George Wallace

Former Alabama Gov. George Wallace was buried yesterday. The restless soul of one of the era’s most influential and tragic public figures at last is at rest.

Wallace, of course, is seared into the national memory for his “segregation forever” 1963 inaugural speech, for his defiant “stand in the schoolhouse door” to block black enrollment at the University of Alabama. His 1968 presidential campaign turned America’s political landscape upside-down — the 10 million votes he siphoned from the Democrat’s Solid South/blue collar base ensured the election of Richard Nixon, it gave birth to the Southern Strategy that still serves the Republican Party so well. Shorn of its racism, his anti-elite, anti-big government rhetoric was the foundation of Ronald Reagan’s populism and popularity.

Less well known is Wallace’s spiritual rebirth, a transformation brought about by Arthur Bremer’s crippling bullet in 1972. His pain he caused him to reflect upon the pain he had caused others. He renounced racial hatred and segregation, he sought, and to a degree received, forgiveness from the blacks he once persecuted. He was elected to Alabama’s highest office twice more with their support.

But Wallace knew it was not enough and that it never could be. He knew that, although he did not unleash the police dogs, turn on the fire hoses or light the fuses that turned Birmingham into Bombingham, he emboldened those who did. He knew that the spectacular crimes committed in the name of segregation were but a small part of the daily misery experienced by the millions of Americans who are victims of prejudice.

Above all, he knew that racists, by definition, are easily led to bad ideas and that those, like himself, who squander the gift of leadership will pay with inner torment. This son of the Bible Belt learned a hard lesson about reaping the whirlwind.

As Wallace’s funeral procession wound through Montgomery, three white men in Chicago were on trial for beating a 13-year-old black boy into a coma because he rode his bike into the “wrong” neighborhood. The case hangs by a thread — it seems there are no witnesses to a crime that occured on a busy street in broad daylight. In New York City, two firefighters and a police officer can’t understand why they may be fired for entering into a parade a float depicting a black man being dragged behind a pickup truck. It was, they say, a joke.

Wallace knew it wasn’t a joke and he knew that Chicago’s memory lapse is no accident. He knew that, along with a political strategy and a lesson about repentance, they are his legacy.