The Dallas liquor-store manager, blue jeans, sideburns, and all, minded not a bit being asked his choice in the Democratic presidential primary. He grinned lopsidedly. “I’m going’ to vote for the peanut man. That’s one politician I like.” The primary is now long past, but the allure of Jimmy Carter lingers among those whom the writers of trendy articles diagnosing the New South are wont to call “good ole boys”: the clerks, the mechanics, the lovers of progressive country music. It is the good ole boys of Texas who may decide where 26 prized electoral votes go—to the peanut man or to the President. At best, the decision will be desperately close. What’s the matter? Surely Texas is one of the Union’s most conservative states. And what has the peanut man done lately for conservatism? The questions are appropriate, but they do not quite get at the essence of the Carter thing. That essence, for many Texans, is not issues. It is style. And that is a melancholy fact for conservatives in this linchpin “Southern strategy” state to reflect upon.
It’s not that good ole Texas boys are deeply enamored of Carter. They are not especially enamored of anyone. Carter is widely regarded as an amiable sort. He smiles winningly, has a nice family, and seems honest. Now the President—there’s a nice fellow, too. Nevertheless, the fact remains that Texas is massively Democratic, save at moments when this or that Democrat, usually a presidential candidate, seems too tough a morsel to swallow. Jimmy Carter, smiling son of the Georgia soil, simply does not look like such a mouthful.
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