Four Men for the New Season

Jimmy Carter is but one of a new stripe of moderate flourishing these days below the Mason-Dixon line. Herewith sketches of four other Governors whose elections reflected, and whose actions in office are helping shape the attitudes of the emerging South:

LINWOOD HOLTON OF VIRGINIA

He took office on Jan. 17, 1970, as the Commonwealth of Virginia's first Republican Governor in nearly a century. It was a ringing inaugural. Standing on the steps of the capitol of the Confederacy in Richmond, Holton proclaimed: "Let our goal in Virginia be an aristocracy of ability, regardless of race, color or creed." As if that were not enough for a genteel white Virginia to swallow in one day, Holton went on to invoke a provocative memory: "Let us, as Lincoln said, insist upon an open society 'with malice toward none; with charity for all.' "

White and black Virginia--home of states' rights, the Byrd machine and massive resistance to integration--wondered if the ruddy, ebullient Holton really meant what he said. He did. After 16 months in office, he is justly proud of his efforts to eliminate racial discrimination. He appointed the first black special assistant to serve in the Virginia Governor's office, Educator William Robertson, who has been working effectively to increase opportunities for blacks in both public and private employment. The Governor nominated Ernest Fears Jr. to the post of Selective Service director, the first black in the nation to head a statewide system.

To back up his policies with personal commitment, Holton sent his three school-age children to predominantly black public schools in Richmond. He did so at a time when many white parents were withdrawing their children rather than comply with court-ordered busing (Holton himself does not approve of busing). His gesture was all the more impressive in that he had a technical escape hatch; the Governor's mansion lies on state, not city property, and he could have sent his children to any school he chose.

Now 47, Holton was born in Big Stone Gap in the southwestern mountains of Virginia, the son of the president of a small coal-hauling railroad. He was graduated from Washington and Lee University and Harvard Law School, was a World War II submarine officer. As a Roanoke attorney, he organized almost singlehanded the G.O.P. in Virginia, even though he was defeated twice for the house of delegates and in his first try for the governorship in 1965.

JOHN WEST OF SOUTH CAROLINA

He appears the very model of the Southern politician: balding, rather stout, a devoted Democrat who dutifully worked his way up through party ranks. He spent twelve patient, hard-working years in the state senate and four years as lieutenant governor. In a gubernatorial campaign rife with racial overtones, West displayed a commendable combination of traditional Southern eloquence and a considered program for his state's future. His opponent, Republican Congressman Albert Watson, repeatedly played on the racist theme of unrest in South Carolina's desegregated schools. West calmly denounced such emotional exploitation and mapped out an intelligent program for solving the state's economic, educational and health problems. The voters responded by giving the affable Presbyterian elder a 53% majority.

West has so far used his mandate wisely. Vowing to break "the vicious cycle of illiteracy, ignorance and poverty," he pledged to minority groups "no special status other than full-fledged responsibility in a government that is totally color blind." He established a Human Relations Advisory Commission to troubleshoot touchy racial problems, and hired as a top aide a young black social worker, James Clyburn. West also made a startling gesture for a South Carolina Governor by hailing the conviction (by an all-white jury) of three white men who overturned school buses in the strife-torn community of Lamar.

West, 48, was raised by his widowed mother on a farm in Camden, in the heart of South Carolina's horse country. After serving as an intelligence officer in the Pacific in World War II, he won his law degree from the University of South Carolina. He served four years in the state highway department and was elected to the state senate in 1954. Despite widespread support, he is now faced with an attack from the state's schoolteachers, who have demanded a $1,500 pay hike. Although seriously concerned with South Carolina's educational problems, he has promised taxpayers that they will not shoulder an additional burden because, as he puts it, "so many of the working are taking home less than they did a year ago."

REUBIN ASKEW OF FLORIDA

He should not, by all sound political reckoning, be Governor of his sprawling, complex state. His Pensacola hometown is considered something of a no-man's land far from the madding Democratic vote centers of Southern Florida. His opponents in last year's Democratic primaries were State Senate President John Mathews, Attorney General Earl Faircloth and Dade County Mayor Chuck Hall, three of the best-known men in the state. In a high-rolling state that likes politicos with pizazz, Askew is a nonsmoking teetotaler who devotes most of his spare time to Presbyterian Church activities. Further, he ran on a platform of substantial tax reform that would cost big business many of its traditional tax breaks, and he chose as his running mate for Lieutenant Governor a man who had already announced his political retirement in the face of $100,000 in unpaid campaign debts.

Yet Askew, 42, had quietly but forcefully built a solid strategic base during his twelve years in the state legislature. Though he represented the state's westernmost, ultraconservative district, he often sided on key issues with legislators from populous Southern Florida. While his district had a greater voice in the wildly malapportioned legislature than its population warranted, Askew was one of the leaders for reapportionment. He gained a reputation for sincerity and fair play; that, coupled with his promise of tough tax, welfare and prison reform measures, helped him through the primaries and then easily to whip incumbent Republican Governor Claude Kirk.

Askew is keeping his promises. He is already pressing for major new revenues from the business community, and he has asked the legislature to repeal the residential utilities segment of the state's 4% sales tax, which hits Floridians in low-income brackets the hardest. He wants more funds and greater authority for the Department of Community Affairs (Florida's version of HUD), which is headed by a black woman. He called for a complete overhaul of the prison system--well before the state's largest prison at Raiford was riven by riots.

A native of Muskogee, Okla., and the youngest of six children, Askew moved to Pensacola with his mother when he was eight. He majored in public administration at Florida State University, served as an Air Force officer during the Korean War, and later earned a law degree at the University of Florida. Friends say that his sincerity and preference for solitude mask a two-fisted infighter. Askew has a sense of the necessity of an integrated South. He thinks last fall's elections of moderates signal "a departure from the custom wherein the person who took the hard racial line always won." He adds: "The South is ready to adjust and become part of the nation."

DALE BUMPERS OF ARKANSAS

Having never served in a statewide office, Dale Bumpers emerged from the Ozark foothills last summer to trounce two of the most formidable politicians in Arkansas history: former Governor Orval Faubus in a Democratic primary and Republican Governor Winthrop Rockefeller in the November election. Many observers attribute his success to the fact that Arkansas' essentially homey population was fed up with professional politicians and was looking for a new, unspoiled face.

Bumpers, 45, has an appealing face and style, a handsome profile nicely complemented by a smooth speaking voice and a wit and grace vaguely reminiscent of Adlai Stevenson and John Kennedy. Those are the men he professes to admire. He has courage too: he let it be known that he was appalled at the public outcry over the conviction of Lieut. Calley. Indeed, Razorback voters, taken with his manifest charms, probably tended to overlook the fact that Bumpers is really more a liberal than a moderate. Still, they well remember the specter of Faubus and the searing national spotlight that was focused on their state. Bumpers' avowed reason for entering the race was to prevent Faubus from regaining office. Said he: "How could I face my children and grandchildren if I allowed that to happen without a fight?"

Bumpers enjoyed a halcyon life before his political adventure. Born and reared in Charleston, Ark., he attended the University of Arkansas, later received a law degree from Northwestern. He served with the Marines in the Pacific during World War II, then returned to Charleston to set up practice and eventually go into the cattle business. Bumpers was an old-fashioned community pillar: married, father of three, director of the Methodist Church choir, Boy Scout troop leader, school board member and finally, city attorney. His sole setback: in 1954 he ran for the state legislature and was roundly defeated.

Such a defeat is not likely to happen again. Already Bumpers has shown a flair for dealing with the state's stolid legislature (in the face of which even Faubus sat on his hands during his first term in office). In three short months Bumpers managed to accomplish a reorganization of the governmental bureaucracy, a removal of use-tax exemptions for utilities, an increase in the cigarette and personal income tax, and legislation giving home-rule powers to the cities. He also made inroads into two of the state's thorniest problems, gaining a pay increase of $900 for teachers and eliciting new funds for prison construction and rehabilitation.

Says Bumpers: "My election and the victories of Governors Carter in Georgia, West in South Carolina and Askew in Florida weren't coincidences. There has been a cry for new leadership in the South."

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