paign volunteer for Democratic presidentialrncontender and then-AlabamarnGovernor George C. Wallace, had attendedrnthe candidate’s last campaign rallyrnbefore the next day’s primary. Wallacernfirst spoke in Wheaton then traveled to arnLaurel shopping center for another appearance.rnAfter a 50-minute speech, herndescended the podium stairs—whereuponrnmy mother greeted him with a hugrnand a kiss on the cheek—and headed towardrnthe crowd to shake hands.rnOne member of the crowd waitingrnanxiously to meet Wallace was a 21-yearoldrnunemployed janitor from Milwaukeernnamed Arthur Bremer. As Wallacerngreeted his enthusiastic supporters, Bremerrnyelled at the candidate that he wantedrnto shake hands with him. When Wallacernturned toward the voice, Bremerrnemptied his snub-nose .38 revolver intornWallace’s body.rnWallace was hit in the abdomen, arm,rnand rib cage. The bullet to the ribs hitrnhis spine and left him paralyzed from thernwaist down for life. In addition to therngovernor, the wounded included Willace’srnbodyguard, Alabama State TrooperrnE.G. Dothard, Secret Service AgentrnNicholas Zarvos, and my mother. PrincernGeorge’s Gounty police officers literallyrnsaved Bremer’s life by wrestling him awayrnfrom the suddenly murderous crowd.rnUpon being taken to jail, Bremer madernone remark heard much too often fromrnsociety’s scum today. “Do you thinkrnthey’ll want to buy my book?” hernqueried.rnMay 15, 1997, marked the 25th anniversaryrnof the Wallace shooting, whichrnfew probably remembered. Nevertheless,rnI recall it now for a distinctly personalrnreason. Last October, my motherrnpassed away. Her breast cancer, first diagnosedrnin January 1995, had metastasizedrnto her abdomen, leaving her barelyrnable to eat solid foods as she nearedrndeath. To the end, my mother remainedrnan unrepentant daughter from thern”Heart of Dixie,” despite having livedrnin the District of Golumbia’s suburbsrnfor roughly 40 years. She cherished allrnthings that reminded her of the place shernalways referred to as “home”—the numerousrnmementos of her Savior whichrnexhibited her Pentecostal faith, her lovernof country and gospel music, and herrnshameless partisanship for Alabama’srnpride and joy, the Grimson Tide footballrnteam. And except for family pictures,rnthe most proudly and prominently displayedrnvisual reminders of “home” wererntwo pictures: one of George Wallace,rnpersonally autographed to her, and arnpost-shooting one of Wallace with ourrnfamily.rnLike the candidate she once worked tornelect, she was a fighter and never lostrnfaith in, or backpedaled from, thosernthings she believed to be right. Aboutrnthree weeks after she died, America reelectedrnBill Glinton, simultaneouslyrnsending Bob Dole “home” as well—tornthe pasture of punditry and tacky appearancesrnin commercials and sitcoms. Oncernthe campaign ended, I was remindedrnmore than ever of one of George Wallace’srntruisms; there really isn’t “a dime’srnworth of difference” between Democratsrnand Republicans, no matter howrnmuch our national media want us to believernthere is.rnWallace drove this point home inrn1968, when he ran a strong campaign asrnthe American Independent Party candidate.rnHe never ceased to refer to the twornmajor political parties as “Tweedledeernand Tweedledum.” He scared one academicrnso bad, according to StephanrnLesher, a Newsweek reporter and Wallacernbiographer, that the pathetic wretchrneven suggested Lyndon Johnson andrnNelson Rockefeller form a coalition ticketrnto save America from Wallace.rnIn his book on Wallace, historian DanrnGarter pointed out how close Wallacerncame in 1968 to his goal of forcing thernHouse of Representatives to decide thernelection. Wallace solidly dominated thernDeep South, except for North Garolinarnand Tennessee, which. Garter writes,rn”slipped away to Nixon by statistically insignificantrnmargins.” But, he adds, “hadrnWallace carried either of these states, arnshift of less than one percent of the voternin New Jersey or Ohio from Nixon tornHumphrey would have thrown the electionrninto the House of Representatives.”rnGarter believes it was this electionrnwhich prompted Richard Nixon to developrnhis “Southern strategy.” At the time.rnGarter writes, political reporters claimedrnNixon’s “strategy” was simply a continuationrnof Barry Goldwater’s 1964 appealrnto cantankerous Southern whites—arncharge Nixon called “bulls—t.” Still, accordingrnto Garter, Nixon ran as a hawkrnon Vietnam, supported limited governmentrnand economic growth, and discreetlyrnplayed the race card by citing urbanrnunrest as a reason for more law andrnorder. Nixon survived, barely, and camernquite close to losing because he underestimatedrnthe vibrant appeal of Wallace’srnplatform and failed to capture the governor’srngenuine faith in the ideas he appropriated.rnWallace returned in 1972, runningrnunder the campaign slogan of “SendrnThem a Message,” “them” being thern”exotic few” who taxed and bullied thernmiddle class into supporting their Utopian,rnwelfare-state schemes. Incorrigible asrnever, the former Golden Gloves champrnran a staunchly populist platform basedrnon fighting busing, crime, taxes, welfarernto deadbeats—foreign and domestic—rnand what he considered the gravest enemyrnto states’ rights and the Americanrnworking man, Big Government.rnBy May 1972, Wallace had shockedrn”them” by whipping “their” candidates,rnmost prominently Senator HubertrnHumphrey and Senator George McGovern,rnin the primaries. Prior to the shooting,rnWallace had racked up wins in Alabama,rnFlorida, North Garolina, andrnTennessee—while running strong secondsrnin Indiana, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin.rnThe day after he was shot, hernadded victories in Maryland and Michigan.rnLesher points out that by mid-rnMay, Wallace had totaled more than 3.3rnmillion votes—”700,000 more thanrnHumphrey and over a million more thanrnMcGovern.” Thus, the man most hatedrnby Big Government and Big Media, asrnwell as by many in his own party, wasrnemerging as the front-runner for thernDemocratic nomination—and was shapingrnup as the biggest threat to RichardrnNixon.rnArthur Bremer, however, changed allrnof that in an instant. At the convention,rnWallace was still courted by the remainingrncandidates, who wanted his delegates’rnsupport. But Wallace was effectivelyrnfinished. Although he ran again inrn1976—my mother ran as one of hisrnMaryland delegates that year—his handicaprnleft him with little chance in nationalrnpolitics. He did manage, however, tornserve another two terms as Alabama’srngovernor after his wounding.rnNixon set the tone, Lesher argues, forrnevery successful presidential candidaternsince 1968. Their success was due to cooptingrnWallace’s populist principles—arnpoint Wallace understood well andrntrumpeted, even after he left politics.rn”Indeed, every successful presidentialrncampaign from 1968 to 1992 (1996 mayrnbe an exception given the absoluternpaucity of original ideas and Dole’s unwillingnessrnto address legitimate issues)rnwas founded on popular issues andrnAUGUST 1997/45rnrnrn