Pitchfork Ben Tillman is but a memory, and probably a legend in some circles. John C. Calhoun's statue in downtown Charleston is a favorite rest stop for pigeons. Strom Thurmond has been dead for several years, although it's still hard to tell when the exact moment of flight took place.
But strangeness still seems to be the order of the day in South Carolina politics.
Witness the bizarre twists and turns in Gov. Mark Sanford's life. In his almost two terms at the state's helm, he showed himself a good, smart governor who only fell short in charisma and in playing well with others. Neither of these was enough to really handicap him, as he was considered prime presidential timber for 2012.
The whole Sanford story now reads like a bad movie script. Married man has midlife crisis so real you can paint it. Married man meets girl. Married man runs off with girl, leaving his job in the lurch. Married man's wife moves out with the kids. Married man swears other woman is his soul mate. Forget Days Of Our Lives; here's the mother of soap operas.
But while state Republicans -- Sanford's own party -- are looking at ways to escort Sanford out of office, another politico deflects some of the lightning. Relative unknown Joe Wilson pipes up during President Barack Obama's speech before a joint session of Congress and calls him a liar. Oops. Meanwhile, public perception is divided on Wilson: Hero or goat? Hey, I report. You decide.
Once again, recent events beg the question: What's up with South Carolina and politics? If you ask around, you'll probably get a bunch of different answers, mostly not complimentary. Some swear it's just because it's the South.
A close friend of mine grew up in the Lowcountry, and now lives up North. She's tried to lose all traces of Southernness, successfully so far. To hear her talk, you'd swear she was born and raised Up There (first time we talked by phone, she commented on how southern I sounded). To this day, about the only evidence she gives of her Down South roots is her love for sweet tea -- something that can not be found or duplicated above the Mason-Dixon Line (Note to y'all Up North: Sugar stirred in a glass of Lipton doesn't even come close).
To many Up There, a southern accent still brings a preconceived notion: Backwards country boy who probably shoots his dinner from his front porch. Uneducated. Barely literate. Family tree that doesn't fork. Confederate flag and rifle rack adorning the family truck. And racial relations? Don't ask.
I used to get asked that last question all the time from visitors from Up North. How's your race situation down here? Just fine, I'd say. How's yours up there?
It doesn't help any that South Carolina is a perennial tail-ender in those stats that folks love to toss around. Near the bottom in high school graduation rates. Among the lowest in literacy and the number of teeth per capita. Among the worst in obesity, diabetes, gun violence, and DUI fatalities. The rest of the southern states (not counting Florida, which was annexed by New York years ago) are also clustered toward the rear. If these statistics were horse races, you'd need searchlights to find us half the time.
But it's our politics that really give people the giggles. Since I started reading newspapers, the only real Southern folks who made any kind of dent in presidential races were George Wallace and Jimmy Carter. Shoot, Jimmy's brother Billy would have been better in the White House, but only if you could catch him sober.
Now, it's Sanford and Wilson in the national arena, and the giggles continue.
My family is spread all over the country. Mom and Dad have lived in California for 50 years. My brother lives in upstate New York, and I've settled here in South Carolina. All of us are political watchers, and we've been known to talk a little trash to one another by email. So when Californians voted Gov. Gray Davis out of office in what amounts to little more than a coup d'etat and replaced him with a movie actor, you know the comments flew thick and fast. Especially when you consider some of the folks who wanted to be governor. There were a few actors (including Gary Coleman, the wisecracking kid from Diff'rent Strokes), Hustler Magazine publisher Larry Flynt (who billed himself as "a smut peddler with a heart,") porno actress Mary Carey, who repeatedly flunked IQ tests on Howard Stern's show, and about a zillion others. Now California is a wreck, with state workers and unemployment recipients wondering whether they'll be paid by check or IOU this week. The state is overrun by illegal aliens, my old grade school is now around 70 percent Hispanic, and it's getting harder to find someone who habla the ingles these days.
And New York? Let's see. Even after Sanford's life took a dogleg left, Rudy Guliani's marital relations still make him look like a Boy Scout. Hillary Rodham Clinton redefined political ambition while a senator from the Empire State. Former Gov. Eliot Spitzer found his name on more call girl customer lists than useful legislation.
Now New York is led by a blind guy, and California by someone who doesn't speak English all that well. But lately I've been on the receiving end of much of the familial trash talk.
Oops. There's a possum lumbering across my front yard. Better get the shotgun; guess dinner will be the other white meat tonight.
But strangeness still seems to be the order of the day in South Carolina politics.
Witness the bizarre twists and turns in Gov. Mark Sanford's life. In his almost two terms at the state's helm, he showed himself a good, smart governor who only fell short in charisma and in playing well with others. Neither of these was enough to really handicap him, as he was considered prime presidential timber for 2012.
The whole Sanford story now reads like a bad movie script. Married man has midlife crisis so real you can paint it. Married man meets girl. Married man runs off with girl, leaving his job in the lurch. Married man's wife moves out with the kids. Married man swears other woman is his soul mate. Forget Days Of Our Lives; here's the mother of soap operas.
But while state Republicans -- Sanford's own party -- are looking at ways to escort Sanford out of office, another politico deflects some of the lightning. Relative unknown Joe Wilson pipes up during President Barack Obama's speech before a joint session of Congress and calls him a liar. Oops. Meanwhile, public perception is divided on Wilson: Hero or goat? Hey, I report. You decide.
Once again, recent events beg the question: What's up with South Carolina and politics? If you ask around, you'll probably get a bunch of different answers, mostly not complimentary. Some swear it's just because it's the South.
A close friend of mine grew up in the Lowcountry, and now lives up North. She's tried to lose all traces of Southernness, successfully so far. To hear her talk, you'd swear she was born and raised Up There (first time we talked by phone, she commented on how southern I sounded). To this day, about the only evidence she gives of her Down South roots is her love for sweet tea -- something that can not be found or duplicated above the Mason-Dixon Line (Note to y'all Up North: Sugar stirred in a glass of Lipton doesn't even come close).
To many Up There, a southern accent still brings a preconceived notion: Backwards country boy who probably shoots his dinner from his front porch. Uneducated. Barely literate. Family tree that doesn't fork. Confederate flag and rifle rack adorning the family truck. And racial relations? Don't ask.
I used to get asked that last question all the time from visitors from Up North. How's your race situation down here? Just fine, I'd say. How's yours up there?
It doesn't help any that South Carolina is a perennial tail-ender in those stats that folks love to toss around. Near the bottom in high school graduation rates. Among the lowest in literacy and the number of teeth per capita. Among the worst in obesity, diabetes, gun violence, and DUI fatalities. The rest of the southern states (not counting Florida, which was annexed by New York years ago) are also clustered toward the rear. If these statistics were horse races, you'd need searchlights to find us half the time.
But it's our politics that really give people the giggles. Since I started reading newspapers, the only real Southern folks who made any kind of dent in presidential races were George Wallace and Jimmy Carter. Shoot, Jimmy's brother Billy would have been better in the White House, but only if you could catch him sober.
Now, it's Sanford and Wilson in the national arena, and the giggles continue.
My family is spread all over the country. Mom and Dad have lived in California for 50 years. My brother lives in upstate New York, and I've settled here in South Carolina. All of us are political watchers, and we've been known to talk a little trash to one another by email. So when Californians voted Gov. Gray Davis out of office in what amounts to little more than a coup d'etat and replaced him with a movie actor, you know the comments flew thick and fast. Especially when you consider some of the folks who wanted to be governor. There were a few actors (including Gary Coleman, the wisecracking kid from Diff'rent Strokes), Hustler Magazine publisher Larry Flynt (who billed himself as "a smut peddler with a heart,") porno actress Mary Carey, who repeatedly flunked IQ tests on Howard Stern's show, and about a zillion others. Now California is a wreck, with state workers and unemployment recipients wondering whether they'll be paid by check or IOU this week. The state is overrun by illegal aliens, my old grade school is now around 70 percent Hispanic, and it's getting harder to find someone who habla the ingles these days.
And New York? Let's see. Even after Sanford's life took a dogleg left, Rudy Guliani's marital relations still make him look like a Boy Scout. Hillary Rodham Clinton redefined political ambition while a senator from the Empire State. Former Gov. Eliot Spitzer found his name on more call girl customer lists than useful legislation.
Now New York is led by a blind guy, and California by someone who doesn't speak English all that well. But lately I've been on the receiving end of much of the familial trash talk.
Oops. There's a possum lumbering across my front yard. Better get the shotgun; guess dinner will be the other white meat tonight.
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