Last Chance to Re-Chisel His Legacy

A governor was dead. In his day, this governor had commanded, once, the nation’s attention. He had run hard with the hot issue of race, playing to the racial animus of a white voting majority. The tactic carried him through an election, but it was not without costs.

His obituaries described a tragic figure, whose “hubris” and “romping ambition” had caused him to strike harsh, ugly poses that ran counter to his nature. This governor, in fact, had begun his political life as a moderate, a populist. He created jobs--good, industrial jobs. He built colleges and highways, improved care for the mentally ill, raised pay for schoolteachers.

And yet these works would be lost to history. He would go down as a flawed man who, for political expediency, abandoned principles. As one newspaper eulogist put it: “At the end of his long life, he felt bitter and frustrated that his entire career as a progressive, often innovative governor was overshadowed by his one moment on the national stage.”

His name was Orval E. Faubus. He was the Arkansas governor who defied federal orders to desegregate public schools in the 1950s. His death came late in 1994, and by then he was pretty much a forgotten relic of the civil rights struggle. Nonetheless, his obituary rang, at least for this Californian, with a peculiar clarity. Even from a distance of 40 years and 2,000 miles, the story of a governor who lost his way and never recovered seemed strikingly familiar. Why? It was obvious: Pete Wilson.

*

Like Orval Faubus, Pete Wilson is no racist. And yet, like Faubus, Wilson has demonstrated an ability and readiness to harvest the hatred of racism. Faubus’ death came at a time of transition for Wilson. He had just won reelection, in large measure by riding hard the issue of illegal immigration, and all the ugly undercurrents that went with it. Now Wilson was about to mount a new horse, affirmative action: Another issue that, on paper anyway, is about one thing, but in a subtext easily decoded by all is in fact about something else altogether.

Like Faubus, Wilson did not start out flying these colors. As mayor of San Diego, the moderate Republican endorsed affirmative action programs. As U.S. senator, he promoted laws that ensured California farmers a rich supply of immigrant farm workers. The obituaries suggested that Faubus made his stand for segregation to deflect attention from an earlier tax hike and also to stymie an attempt to outflank him on the right.

“It’s true in politics, as in life,” Faubus was quoted as saying, in one of his final interviews, “that survival is the first law.”

Before Proposition 187, Wilson seemed on the brink. He was plagued in part by an earlier tax increase; he also was under fire from the Republican right. Survival being the first law, the politician best positioned to lead California away from a divisive, racially fired confrontation instead leaped into the middle of it.

“The governor,” recalled one of the black students Faubus had tried to bar from Central High, “had an opportunity to become a statesman, and he didn’t move to that level.”

*

Here the story lines diverge. Faubus is dead and buried. Wilson is very much alive, with three years to serve as governor--his preference for Pennsylvania Avenue now a moot point. While the time will go fast, there might be enough for Wilson to escape a Faubus-like epitaph. He’ll need to get busy.

Like Faubus, Wilson has done some positive things. He came into office with a clear, hopeful agenda, espousing “preventive government,” managed growth, sensible water policy, electric cars even. Certainly, he has achieved all a governor should--way more than that, some would say--for the business interests. Yet these items would amount to but a few paragraphs if the Wilson obituary were to be written today.

Instead, he would be cast as a politician who lost his moral compass and took to navigating by weather vane, following the wind into expedient, race-tinged issues. The tone would be tragic, a tale of squandered promise. Indeed, that he was ejected so quickly from the presidential derby ought to convince Wilson that issues like immigration and affirmative action are the stuff of quick, vicious sprints, but not marathons.

The guess here is that Wilson knows this. His State of the State speech Monday night was a curious mix of moral preachments to teenagers and boilerplate calls for tax relief and such. Most strikingly, however, it avoided any mention of immigration or affirmative action. And the gallery talk afterward was all about Wilson attempting to relocate his old self, to steer toward more positive themes. If this was the start of a rewrite job, it will be interesting to see if he can keep it up. As they say, it’s his tombstone.