There’s an old vaudeville line, which was said to be a favorite saying in the Nixon administration: “Will it play in Peoria?” In both settings, it has the same meaning: if something is popular in a quiet, drab town in the center of Illinois, then it could sell anywhere in America.
In the staggered primaries that kick off election years, we similarly place legendary importance on a tiny slice of Americana. But the real significance of a candidate’s popularity in, for example, Iowa, the “Food Capital of the World”, is far more debatable. We ask two questions of the South Carolina primary tomorrow: Will it play in Columbia? And if it does, will it matter?
South Carolina was a caucus-driven state for over a century, only offering a primary presidential election in 1980. The 43rd least-developed state according to the American Human Development Index, it would seem like the home of Strom Thurmond and Jesse Jackson might nominate more radically than the rest of the country.
History shows, however, that this is not the case.
In 1992, South Carolina handed former Klansman David Duke a brutal defeat. Despite having spent more time there than the relatively moderate frontrunners Bush and Buchanan, he received a mere 7 percent of the vote. The state set the pattern for a string of Super Tuesday defeats in Dixieland, and, ultimately, the nomination of centrist, Massachusetts native George HW Bush. Thomas Edsell’s title in the Washington Post summed up SC’s position perfectly: “The Old South Deals Mortal Blow to Duke’s Candidacy”.
South Carolina has defeated other breeds of radicalism in the GOP before. In 1980, the state saw the end of John B. Connally’s political career. The former Texas governor was one of the most business-friendly candidates ever to run for the White House: “By early October”, Bill Peterson wrote for the Washington Post, “the top officers of one-fourth of the Fortune 500 firms had contributed to Connolly”. After a poor showing in Iowa and New Hampshire, the candidate bet everything on South Carolina’s affection for his old-fashioned style and strong position on the fiscal right. The state left him 24 points behind Ronald Reagan. In South Carolina, he faced the cold, hard truth: as Peterson said, “how little corporate America counts for in the presidential nominating process”.
Most recently, South Carolina was a critical defeat for the evangelical favorite, Mike Huckabee, in the 2008 primary. Huckabee’s inability to gain ground on Romney and McCain in the Bible Belt effectively ceded the contest to the two more moderate candidates.
Since 1980, every Republican winner of the South Carolina Primary has gone on to win the party’s nomination for President. Contrary to stereotype, South Carolina’s role in the primary cycle appears to be in ending the campaigns of the most orthodox conservative candidates. This, interestingly enough, is no accident. Lee Atwater, the GOP’s main stratego in the 1980s, chose the date for the South Carolina primary specifically for this effect. Iowa and New Hampshire, it was reasoned, could energize fringe and guerilla presidential campaigns. South Carolina would be “The Firewall”, an election which would quickly silence these hopefuls and allow electable candidates to take the nomination.
This is not to say that moderate candidates, as a rule, win South Carolina. In 1980 the Palmetto State ignited Ronald Reagan’s campaign, while sending George HW Bush’s more moderate run went down in flames. The message is not that South Carolina promotes moderates, but that hardline conservatives can only hope to win the hearts of the GOP’s centrists if they can prove their worth in the state. For the mainstream candidates, this is just another state. For the boldest runners, this might be the last chance at victory. If it plays in Columbia in January, then it could play in Peoria this November.