Wallace: Gearing Up Again

When George Wallace appeared in Washington for the National Governors Conference a year ago, he stayed flat on his back most of the time, staring despondently at the ceiling, receiving few people. His political career seemed as shattered as his spine from the bullets of Arthur Bremer. This month Wallace once again attended the annual Governors Conference, but he was a rejuvenated man: he sat upright in his wheelchair, attentively following the proceedings and obviously basking in his celebrity status. His career has recovered along with his body and spirit.

Democratic National Committee Chairman Robert Strauss dropped by to pay his respects, and reporters flocked to Wallace's side. "Back in 1965, I'd have had to streak up and down the avenue to get this much attention," said Wallace. "I'd have had to streak through the House of Representatives."

Rid of the Kooks. Streaking, in a sense, is just what the Alabama Governor is doing. Despite mild disclaimers, he is running hard for a place on the Democratic national ticket in 1976. For the first time he is given a fair chance--if not for the No. 1 spot, then as the vice-presidential candidate. Though he cannot walk unaided and tires fast, Wallace has staged a remarkable comeback. He trails only Senator Edward Kennedy in Democratic Party presidential polls for 1976. Watergate, meanwhile, has alienated many conservatives from the Republican Party, and they may well turn to Wallace as an alternative.

Inevitably, perhaps, Wallace has been moving toward the middle of the road, seemingly giving up his militant segregationism and many of his longtime redneck associates. "We are glad to be rid of the kooks," says a close Wallace aide. "We were never comfortable with that crowd. We may have been segregationists at one time, but we weren't crazy. They didn't fit well at all with the Governor's new image." The ordeal of his paralysis seems to have mellowed Wallace, now 54. He does not even bear a grudge against his would-be assassin. "I hope he's a new man now," says Wallace. "I've forgiven him."

Today the Governor goes out of his way to court the rising black vote in Alabama. Last November, after stopping off to crown the black homecoming queen at the University of Alabama, Wallace received a standing ovation at the Southern Conference of Black Mayors in Tuskegee. Charles Evers, mayor of Fayette, Miss., has said that he might vote for Wallace for Vice President if he ran with Ted Kennedy.

Wallace wants to make a permanent home in the Democratic Party, which he feels has moved closer to his thinking after the McGovern debacle. "We're back in the party for better or for worse, or, as we say down here, 'ridin' or walkin',' " says Michael Griffin, 25, an energetic Wallace aide. "The Governor is like Minnie Pearl when she says, 'Ah'm jes glad to be here.' Party stalwarts who once denounced Wallace as a bigot are now treating him like a brother. Last July 4, Ted Kennedy appeared with the Governor at a celebration in Decatur, Ala.; in February, Senator Henry Jackson journeyed South, where he said he would be glad to have Wallace on the ticket with him in 1976. The Governor also met with his old foe, AFL-CIO President George Meany, who came away doubting that he would vote for Wallace but acknowledging that the Governor had definitely mellowed.

Wallace is determined not to make the same mistakes he did in 1972. During that campaign, he won 35% of the popular vote in the primaries--more than any other Democratic candidate--but received only 12% of the convention ballots because in many states he neglected to follow party procedures for selecting delegates. His agents are immersed in party maneuvering for 1976, hoping to take advantage of a basic change the Democratic Party has adopted for choosing delegates to the national convention. In the 1976 caucuses and state conventions, any candidate who receives 15% of the vote will be given a proportionate share of delegates; winner no longer will take all. Since Wallace has at least a sprinkling of support in most places, he believes that he will benefit from the rule change. Wallace is also preparing for the Democratic miniconvention to be held in Kansas City in December. He wants to make sure that the Democratic charter to be produced there reflects his views to some extent and is not totally dominated by what he calls the "exotic left."

Wallace's health remains a question mark. Even some supporters wonder whether he could withstand the grueling pace of a presidential campaign. Though he takes no medication, he is in considerable discomfort. "It takes me an hour to do what it used to take me 15 minutes to do," he admits. At the Governor's mansion he exercises daily in a former spare bedroom that resembles a gymnasium. He lifts a 100-lb. weight over his head as many as 80 times a day, then spends as much as an hour standing between parallel bars. "With the help of a walker I can go 150 steps," he told TIME'S Atlanta bureau chief James Bell. "The doctors tell me I'm in excellent shape now except for the paralysis of the legs." His wife Cornelia, 35, likes to goad him by saying that she will make his next speech for him if he is too tired.

Whether the new Wallace will have the appeal of the feisty bantam of old is another matter. In Alabama, at least, the transformation seems to have been accepted. Wallace launches his candidacy for a third term as Governor this week, and he is considered a shoo-in. Only one serious Democratic candidate has filed against him for the primary this spring; no Republican has yet declared. "Anyone would have to be a nut to run against Wallace this year," concedes former U.S. Postmaster General Winton M. Blount, who was considered to be the most likely G.O.P. candidate. Wallace has not only the white vote; he is also expected to win at least half the black ballots--an astounding turnabout for the man who in another era stood in the school doorway in Tuscaloosa to keep black students from entering.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.