The Social and Political Bases of a Black Candidate's Coalition: Race, Class, and Ideology in the 1976 North Carolina Primary Election

    f C
The Social and Political Bases
of a Black Candidate’s Coalition:
Race, Class, and Ideology
in the 1976 North Carolina Primary
Election

PAUL LUEBKE

OBSERVERS of Southern politics have long argued that populist
electoral appeals have been thwarted by divisiveness between blacks
and the white working class. This populist theory of electorally based
political change assumes that it is possible to form a coalition of voters
against corporations and their politican supporters. In this paper, that
assumption will be examined by an analysis of the 1976 Democratic
primary election for lieutenant governor in North Carolina. The cam-
paign is significant because a black candidate sought to win the
lieutenant governorship, traditionally a stepping stone to the governor’s
office, with white voters as a key component of the winning strategy.

Although large numbers of blacks have been elected to public
positions in the South since the mid-19605, most offices are at the
town or county level.1 Candidate Howard Lee was one of the first
Southern blacks to run for major state-wide office in the twentieth
century.2 Lee, the forty-one-year~old director of Human Development at
Duke University in Durham and former mayor of the university town
of Chapel Hill (from 1969 to 1975), placed first, with 28 percent,
among eight candidates in the August Democratic primary for lieutenant
governor. However, he lost the September runoff primary to jimmy
Green, a tobacco warehouse owner and veteran state legislator from
rural eastern North Carolina, by a vote of 56 to 44 percent. In assessing
Lee’s decision to pursue a strategy that allied blacks with high-status,
racially moderate whites and to reject a populist strategy, this paper will

I wish to thank especially Jeff Risberg, Chandler Davidson, and Richard Edwards for
their assistance.

1. C. S. Bullock, "Elections of Blacks in the South: Preconditions and Consequences,"
American Journal ofPolitital Science 19, no. 4 (1975): 734.

2. David Campbell and Joe Feagin, “Black Politics in the South: A Descriptive Analysis,"
journal ofPolitt'c: 37, no. 1 (1975): 139.

POLITICS & SOCIETY 9,
(1979) 239-261

no.

2

24o ' . POLITICS & socrrrv
also evaluate the potential for future “economic justice” movements
in North Carolina against large corporations.

THE POPULIST COALITION

The populist tradition in American politics has been strong in
Southern politics. The underlying premise is that the holders of in-
stitutional economic power, the “special interests,” have captured
control of government policy that ought in fact to be made on behalf
of the majority, the “common people.”3 With the passage of the
1965 Voting Rights Act, which assured Southern blacks of federal
protection in exercising their right to vote, a populist coalition in
the South of white and black “have-nots” became a possibility. The
following features would seem essential: high black population, a
large white working class, strong unions, and potentially, active
working- and middle-class consumer groups.

Although interracial populist coalitions are not the norm in the
contemporary South, examples of such political activity are numerous.
One of the first of these interracial coalitions was established in
Houston, Texas, in the mid-19605, and as a result former Congress-
woman Barbara Jordan won her way into the Texas state legislature.4
A comparable appeal was made both in 1971 and 1978 by another
black politician, Charles Evers of Fayette, Mississippi, who sought
the votes of low- and middle-income blacks and whites. Evers, however,
was much less successful than Jordan in garnering white support.5 Since
the mid-1970s, some white Southerners have conducted populist
campaigns against “special interests” and have made class a more im-
portant variable in determining voting choice. For example, Virginian
Henry Howell won the 1977 Democratic primary nomination for
governor with a coalition of working-class whites, white consumers,
and blacks. Class-conscious voting was prevalent among high-status,
white Virginians, most of whom opposed Howell both in the guber-
natorial primary and in the November general election, which he lost
to a Republican “Bourbon.”6

Similar campaigns were waged by white politicians in the Carolinas
in 1978. South Carolina State Senator Tom Turnipseed ran for gov-

3. George McKenna, “Populism: The American Ideology,‘ in American Populism, ed.
George McKenna (New York: G. P. Putnam, 1974).

4. Chandler Davidson, Biracial Politics (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press,
1972), pp. 99-102.

5. New York Times, November 4, 1971, and November 8, 1978.

6. Washington Post, November 9, 1977.

PAUL LUEBKE . 241

emor on an interracial populist appeal, which he had previously nur-
tured while attacking a favorite whipping boy, the power companies.
Although Turnipseed withdrew before the June Democratic guberna-
torial primary because of ill health, his interracial campaign was note-
worthy because he had been a George Wallace activist in South Carolina
in both 1968 and 1972.7 North Carolina’s insurance commissioner,
john Ingram, has built his political career by attacking insurance com-
panies as “rip-off monopolies.” In winning the Democratic nomination
for the US Senate, and in the general election campaign, which he lost
to incumbent Republican Jesse Helms, Ingram continued his attack
against the insurance industry and criticized oil companies and his
opponent’s $6-million-campaign chest as well.8

A business-financed campaign to pass a “right~to-work” referendum
(outlawing compulsory union membership) failed in a border state,
Missouri, in November 1978. Most observers credited the coalition of
blacks, working—class whites, and white middle-class liberals for the
victory, that is, the interracial populist coalition.9

Unquestionably, identifying the key issues for a black and white
populist coalition is important. But awareness of citizen sympathy is
worthless if citizens are not mobilized to vote. In both the Howell and
Ingram campaigns for state-wide office in Virginia and North Carolina,
respectively, observers agreed that higher turnout among working-class
voters and blacks would have helped these candidates.10 Thus, how well
candidates organize their campaigns constitutes a variable independent
from substantive issues. A key component of organization for a popu-
list campaign is voter registration. Survey data for the past two decades
demonstrate that Southern blue-collar workers were far less likely than
white-collar employees to be registered to vote.11

An interracial populist coalition may be constructed in two ways. It
may be constructed by the individual candidate, so that loyalties are
to that candidacy and coalition members and groups probably dis-
appear after the election. Alternatively, the coalition may be issue-
oriented and support a particular candidate because of the candidate’s
agreement with the coalition’s positions. Such a coalition antedates the
politician’s campaign and expects to outlive the candidacy. Except

7. New: and Observer, May 14, 1978.
8. lbid.,]une l, 1978, and November 8, 1978.
9. St. Louis Post-Dispatch, November 9, 1978.
10. News and Observer, November 12, 1978; Washington Post, November 9, 1977.
11. V. 0. Key, Public Opinion and American Democracy (New York: Knopf, 1961), p. 105;
Richard Hamilton, Class and Politics in the United States (New York: Wiley, 1972); Chandler
Davidson, “Stalking the Southern Working Class," Dissent. Fall 1972, p. 599.

 

 

2.2 O
for the Houston coalitions, all interracial populist coalitions have thus
far been created by the candidates for their personal campaigns.12

A black running for office in an electoral district in which blacks
are a minority faces three choices. First, the candidate may seek black
votes only. However, unless the candidacy is a protest without hope
of victory, such a strategy is successful only in multiple-member dis-
tricts with at-large voting (e.g., in North Carolina, the state legislature,
city councils, county commissions, school boards), in which a winner
must place among the top vote getters but does not need an absolute
majority of votes cast. Following this strategy, blacks can elect one
black by voting for that candidate and casting no votes for any white
candidate. This “single-shot” strategy cannot win state-wide, however,
because North Carolina has no multiple-member state—wide offices.

In separate studies, Perry Howard and Chandler Davidson have
outlined two alternative strategies for black candidates.” Blacks
running alone against whites can expect overwhelming percentages of
the black voting.” The question is whether to align with low-status
whites to build the interracial populist coalition or to align with high-
status whites, with an emphasis upon “progress” and a de-emphasis
on economic issues. The second strategy mutes class alliances and
assumes that black interests are best served through a coalition with
better-educated, higher-income whites. The first strategy assumes
that black interests are met as part of an alliance for “economic justice”
that unites blacks and working-class whites.15

In short, black candidates may choose a strategy of “blacks alone
for black development”; “interracial coalition for economic justice”;
or “interracial coalition for (unspecified) progress.” The first strategy
had been tried very unsuccessfully ( 8 percent of the total vote) by a
‘ black dentist from Charlotte in a 1972 run for the Democratic guber-
natorial nomination. As noted above, the economic-justice strategy

POLITICS 8c SOCIETY

has proved successful for blacks in Houston, Texas, since the mid-19605.

The black and high-status-white coalition was used successfully by
Andrew Young in the 1972 Democratic party primary and subsequent
general elections, in an Atlanta congressional district that was 38 per-

12. Davidson,Biracial Politics, p. 102.

13. Perry Howard, "An Ecological Analysis of Voting Behavior in Baton Rouge: From
Strorn Thrumond to George Wallace," Social Forces 50, no. 1 (1971): 45-53; and Davidson,
Biracial Politics, chap. 4.

14. See, e.g., Tom Dent, “New Orleans vs. Atlanta," Southern Exposure, Spring 1979,
pp. 67—68.

15. Davidson, Biracial Politics, p. 152; and Howard, “Voting Behavior in Baton Rouge,"
p. 52.

PAUL LUEBKE 243

cent black. Young appealed to whites with environmental, conservation,
and good government issues.

THE DEMOGRAPHIC AND POLITICAL SETTING

The two alternative strategies of black and white coalitions that Lee
faced were each supported by demographic factors and political “wis-
dom.” In selecting one over the other, Lee assigned relatively more
weight to. certain political arguments rather than to demographic
considerations. The populist strategy would have been supported by the
fact that North Carolina throughout the twentieth century had been
the leading industrial state of the South and was the eighth most
industrial state of the fifty states while ranking twelfth in population.
In 1970, 57 percent of the male labor force (53 percent of white
males) and 49 percent of the female labor force (43 percent of white
females) were in blue-collar occupations.l7 Since blacks constituted
23 percent of the population, and 21 percent of all registered Demo-
crats, a successful interracial coalition of blacks and working-class
whites was clearly a mathematical possibility.18 Demographic factors
conversely did not support the interracial coalition with high-status
whites, because high-status whites were a small proportion of the
North Carolina population: just 23 percent of white males and 16
percent of white females were in professional or managerial occupa-
tions. Among the eleven Southern states of the Confederacy, North
Carolina had the highest percentage of blue-collar workers and the
lowest percentage of professional employees.19 Throughout the 19705,
North Carolina has had the lowest average industrial wage in the United
States. Its percentage of college graduates was lowest among the eleven
Southern states—only 9 percent of whites in 1970 were college grad-
uates.20 North Carolina ranked sixth of the eleven states in the black
percentage of total population. Thus, North Carolina could be viewed
not only as fertile ground for an interracial populist coalition, but as a
laboratory for those advocates of populist coalitions in other Southern
states whose occupational-racial mix varied from the North Carolina case.

16. Robert Holmes, “The Andrew Young for Congress Campaign, 1972: Some Reflections
on Coalition Politics and the Struggle" (Paper presented at the meetings of the National Con-
ference of Black Political Scientists, New Orleans, 1973), p. 7.

l7. U.S., Department of Commerce, 1970 Census: General Social and Economic Charac-
teristics, North Carolina (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1972), p. 214.

18. North Carolina State Board of Elections, Official Voter Registrattbn Statistics as of
July 20, 1976. mimeographed (Raleigh, North Carolina, 1976).

:3. its" Department of Commerce, 1970 Census: North Carolina, pp. 190~91.

. id.

 

244 . POLITICS 8c SOCIETY

Certain political facts, however, were granted more consideration
by Howard Lee. High-status whites were more likely than working-
class whites to be registered to vote and to come out to the polls,
especially in a primary election.21 The number of likely voters was
more important than the size of demographic categories. Second,
several studies had shown George Wallace’s support in North Carolina
to be strongest among working-class whites.22 It could be plausibly
argued that Wallace’s vote was in fact an antiblack vote and that any
populist appeals by Lee would be fruitless. Third, unions, whose mem-
bers might be seen as most sympathetic to class rather than race ap-
peals, were very weak in North Carolina, with less than 7 percent of the
labor force organized.”

Finally, the tradition of big—business dominance in state politics
meant that a state-wide “economic justice” coalition would be viewed
not only as anomalous but also dangerous. It was questionable how
much North Carolina’s economic and political leadership in the mid-
1970s had changed from the late 19405, when V. 0. Key termed the
state “a progressive plutocracy.” Key noted in his 1949 study what
North Carolina economic conservatives meant by “progressive.”
“It has not been necessary for politicians in North Carolina to be,
or pretend to be, poor men. It has not been necessary for them to
cultivate a rusticity to get votes. They have been unblushingly and
unapologetically in favor of sound, conservative government. Pro-
gressive, forward-looking, yes, but always sound, always the kind of
government liked by the big investor, the big employer.”24 The dom-
inant view among North Carolina political leaders was that economic
issues that might “divide the people” should be avoided in favor of an
issue like economic development, which few in North Carolina oppose.
Issues of economic justice (e.g., the way in which state government
policies generate a disproportionate distribution of benefits to those
who own greater wealth—often symbolized as “the corporations”)
were almost always considered beyond legitimate political debate.

Supporters of a black-Bourbon strategy cited the failure of a
white trade-union leader’s candidacy in the 1972 Democratic guberna-

21. One possible appeal by Lee to urban middle-class Republicans in cities such as Charlotte
or Greensboro was eliminated by North Carolina’s nocrossover provision.

22. Thad Beyle and Peter Harkins, “North Carolina" in Explaining the Vote: Presidential
Choices in the Nation and the States, 1968, ed. David Kovenock and James Prothro (Chapel
Hill: Institute for Research in Social Sciences, 1973), p. 389.

23. Elizabeth Sanders, “Race, Class and Party in a Deep South City" (unpublished paper,
Department of Political Science, Rice University, Houston, 1978).

24. V. 0. Key, Jr., Southern Politics in State and Nation (New York: Knopf, 1949),
p. 214.

PAUL LUEBKE . 245

torial primary. State AFL-CIO President Wilbur Hobby’s “Keep the
Big Boys Honest” populist campaign netted him just 7 percent of the
vote. Although in North Carolina’s anti-union political culture it is
wrong to measure support for populism by a union candidacy, it was
nevertheless true that the union leader failed to generate major support
from either blacks or working-class whites. Hobby’s greatest support
was in Orange County, home of the University of North Carolina at
Chapel Hill, and one of the state’s less industrial counties.25 One
conclusion that Lee drew from the Hobby campaign was that those
college-educated populist sympathizers would probably vote for him
no matter what his specific platform, as long as Lee was the most
“left” candidate in the race.

Interestingly, Lee himself had mounted a populist campaign in the
same year as Hobby, when he ran in the Democratic Congressional
primary from a district that was 43 percent black. Iee’s campaign
included such classic anti-big business sentiment as the following:
“Howard Lee believes that the wealth of this country should not be
concentrated in the hands of the few, [and] that we need leaders in
Congress who will speak out for the public interest of the people in-
stead of for the special interests of the few.”26 Lee’s organization
registered more than seventeen thousand additional blacks27 and
amassed forty-two thousand votes in the primary election, losing to the
incumbent, a rural conservative from eastern North Carolina. Yet
political observers noted that Lee had given the incumbent “the run of
his 25-year political life” and that Lee had received substantial support
from several blue-collar white precincts.28

Rather than run again for Congress on the same issues in 1974,
Lee chose instead to run a third time for Chapel Hill Mayor. Lee’s
major supporters in Chapel Hill were not blacks, who make up only
10 percent of the town’s population, but high-status racially moderate
whites. Lee’s political reference group in Chapel Hill was clearly un-
sympathetic to an interracial populist campaign. When Lee looked
beyond Chapel Hill for white support, he found sympathy from sup-
porters of the racially moderate Democratic gubernatorial candidate
James Hunt29 and from former governor and presidential candidate

197:5. Office of North Carolina Secretary of State, North Carolina Manual, 1973 (Raleigh,

26. Gene Brown, “Howard Lee: Black Populist along Tobacco Road," New South Summer
1972, pp. 66~7 2. '

27. News and Observer, May 2, 1972.

28. Brown, “Howard Ice," p. 71.

29. Interview with someone on Lee’s staff, January 6, 197 7. For an analysis of politically
moderate elites who mpport Governor Hunt, see Paul Luebke, “Corporate Conservatism and

246 . POLITICS 8c SOCIETY

Terry Sanford. Neither Hunt supporters nor Sanford had the slightest
interest in an anti-big-business campaign.

In sum, the political beliefs of Lee’s inner circle appeared to be
decisive in turning Lee toward the black-Bourbon strategy. In a postelec-
tion interview, Lee acknowledged that he had moved to the “right” since
his 1972 populist campaign, and defended his decision: “I had changed
the kind of electoral district that I was running in. The second congres-
sional district was poorer than North Carolina as a whole. Running
state-wide I had to consider the urban, better-off voter, who doesn’t
respond well to heavy criticism. But I think I have changed too. I no
longer believe, as I did in 1972, that big government can solve all of
people’s economic problems, and I’ve learned that the rich as well as
the poor are worried about inflation.”30

THE BLACK-BOURBON STRATEGY

While Lee did refer to the “coalition of average North Carolinians,
black and white, who are supporting my campaign,”1 his campaign
literature reflected the black-Bourbon strategy. It avoided references
to the “corporate rich” or to the desirability of economic redistribu-
tion. Lee’s campaign positions on tax reform were extremely cautious.
He would not support a proposal to take the regressive sales tax off
food and nonprescription drugs and promised only to work for that
issue “when it appears that our revenue picture allows it.”5’2 On issues
disproportionately affecting the black and white working class, such as
wages, health care, and utility bills, Lee was vague. His official litera-
ture, which was similar to his campaign speeches, stated only that:
(a) “the time is right to upgrade the function of economic development
and the search for high quality industry”; (b) “every North Carolina
citizen must be guaranteed access to adequate health care”; and
(c) “the utility commission must . . . become more attuned to the
needs and concerns of consumers.” Lee’s campaign could be sum-
marized in his pledge to “help build a better society for all people.”33

Lee’s opponent, Jimmy Green, was a racial and economic conserva—
tive, who was unsympathetic to any populist issues such as tax reform
or curbs on consumers‘ utility bills. However, Green’s public positions

 

Government Moderation in North Carolina” (Paper presented at the meetings of the American
Sociological Association, San Francisco, 1978).

30. Interview with Howard Lee, February 28, I977.

31. Asheville Citizen, August 16, 1976.

32. Lee for Lt. Governor, Campaign brochure, Raleigh, l976,p. 3.

33. fbid. V

PAUL LUEBKE . 247

were phrased carefully to minimize any charges that Green was antago-
nlStIC to the interests of the “average citizen.” For example, one of
his key platform planks was to “support programs to enhance public
education, help underprivileged citizens, and to generally make North
Carolina a better state within which to live and work.”“’4

Lee deliberately placed himself in the ideological center, avoiding
a populist posture. He assumed there would be certain support from
the state’s black voters, union activists, and high-status liberals (typified
by Chapel Hill support for a populist union leader), because he believed
that his candidacy would be the best alternative for these voters. This
presumption pushed Lee to seek the votes of racially moderate whites
for whom he could potentially symbolize North Carolina’s leadership
in the so-called New South. These self-conscious racial moderates
would most likely be high-status whites, because Lee’s appeal was that
of an uncontroversial, urban middle—class black.

Lee’s “modern” and “progressive” candidacy, in contrast to his
opponent’s old-fashioned rural conservatism, won him editorial support
from the major urban dailies as well as from several small-town weeklies
The News of Richmond County, a weekly in a small industrial but
rural county, praised Lee as a “middle class moderate” with “as much
in common with middle class whites as he does with blacks.” The
News and Observer, published daily in Raleigh, the state capital en-
dorsed Lee’s record and positions as “moderately progressive ”35
The Greensboro and Charlotte morning newspapers supported Lee for
Similar reasons.

Lee’s and Green’s campaign statements sounded nearly identical
Only the politically initiated could know that, in spite of the campaign
statements, Lee was much more sympathetic to economic reforms
than Green. The latent function of Lee’s appeal to the high-status
raCially moderate whites and his waffling on economic issues was
to reduce his attractiveness to the white working class. These whites
had no dollars-and-cents reason to be sympathetic to Lee. If eco-
nomics was not to be a salient issue in the campaign, the “mores” of
Southern politics in the twentieth century seemed to guarantee that
one other issue would stand uncontested in the public consciousness‘
the issue of race. It seems plausible, then, that Lee’s failure to endorse
populist, redistributive issues made it easier for the Green organization
to use the race issue, which Lee had hoped would not be raised.

34. League of Women Voters, State Candidates’Questionnaire (Durham 1976) p 4

35. News a Richm nd C _
1976, p. 4- f o aunty. August 26, 1976, p. 4, News and Observer, September 8,

248 . POLITICS 8c SOCIETY

AN ECOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF THE ELECTION

The major research method in this paper is ecological analysis.
V. O. Key’s landmark Southern Politics, published in 1949, and papers
by Rudolf Heberle and his students at Louisiana State University are
classic examples of the ecological methodi’6 After an election, the
ecological researcher examines the interrelationships of social-demo-
graphic characteristics, political organization, and the vote. As Heberle
explained in Social Movements, “by taking the percentage of the total
vote cast in each area for each candidate and comparing it with the
relative size of certain significant groups in each area (for example,
proportion of farmers or wage earners), the sociologist can infer which
groups gave the main support for the candidate or party.”7

The limitations of ecological inference and the dangers of the
ecological fallacy are well known.38 Yet an ecological analysis of the
Lee-Green election, as will be seen below, proved very useful in un-
covering important behavioral patterns. It may even, in this case, be
considered to have been more appropriate than a survey, since rarely
do more than one-third of registered Democrats participate in runoff
primary electionsd’9 Moreover, the use of country data illustrates
certain “geopolitical” features of North Carolina that might be ob-
scured in a survey analysis,40 such as the size and distribution of the
black vote, a critical factor in understanding North Carolina and
Southern politics.

The 1970 federal census and, where available, updated materials
from North Carolina state agencies were the source of the social-
demographic information on the state’s one hundred counties and
selected urban precincts. Voter registration data from 1976 were
available from the state election office. Lee’s voting percentages were
calculated from official returns deposited in the Office of North Caro-
lina Secretary of State. The ecological method was supplemented by
interviews with white and black campaign workers for Lee and by
several interviews with Lee himself.

Blacks constituted more than one-third of the registered Democrats

36. Rudolph Heberle, Social Movements (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1951);
Key, Southern Politics; Howard, “Voting Behavior in Baton Rouge."

37. Heberle, Social Movements, p. 210.

38. W. S. Robinson, “Ecological Correlations and the Behavior of Individuals," American
Sociological Review 15, no. 3 (1950): 351~57; Erik Allardt, “Aggregate Analysis: The Problem
of Its Informative Value," in Quantitative Ecological Analysis in the Social Sciences, ed.
M. Dogan and S. Rokkan (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1969), pp. 41-51.

39. News and Observer, September 13, 1976.

40. Allardt, “Aggregate Analysis."

PAUL LUEBKE . 249

in eastern North Carolina, far above their state-wide proportion of
21 percent.“ Were these counties the best area for Lee? Was turnout
in these counties sufficiently high? Table 1 demonstrates clearly that
Lee did best in counties in which more than 30 percent of all Demo-
crats were black (“high-black” counties). All twenty-five counties are
located in eastern North Carolina.42 Not only did Lee win six of these

TABLE I

LEVEL OF REGISTERED BLACK DEMOCRATS IN NORTH CAROLINA COUNTIES
BY PERCENTAGE OF COUNTIES SUPPORTING LEE AT VARIOUS LEVELS

Regis tered Black Democrats

 

 

Low Below Above All
Lee's Support Average Average High Counties
(< 11%) (11-207.) (21-307.) (31-537.)
Majori ty (50-697.) 07. 47. 247. 2471. 137.
Above State-Average
Near Majority (44-507.) 87. 177. 127. 527. 227.
Below State-Average
(33-437.) [+27. 467. 607.. 20% I027.
Poor (9-327.) 507. 337.. 47. 47. 237.
To ta 1 100% 1007. 1007. 100% 1007.
Number of Counties = (26) (2(0) (25) (25) (100)

 

NOTE: The highest level of registered black Democrats in any county was 53
percent. Lee's highest level of support was 69 percent, and his lowest
level of support was 9 percent.

twenty-five counties outright, but in thirteen more his totals exceeded
his state-wide average of 44 percent. Counties with above—average but
not high levels of black Democrats (21-30 percent of all Democrats)
were in most cases below-average areas for Lee. These data suggest the
importance of strong black voter support for a black candidate as well
as its limitation. The limited number of black voters in North Carolina

41. P. W. Edsall and J. 0. Williams, “North Carolina: Bipartisan Paradox," in The Changing
Politics ofthe South, ed. W. Havard (Baton Rouge, LSU Press, 1972) p. 398.

42. Four of these counties in the “black belt" are technically above the fall-line and thus
in the Piedmont, but their agricultural economy, historically dependent on black labor, has
been similar to eastern North Carolina and thus are viewed here as “East." For V. 0. Key's
discussion of “black belt” Voting in North Carolina, see Key, Southern Politics, pp. 215-18.

.250 I . POLITICS 8c SOCIETY
demonstrates Lee’s dependence upon white support and the critical
impact of political organization upon candidate success.

Lee explained in a postelection interview that his search for volun-
teers to lead his county organizations focused on high-status blacks
and whites. Black doctors, dentists, funeral directors, school teachers,
and principals predominated; in only one county was the black chair-
person a manual worker. For symbolic purposes at least, Lee wanted
a white chairperson in all counties. Unfortunately, in some counties
both the black and the white leaders in the Lee campaign were not
skilled election organizers. In fact, Lee acknowledged that, of the
sixty counties in which at least 15 percent of all registered Democrats
were black, Lee had no organization in twenty-two, or 37 percent
of these.43

Lee’s inability to tap into an ongoing electoral organization—
whether populist or Bourbon—led him to attempt to build his own
network of supporters. Among blacks, Lee looked to the black church.
Yet, as Davidson has noted for Houston, Texas, the church cannot
usually be relied upon as an organizational core: “The church and
other nonpolitical institutions are obviously handicapped by their very
nature: politics is only a subsidiary purpose for the pastors and their
congregations.”M It seems plausible that the enthusiasm from congrega-
tions on a Sunday morning or Wednesday evening was not in fact
a good measure of organizational strength. What Lee needed was
experienced political leaders who could organize the enthusiasm into
votes on election day. Thus, the black church can be seen as an inter-
vening variable, contributing to a strong Lee turnout but usually
not providing the political leadership. This finding was supported by
two studies of black political participation in Mississippi in the late
1960s and early 1970s. 5

Lee’s organizational problems were not limited to black voters.
White voters, especially from the larger Piedmont cities, which fre-

43. Interview with Howard Ice, February 28, I977.

44; Davidson, Biracial Politics, p. 50.

45. In a study of majority~black counties in the late 1960:, Salamon and Van Ever: con-
cluded that political organizations were strongest when blacks were not economically depen-
dent upon powerful whites. Churches were of course prevalent in all counties but were not
seen as sources of political leadership. See Lester Salasnon and Stephen Van Evera, “Fear,
Apathy, and Discrimination: A Test of Three Explanations of Political Participation, American
Political Science Review 67, no. 4 (1973): 12884306. Rozman‘s 1973 study of black politics
in Madison County, Mississippi, where blacks were mostly in economically dependent occupa-
tions, found relatively little interest in reform—minded black candidates and surprising support
for those conservative whites who solicited the black vote. See Steven Rozman, “Black Political
Attitudes in Madison County, Mississippi” (unpublished paper, Tougaloo College, Touploo,
Miss.: 1973).

 

r—n

3 Lee, near majority (44-50%)

L...

    

- Lee, majority (50-69%)

Map by Mary-Margaret Wat

Majority and Near Majority Counties for Lee in North Carolina, 1976

 

 

252 . POLITICS 86 SOCIETY
quently elected moderate-to-liberal candidates to local and state offices,
were a key target. However, in three of the five urbanized counties
where Lee did best (58-69 percent of the vote) turnout was less than
the state average. Turnout in the counties around Greensboro, Winston-
Salem, and Charlotte was below 25 percent, while the state average
was 29 percent.46 Only in Durham, with a long-standing excellent
political organization tied to the black business community, and in
Orange, Lee’s home county, was turnout exceptionally high (38 percent
and 46 percent).4'7

Examination of the fifteen counties in which turnout exceeded
40 percent suggests Green had the better organization on election day.
While Lee won a majority in two high-tumout, high-professional
Piedmont counties (one of which was Orange), Green won thirteen

. rural and small-town counties by 58 to 42 percent, which was better

than his statewide margin. This is particularly significant in that all of
these counties had above-average or high black registration. It suggests
that white voters unsympathetic to a black candidate and not black voters
were most likely to turn out in the second primary. All of these counties
had below-average levels of professionals, indicating that Green knew
to focus his resources on “local" counties in which white sympathy
for a black candidate was not strong.“8 It appears further that Green
worked hardest in “local” counties in which race could be a salient
issue. For example, in five counties that Green won with 45 to 55
percent of the vote in the first primary, but in which the percentage
of registered black Democrats was below average, Green lost votes
in the second primary. This indicates that Green did not organize
in these counties.” By contrast, in five counties in which Green led
in the first primary with more than 45 percent of the vote, and in
which black registration was above-average or high, Green gained votes.50

46. In these three cities, black turnout exceeded white turnout but was still less than
the state average for black turnout. See table 6 for precinct returns in one of these Piedmont
cities, Greensboro.

47. M. Elaine Burgess, Negro Leadership in a Southern City (Chapel Hill: University of
North Carolina Press, 1962). The pre-rmption in ecological analysis—if precinct data do not
allow for more precision—is that the candidate who wins a county is most responsible for
a high turnout. The reason for this presumption is that primary elections, especially second
primaries, are characterized by low tumout, so that candidates must mobilize the maximum
number of “Voter types" that support their campaign. For example, if voting was done along
purely racial lines, then the inference from a county in which Green did well is that Green's
organization brought more white voters to the polls than Lee did blacks.

48. Robert Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure, 3rd ed. (Glencoe: Free Press,
I968), chap. I2.

49. These counties were located in the mountains and the rural Western Piedmont.

50. These counties were in eastern North Carolina, within a forty—mile radius of Green's
home.

PAUL LUEBKE . 253

Table 2 tests the hypothesis that Lee would be most likely to win
counties in which professionals constitute a disproportionate per-
centage of the work force. The fifteen North Carolina counties with an
above-average proportion of professionals (above 11.5 percent) not
surprisingly included the state’s largest cities. Most counties had fewer
than 9.5 percent professionals in their labor force. These “low profes-
sional" counties were contrasted to the “below average" group, defined
as falling between 9.5 percent and 11.5 percent professional. Table 2
demonstrates that Lee did best in the above-average professional
counties, winning 47 percent of these counties outright.

When level of professionals is controlled for level of registered
blacks (table 3), it seems clear that Lee was supported by white pro-
fessionals. In above-average and below-average-to~low black counties,
Lee mostly did not poll above his state-wide total, except when pro-
fessionals constituted a disproportionately high percentage of the
labor force. Only one county had both a high level of registered blacks
and above average level of professionals, and it gave Lee majority
support.

The same point is illustrated by focusing on social-demographic
characteristics and Lee’s vote in the ten counties of the Piedmont
Crescent, a half-moon that is shaped today by the route of Interstate 85
from Gaston County on the South Carolina line to Wake County, home
of the state capital. Table 4 shows that Lee won absolute majorities
in the three counties in which professional levels and black registration
levels were both above average. However, in the seven Piedmont counties
in which black registration was below average, Lee’s voting totals
correlated with levels of professionalization.

The data allow several interpretations as to why Lee did relatively
poorly in the low-professional counties. Acknowledging that his organi-
zation in four of the five Iow~professional (and heavily blue-collar)
counties was poor to nonexistent,5| Lee stressed in an interview the
opposition to his candidacy in these counties organized by the textile
and furniture industries: “The textile and furniture industrialists
had. decided that I was too risky. They generally exercise control over
their employees. In fact, a middle-manager at Cannon Mills (Cabarrus
County) who is also a state legislator was about to endorse me pub-
licly until he got the word from upstairs.” Lee’s analysis, then, is that
some high-status whites, such as business executives. were able to

51. The exception was Gaston, which is also the only county in the Piedmont Crescent in
. , .
which Lee 5 vote (above-average) devrated from the pattern of low professionalization level

associated with below-average support for Ice. This indicates again the importance of campaign
organization quality.

TABLE 2 . PAUL LUEBKE . 255

LEVEL OF PROFESSIONALS IN LABOR FORCE OF NORTH CAROLINA COUNTIES

control the votes of white industrial workers. However, Lee’s argu-
BY PERCENTAGE or COUNTIES SUPPORTING LEE AT VARIOUS LEVELS

ment can be challenged on two grounds. First, State Insurance Com-
missioner Ingram has repeatedly won majorities in these heavily blue-

 

 

Level °f PrOfeSSionals collar counties, even though his populist message against the “big boys

. . ,, . . .

Low Below Average Above Average of the insurance industry ‘ was overwhelmingly opposed by industrr

Lee‘s Support ((9.5%) (9.5 - 11.57..) (11.5 - 287.) ahsts. Second, Lee 5 organization avorded explicrt populist appeals to
white working-class voters.

Majority 87, 57, 477° Lee’s strategy toward the white electorate was not geared toward

the working class. Among high-status whites, it required him to com-
pete with his opponent’s claim to being more conservative and business-

Above State Average 22/0 25/“ 20/0 like. In fact, campaign contribution reports demonstrate clearly that
few businessmen supported Lee financially, except for those who had

8910“ State Average 437" 507° 277" known Lee personally when he served as Chapel Hill mayor.”
Did Lee overestimate his appeal to high-status whites? Precinct
P°°' 28% 207.. 77. analysis in three urban Piedmont cities, Durham, Greensboro, and
Total 51—7. IE7. R Raleigh, suggests that he did. When high-status precincts are divided
into academic and business categories based on the predominant
Number of Counties = (65) (20) (15) occupation (table 5), Lee won the former precincts and lost in the

 

latter. It is plausible that Lee fell victim to the “Chapel Hill fallacy,"
concluding that the academic high—status whites who had supported
him strongly in his races for Chapel Hill mayor in 1969, 1971, and
1973 were typical of high-status whites in other major cities of the
Piedmont Crescent. In 1976, his success in the three cities suggested

. . . . 7
a suffrcrent but not overwhelmin a eal, ust over 50 ercent. ,, /
TABLE 3 g pp J p W AIM a

Table 5 also indicates that Lee correctly assessed his limited sup-

 

NOTE: The U. S. Bureau of the Census's definition of "professional" is used
here. The highest level of professionals in any county was 28%.

LEVEL OF PROFESSIONALS IN LABOR FORCE IN NORTH CAROLINA COUNTIES
BY PERCENTAGE OF COUNTIES WITH ABOVE-AVERAGE 0R MAJORITY
SUPPORT (44-69%) FOR LEE'S CANDIDACY, CONTROLLING

FOR LEVEL OF REGISTERED BLACK DEMOCRATS

Level of Professionals

 

 

port—about one-third of the vote—among working-class whites. As
noted above, it cannot be inferred whether this was attributable to
Lee’s rejection of redistributive populist appeals or to more funda-
mental opposition by working-class whites to any black candidate.
However, Lee’s level of support in low-status white and white-business
precincts in the three Piedmont cities was fairly similar (Greensboro,
34 percent versus 42 percent; Durham, 31 percent versus 34 percent'

Raleigh, 29 percent versus 35 percent). These data cast doubt on the

L l f R d Lo Below Above Lee strategy decision to focus on high-status whites.
eve o egistere w Average Average ~ -
Black D crats ((9570) (9.541.570 (11.5 _ 287.) An analysrs of turnouts in Greensboro (table 6) demonstrates
that working-class whites were mostly indifferent to the Lee-Green
H' h (31 537) 81/ (16) 63 8 race; just 20 percent of the registered Democrats voted. High-status
1 - . ', °, ", . . . .
g I ( ) 100/ (I) whites were more likely to vote than working-class whites. Nevertheless,
Above-Average their turnout of 31 percent suggests that a more comprehensive organi-
(21-307.) 157. (13) 257. (4) 757. (8) zational effort consistent with the black-Bourbon strategy might
Below-Average
and Low ( < 207.) 117. (36) 0‘7. (8) 507. (6) 52. News and Observer, September 4, I976.

 

. TABLE 1.

LEVELS OF PROFESSIONALS IN LABOR FORCE,
REGISTERED BLACK DEMOCRATS, AND
SUPPORT FOR LEE'S CANDIDACY IN

PIEIHONT CRESCENT COUNTIES

 

 

Levels
Registered Black

County Democrats Professionals Lee Support
Durham Above-Average Above-Average Majority (597.)
Gullford Above-Average Above~Average Majority (587.)
Mecklenlmrg Above-Average Above-Average Majority (587.)
Orange Below-Average Above-Average Majority (697.)
Wake Below-Average Above-Average Above-Ave. (497.)
Almnee Below-Average Below-Average Below-Ave. (£27.)
Gaston Below-Average Low Above-Ave. (497.)
Rowan Below-Average bow Below-Ave. (417.)
Cabsrrus Below-Average bow Below-Ave. (357.)
Davidson Below-Average Lou Below-Ave. (347.)

TABLE 5

URBAN PIEDMONT WHITE PRECINCTS AND
VOTE FOR LEE IN PERCENTAGE

Ci ty (County)

 

 

Greensboro Durham Raleigh
Precinct Characteristics (Guilford) (Durham) (Hake)
High-Status Academic 527. 537. 537.
High-Status Business lo2'l. 347. 357..
Working Class 347. 317. 297.
TABLE 6

TURNOUT RATES IN SELECTED GREENSBORO PRECINCTS,
BY SOCIO- ECONOMIC STATUS AND RACE

 

 

 

Race
Socio-Economic Status White Black
High-Status 317. 517.
(Academic) (297.)
(Business) (337.)
Working Class 207.. 227.

 

NOTE: Turnout rate is measured by voters as a percentage of registered voters.

 

PAUL LUEBKE . 257

have produced more high-status white votes for Lee. Further, black
precincts in Greensboro showed turnout from 51 to 22 percent. These
turnouts correlate positively with socioeconomic status, suggesting
that Lee’s organization failed to counter the greater propensity of poor
blacks, compared to middle-income blacks, not to participate in
elections.53

The absence of a successful voter registration drive among target
populations constituted a major error in the Lee campaign. Although
voter registration was discussed frequently during 1976, in no part of
North Carolina did the number of newly registered voters by Lee’s
organization compare to the seventeen thousand persons added to
the rolls in Lee’s 1972 congressional race.

The Black-Bourbon Strategy Reconsidered

The Lee campaign generated high interest in black commun
In those urban areas where turnout by race could be easily meat
because of housing segregation, blacks generally outvoted wl
In Durham, where the Durham Committee on the Affairs of I
People was especially effective, black turnout was 49 percent com}:

to 30 percent for whites.“ This supports the notion that black p2 W‘
ipation is a function of the perceived importance of the electic gawk lad 97)
I

But the higher turnout among middle-income blacks comparei
low-income blacks also demonstrates the impact of the social

factor.56 For urban Piedmont counties, race as well as social

appeared to affect voter turnout. Lee failed to generate interc:
sufficient numbers among blacks and the high-status urban wl
to whom he had pitched his campaign. By contrast, Green mobil
disproportionately high numbers of sympathetic whites in rural eas
North Carolina counties.

The overwhelming support by blacks for Lee’s candidacy
percent in urban Piedmont precincts) suggests that black votes were
based less on programmatic considerations and more on racial soli-
darity, in hopes that a fellow black could attain a high elective office.
For whites, it might be argued that many of the high-status cosmo-

53. This failure is even more significant because these turnout rates are based on numbers
of registered blacks, not eligible blacks, and in Greensboro in 1976 poor blacks were less
likely than high-status blacks to be registered.

54. Durham Morning Herald, September 15, 1976.

55. Davidson, Biracr‘al Politics, p. 263.

56. Bruce London, “Racial Differences in Social and Political Participation: It's Not
Simply a Matter of Black and White," Social Science Quarterly 56, no. 2 (1975): 274-86.

 

. TABLE 4

LEVELS OF PROFESSIONALS IN LABOR FORCE,
REGISTERED BLACK DEMOCRATS, AND
SUPPORT FOR LEE'S CANDIDACY IN

PIEIIKJNT CRESCENT COUNTIES

 

 

Levels
Registered Black

County Democrats Professionals Lee Support
mrham Above-Average Above-Average Majority (597.)
Guilford Above-Average Above-Average Majority (587.)
Mecklenl'nrg Above-Average Above-Average Majority (587.)
Orange Below-Average Above-Average Majority (697.)
Hake Below-Average Above-Average Above-Ave. (497.)
Almance Below-Average Below-Average Below-Ave. (427.)
Gaston Below-Average Low Above-Ave. (497.)
Rowan Below-Average low Below-Ave. (417.)
Cabarrus Below-Average low Below-Ave. (357.)
Davidson Below-Average bow Below-Ave. (347.)

TABLE 5

URBAN PIEDMONT HNITE PRECINCTS AND
VOTE FOR LEE IN PERCENTAGE

City (CountyL

 

 

Greensboro Durham Raleigh
Precinct Characteristics (Guilford) (Durham) (Hake)
High-Status Academic 527. 537. 537.
High-Status Business 427. 347. 357.
Working Class 347. 317. 297.
TABLE 6

TURNOUT RATES IN SELECTED GREENSBORO PRECINCTS,
BY SOCIO-ECONOMIC STATUS AND RACE

 

 

 

Race
Socio-Economic Status White Black
High-Status 317. 517.
(Academic) (297.)
(Business) (337.)
Horking class 207. 227.

 

WE: Turnout rate is measured by voters as a percentage of registered voters.

 

PAUL LUEBKE . 257

have produced more high-status white votes for Lee. Further, black
precincts in Greensboro showed turnout from 51 to 22 percent. These
turnouts correlate positively with socioeconomic status, suggesting
that Lee’s organization failed to counter the greater propensity of poor
blacks, compared to middle—income blacks, not to participate in
elections.”

The absence of a successful voter registration drive among target
populations constituted a major error in the Lee campaign. Although
voter registration was discussed frequently during 1976, in no part of
North Carolina did the number of newly registered voters by Lee’s
organization compare to the seventeen thousand persons added to
the rolls in Lee’s 1972 congressional race.

The Black-Bourbon Strategy Reconsidered

The Lee campaign generated high interest in black communities.
In those urban areas where turnout by race could be easily measured
because of housing segregation, blacks generally outvoted whites.
In Durham, where the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black
People was especially effective, black turnout was 49 percent compared
to 30 percent for whites.“ This supports the notion that black partic-
ipation is a function of the perceived importance of the election.“
But the higher turnout among middle-income blacks compared to
low-income blacks also demonstrates the impact of the social class
factor.56 For urban Piedmont counties, race as well as social class
appeared to affect voter turnout. Lee failed to generate interest in
sufficient numbers among blacks and the high-status urban whitr
to whom he had pitched his campaign. By contrast, Green mobilized
disproportionately high numbers of sympathetic whites in rural eastern
North Carolina counties.

The overwhelming support by blacks for Lee’s candidacy (98
percent in urban Piedmont precincts) suggests that black votes were
based less on programmatic considerations and more on racial soli-
darity, in hopes that a fellow black could attain a high elective office.
For whites, it might be argued that many of the high-status cosmo-

53. This failure is even more significant because these tumout rates are based on numbers
of registered blacks, not eligible blacks, and in Greensboro in 1976 poor blacks were less
likely than high-status blacks to be registered.

54. Durham Morning Herald, September 15, 1976.

55. Davidson, Biracial Politics, p. 268.

56. Bruce London, “Racial Differences in Social and Political Participation: It's Not
Simply a Matter of Black and White," Social Science Quarterly 56, no. 2 (1975): 274-86.

- 258‘ . . POLITICS st SOCIETY
politan voters who supported Lee did so precisely because he did
not demand economic redistribution. For example, Lee did receive
financial and public support from several bankers and businessmen
in the Durham-Chapel Hill area. Lee indicated in a postelection inter-
view that he would not pick up the interracial populist banner in a
future campaign. In his view, his anti-big-business positions of 1972
were “negative” and overlooked “how rich and poor can have common
economic problems.” Implicit in Lee’s analysis is a gradualist faith
that racial equality is forthcoming through the coalition of blacks
and high-status whites, whose “cosmopolitan” values will eventually
replace the “local” racial sentiment that elected Lee’s opponent.
“Locals” think that blacks have no place in elected office, but “cosmo-
politans” accept the notion that race is not an important criterion.57
Lee’s gradualism is attractive to the modern businessmen and
politicians who are updating the “progressive plutocracy” ideology
that has dominated North Carolina politics in the twentieth century.58
For example, several businessmen who were interviewed by this writer
one year after the Lee-Green election and six months after Lee had
been appointed by the Democratic governor to head a state government
department“9 had positive evaluations: “I did not vote for Lee, but
he is doing a creditable job as Secretary [of Natural Resources and
Community Development] . He might make a fine Lieutenant Governor
in the future.”60 Of course, “creditable” behavior in the eyes of corpor-
ate leaders is not necessarily beneficial to North Carolina’s black
and white working-class populations. In effect, Lee’s vision asks the
black and white electorate to accept as legitimate the narrow, anti-
rcdistribution political agenda established by well-to-do North Caro-
linians. Attitudinal and social-demographic changes (especially in-
migration and a younger electorate, leading to more racial moderation)
may in fact result—along with improved campaign organization—
in a state-wide victory for Lee or another black candidate within the
next decade. But if blacks ride to victory opposing economic redistri-
bution, does their election really matter? Chandler Davidson, in his

57. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure.

58. Key, Southern Politics; and Luebke, “Corporate Conservatism."

59. Lee was the first black in North Carolina in the twentieth century to hold an appointed
office with state-wide responsibilities.

60. Seven months after his appointment as secretary of Natural Resources and Community
Development, Lee was profiled sympathetically in the monthly magazine of the state Chamber
of Commerce. Lee stressed meritocratic themes in the interview, downplaying the significance
of his race: “I hope when I walk out of here three or four years from now, I will be remem-
bered as Howard Lee, the Secretary who just happened to be black." We The People of North
Carolina (Raleigh, North Carolina), August, 1977.

PAUL LUEBKE . 259

1972 study of biracial politics in Houston, offers a disturbing challenge
to Lee’s strategy:

Is the rise of new pressure groups, the election to office of a handful of blacks,
or the more carefully muted bigotry of some conservative candidates the substance
of victory for southern blacks?

My answer is no. . . . From the vantage point of early 1972,I see no evidence
which invalidates my earlier conclusion that the major battle of the war for racial
equality—the battle for economic justice—has yet to be fought. If it is not fought
soon, and won, everyone who has helped in the struggle for racial equality will‘
have been sold a mess of pottage. And so we will all have been, even if some have
made short-term profits from the sale.61

Similarly, Lester Salamon questioned what Mississippi black politicians
would do when they faced a choice between “pursuing policies of
rapid change and winning acceptance from local [white] influentials."
.After a review of the work of black elected officials throughout the
South, M. H. Jones expressed concern over their failure to offer “rad-
ical policy initiatives designed to restructure government priorities
on issues especially salient in black communities.’ 2

On the other hand, Jones interviewed numerous Southern blacks
in the same study who believed that more jobs for blacks, even in the
private sector, had been forthcoming once blacks were in elective
office. Jones, as well as Campbell and Feagin, noted that black elected
officials were much more likely than whites to hire black staff and to
appoint blacks to community and state boards. Finally, Jones com-
mented on the symbolic value of elected blacks, who have made it
easier for reluctant whites to treat blacks with “respect.”63

The voting behavior of high-status and working-class whites in the
Lee-Green campaign refutes the notion that a North Carolina black
can expect support from high-status whites only. In fact, working-
class whites supported Lee at levels only slightly lower than did high-
status whites. This pattern occurred even though Lee’s campaign ap-
peals were toward high-status, not working-class, white voters. On the
basis of this evidence, Lee’s decision to avoid the interracial populist
strategy is questionable.

Moreover, two political developments in North Carolina since
Lee’s campaign indicate the possibilities for viable interracial populist

6| . Davidson, Biracial Politics, pp. viii-ix.

62. Salamon and Van Evera, “Fear, Apathy and Discrimination," p. 644; Mack H. Jones,
“Black Officeholding and Political Development in the Rural South,” Review of Black Political
Economy 6 (1976): 375-407.

63. Jones, “Black Officeholding," p. 405-6; and CampbeU and Feagin, “Black Politics in
the South," p. 156.

- 260‘ i . POLITICS 8: SOCIETY
campaigns. First, Insurance Commissioner John Ingram has won two
state-wide Democratic primaries on an anticorporate campaign, baffling
virtually all observers of North Carolina politics who had maintained
that North Carolinians dislike “rabble-rousing populists.”“ While
Ingram’s success augurs well for an interracial populist electoral al-
liance, it does not address, of course, whether a black candidate endors-
ing the same issues as Ingram, a white, would have received the same
level of working-class white support. Second, and more important,
in the several years since the Lee campaign, grass-roots consumer and
occupational health organizations have established themselves in
numerous large and small cities across the Piedmont Crescent. These
groups—notably the Carolina Brown Lung Association, Carolina Action,
and the People’s Alliance—share a skepticism toward the corporation’s
role in North Carolina politics. In arguing for greater worker and
consumer rights in the textile factory, power company rate hearings,
and tax legislation, these groups stretch the limits of legitimate politi-
cal debate to include anticorporate political ideas. Although this
movement is weak, its very existence provides a political home for
groups as disparate as the League of Women Voters and North Caro-
lina’s fledgling unions.

A permanent interracial coalition of working— and middle-class
groups who are at least skeptical of big business domination of North
Carolina politics could have two important effects—to pressure politi-
cians away from their easy alliance with Bourbons and to provide an
organizational basis for populist electoral campaigns. It is unlikely
that the nascent anticorporate political movement will have a major
impact in the 1980 state-wide races. But this movement could possibly
shape candidate agendas in 1984, the year in which Lee expects to
try a state-wide campaign.“ Lee or another black in 1984 is more
likely to adopt a populist strategy if an interracial electoral organization
demands it in exchange for candidate support.

The expansion of a permanent grass-roots anticorporate coalition,
plus the continued electoral activity ofpopulist politicians like Ingram,
will likely result in the establishment of a political subculture that
shares a dislike for the “progressive plutocracy” and the growth of a
vision, however vague, of a North Carolina politics no longer dom-

64. News and Observer, May 18, 1978. Ingram's personality has cost him support from
many North Carolinians who are not necessarily pro-big business. Thus, Ingram’s vote totals
are not a pure measure of North Carolina's electoral mpport for populism. See Paul Luebke,
“Good Old Boys and Bankers: Populist Politics in the 1978 North Carolina Democratic Pri-
mary" (unpublished paper, 1979). i

65. New: and Observer, March 4, 1979.

PAUL LUEBKE . 261

inated by the “special interests.” In the absence of such a populist
subculture, black candidates probably will continue to Opt for the
black-Bourbon, “racial moderation” and “progress” strategy that is
so much in vogue among successful white moderate politicians in the
so-called New South. It would surely be an irony of twentieth century
Southern politics if black candidates like Howard Lee were elected to
Office as symbols of racial justice, and their everyday political activity
in office in fact impeded a black-white movement for economic justice.

Politics @Society 9, no. 2 (1979): 239~61