Memoir Reflections

Excerpt from “Myth and the Man”
Written by George Wallace, Jr.

A more genuine sense of the fragile nature of humanity was revealed to my father as he lay on his back, blood flowing from his body. This was the first step on his road to Damascus. As his life’s journey continued he would realize profound changes in his physical, mental, emotional and spiritual life. These brought to him introspection not only about himself, but the times in which he lived and gave him a clear picture of his past, and what his future now must be.

As my father lay on his back, he would tell me later that a genuine sense of the fragile nature of humanity had been revealed to him in that very moment.  He couldn’t move, blood was flowing from his body and, later I would realize this was the first step on “his” road to Damascus.

Later, when he had been paralyzed for about two months, he was in his bedroom, and for about the sixth time a group of black preachers had come to see him.  I wasn’t always there during these visits but today I was glad that I was.  Somewhere during the time they had arrived and exchanged pleasantries and the long thoughtful prayers that were given, I witnessed the moment when I realized a bond was forged with these preachers, these people he had previously been accused of hating. I sank back in the chair; it was as though I was observing an intimate moment between a man and his spiritual advisors.  I  watched with fascination.  These bonds were genuine and real, the feeling in the room as he met with black leaders this day and over the years left an indelible mark on me. The love that was shared and the affection that was given and received was truly a spiritual moment for all who were standing beside his bed. He told them of his suffering, and how he believed the Lord had kept him here for a purpose, and that was to do the Lord’s work, and seek understanding among all people.

At this moment in time, there was a bond forged with many of those he had been accused of hating. The civil rights workers who had been injured and killed and had shed their own blood, now had a brother in George Wallace. Their common sacrifice and their common bond was their own life blood. The time had come and the hour was here when this covenant between the two was born all because of their own unique suffering, and shedding of blood. And as time passed, other bonds would be formed based upon forgiveness, understanding and brotherhood. All of these bonds were genuine and real and having witnessed many of them, the feeling in the room as he met with black leaders over the years left an indelible mark on me. The love that was shared and the affection that was given and received was truly a spiritual moment for all who were standing beside his bed. He told them of his suffering, and how he believed the Lord had kept him here for a purpose, and that was to do the Lord’s work, and seek understanding among all people.

Back in the early 1970s the names Jesse Jackson, Joseph Lowery and John Lewis were known to all in the black community.  The day Jesse Jackson came to Montgomery was, for me, a hurried one because I was trying to keep my appointment with a supporter and still finish in time to welcome Reverend Jackson to my father’s home, and be there when he met with my father.  As I raced down the hall of the Capitol from my office I passed mother’s bust.  As usual I paused for a moment; this time in my pausing I wondered how mother would see this visit.  It was only a fleeting thought but, I knew she would see it as part of his journey to bring all people together in brotherhood and understanding.

Among the black preachers from all across Alabama who met with him as well as black leaders from across the nation, such as Jesse Jackson, Joseph Lowery and John Lewis I will always remember the tears that were shed and the emotions that were expressed as it became a virtual revival. They knew he had been in the shadow of death and had suffered as many of them had. Again it took him back to his own roots and his own love and respect for the family of man.

Thus begins the two lives of my father. Because of the traumatic injury he sustained and the subsequent pain he endured until his death, he was given a gift, although an expensive one, that allowed him to know as, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “he had been to the mountain top.” As my father looked over his own personal mountain top and as he said in his political retirement speech, “I still have some mountains I must climb,” it reminded me of all his efforts over the years to work for change and to, I believe in his heart and mind try and rid himself of a certain guilt he held about some of his actions and words during the early part of his political career. Some of his actions were a source of deep regret to him because of the misinterpretation of his resistance to what he termed. “The all powerful omnipotent central government.”

A thought I have had over the years in thinking about the Shakespearean drama of my father’ life was how after his injury he became a quieter and more introspective man. The transition of his personality seemed to me to be a gradual one where as he realized how much his life had changed and how much he had in the past relied on being strong for the people. A large part of his personality was the strength he showed as he would walk across the stage saluting his troops and their reverence for him was legendary. So here he was and would be until the day he died: a paraplegic who would suffer constant chronic pain and a man who would make an odyssey of his life seeking to tell of our common humanity. His constant faith in his knowledge of the saving grace of Jesus Christ became his clarion call. His first calling was to rally the people and seek to make a better life for them in his beloved Alabama. All of his initiatives to enhance the quality of life for his people are consistent with his empathy for them and devotion to them. His later calling, because of all that had happened to him and how his life had been altered, was to be an example of how faith can strengthen and allow us to endure. He did this with a grace and courage that could only come from the divine, and he was an inspiration to all who came into his presence. His entire life had been dedicated to ministering to the people, speaking for the people and standing up for the people. His place in time and his political style were meant for each other, and he was masterful in every phase of the political game. It always seemed to me that the manner in which he carried himself as a defiant, bold and confident leader was to a large extent based on how he walked and moved among the people. Now all of that was gone and he would be wheeled to every place he would visit the rest of his life. He would have to reach deep down and find the courage to persevere and come to terms with not only his physical fate, but his very own mental, emotional and spiritual fate. To do this he turned his life over to Jesus Christ and he found the, “Peace that passeth understanding.”

To spend an evening with him in his later years was always something I looked forward to. I would sit by his bed and we would watch television together, or I would type scripture for him on the computer screen we had placed on a hospital table at his bedside. He especially enjoyed the History channel and programs about nature and the animal kingdom. He had lost his desire to watch boxing and I found that of interest so I asked him about that one night. He said, “Son, I don’t like to watch people hurting each other.” This was such a contrast to the years I had spent watching boxing matches with him and remembering how much he enjoyed watching the combat. The fragile nature of life had penetrated him deeply and his heart was very full of sensitivity about suffering, in a way he had never known. So the very sight of someone inflicting pain on someone else was offensive, and it filled him with indignation.

I recall in 1997 when the comprehensive movie about my father’s life was directed by David Frankenheimer.  You might recall Franenheimer had won an Oscar directing The Manchurian Candidate. The production took some dramatic license with some facts, but in essence captured the man and the times in which he lived. The raw ambition and burning desire to be successful politically was the prism through which the viewer watched. 1972 was George Wallace’s  year! He had won back the Alabama Governor’s Office in 1970, and then married Cornelia Folsom Ellis, the niece of former Governor Jim Folsom. She was twenty years younger and a striking and beautiful woman. With her raven hair, dark complexion and athletic build, she and my father made a handsome couple an interesting team, and were termed the King and Queen of the Red Neck Riviera by some members of the national news media.

Frankenheimer’s production opens with the period when all is going according to my father’s plans and his style of campaigning had become a national phenomenon. He was winning primaries because he was speaking for the average citizen like none other had done for years. His appeal, to the chagrin of his most severe critics, was far beyond the provincial borders of his southern home. He had touched a nerve in people and his message was a national message that fed on the discontent many American felt at the time. What could possibly go wrong? I recall having a real sense that something was going to happen. You could feel it in the air as it seemed to follow us everywhere on the campaign trail. From state to state the momentum was building, and the real optimism in the air about going to the Democratic National Convention in Miami with enough delegates to assure the nomination as the Democratic nominee in 1972, was felt by everyone in the campaign. The Democratic Party bosses did not know what to do with my father, and the other candidates as best they could started talking like George Wallace. I remember one of my father’s security men telling me that as they traveled with my father they overheard many national politicians say to him privately, “Keep saying what you are saying George, because you are right.” My father would look at them and say, “Well you can say it too, why don’t you say it.” At this the politicians would look sheepish and not quite know how to respond, as my father glared at them. His complete candor and ability to get to the heart of the matter always fascinated me.

As has been written about and analyzed by countless historians, the Nixon response to the strength of George Wallace was to adopt what was termed the Southern Strategy. Specifically created and designed to take positions on issues that would appeal to the Wallace base, the Nixon camp went all out and they were determined to do anything, in my opinion to stop George Wallace. The only Democratic candidate who would have been the real threat to Nixon was George Wallace. The other Democratic candidates were appealing to certain specific Democratic groups, but even here when you consider organized labor and how their leadership gravitated to the McGovern style liberals, the rank and file in cases all across the country organized for my father. The labor leadership had gone one way and a large percentage of their members had gone the other way. Such was the appeal of my father. If he could pull some of these more traditional Democratic voters and maintain his appeal to the Great Middle Class as he called them, then he would be unstoppable. The Nixon camp knew this better than anyone. The only Democratic Presidential candidate who posed a threat to Richard Nixon was George Wallace. Consider what happened in the General election in 1972 and what my father told the Democratic Convention in his speech to them. He told the convention delegates and the national television audience that if the Democratic party nominated a candidate who supported the platform that had been adopted at the convention, that the Democratic party in November of 1972 would lose by the largest margin in history. What happened? With the exception of Massachusetts, George McGovern lost every state including his home state of South Dakota. Mc Govern was never a threat to Richard Nixon. The only real threat was George Wallace. The Nixon camp knew that as the Democratic nominee that my father would hold some of the traditional Democratic alliances together and beyond that appeal to the as they were called, “Silent Majority.” This “Silent Majority,” was supporting George Wallace and the Nixon people knew this. The Wallace movement beginning in 1968 and coming to real fruition in 1972 was the genesis of the modern conservative movement. The support received by my father would later be the support Ronald Reagan received as so many of the traditional political alliances and allegiances were questioned and the body politic was in transition.

I have always believed that because of the tone and mood set by Richard Nixon, some of his campaign operatives and friends had no reluctance to break the law. The testimony in the Watergate hearings revealed a deep concern about the Wallace campaign even to the extent that some of Nixon’s people discussed going to Arthur Bremer’s apartment and planting some McGovern literature, before the F.B.I arrived. There were people around Richard Nixon who sought to punish their political enemies and dramatic statements made by convicted Watergate conspirator G. Gordon Liddy that, “I would take a bullet on Pennsylvania Avenue if it meant the Presidency for Nixon,” sums up the win at all costs mentality that penetrated the Nixon campaign. As the years have passed, and the more I have reflected on the attempt on my father’s life, the question as to who financed Arthur Bremer’s travels around the country for months as he stalked my father, still lingers. There has never been an explanation of how Bremer could lead the lifestyle he did.  Staying at the Waldorf Astoria in New York, flying around the country, renting limousines, going to massage parlors and otherwise leading a life style that an unemployed waiter normally would not have the resources to afford, challenges the reasonable standard. We will never know unless and until Arthur Bremer decides he will talk. Only time will tell and only Arthur Bremer can tell it.

Most of the factors in the political equation were in his favor. The stars were aligned for him, and he was realizing his ambitions and his deepest desires and this was when George Wallace felt alive. How was he to know that at that very time Arthur Bremer was stalking him, and plotting for just the right moment to kill him.  My father knew the dangers and risks involved as he had felt the wrath of demonstrators over the years, and had received more than enough hate mail for one lifetime. He did not need the Secret Service briefings to make him aware of the dangers that would face him. He had chosen this road, and with great ambitions being realized, the probability of an attempt on his life would be realized as well.