by Archana Subramaniam by CNB
Roanoke Times Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc. DATE: FRIDAY, January 10, 1992 TAG: 9201100317 SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO SOURCE: DWAYNE YANCEY STAFF WRITER DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
WILDER WAS UNABLE TO FIND HIS NICHE
Wilder's success in Virginia may have been a local phenomenon difficult to duplicate beyond the state's borders - even, perhaps especially, among black voters.
Gov. Douglas Wilder's brief presidential foray could be read as a cautionary tale for other blacks who might aspire to the White House.
His national star rose because he was regarded as a vanguard of a new generation of black politicians - someone who transcended race to appeal to white voters, someone who based his campaign on middle-class economics and not civil rights.
Yet his star dimmed partly for the same reasons: Many blacks who didn't know him were initially skeptical, and he was forced to spend so much time reassuring them that he didn't have time to pitch for white support.
"I'm convinced that America is ready and willing to accept a black presidential candidate," Wilder said Thursday.
However, "His campaign demonstrates the difficulty blacks will have in the future in running as mainstream candidates," said Colorado state Sen. Regis Groff, president of the National Caucus of Black State Legislators.
Still, black politicians around the country say Wilder will remain a national leader, especially for the growing black middle class who found in Wilder a kindred spirit they never had in Jesse Jackson.
When Wilder exited the presidential race Wednesday, he was running last in New Hampshire, written off by national pundits. Yet, polls showed him leading in Maryland and South Carolina on the strength of black support, and he appeared to be gaining ground in other Southern states.
Interviews with political figures around the country suggest that Wilder, had he stayed in, might have won a majority of the black vote in the Southern primaries on the basis of racial pride - enough to finish first or second in many Super Tuesday states.
But Wilder did not appear capable of mobilizing masses of emotional supporters as Jackson did in 1988. Nor could Wilder match the standard he set for himself in Virginia in winning campaigns for lieutenant governor and governor, when he reached into the ranks of white Southerners in a way unprecedented for a black candidate.
"Because of what he did in Virginia, there was a lot of interest in him early," said Ann Lewis, a former Jackson adviser from Boston. "But very little of that turned into support. The candidate did not travel well."
Part of Wilder's failure to catch fire nationally can be attributed to a host of reasons unrelated to his race - such as his inability to raise money and his penchant for relying on a handful of longtime advisers who disdained the nitty-gritty of building a campaign organization. "His staff was too insular," Lewis said. "They thought they knew more about national politics than they did."
But Wilder's Virginia success also may have been a local phenomenon difficult to duplicate nationally, some political analysts suggest.
Wilder had such strong standing among Virginia blacks that he was given free rein to appeal for white support by posing in front of Confederate flags, supporting the death penalty and right-to-work, and promoting a message of fiscal conservatism.
But when Wilder tried to take that message nationally, he was greeted skeptically by many blacks, who didn't know him and who questioned his ability to speak for them.
"I think that was a surprise to him," said Ron Walters, a political scientist at Howard University in Washington who has advised both Jackson and Wilder. "In Virginia, there was the `first black syndrome.' People were able to abide a whole lot because he would be the first black elected governor. You find the same syndrome in major cities, where you've had the first black mayor. The second generation and third generation faces more inspection on the issues."
Likewise, Wilder was constantly measured against Jackson - and found wanting. "The question of fiscal conservatism was not a message that I think the black, liberal, progressive segment of the party wanted to hear, and increasingly, it's not the message people going through hard economic times want to hear," Walters says.
Wilder's whole national strategy initially rested on pocketing black voters automatically, much the way he had in Virginia. When it became clear that wouldn't happen, Wilder wound up trying to remake himself nationally into the kind of black politician he had ceased to be in Virginia.
Wilder's carping at Jackson didn't help him on that score. "I think his hostility to Reverend Jackson certainly hurt him," said Hazel Obey, vice chairwoman of the Texas Democratic Party and a top Rainbow Coalition organizer.
Still, between Wilder's new image and Jackson's decision not to seek the presidency, Wilder was starting to pick up the kind of black support he had hoped to take for granted.
Only Monday, Wilder had opened a campaign office in Georgia. "Our phones have been ringing off the hook since then," says Atlanta developer Joe Larche, who was Wilder's state chairman there.
Wilder had been planning to leave Thursday on a four-day swing through Maryland, South Carolina and Georgia, where he was supposed to pick up important endorsements.
"For the most part, we felt we'd finish first or second" in Georgia's early March primary, Larche said.
While Jackson had worked largely through black ministers and social activists, Wilder seemed to be doing especially well among business leaders in the growing black middle-class.
It's a niche that Wilder doesn't necessarily relinquish, although he'll have to keep addressing their concerns to keep it. "Doug Wilder right now is second only to Jesse Jackson in terms of name identification among black politicians," said Groff, the Colorado legislator. "He ought not let that get away from him and let Jesse usurp his voice. There's some danger of that."
Wilder's withdrawal means that for the first time since 1980, there will be a wide-open scramble among Democratic candidates for black voters. The conventional wisdom is that Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton will benefit the most. But the exit of first Jackson and now Wilder may depress black turnout in the primaries.
Wilder's campaign may also make it more difficult for other blacks to count on widespread black support if they seek the presidency. In the future, "people are going to be very cautious about stepping out early and giving support," Larche said.
But Wilder's campaign may have helped future black candidates by demonstrating the need for middle-class blacks to contribute to presidential campaigns. Wilder's lack of name recognition among blacks could have been easily overcome, Larche says, if the campaign had had enough money to buy television time.
"We've got to stop waiting on the sidelines and help a Doug Wilder-type candidate," Larche said. "Everybody's going to say the campaign was mismanaged, but half these people have not given a dime to the campaign."
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