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Above all, the lesson most of the candidates learned in Florida was that they cannot dismiss the new Wallace as a redneck rabble-rouser (see box). Employing unorthodox, old-style techniques, his campaigning nevertheless has contemporary punch. At its heart is "the rally"—a unique carnival theater mixing jingoism, evangelism, populism and hucksterism in a fashion that has otherwise passed from American political life. It is vintage revivalist-tent corn —and devastatingly effective with his "country soul brothers," as his rivals in Florida discovered to their sorrow.
The routine that voters in future primaries can expect is always the same. An hour before rally time, local volunteers move into the lobby, open up five wooden trays of campaign trinkets and merchandise for the faithful to buy. There are nine varieties of bumper stickers, George Wallace watches selling for $16.50, a passel of buttons (100 each), straw hats at $2, red toy footballs, a paperback biography of the great man. If a customer buys more than a dollar's worth, he gets a free autographed picture of Wallace.
As the crowd drifts in, Guitarist Billy Grammer and his trio hum up their instruments. Warmup Shill George Mangum, a burly Baptist minister, explains that this is a people's campaign and the candidate needs money to buy TV time. Leggy volunteers with plastic buckets pass through the audience taking up collections.
This process provides time for local entertainers to do their thing for Wallace. In Orlando, a gospel group sang several songs after explaining: "We are not ashamed to be for George Wallace because we are Christian people living Christian lives." In Miami, Grandpa Jones of the Hee Haw show came on with some picking, and reliable coon-dog jokes and risqué tales about the three bears. The money collection reached a zenith of sorts in Orlando, where Mangum put a bucket on the stage and folks walked down the aisle to deposit their money, which included at least one paycheck, as they made their decisions for Wallace.
Once the money is in hand, Mangum roars: "Ladies and gentlemen, the next President of the U.S." And out comes the banty George, saying "Hi folks, hi folks" and saluting the crowd. When the din dies away, Wallace begins his speech. He has given it so many times that he has no text, only a piece of paper listing the topics he wants to talk about: foreign aid, the welfare scandal, the tax structure, bureaucrats, the courts, national defense, liberals and busing. There is no order, except that he always saves busing for last.