Primary Day in West Virginia

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Democrat Joe Manchin was a popular guy when he was West Virginia's governor.

But that was when West Virginia was still a Democratic state.

Now, as Manchin seeks his second full term as a U.S. senator from West Virginia, he is regarded as one of the most vulnerable Democrat incumbents in this cycle, and three Republicans are vying for their party's nomination to oppose him in the fall. West Virginia Republicans are going to the polls today to decided which one it will be.

President Donald Trump has already made it known which Republican he hopes will not be the nominee — Don Blankenship, a former coal baron who served time in prison. In a Tweet from the president yesterday, Trump urged the voters of West Virginia to reject Blankenship on the grounds that he can't beat Manchin in November and compared him to Roy Moore, the Alabama Republican who lost an open Senate seat in a special election last year.

Trump recommended that the voters choose either Rep. Evan Jenkins or state Attorney General Patrick Morrisey, the leading contenders for the nomination. Three other candidates are in the race, but they have been drawing only modest support in the polls.

The most recent poll I have seen had Jenkins in the lead with 25%. Morrisey was second with 21% and Blankenship was third with 16%. Polls have shown that anywhere from 12% to 39% of Republican voters are undecided so the race is essentially a tossup.

The race apparently has energized voters. The Charleston Gazette–Mail reports that early voting turnout was more than 50% higher than in the last midterm in 2014. Early voting numbers also exceeded the tally in the 2016 presidential campaign.

Polls close at 7:30 p.m. Eastern time.

California, Here They Are

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It has always struck me as odd.

For most of my lifetime, California has been the largest state (by population) in the country. In November, the winner in California (and that is generally expected to be the Democrat; California hasn't voted for a Republican since Ronald Reagan was preparing to leave the White House in 1988) will win — by virtue of that solitary victory — one–fifth of the electoral votes needed to capture the presidency.

That is why many Democrats remain confident of winning this year. Throw in other large states that have been voting reliably for Democrats during that same period — New York, Michigan, Illinois — and those that have been voting almost as often for Democrats but usually by narrower margins — Pennsylvania, Ohio, Florida — and Democrats don't feel that they will need to win many of the mid–sized and smaller states to secure victory in the election.

(Any stock investor will tell you, though, that past results are no guarantee of future behavior.)

Yes, California is at the very heart of Democrats' general election battle plan.

And yet it is a virtual afterthought in the primaries.

The biggest reason for that, I suppose, is the fact that California's presidential primary is nearly always scheduled for the very end of primary season. By that time, party nominees have already been decided — usually — and California voters merely rubber–stamp the decision that has been made by others.

It seems to me that the last time California's Republican presidential primary had any relevance to the outcome of the race for the nomination was in 1976 when California's former governor, Ronald Reagan, needed to win there to remain viable in his race against President Gerald Ford. Reagan did win the primary by a margin of nearly 2 to 1, but Ford still won the nomination.

Democrats moved California's primary up to what was known as "Super Duper Tuesday" in March 2008 so the state could wield greater influence on the nomination. But that was the year of Hillary Clinton's duel with Barack Obama that went down to the first week of June before Clinton conceded defeat.

Clinton won California's primary in 2008, but nearly two dozen states and territories voted that day. When the smoke cleared, Obama had secured more delegates than Clinton and was on his way to the nomination — although, as I said, the campaign went on for three more months before Clinton finally conceded what most observers already knew.

Before that, I guess you would have to go back to 1968 — when primaries were not yet the preferred method for selecting delegates — to find a California primary that was expected to influence the nomination — even though it, too, was held at the end of that year's primary season. In 1968, the presumptive front–runner, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, was assassinated after claiming victory over Sen. Eugene McCarthy in the California primary, and Vice President Hubert Humphrey, who entered no primaries that year, won the nomination the old–fashioned way — behind the scenes.

The concept of voters actually playing a role in the parties' presidential nomination processes is fairly new in the American experience. It is not how most of our presidents — the great and the not–so–great alike — won their parties' nominations.

But it is the expectation of modern voters that they will be allowed a legitimate opportunity to have a say in the nomination process. (Considering that this has apparently produced two unpopular nominees this year, both parties may want to re–evaluate how they choose their nominees when this election is over.)

And expectations have always played an important role in presidential politics.

Those expectations have shifted dramatically in California.

A little over a month ago, polls were showing Clinton with a double–digit lead over Sanders in California. Polls continued to show her comfortably in front as recently as two weeks ago. Expectations in early May were that Clinton would win easily in California and become the presumptive nominee. Thus, the Clinton campaign scheduled stops elsewhere in the weeks before California, and the candidate turned her attention to her presumptive Republican rival instead of her challenger within her own party.

But in a new poll released today — two days before the primary — Clinton's lead over Sanders is down to two percentage points, which is well within the poll's margin of error. In recent days, Clinton has canceled planned stops in other places and returned to California to woo the voters in the Golden State.

As CBS News observes in its report on today's poll, Clinton does not need to win California outright — or New Jersey, Montana, New Mexico or the Dakotas, all of whom hold their primaries on Tuesday as well. She only needs to keep adding to her delegate total.

But Sanders voters — at least the ones in California — indicate that they are not motivated so much by a belief that Sanders can still win the nomination as they are by the desire to influence the direction of the party.

And running out the clock is not the kind of finish Clinton's supporters were hoping for. They were looking for a Secretariat–like 31–length win, not a photo finish in which she limped across the finish line barely ahead of a 74–year–old socialist from Vermont. Especially with the help of so–called superdelegates who are obligated to no one.

Clinton's supporters were expecting a decisive, double–digit win in California — and, given the unpredictability of modern American politics, that may still happen, but the record of this campaign has been that Sanders has tended to underperform in polls leading up to primaries and then overperform (in the context of those polls) on Election Day. Clinton has won in more places than Sanders has but, outside of the South (and its high population of blacks, most of whom have been in Clinton's corner), typically by margins far lower than are expected from candidates who are thought to be historically inevitable.

Clinton needs a solid victory on Tuesday in the largest state in the union to build pressure for Sanders to withdraw in the sake of party unity — but, as Sanders insists there will be a contested convention in Philadelphia next month, his withdrawal after Tuesday's primaries does not seem likely.

Another narrow Clinton victory certainly won't change that.

Hillary's husband, a much more gifted politician than his wife will ever be, would know that the wise thing to do is eliminate your in–party opponent before turning your sights on your general election rival. Learning that lesson now could come at a high price.

Hoosier Buddy? Hoosier Pal? Hoosier Politics

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In a matter of hours, voters will be going to the polls in Indiana to vote in the Democratic and Republican presidential primaries.

Even for the state's old–timers, this is bound to be a first — primaries in either party that have real bearing on the outcomes of the nomination battles. Actually, in the annals of presidential politics (primary or general elections), this is indeed a rare occasion for the folks in Indiana. It has been an opportunity for them to see and hear four people who want to be the next president — and, in all likelihood, one will be. Ordinarily, nominations are all but wrapped up by the time Indiana's primaries are held so they attract little attention — from either the candidates or the media.

Indiana almost always votes Republican in the general election and usually by a wide margin so there is little reason for either nominee to campaign there this fall. Yes, I know Barack Obama carried the state by almost 30,000 votes (out of more than 2.7 million cast) in 2008, but the state reverted to form in 2012 and went for Mitt Romney by more than a quarter of a million votes.

That 2008 election was only the second time since the end of World War II that Indiana voted for a Democrat. The other time was in 1964, when Lyndon Johnson carried the state against Barry Goldwater. It didn't vote for any of the other Democrats who have been elected president since the end of the war — not Harry Truman or Jack Kennedy or Jimmy Carter or Bill Clinton.

Clearly, the assumption has to be that the Republican nominee — whoever that turns out to be — will win Indiana. And the winner of the Democratic nomination, if he or she is smart, will not devote much in the way of time or resources to campaigning in Indiana this fall — unless polls consistently show that the state is up for grabs.

Which is always possible. This year has already been one unlike any other in American political history. And it would not shock me if there are many surprises in store for us on Election Night this November.

That is six months from now. Many things can happen in six months. It is truly an eternity in politics.

That is exactly why it is wise not to place too much faith in polls, either. I know I cite them in this blog, but that is as a general barometer, and I make no pretense that they are endowed with some strange, mystical power to see the future. They tend to be useful for showing how close or lopsided a race looks at a moment in time, but the numbers are imprecise. It is a cliche, but it is still true: The only poll that matters is the one on Election Day.

Decisions are made by those who show up. And who knows what will be on the minds of the voters when they go to the polls in November?

Will there be a terrorist attack somewhere in October — another Brussels or Paris, perhaps? Maybe there will be one at the Summer Olympics in South America. Or maybe somewhere that is not obvious today.

What will happen with the economy this summer? Will joblessness go up? Will GDP go down? What will the stock market do?

Will the FBI finally render its decision on Hillary Clinton's private email server?

Or will voters be thinking about public restrooms?

Whatever the answers are to those questions — and to those questions no one has thought to ask but almost certainly will between now and November — the one thing that seems certain, on the eve of what I honestly believe will be the turning point in both nomination battles, is that we are witnessing a turning point in American politics.

Because of what we are seeing in this election, in the years to come, nothing will be quite the same.

Musing About the Big Apple

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"In the first half of the 20th century, New York was the dominant state in presidential politics. It had the most electoral votes, and of all the large states, it was usually the most evenly divided between the two parties. In the 21st century, New York — with 33 electoral votes in 2000, 31 in 2004 and 2008 and 29 in 2012 — has come to be the most heavily Democratic large state. It's easy today to forget that in 1976 Jimmy Carter only carried the state with 52% of the vote, winning just seven counties and only three outside New York City."

Richard E. Cohen with James A. Barnes
The Almanac of American Politics 2016

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I've been reading a lot and listening to many reports about Tuesday's New York primaries, and I really have to wonder about its significance, especially on the Republican side. It probably means about as much in the long run as Hillary Clinton's victory in the Democratic primary here in Texas. Whichever Republican wins the New York primary — even if, as now seems probable, it is native New Yorker Donald Trump — is not likely to win the general election there.

But the Republican race is about delegates now, and there are 95 available in New York. All indications are that the delegate race will be very tight at least until the California primary in June so that, more than anything else, will attract media attention on Tuesday.

That along with the fact that Trump is likely, as he has elsewhere, to draw many new participants into the electoral process. In 2012, fewer than 200,000 New Yorkers participated in the Republican primary — and the GOP nomination had, in all fairness, already been decided

As Cohen and Barnes correctly pointed out, there was a time — not so long ago, really — when the outcome of a presidential campaign in New York was not a foregone conclusion. In six of the first 10 presidential elections following World War II, Republicans carried New York. But New York has voted with Democrats in the last seven elections. New York hasn't voted for a Republican presidential nominee since Ronald Reagan in 1984.

"The Almanac of American Politics" observes that this transition was caused by Jewish voters becoming more strongly identified with Democrats, rising black and Hispanic populations, and white Catholics, who once voted largely on the basis of cultural issues like crime are more likely now to vote on the basis of issues like abortion, gun control and gay rights.

Of course, New York's electoral performance often seems to be influenced by the presence of a New Yorker — or someone with regional ties — on a national ticket. But not always. In that 1984 campaign, the Democrats had New Yorker Geraldine Ferraro on their ticket, but Reagan took nearly 54% of the state's popular vote.

New York offers a big chunk of delegates in its Republican primary. It isn't winner–take–all. The winner of the state overall will secure a huge block of votes, but some will be allocated based on the results in congressional districts — and if the CBS News/YouGuv poll that was released today is accurate, that could mean a very big night for Donald Trump.

And I suppose it is possible that Trump's presence on the ballot could put New York in play in November — but I doubt it. In the last five presidential elections, New York has never given a Democratic nominee less than 58% of its vote.

That being the case, it might be more instructive to observe the results in the Democrats' primary.

That CBS News/YouGuv poll found Clinton with a 10–point lead over Bernie Sanders. Considering the facts that Clinton was elected to the Senate twice by New York voters and beat Barack Obama by 17 points in the 2008 New York primary, a 10–point win over Sanders would suggest declining support in her "home" state — which could, in turn, suggest declining support nationwide.

A Sanders upset would change the game for certain.

Wisconsin: A Maverick Wild Card

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"It was Wisconsin, as a matter of fact, that in 1903 first invented the presidential primary, which so many other states have since copied. And the political philosophy that inspired that revolutionary invention has made and left Wisconsin in political terms an unorganized state, a totally unpredictable state, a state whose primaries have over many quadrennials proved the graveyard of great men's presidential ambitions."

Theodore H. White, The Making of the President 1960

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When Theodore White wrote the above, it was a very different political landscape across the United States than the one we have today. When all is said and done, more than three dozen states will have held presidential primaries in 2016. In 1960, only 14 states and the District of Columbia held primaries.

Most state delegations were chosen at state party conventions in those days. A primary's value was more symbolic than actual. In 1960, Wisconsin's primary was the second in the nation, coming four weeks after the New Hampshire primary. John F. Kennedy, from neighboring Massachusetts, easily won the New Hampshire primary as expected. Wisconsin's importance was that it would demonstrate whether Kennedy appealed to voters outside his native region.

Kennedy did win Wisconsin, receiving 56% of the vote, but it was determined that much of his margin in that primary came from heavily Catholic precincts. It would be a month later, when Kennedy trounced Hubert Humphrey in heavily Protestant West Virginia, that he demonstrated conclusively that he could win the popular support of Protestant voters outside of New England.

Still there is little doubt that Kennedy's wave of momentum began in Wisconsin on April 5, 1960.

As we round the stretch and head toward the finish line in Wisconsin two days from now, it is worth reviewing the recent history of the Wisconsin primary because it has been such a maverick state — and if the front–runners in both parties lose there, as polls currently suggest they will, it could change the dynamics of both races.

Wisconsin may still prove to be "the graveyard of great men's presidential ambitions."

When White wrote that 55 years ago, he had no way of knowing that eight years later a president would drop out of the race because of an insurgent challenger (and his own problems with a civil war in Southeast Asia). A few days later — and only two days before the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. — the insurgent, Minnesota Sen. Gene McCarthy (the Bernie Sanders of his day), won Wisconsin's primary with 56% of the vote.

"[I]n Wisconsin," White wrote in his book on the 1968 presidential election, "one could see naked the end of the historic Johnson mandate of 1964."

In 1972 Sen. George McGovern used his victory in Wisconsin as his springboard to the nomination, eclipsing pre–Democrat primary campaign front–runner Ed Muskie and former Vice President Hubert Humphrey with 30% of the vote in a 10–candidate field.

In 1976 President Gerald Ford got off to a fast start, winning the first five primaries and the Iowa caucus, prompting many party leaders to openly encourage former California Gov. Ronald Reagan to withdraw prior to the North Carolina primary. If Reagan had withdrawn, it might well have ended his hopes of winning the presidency. But he won North Carolina, and the candidates moved on to Wisconsin two weeks later — even though Reagan had more or less written off Wisconsin because of a money crunch brought on largely by his losing streak in the primaries.

Although momentum was with Reagan after the North Carolina primary, Wisconsin sided with the president. It might well have backed the challenger, who took 44% of the vote, if he had been able to run the kind of advertising campaign that would have been necessary to defeat a sitting president. Reagan went on to win the Texas primary and made a close race of it right up to the party's convention in Kansas City that summer, but many people — myself included — believe the decision to more or less bypass Wisconsin was the greatest mistake Reagan made in the 1976 campaign.

On the Democratic side, former Georgia Gov. Jimmy Carter scored an upset over liberal Mo Udall, who had been counting on Wisconsin's liberal tradition to juice up his campaign.

Instead, Carter won, 36.6% to 35.6%, and the momentum carried Carter to the nomination in July and the presidency in November.

In 1980, Reagan had been alternating electoral momentum with George H.W. Bush in the primaries until he won Wisconsin. After that, he seldom lost another primary, won the nomination and went on to win the presidency.

If you're curious as to the kind of effect that Trump's recent gaffe on abortion can have, it might be useful to remember the 1992 Democratic primary in Wisconsin.

Former California Gov. Jerry Brown announced in New York that, if he was the nominee, he would give Rev. Jesse Jackson serious consideration for the running mate slot. Jackson, the first true black contender for the presidency, was a controversial figure; when the votes were counted in Wisconsin, Bill Clinton defeated Brown by 37.2% to 34.5%. Clinton won all but two of the remaining electoral contests and claimed the party's nomination that summer.

Wisconsin is a legitimate wild card, capable of producing perhaps the only true political drama until this summer's conventions.

Republican front–runner Donald Trump and Democratic front–runner Hillary Clinton are currently running second in Wisconsin polls. If those polls prove to be correct, it could change the complexion of the races.

As Leo once said on The West Wing, "I'd watch."

It's Official Now

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As expected, Hillary Clinton scored a resounding victory over Bernie Sanders in yesterday's South Carolina primary.

And, as I have observed in recent weeks, the winner of the South Carolina Democrat and Republican primaries almost always goes on to win the nomination for president.

If you're looking for a political bellwether, at least at this stage of a presidential campaign, it's hard to find one that is better than South Carolina.

Thus, it is likely that we now know who will be the major parties' standard bearers in the fall — but, of course, we really didn't need South Carolina for that, did we? I mean, didn't we already know it would be Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton?

And, indeed, those are the candidates who won the endorsements of South Carolina's voters.

Mathematically, of course, neither Trump nor Clinton has anywhere near enough committed delegates to be absolutely assured of nomination, but both can take a giant step forward in that regard a couple of days from now when 10 states vote on "Super Tuesday." There will also be one state caucus in each party.

Polls show Trump and Clinton leading in most of them. If those polls prove to be accurate, historically speaking, it's a done deal, and that will spare voters in the remaining primaries the onslaught of media attention and advertising to which the earlier primary and caucus participants have been subjected. For the folks who vote later in the political calendar, I'm sure that will be cause for much rejoicing.

But is that really a good thing?

The only matters left will be the formality of the votes at the conventions and the selections of the nominees' running mates.

The selection of a running mate, of course, is always regarded as the first presidential–level decision a presumptive nonincumbent nominee must make. It is rarely as consequential as it is made to seem, but there certainly have been times, particularly when there was no incumbent in the race, when the choice of a running mate has made a difference.

In 2008, for example, John McCain's selection of Sarah Palin was panned while Barack Obama's choice of Joe Biden was seen as being presidential. Polls remained close until the economic implosion, but the choice of Biden did seem to give the Democrats a boost.

Twenty years earlier, the whole thing seemed to be unimportant to voters. George H.W. Bush's choice of Dan Quayle could not compete with the stature of Michael Dukakis' choice, Lloyd Bentsen, but that did not seem to matter to voters. For the only time since World War II, voters voted for the same party for a third straight time, largely because the majority of voters wanted a third term for term–limited Ronald Reagan.

Speculation about the running mates can be pretty intense when there is so much time to fill. There is usually little else about which political writers care to write in the time they must fill before the convention, and everything in the process becomes magnified. You know what they say about idle hands ...

The earlier the nomination battle is decided, the longer the speculation about running mates is apt to be.

That is why it may be best for everyone, including the candidates, if the nominations are still undetermined for awhile.

But there are problems with that, too. If a campaign goes on until the end of the primary calendar, as it did in 2008, it leaves less time for the nominee to make the choice — and increases the likelihood that a mistake will be made.

So it may be that the fact that the likely nominees are known at this stage will be beneficial. At least they can begin vetting vice–presidential prospects before whittling it to a short list that can be paraded before the media at the appropriate time.

Palmetto Principles Part II

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"There's a special place in hell for women who don't help each other."

Madeleine Albright

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I don't know if they have early voting in South Carolina. If they do, then some of the state's Democrats have undoubtedly voted by now. If not, then they will be showing up at the polls today.

By nightfall, we should know whether Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders won — and, if the polls are accurate, Clinton is likely to win by a wide margin.

And, as I observed last week ahead of the Republican primary, that will be important — because of what it has meant in recent history.

It was important, of course, who won the Iowa and Nevada caucuses and the New Hampshire primary. But those states have had poor records in recent presidential election years. Seldom has the eventual nominee won in those states. Not so in South Carolina. Since 1980, Mitt Romney has been the only Republican nominee who did not win the South Carolina primary.

Democrats have only been holding primaries in South Carolina since 1992, but in those six previous primaries, John Kerry was his party's only eventual nominee who did not win the South Carolina primary. Like Romney, Kerry lost to a Southerner — John Edwards from neighboring North Carolina (Romney lost to Newt Gingrich from Georgia on the state's southern border).

Interestingly, both Romney and Kerry held political office in Massachusetts. In fact, they were in office at the same time. Romney was governor of Massachusetts, and Kerry represented the state in the Senate alongside Ted Kennedy.

The important point, though, is the state's success rate in picking nominees.

Virginia is known as the "Birthplace of Presidents" because eight of the 43 men who have been president were born within that state's boundaries — including four of the first five, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison and James Monroe.

Perhaps South Carolina should be known as the "Birthplace of Presidencies." Every president since 1980 has won his party's primary in that state.

That should be good news for whoever wins there tonight — and, as I say, the polls indicate that it will be Clinton by a wide margin.

The Emerson Poll released a survey yesterday that showed Clinton with 60% and Sanders with 37%. The poll credited black voters for giving Clinton such a comfortable lead. Black voters account for more than half of the state's Democrats, and the Emerson Poll reported that more than seven of 10 black voters support Clinton.

No one ever disputed that the black vote would be critical for winning in South Carolina's Democratic primary, but their support won't be enough to win South Carolina in November. South Carolina's overall black population accounts for less than 28% of the state's entire population.

Of course, Sanders can't rely on young voters as he has in other places — and up to this point, he has one decisive win and two narrow defeats in this election season. Young voters (ages 18 to 34) account for 23% of the population in South Carolina, and the other age demographic that has been reasonably receptive to Sanders' message has been voters between the ages of 35 and 64 — the state's largest age group (39%).

Their support hasn't been as lopsided as it has been with younger voters — but it has been more dependable at the polls.

The most dependable age demographic, though, is voters 65 and older. Only 15% of the state's residents are in that category — but older voters are more likely to vote than any other group, and they have been supporting Clinton.

The Clemson University Palmetto Poll reports Clinton with 64% and Sanders with 14%, running behind undecided at 22%.

It doesn't seem like much has changed since last week, when the NBC News/Wall Street Journal/Marist poll showed Clinton with 60% and Sanders with 32%.

Of course, polls aren't the same thing as actual votes — a point I have made repeatedly on this blog. So let's wait and see what happens tonight.

Everyone expects a big victory for Clinton — and, frankly, so do I. But nothing is official until they count the votes.

I haven't seen any polls of South Carolina's Democratic women. I suspect that many of the younger women, like their peers in those other states, are supporting Sanders, but their numbers probably won't be as great as their mothers' generation — or their grandmothers' — and the older women are the ones who are likely, it seems to me, to be supporting Clinton.

It will be interesting to see what the exit polls reveal about the women's vote.

I must say that I am perplexed by the rush to anoint nominees after only four states have cast their votes — and none of those states are likely to make a difference in the general election unless it is an extremely tight race. If it is as close as Bush–Gore was in 2000, then any one of the four could make a difference.

But photo finishes like that don't come along very often. In a country where more than 100 million people are likely to vote in November, more often than not the outcome is more decisive than that. In my lifetime, I have witnessed more landslides than cliffhangers.

Most of the states that will be big prizes in the fall vote late in the primary season — when nominees typically are unofficially their parties' standard bearers. Notice I said "big prizes," but I didn't say they would be up for grabs. Many of the big states are going to vote for one party or the other, no matter who the nominee is. I live in Texas, where no Democratic nominee has won since Jimmy Carter in 1976. In fact, few have come close.

Unless you're 30 or older, you probably have no memory of a time when California was not reliably Democratic. It last voted Republican in 1988. In fact, until Bill Clinton was elected president, California had only voted for Democrats twice since the end of World War II. California has now voted for Democrats six straight times — and probably will make it seven this fall.

Texas will vote in next Tuesday's "Super Tuesday" primary, but California, as usual, will vote late in the process — when the nomination has already been secured by someone.

Most big states won't have much of a say in the nominating process — and that strikes me as foolish. Shouldn't both parties want to sound out the voters in the big states before the nominees are chosen? Wouldn't it help their cause in the general election? California alone offers one–fifth of the electoral votes a candidate needs to win the election.

Well, the general election is still a little more than eight months away, and the name of the game is perception. After four small states have voted, we're all ready to crown the champs. I guess we will find out how the big states feel in November.

Of course, if Sanders somehow manages to stay close, that could have a ripple effect in next week's primaries. And all bets would be off.

We should know by tonight.

Palmetto Principles, Part I

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"History is inescapable anywhere," wrote Richard Cohen and James Barnes in their entry on South Carolina in the 2016 edition of The Almanac of American Politics.

They wrote that as their lead–in to a discussion of last year's racially motivated shootings at an historic black church in Charleston — but in a larger context it was about South Carolina's often troubled history that, as often as not, has crossed all kinds of boundaries — not only racial but economic and social as well.

The state's political history, however, has been more progressive than many people outside the South would care to admit — and that really is representative of many Southern states as well. The state's governor is an Indian–American woman — the first woman and the first racial minority to be the state's chief executive. She won with 51% of the vote in 2010; she received 56% of the vote when she sought re–election in 2014. One of the state's U.S. senators is black. He was appointed to replace Jim DeMint who resigned suddenly in 2013, but Tim Scott received 61% of the vote in a special election to fill the last two years of DeMint's term in 2014.

Both are Republicans, though, which reflects, in historical terms, a recent phenomenon in both the state and the region. Democrats were long in the majority in the South, and most officeholders in most Southern states were Democrats, but then Richard Nixon introduced his Southern strategy and put the transformation into motion.

South Carolina and the rest of the South have been trending solidly Republican in presidential politics for decades now. South Carolina was the only Deep South state — with the debatable exception of Florida — to support Nixon over George Wallace in 1968, and it has only voted for one Democrat (Jimmy Carter in 1976) since then.

"The primaries are not so predictable," wrote Cohen and Barnes. "South Carolina was decisive in determining the Republican nomination from 1988 to 2008," in no small part because it was moved to the front of the political calendar, putting it in position to influence the largely Southern "Super Tuesday" that follows. That is precisely what happened in 1988. Vice President George H.W. Bush won by a wide margin in South Carolina, then went on to do rather well on Super Tuesday a few days later.

The first two electoral skirmishes in the 2016 presidential calendar were held in places that have been known more for supporting ill–fated insurgents than realistic candidates for presidential nominations. South Carolina, which holds its Republican primary this Saturday and its Democratic primary on Feb. 27, has become known for frequently endorsing candidates who ultimately won their parties' nominations.

There have been exceptions, of course. On the Republican side, Newt Gingrich defeated eventual nominee Mitt Romney in South Carolina four years ago.

But South Carolina's Republicans had an unbroken streak going from 1980 to 2008, endorsing Ronald Reagan in 1980 (he was unchallenged there when he sought a second term in 1984), George H.W. Bush in 1988 and 1992, Bob Dole in 1996, George W. Bush in 2000 (like Reagan, Bush was unchallenged when he sought his second term in 2004) and John McCain in 2008.

From an historical perspective, it seems to me that winning South Carolina would be more meaningful than a win in New Hampshire or Iowa, even though those earlier clashes offered early momentum and media exposure to the winners.

Not that Donald Trump needs much in the way of exposure. But New Hampshire gave him a little momentum, perhaps a little credibility in his new field — and cut back on some of the momentum and media buzz generated by Ted Cruz in the Iowa caucuses. A second primary win would add to Trump's electoral credibility.

As I say, though, the outcomes in Iowa and New Hampshire have had little influence on the races for the nomination in recent years. It wasn't always that way in New Hampshire. For a long time, conventional wisdom held that, if a candidate did not win the New Hampshire primary, that candidate could not win the election.

Bill Clinton was the first presidential candidate to lose the New Hampshire primary (in 1992) but go on to win the election. Both of his successors did the same thing. George W. Bush lost to McCain in 2000 and Barack Obama lost to Hillary Clinton in 2008. Like President Clinton, both won the New Hampshire primary with no credible opposition when they sought re–election.

Thus, no nonincumbent has been elected president after winning the New Hampshire primary since George H.W. Bush in 1988.

On the other hand, history is loaded with recent examples of eventual presidents–elect who won the South Carolina primary.

So it seems to me that South Carolina is clearly the prize for Republicans. If the state's Republicans endorse a candidate who goes on to win the nomination — and, as I have observed, only Mitt Romney failed to achieve both in the last 36 years — he will probably end up with a convincing win in the Palmetto State in November. After all, Romney defeated Obama by more than 200,000 votes in South Carolina in 2012.

Defeat in South Carolina need not be decisive. But I guess that depends on how wide the margin is.

Let's take a look at some of the recent polls in South Carolina for clues to what might happen on Saturday:

Today a Public Policy Polling survey of nearly 900 likely primary voters was released that showed Trump with nearly a 2–to–1 lead over Cruz and Marco Rubio. Trump had 35%, and Cruz and Rubio each had 18%. The poll has a 3.3% margin of error.

On Monday, the South Carolina House Republican Caucus released a survey of more than 1,300 likely voters that showed Trump with a better than 2–to–1 lead. In that survey, Trump had 32.65%, Rubio had 14.02%, Cruz had 13.94% and former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush had 13.39%. The margin of error in that survey is 2.83%.

CBS News/YouGov reported the results of a survey on Sunday that, once again, showed Trump with more than a 2–to–1 lead. Trump had 42%, Cruz had 20% and Rubio had 15%.

On Saturday American Research Group reported the results of a survey that had Trump leading by something like 2⅓ to 1. Trump had 35%, Ohio Gov. John Kasich had 15%, Rubio had 14%, Cruz had 12% and Bush had 10%.

Last Friday the Augusta (Ga.) Chronicle reported that its survey had Trump with the narrowest lead of all, 36% to Cruz's 20% and Rubio's 15%.

There are sure to be other surveys in the next few days — and I always remind people that polls are like snapshots, not videos. They give people an idea of what sentiment was like at the time the survey was conducted. But sentiments can change in a matter of days, hours, even minutes.

Right now, the polls suggest that Trump is likely to win by a wide margin. Thus, most of the attention probably will be on who finishes second — and, thus, who may emerge as Trump's main challenger for the nomination. The polls seem to suggest that Cruz is likely to finish second — although it could be Rubio. It might even be Bush, whose father and brother always did well there.

But that really is nothing more than a sideshow because, as I observed earlier, the winner in South Carolina usually goes on to win the nomination. At best the runner–up buys himself some time to compete in upcoming primaries, but in the last three dozen years, only Romney has come back from a second–place finish in South Carolina to win his party's nomination.

It's getting serious now. That's true in both parties, as I will point out in this space next week.

Insurgency in New Hampshire

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"On Tuesday, March 10, New Hampshire enjoyed an old–fashioned New England blizzard: up to 14 inches of snow from the Canadian to the Massachusetts border — snow crusting the kepis of the Union veterans, snow blocking Gov. John King's new state highways, snow slushing the streets of Manchester, snow over mill and factory and ski slope and farm. New Hampshire's polls closed at 7 p.m. ... By 7:18, Walter Cronkite announced over CBS that Henry Cabot Lodge had won New Hampshire."

Theodore H. White
"The Making of the President 1964"

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To say the least, it was an unexpected way to begin the campaign for the Republican presidential nomination.

In 1964, the Republican Party was divided between its conservatives and its moderates. Former Vice President Richard Nixon managed to bring the two groups together in 1960, but he wasn't a candidate in 1964. Sen. Barry Goldwater of Arizona was the favorite of the insurgent conservatives, and Gov. Nelson Rockefeller of New York was the candidate of the establishment moderates.

"By 1964, New Hampshire was not quite so rural, Yankee and insular as popular myth held it," recalls the Manchester (N.H.) Union–Leader. "Yet the 1964 primary provided a result so startling that the belief in the Yankee traits of independence and inscrutability would find new life."

Startling was probably a good way to describe 1964.

The assassination of John F. Kennedy in November 1963 cast a dark shadow over everything. It was a startling event — to put it mildly — and it changed the political landscape in 1964.

Historian Theodore White wrote that, until the assassination, Goldwater saw Kennedy as "history's perfect opponent." The two men would "debate the issues up and down the country, they would draw the line between the conservative and liberal philosophies," much as they had when they had been colleagues in the Senate. Goldwater expected to lose, but he also expected to do well enough to put the fledgling conservative movement in position for greater things in the future.

Goldwater genuinely liked Kennedy, White wrote. When they were in the Senate together, Goldwater often chided Kennedy with "Your father would have spanked you" for casting certain votes. They disagreed often, but they liked each other.

"And then came the assassination," White wrote. "The assassination shocked Goldwater as it shocked every American by its brutality and senselessness. ... Now, after the assassination, he was faced with running against another man, a Southerner, of an entirely different sort. "

Goldwater was heartsick, White wrote. He had received hundreds of hateful letters "as if he, personally, were responsible for the killing of the man he was so fond of." He thought of abandoning his campaign, then thought better of it.

When the campaign for the nomination began, Rockefeller was seen as the front–runner, but he lost considerable momentum due to a couple of related personal issues. First was the subject of his recent divorce. At the time, no president had ever been divorced, and that was enough of a social taboo by itself (at least until once–divorced Ronald Reagan was elected president in 1980).

But then Rockefeller remarried in 1963. His bride, who was 15 years younger, had recently been divorced, too, and she had given up custody of her four children to her ex–husband. That was a double whammy.

"Have we come to the point in our life as a nation," asked Prescott Bush, the father and grandfather of presidents, "where the governor of a great state, one who perhaps aspires to the nomination for president of the United States, can desert a good wife, mother of his grown children, divorce her, then persuade a young mother of four youngsters to abandon her husband and their four children and marry the governor?"

So that was working against Rockefeller, who lost 20 percentage points among Republicans amid rumors that he had been having an affair with his bride while she was still married. The rumors were fueled by the rapid succession of events — her divorce quickly followed by her remarriage to Rockefeller. The appearance of it would cost Rockefeller the nomination, many said, although many also were not comfortable with Goldwater.

The race between Goldwater and Rockefeller was regarded as close when New Hampshire's voters went to the polls 50 years ago today. Both sides thought they would win, but neither one did.

They were undone by ex–Sen. Henry Cabot Lodge, Nixon's 1960 running mate who won the primary as a write–in. Lodge received 36% of the vote to 22% for Goldwater, 21% for Rockefeller and 17% for Nixon.

To say the least, it was a surprising outcome. Some folks probably were shocked, and Lodge likely was one of them. The whole write–in movement had been the work of a small group of political novices; Lodge didn't think it would amount to much and made no effort to encourage the movement. In fact, he had renounced it two months earlier.

But former President Dwight Eisenhower had publicly urged Lodge to run in December, and moderate Republicans were encouraged the day before the primary when it was revealed that Lodge had not had his name removed from the ballot in Oregon, site of the next officially contested primary.

It was a time when delegates were still won in caucuses or state conventions, not primaries, and that was the path to the nomination for presidential hopefuls, but contested primary results were often viewed as evidence of a candidate's vote–getting ability (or lack thereof).

In the aftermath of the New Hampshire primary, all the attention was on Lodge. Without lifting a finger, he had won the first Republican primary. But there would be no more legitimate tests of vote–winning skills for a couple of months.

Illinois actually was next on the political calendar, but the state's party leadership was staunchly behind Goldwater. New Jersey's primary was a week later. No candidates had filed so all votes were write–ins.

Primaries were held in Massachusetts and Pennsylvania the week after that. No candidates appeared on the ballots in those states, either. The day before the primaries, Rockefeller called for air strikes in Laos and Cambodia to help South Vietnam. It was a controversial position. Lodge won Massachusetts, Pennsylvania voted for its governor, and Rockefeller received 9–10% of the vote in both.

Mostly uncontested primaries followed in Indiana, Nebraska, Ohio and West Virginia.

Lodge began to reconsider when the write–in campaign paid off with a victory in New Hampshire. So did the press and GOP elders.

Lodge won primaries in Massachusetts (the state he had represented in the U.S. Senate) and New Jersey, but then he decided that he really didn't want to be president and withdrew his name from consideration.

As the campaign moved West for the Oregon primary, White wrote, "Lodge's picture was on the magazine covers across the country; Lodge led every poll from coast to coast. ...

"In the aftermath of the New Hampshire primary," White wrote, "Oregon's Republicans shifted as the nation's Republicans shifted, and the first Harris (Poll) samplings showed thus: for Lodge, 46%; for Nixon, 17%; for Goldwater, 14%; for Rockefeller, 13%."

"For Rockefeller," wrote White, "the name of the game was now impact. From New Hampshire on, there was no longer any realistic chance of his becoming the Republican nominee. But to veto the choice of Goldwater, he must prove before the convention assembled that Republican voters would not have Goldwater on any terms."

That next round would belong to Rockefeller — but the nomination would go to Goldwater.

The Politics of Rage

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"Wallace was getting 50 percent in the first scattered returns; the lead shrank in the first half–hour to 47 percent, then to the low 40s, and then stabilized at 42 percent. But the 42 percent had a profile — it was not simply the north and the piney woods rednecks that were voting for George Wallace."

Theodore H. White
"The Making of the President 1972"

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The history books tell us that George McGovern was nominated by the Democrats to run against Richard Nixon in 1972.

And, in fact, that is what happened.

Things tend to look a lot more cut and dried in history books than they did at the time, though. We have the advantage of hindsight. We know what the outcomes were — in the primaries that were held that spring, in the conventions that were held that summer and in the general election that November.

But 1972 was a funny kind of year. It was a year when a win wasn't really a win — and a loss wasn't really a loss.

Sometimes they were, though — and, in the traditional ways, a win was still a win and a loss was still a loss. But, in the Democrats' primaries (and there were far fewer of them in 1972 than there are in 2012), there didn't seem to be anything resembling momentum.

McGovern was, as I say, the eventual nominee, but he didn't win any of the first four caucus/primary contests. He performed better than expected in New Hampshire when front–runner Ed Muskie appeared to implode, but he hardly made a ripple in Florida a week later.

Nothing was clear as Florida prepared to hold its primary. People often forget that the charismatic George Wallace was a formidable foe in the primaries in the spring of 1972, and he looked quite imposing in Florida, receiving more than twice as many votes as anyone else.

I wasn't yet a teenager when Wallace sought the 1972 presidential nomination — but, while I suppose I was seen as a bit precocious at the time with my knowledge of history and the presidency, one thing about the Alabama governor was clear to me in spite of my youth.

In fact, I remember thinking that, if it was clear to me, it had to be obvious to everyone else — but I am far from certain that it was.

It probably goes without saying that Wallace had a reputation for being a racist and perhaps he was — but there is a difference of opinion as to whether he really was a racist or a racial opportunist (after all, Wallace apologized to the black citizens of Alabama in his later years and wouldn't have won his final term in office if it hadn't been for the support of black voters).

Not that there is — necessarily — much of a difference between the two. But Wallace's 1972 campaign showed that he was really more about the politics of rage than he was about the politics of race.

At times, yes, it was a racist rage. But most of the time it was a populist rage.

And that is the thing that was clear to me at the time. I think it must have played a significant role in the thought processes of those who worked for Richard Nixon.

The Nixon White House feared George Wallace. He had carried five Southern states as an independent in Nixon's narrow win in a three–way race four years earlier, and Republicans were concerned that he could do considerable damage to Nixon's campaign for re–election if he won the Democrats' nomination.

At the very least, they were worried about a possible rerun of 1968, with Wallace being the spoiler again. The last time, it had been to the benefit of the out–of–power Republicans.

But, in 1972, the Republicans had held the White House for four years. They had inherited Vietnam, but it had ceased to be Lyndon Johnson's war and was now Richard Nixon's war.

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In the rear–view mirror of history, it's hard to imagine anyone defeating Nixon in 1972. His approval ratings were consistently in the 50s and were on an upward trajectory after his trip to China in February; in November, he received more than 60% of the popular vote and carried 49 states.

Just a year earlier, though, he had been struggling in the polls, and the possibility that he might be denied a second term seemed very real. A Harris Poll in August 1971 suggested that Muskie would beat Nixon if the election had been held at that time.

I remember that a political board game was developed in 1971 called "Who Can Beat Nixon?" It was designed much like "Monopoly," and several people could play — but no one could be Nixon.

It was mostly meant as a novelty, I think, but the parents of one of my friends had it, and I do remember my friend and I tried to play it a few times. My memory is that the cards were stacked heavily against Nixon — and it probably should have been called "Can Nixon Win?"

Anyway, that was the political atmosphere in 1971 and, to an extent, early 1972 when George Wallace was campaigning for president — and he found a receptive audience in Florida. His victory there didn't really surprise people, but the margin did.

And it scared some people, too. Wallace got 42% of the Florida vote, more than twice what the runnerup, Hubert Humphrey, received. Humphrey, it should be noted, specifically targeted the labor vote, the black vote and the Jewish vote. Wallace focused on the broader theme of alienation.

For some voters, that was expressed in anger over busing. That may well have been based in racism, but the arguments against it sounded reasonable. Many parents protested that they weren't against integration, but they were against busing their children long distances from their homes to achieve it.

Wallace told the voters that he was on the side of the little guy. It was the "feel your pain" message of its day, I suppose.

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"The average man was being gutted by government. Taxes were important in George Wallace's message. ...

"But, above all, busing. Busing was what really got to the average man. ... This was 'social scheming' imposed by 'anthropologists, zoologists and sociologists' (Wallace loved to draw out the word 'sociologist') ...

"It was clear for the last three weeks before primary day that George Wallace would lead in the spread–eagle Florida primary. ... But it might be close."

Theodore H. White
"The Making of the President 1972"

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In the end, though, it was far from close.

And, for awhile, there was some real anxiety in Democratic circles about the possibility that Wallace would develop some momentum that could carry him to the nomination.

But that didn't happen — at least, not outside the South.

Wallace chose not to compete against Muskie and Henry Jackson in the Illinois primary the following week, and he edged out Humphrey for second place against McGovern in Wisconsin three weeks after the Florida primary.

The air was escaping from the balloon he grabbed in Florida.

Wallace finished a distant fourth in Massachusetts in late April, and he ran second to Humphrey in Pennsylvania but still lost by a mile (if you consider 14 percentage points a mile in politics).

In the two–month interval between Wallace's victory in Florida and the attempt on his life, Wallace won only two primaries — Tennessee and North Carolina.

No one realized it in March 1972, but Wallace's apparent ascendance in national politics would end well before the convention.

Outwardly, it ended on that day in May when Arthur Bremer tried to kill Wallace in a shopping center parking lot in Maryland.

Realistically, it reached its peak 40 years ago today.

Sweet Home Alabama

They held their primaries in Alabama this week, and I'm a little bewildered.

A black man named Artur Davis, who has represented west Alabama's Seventh District in the U.S. House since 2003, ran for governor and was handily beaten by the state's agriculture commissioner, a white man named Ron Sparks.

Unofficially, Sparks received 62% of the vote in what the Birmingham News called "one of the more remarkable upsets in Alabama primary history."

Huh?

I grew up in the South, but I have never lived in Alabama. In fact, I have seldom even been in Alabama. And — no offense intended to the congressman — I had never heard of Artur Davis until a few days before Christmas, when his colleague, Parker Griffith, switched from the Democratic Party to the Republican Party.

Obviously, my credentials as an Alabama insider are seriously lacking. Actually, I would characterize them as nonexistent.

In the course of researching my blog article on that decision, I learned about Davis' campaign and discovered that he had been saying that Griffith's decision "repudiates the hard work of many Democrats who sustained him."

I saw nothing at the time that indicated whether Davis or Sparks was in front in the governor's race. I knew nothing of their political philosophies (I have since learned that Davis is, based mostly on his congressional voting record, a centrist, but I still know very little about Sparks' views). And I will readily admit that my gut reaction was based on what I have seen and heard about Alabama and the Deep South all my life.

My gut reaction last December was that Davis would lose — eventually. I didn't know if he would lose the Democratic primary, because most blacks in America are Democrats and Alabama (like most Southern states) has a fairly large black population.

It was possible, I reasoned, that the Democratic Party in Alabama — the same Democratic Party that nominated George Wallace for governor four times — might nominate Davis.

That's the same George Wallace who was remembered in a PBS documentary by a black lawyer for being "the most liberal judge that I had ever practiced law in front of," but, after losing the 1958 gubernatorial nomination to a Ku Klux Klan–backed opponent, ambition may have gotten the better of him, and he vowed never to be "outseged" again.

After being sworn in as governor the first time in January 1963, he famously proclaimed, "Segregation now! Segregation tomorrow! Segregation forever!" Accurate or not, that came to summarize Wallace in the minds of most Americans — a defiant, stand–in–the–schoolhouse–door racist.

And, more than 10 years later, Wallace lamented, after endorsing Jimmy Carter (the symbol of the "new" South) for president, that "I had to do things — say things — to get elected in Alabama that made it impossible for me to ever be president."

Well, Wallace (along with just about all of the American politicians who built state and national careers on the tragedy of racial conflicts) has been dead for many years now. But the attitudes that he and others exploited for their own political gain were generations in the making and cannot be completely erased in a single election.

Still, there is no doubt the parties have moved farther to each extreme. Wallace's son and namesake is a Republican now, and I wouldn't be surprised if most of the descendants of the Alabamians who elected the elder Wallace governor so many times now regard themselves as Republicans, too. Thus, it wouldn't shock me at all if Alabama's Democrats are more liberal than their ancestors.

So I couldn't conclude that Alabama's Democrats would not nominate a black man for governor — but, ultimately, I believed his candidacy was doomed. I found no reason to believe, as some people apparently did after Davis was elected in 2002 to represent a newly created district that is more than 60% black, that he was a rising star in Alabama politics. And, yes, I suppose that was not politically correct in the modern sense because I presumed his lack of statewide star quality was a racial thing.

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Oh, yes, a lot of things have changed in the South, and, for all I know, Davis was doing much better in the polls at some point than he did when the voters cast their ballots this week. But maybe this was one of those Bradley effect deals, where poll respondents said they would vote for the black guy but, at the moment of truth, just couldn't do it.

OK, Davis lost the party primary. But if he had not lost the party nomination, I'm inclined to think he would have lost the general election — when the more conservative Alabamians will participate along with the left–leaners.

But, as I study accounts of the final weeks of the campaign, I wonder if maybe Alabama's Democrats actually gave the nation some reassurance that the state has progressed farther than most had dared to dream.

Maybe it was mostly about race. Maybe it was a case of the so–called Bradley effect.

But, maybe, it was something as simple and as basic as the adage so memorably expressed by Tip O'Neill: "All politics is local."

A couple of weeks ago, the Tuscaloosa News quoted a political science professor as saying that there was a significant difference in the candidates' approaches. Davis, he said, appeared to be structuring his campaign with the general election voters in mind while Sparks was focused on the party's voters, the ones he had to persuade to win the nomination.

Now, to put it bluntly, it is never a good idea to run as if you have already won the preliminary and you're mostly positioning yourself for the general election campaign. It seems like a recipe for disaster for any politician — never mind the politician's race, gender, age, religion, etc.

Maybe, to paraphrase Michael Jackson, it don't matter if you're black or white — as long as you tell 'em what they want to hear. Perhaps Democratic voters didn't want to hear Davis defend his vote against health care reform, which might have played well in November. Perhaps they were more impressed by the facts that the state's black leaders and the teachers and other groups that appeal to today's Democrats endorsed Sparks.

Anyway, I believe race did play a part in what happened. Maybe its influence was very subtle. In spite of all the talk of a post–racial America, it seems to me that such change is coming more slowly in the South than it is in other regions. At some point, I hope the South can overcome its racist legacy, but it will require a certain amount of tolerance and understanding on the part of the rest of America.

There seems to be a one–size–fits–all mentality outside the South about black politicians. Since Obama's election in 2008, the conventional wisdom appears to be that it is all a matter of strategy — especially if you read Jeff Zeleny's article on the Alabama primaries in the New York Times: "[T]he decisive defeat of Artur Davis ... illustrates the limits of trying to replicate the strategy that helped carry President Obama to office," he writes.

That strikes me as being willfully ignorant of certain facts — one of which is that there is nothing of the sort to replicate in Alabama. Two years ago, more than three–fifths of Alabama voters voted for John McCain.

I don't know if Davis openly sought to emulate Obama's national triumph in a Deep South state or if that objective was a presumption by some in the outside media, but, if that was the strategy, it leads me to ask a simple question: Why?

Blacks have seldom won statewide races in America — and almost never in the South. And it is worth remembering that most Southern states did not vote for Obama, either. It may be hard for people in other regions to understand, but even with the sizable black populations in this region, Obama has never been especially popular here.

And maybe that is, to a certain extent, the product of racial conflict.

Because, you see, another fact that has been conveniently ignored is that, in 2008, the results in Alabama clearly were polarized by race. Whites, who account for nearly 69% of the state's population, voted heavily for McCain; blacks voted heavily for Obama.

The same thing happened in other Southern states, too. It just wasn't as pronounced as it was in Alabama.

And, yet, as I say, Davis' voting record was a centrist one. Alabama Democrats who wanted to win a governor's race for the first time in the 21st century should have been tempted to nominate Davis — and, yet, most of them picked his white opponent.

You can reach a racist conclusion based on that information if you wish. And, human nature being what it is, there may always be those voters who make choices based on irrelevant factors like race or gender or age or religion. Politicians don't get to choose what the voters get to use to make electoral decisions.

But maybe the message from most of Alabama's Democrats wasn't that a black man had been rejected by the voters (although there is no getting around the fact that a black man did lose the primary).

Maybe the message was that voters have evolved so much in this country that a black Democrat can be defeated in his party's primary because his views did not reflect the voters' — not because he was black.

Isn't that what Martin Luther King was talking about when he spoke of being judged not by the color of one's skin but the content of one's character?

Why I Won't Vote in the Texas Primary

Last month, I wrote that I have turned my back on a lifetime as a Democrat and now consider myself an independent.

Here in Texas, we have open primaries, which means there is no official party registration. I can go to my polling place and simply declare in which party primary I wish to participate. I voted in the Democratic primary in 2008. This year, I could walk into my polling place and tell them I wanted to vote in the Republican primary and I would be allowed to do so. No questions would be asked.

Now, if it turned out that the primary in which I did not vote produced a high–profile runoff, I could not participate in the runoff. Texas isn't that liberal (actually, Texas isn't "liberal" about most things).

It was a different situation when I lived in Oklahoma. When I registered to vote there, I had to declare my party allegiance. If my allegiance changed, I had to go through the procedure of re–registering. It was possible to register as an independent, but, unless the independents held their own primary, you couldn't participate in a state primary if you were registered as one.

It is interesting that many people who have known me most or all of my life — and therefore know that I have been a Democrat all my life — have asked me, upon learning that I now regard myself as an independent, if I am going to vote in the Republican primary or if I support Republicans for various offices.

I can only wonder when being an independent became synonymous with being a member of either political party. Perhaps it has to do with one's disenchantment with one's original party. If it does, then maybe the logic — as twisted as it is — is, well, he's not a Democrat, anymore, so he must be a Republican.

Maybe that would be true of some people today, but I believe I am honest enough (with myself, at least, if not with others as well) to acknowledge if I am actually switching parties. And that is not what I did. I am now an independent.

There was a time, not so long ago, when independents were seen as allies of Democrats. In recent months, though, they have been increasingly seen as friendly to Republicans.

But the reason I am an independent — and the main reason why I will not vote in the Texas primary on Tuesday — is because I am disgusted with both parties.

As I mentioned last month, politicians will have to earn my support by demonstrating satisfactorily that they are acting in my best interest. And I am simply not convinced that any of the candidates on either party's ballot is acting in my best interest.

For awhile, I did think about voting in the Republican primary — but only because Gov. Rick Perry is on the ballot and I loathe him so much that I wanted to vote against him.

Perry was the lieutenant governor when George W. Bush was governor, and Perry became governor when Bush resigned to go to Washington. I think of it as Texas' version of Dumb and Dumber.

If the polls are to be believed, I may get the chance to vote against Perry in November if I want to (I've done that before, though, and it hasn't helped). He's being challenged in Tuesday's primary by Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison, who was, at one time, a bigger vote–getter than Bush in Texas. In 2000, more than 4 million Texans voted for her when she ran for a second full term as a U.S. senator. She outpolled Bush, who was running for president that year, by more than 200,000 votes in Texas.

But Hutchison may turn out to be the Martha Coakley of Texas. When she entered the race last year, many polls showed her leading Perry, although her leads were never as impressive as I thought they should be. I heard many political observers speak of her as the inevitable nominee, although I was never convinced that she was inevitable. And, indeed, it seems that lead has disappeared, and Rasmussen Reports says Perry is close to majority support in his bid for the Republican nomination.

Close, but not there yet.

Modern polling techniques are usually pretty reliable so a "Dewey Defeats Truman" moment doesn't really seem likely here, but it's possible that recent polls could be wrong. If they are right, then Perry is a couple of percentage points away from a majority, with Hutchison more than 20 points behind him.

What's more, nearly one out of every 10 Republicans hasn't decided how to vote, Rasmussen says. If the poll is right, Perry still has time to win enough support from the undecided group to secure a majority — and, hence, the nomination — without having to make a pitch for Hutchison's supporters.

Or the supporters of the third candidate, Debra Medina. She's kind of like Texas' Sarah Palin — except she hasn't been elected governor yet and, from the looks of things, won't be the GOP's gubernatorial nominee this year. Probably the less said about her, the better.

For awhile, she seemed to have some momentum, and it looked like she might make this a genuine three–way race. But she started making controversial comments about alleged 9/11 insider conspiracies, and the momentum went away.

I thought about voting for Hutchison and perhaps helping to force Perry into a runoff that he might lose, but I decided that voting against is not something I want to do anymore. I want to vote for someone. I don't see any real difference between Hutchison and Perry so the best reason I could have for voting for Hutchison would be that she isn't Perry. And that isn't enough for me.

The movement from Medina seems to have gone in Perry's direction, and there is a lesson in that for incumbents across the country who have been anticipating an anti–incumbent mood in this midterm election year. Such a fervor does not seem to be evident within either party, except in certain cases, so there isn't likely to be much evidence of an anti–incumbent wave during the spring/summer primary season. Where that is likely to be encountered is in the general election this fall, when independents are thrown into the mix.

Of course, independents can vote in either primary here — and in several other places as well. I could vote in the Democratic primary on Tuesday, but the front–runner, the former mayor of Houston, is far ahead of his opponent.

So I've decided to be merely an interested bystander this spring, then I'll see if either nominee persuades me this fall that he/she is concerned about my best interests. If neither one does, I'll sit that one out, too.

As a bystander, I will say that I find it curious that, regardless of the lead Perry apparently has in the primary, his lead over the presumed Democratic nominee is smaller than Hutchison's. But neither seems to have a majority — yet — in this state that hasn't elected a Democrat to a statewide office in 20 years.

My vote might yet matter to both sides in the fall. It probably means a lot to the candidates in the primaries on Tuesday. But no one has met my standard.

I put too much value on my vote to just give it away to the one who comes closest to living up to my standards. That seems to be one of the problems in America. We seldom get good options, but, because somebody has to win, we give to whichever candidate the voters decide is the "lesser of two evils."

Well, I have voted for the lesser of two evils far more often than I care to remember, and I have decided I simply will not just give my vote away to someone who just partially meets my requirements.

I want an exact match.

Not So Fast, My Friend

Is the race for the Democratic presidential nomination over -- as many writers and political observers have been suggesting, in the aftermath of Barack Obama's big win in North Carolina and his narrow loss in Indiana?

Only half a dozen states remain on the primary calendar.

One of those states is West Virginia, which holds its primaries next Tuesday.

West Virginia has the political stage all to itself, and, to a certain extent, it is resisting the notion that Obama has wrapped up the nomination.

West Virginia has a long history of being contrary. It once was part of Virginia, but after Virginia seceded from the Union at the start of the Civil War, the northwestern portion of the state itself seceded from Virginia and was admitted to the Union as a separate state on June 20, 1863.

In fact, to this day, June 20 is celebrated in West Virginia as "West Virginia Day."

In 2000, George W. Bush became the first non-incumbent Republican to win West Virginia since Herbert Hoover in 1928. The next four Republicans who were elected president won without the support of West Virginia.

Dwight Eisenhower didn't win West Virginia when he was first elected in 1952. Richard Nixon didn't win the state when he was first elected in 1968. Ronald Reagan didn't win West Virginia when he was first elected in 1980. And George H.W. Bush didn't win it when he was elected in 1988.

If the pattern had continued and Al Gore had won West Virginia in 2000, Florida's electoral votes would not have been enough to give the election to Bush.

I get the feeling that there are some editorial writers in West Virginia who feel that it isn't fair for the race to be considered over before West Virginians get the chance to participate.

I also get the feeling that participation in Tuesday's primaries will be good, even if the voters believe that both nominations have now been decided. There seem to be several competitive races on both ballots -- as one would expect in a state that has become increasingly competitive politically in recent years.

"Either Democrat will have a tough time this fall against Republican John McCain, whose service, policy experience and bipartisan accomplishments trump Hillary's," writes the Charleston Daily Mail in its endorsement of Hillary Clinton. "Of the Democrats, though, Hillary would be the stronger candidate."

The polls I've seen suggest that West Virginians agree.

Rasmussen Reports sees Clinton leading Obama, 56% to 27%. The remaining 17% either persist in supporting a candidate who is no longer in the race or continue to be undecided at this stage of the contest.

The numbers are virtually unchanged from a Rasmussen survey in mid-March.

American Research Group's most recent survey (conducted May 7-8) has Clinton in front, 66% to 23%.

How does one explain such a large Clinton lead in West Virginia?

In part, I would say the negative publicity surrounding Obama's remark about "bitter" voters "clinging" to guns and religion hasn't helped among West Virginia's more conservative electorate. West Virginia is, arguably, one of the most religious states in the nation. It is also a state where 7 out of 10 residents own guns.

Also, the demographics of West Virginia seem to lean more in Clinton's favor. Only about 3% of the West Virginia population is black, and about three-quarters of the residents went no farther in their education than high school. The so-called "Lunch Bucket Democrats" appear to outnumber the "Starbucks Democrats" in West Virginia.

And, in spite of the fact that West Virginia's economy hasn't struggled as much as the rest of the country, due to relatively good times for the coal mining industry, more than half of the state's households have incomes of less than $35,000/year.

The next administration will need to have a strategy ready to deal with the problems of energy prices, food prices, the economy in general.

But it's also important for Americans to decide in this election how they feel about the war in Iraq -- which will be 6 years old shortly after the next president takes the oath of office.

In this country, we celebrate those who are remembered as great warriors. But, as Yoda said in the Star Wars trilogy, "Wars not make one great." The ones who are remembered by history are the ones who show creativity and bold innovation on the battlefield in an attempt to shorten the conflict.

In fact, such a warrior died on this date 145 years ago. He was a Confederate general, and his name was Thomas Jackson -- better known by his nickname of "Stonewall." He considered himself a Virginian, although he was born in what is now West Virginia.

He died less than two months before the legendary Battle of Gettysburg. Many war historians believe the South might have won that battle -- and perhaps gone on to win the war -- if Jackson had been alive.

It seems clear that General Robert E. Lee knew what he had lost. Jackson actually died of pneumonia a week after the amputation of his left arm due to wounds he suffered in the Battle of Chancellorsville. As Jackson lay dying in the field hospital, Lee sent a letter and lamented to the chaplain, "[H]e has lost his left arm but I my right."

By the way, history also records that the battlefield wounds Jackson suffered were inflicted by mistake -- by Confederate troops.

Sometimes, we are our own worst enemies -- be it by design or by chance.

The management of a war that has dragged on for 5 years can hardly be said to be creative or innovative. The damage from the war -- like Stonewall Jackson's battlefield wounds -- is the result of "friendly fire."

In 2008, Americans must discuss the situation in Iraq and decide what the plan is going to be. We can't afford to sidestep the question the way we did in 2004.

It makes no sense to elect another president who will, in the words of Rick Martinez of the Raleigh News & Observer, "refuse to win a war."

And, since it may no longer be possible to win this war, we need a plan to simply end it.

It is neither creative nor innovative to continue to throw away blood and treasure to justify the blood and treasure that has already been lost.

There must be a clearly defined objective that will preserve what we still have and give us the opportunity to repair what damage it is possible to repair.