George Wallace Jr.: 50th anniversary of George Wallace assassination attempt offers opportunity for reflection
Fifty years ago, on May 15, 1972, I was a student at the University of Alabama and in my Tuscaloosa apartment when a “Special Report” on the television announced that my father, Gov. George C. Wallace, had been shot and critically injured in an assassination attempt on his life. The frontrunner for the Democratic presidential nomination at the time, Dad had been campaigning in Maryland on the eve of that state’s primary. The Michigan primary was scheduled for the next day, as well, and polling predicted that my father would carry both states by wide margins. It was at a parking lot rally in Laurel, Maryland where Arthur Bremer, a troubled, 21-year-old busboy from Milwaukee, took five fateful shots and wounded my father in the chest and abdomen as he was shaking hands in the crowd. Dad later told me that he was immediately aware his injuries were serious, and when he hit the ground, he purposely turned his head, closed his eyes, and pretended to be dead in hopes that a possible second gunman would choose not to shoot. Despite the chaos surrounding him, he had felt a certain peace and finality come over him as he wrongly assumed his wounds would be fatal. A Secret Service agent had kneeled over him in a protective position, but his drawn gun was dangerously close to Dad’s head. “I wish you wouldn’t point that at me – I have been shot enough for one day,” he told the agent. Bremer’s flurry of gunfire had also resulted in Secret Service agent Nick Zarvos being shot in the neck, Alabama State Trooper E.C. Dothard, a member of the gubernatorial security detail, receiving a graze to the stomach, and Dora Thompson, a campaign volunteer from Hyattsville, Maryland, suffering a knee wound after a bullet ricocheted off of the asphalt. A diary that Bremer kept for months stated his intention to “do something bold and dramatic” and indicated he had originally intended to assassinate President Richard Nixon. Stalking the president on his various travels, Bremer got close enough to take a shot at an economic summit in Ottawa, Canada, but the strong Secret Service presence surrounding the chief executive prompted him to change plans and target my father – the most likely future president – instead. Within minutes of receiving the news, state troopers arrived at my apartment door, whisked me to the airport, and placed me aboard a private jet along with Charlie Snider, the national chairman of the Wallace presidential campaign, press secretary Billy Joe Camp, and a handful of others. We soon arrived at Holy Cross Hospital, where my father had been taken by ambulance and was undergoing five hours of emergency surgery. The attending doctors told us that his already grave injuries were complicated by the fact that just prior to the rally, Dad and his traveling campaign staff had stopped at a Howard Johnson’s restaurant, where he ate his usual lunch of hamburger steak and fries doused in ketchup. The bullets had caused the undigested food to explode within his abdomen, and the lingering peritonitis blood infection and abscesses that followed would almost claim his life. When I walked into the recovery room, my father was still heavily sedated and many of the stitches on his chest and stomach were visible. He reached out with a look I had never seen – one of a man who had been to death’s door and was back among the living, reunited with his family. I have never forgotten that look. It soon became clear that the injuries had paralyzed my father from the waist down, and though we held hope that he would eventually regain use of his legs, those particular prayers were left unanswered. He remained hospitalized at Holy Cross for several weeks as he fought infections and held the continuing specter of death at bay. Once he regained strength, he received visits from notable leaders that included President Nixon, Senator George McGovern, Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm, and Ethel Kennedy, whose husband, Robert Kennedy, had been killed while campaigning for the presidency in 1968. Cards, letters, telegrams, and flowers flowed into the hospital by the thousands. Upon his release, Dad flew to Miami on a military medical aircraft, which was provided by President Nixon, to appear at the 1972 Democratic National Convention, where McGovern, a committed liberal, would claim the nomination. My father’s forced absence from the campaign trail had allowed his competitor to secure the required delegates. During his convention remarks, Dad warned the Democrats that embracing the extreme left and its ultra-liberal agenda would cost the party the support of the rank-and-file, blue-collar, middle-class families that served as its foundation and doom it to lose the Deep South states in future elections. Like a clairvoyant with a crystal ball, all of the predictions he made those years ago have come true today. As my father spoke, a handful of liberal delegates tried to shout him down, and some marched around the convention hall wearing paper masks depicting Arthur Bremer, which Wallace supporters ripped from their faces. The vast majority, though, gave him a warm reception and appreciated the history of the moment. His mission complete, it was time to return to his beloved Alabama. My father would serve two more terms as governor and run for president a fourth time in 1976, though he lost the nomination to Jimmy Carter, a former Georgia governor who had once been a Wallace supporter. Retirement from public office in 1987 would offer him the opportunity for reflection in his later years, and his relationship with God grew significantly. One of the most enduring and revealing testaments to my father’s deepening faith came in an incredible letter of forgiveness he wrote with no fanfare or public announcement to his assailant, Arthur Bremer, in 1995. A copy of the missive was discovered tucked away in Dad’s files years after it was written. “I love you and have forgiven you, and if you will ask Jesus Christ into your heart,
George Wallace Jr: A tribute to John Patterson and a life well lived
Since his passing last week at age 99, former Alabama Governor John Patterson, his character, and the deep and decades-long relationship he shared with my family have frequently been in my thoughts. I met John Patterson in 1958 when he was Alabama’s nationally-famous state attorney general and a candidate for governor against my late father, a former state representative and sitting circuit judge for Barbour and Bullock counties in the Third Judicial Circuit. As a six-year-old, I would stand on a chair and make political speeches on behalf of my father’s candidacy at political forums across Alabama. The crowds seemed to like the novelty of such a young boy campaigning for his parent, and it proved to be a valuable introduction to Alabama politics that served me well during my own campaigns years later. Gov. Patterson and I first shook hands at one of those forums, and he remained a welcome presence in my life for more than 60 years to follow. He and my father were friends before that campaign, and they maintained their friendship even after Patterson became the only man to defeat him in a gubernatorial campaign and later ran for governor against my mother, Lurleen, in 1966. In fact, their friendship grew and deepened as the years went by, and more and more of their colleagues, contemporaries, and political allies passed away. A World War II veteran who served on General Dwight Eisenhower’s staff, Gov. Patterson also saw action in the Korean Conflict before returning to Phenix City and opening a law practice with his father, Albert. Phenix City was known at the time as the “Wickedest City in America” because of the gambling, prostitution, and other vices that operated openly thanks to a complicit, wink-and-nod agreement with members of local law enforcement. Because so many of his soldiers were returning to base broke, beaten, and robbed after payday, General George Patton, while stationed at Fort Benning, once threatened to cross the Chattahoochee River and flatten Phenix City with his tanks. John’s father, Albert Patterson, a former member of the Alabama Senate who wished to restore law and order to the city, sought help from state officials in Montgomery, but he found that many of them, as well, had been co-opted by the Dixie Mafia when they refused his requests. Taking matters into his own hand, he ran a statewide campaign for attorney general on a platform of cleaning up Phenix City. Despite widespread vote fraud intended to rob him of victory, Albert Patterson won the Democratic primary, which was then tantamount to election, but he was assassinated outside his law office by the same criminal network he was working to destroy. John Patterson ran for attorney general in his father’s place, and he vindicated his murder with zeal. Working with the National Guard that Gov. Gordon Persons had called in after declaring martial law, Patterson secured almost 750 indictments against the local law enforcement officers, elected officials, and organized crime elements that operated the vices. He also successfully prosecuted the chief deputy sheriff for killing his father. Patterson became a national celebrity, and Hollywood even made a movie about the events titled “The Phenix City Story.” As a result, he was propelled into the governor’s office following the 1958 campaign. His term as governor was notable for a $100 million public school building program, increased services for the aged and infirmed, and opposition to loan-sharking operations that preyed on the poor, but most historians remember it for the early events that occurred during the struggle for Civil Rights. Yes, Gov. Patterson was controversial, as was my father early in his career, relative to the issue of segregation, but they were products of their era. As time passed, they saw the light, walked toward it, and embraced it while becoming advocates for brotherhood and understanding. In the end, they both got it right. One of the finest appointments my father ever made was placing John Patterson in an open seat on the Alabama Court of Criminal Appeals, a post he held until retiring in 1997. His work and influence are felt on that court even to this day, and it is notable that he always preferred to be addressed as ‘Judge Patterson” rather than “Governor Patterson” after stepping down from public life. I had the pleasure of serving with Judge Patterson for more than 20 years on the board of Lyman Ward Military Academy, and the keen insight and wisdom he brought to our proceedings were always impressive. Following our board meetings, we would always have lunch in the mess hall with the cadets. Judge Patterson and I would sit across from each other as we reminisced and told behind-the-scenes stories about the political events and larger-than-life personalities of a by-gone era. We were always amused that the other trustees would quietly ease their chairs closer to ours in order to eavesdrop on our conversations and get an insiders’ look at Alabama politics. When our father passed away in 1998 at age 79, my family immediately asked Judge Patterson to deliver his eulogy at the state funeral service held in the Alabama Capitol Building, and it remains a touching memory to this day. After sharing remarks that were all at once reflective, humorous, candid, and emotional, Judge Patterson ended his eulogy about my father by saying: “His passing marks the end of an era in our history. Alabama has lost its greatest son, and I have lost a dear friend.” Those words he spoke in tribute to my father express exactly how I feel about the loss of Judge John Patterson, a kind, decent, and honorable man who loved Alabama fiercely and leaves behind a life well lived. He will be missed. George Wallace Jr. is the son of Alabama Govs. George and Lurleen Wallace. He previously served two terms as Alabama State Treasurer and two terms as a member of the Alabama Public Service Commission.
Alabama university removes Wallace name from building
The University of Alabama at Birmingham has removed the name of four-term governor and presidential candidate George C. Wallace from a campus building over his support of racial segregation. A resolution unanimously approved by trustees Friday said Wallace rose to power by defending racial separation and stoking racial animosity. While noting Wallace’s eventual renouncement of racist policies, the resolution said his name remains a symbol of racial injustice for many. A UAB building that was named after Wallace in 1975 will now be called simply the Physical Education Building. Removing Wallace’s name from the structure “is simply the right things to do,” trustee John England Jr. said in a statement. Wallace vowed “segregation forever” at his 1963 inaugural and was paralyzed in an assassination attempt while running for president in 1972. He has a “complex legacy” that includes his apology to the late Rep. John Lewis, who was beaten by Alabama state troopers while trying to march for voting rights in Selma, England said. “That said, his stated regret late in life did not erase the effects of the divisiveness that continue to haunt the conscience and reputation of our state,” he said. Wallace was elected to his fourth term as governor in 1982 with support from Black voters and died in 1998. Multiple buildings around the state bear his name. An online petition urged Auburn University to rename a building honoring Wallace last year as protests against police killings and racial injustice swept across the nation, but no action was taken. Wallace’s son George Wallace Jr. wrote an open letter opposing such a move, which he said would fail to recognize his change late in life. Wallace’s daughter Peggy Wallace Kennedy, in a statement released by UAB, expressed support for change on the Birmingham campus. “It is important to the university to always seek positive and meaningful change for the betterment of students, faculty, and the community,” she said. Republished with the permission of the Associated Press.
