Mormon colonies there that his family helped to found. During the Mexican Revolutions of the 1910’s, Romney’s family returned to the United States and he had lived there, a proud citizen all the while, ever since. Despite his being born a natural U.S. citizen thanks to his parents’ citizenship, there were whispers from some detractors and opponents, including the campaign of Richard Nixon, that perhaps Romney was not even eligible, per the Constitution, to be President in the first place. Both his religion and the issue of his birthplace would pester Romney throughout the primary process, but in a nation that had just elected its first Catholic President, who by most accounts had done a phenomenal job, few Republican-primary voters seemed overly concerned.
In a call to his youngest son, Willard, called “Mitt”, who was oversees doing his missionary work in France, Governor Romney explained his political philosophy and reasoning for running by quoting Chapter 18 of Mosiah, in The Book of Mormon:
“Bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; … mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life.”
Other announced Republican Candidates (as of September 1967)
Senator Hiram Fong (R - HI)
Former Governor Harold Stassen (R - MN)
Governor James A. Rhodes (R - OH)
Next Time on Blue Skies in Camelot: The Democratic Candidates for President in 1968