Back in December I was putting the finishing touches on a personal history of Alabama that I had been working on for about five years. I decided to end it with the election of Bob Riley because, considering the man and the moment, I was pretty sure nothing much would happen before the book was published. The Riley administration had status quo written all over it.
There he was, a GOP governor elected by a majority so narrow that for weeks no one was sure who really won, without a mandate to do diddley-squat and facing a Legislature dominated by Democrats and special interests.
"Yessir," I said to myself as I sent the manuscript to the University of Alabama Press, "that was a good place to stop. Nothing groundbreaking gonna come from the office of Gov. Bob."
And now look what he has gone and done. Bob Riley has jumped up and shown himself to be one of the most daring, most progressive governors in our history. I know he is because in the chapters before I got to the end I chronicled the rather dismal record of our governors and legislators when it comes to looking out for the needs of the people. I wrote of how, using our sorry constitution as their shield and defender, the rich and powerful ran the state and folks from the middle class on down took what was left to them.
(I also wrote about colorful characters, but I didn’t figure Bob Riley would fall into that category either.)
Now I don’t entirely regret the decision to close where I did. You gotta end somewhere. And besides, there is still a 50-50 chance that I picked the right place to stop.
Look, if Amendment One fails, it will be just another example of politics as usual in the Heart of Dixie. In the earlier chapters I explained how over the years regular Alabamians learned to distrust government because government took their money and did little for them while big mules and fat cats got to keep their money and got benefits to boot.
So it follows that when presented with the Riley plan, regular Alabamians would refuse to believe that government would actually do something to help them (a belief encouraged by the governor’s opponents) and they would vote it down.
That will make me look pretty good, as a historian. If the plan gets rejected by the very people it is designed to help, folks will read my book, see all the ways that different interests have been able to block reform in the past, and understand that here is just one more case of the status quo prevailing — like it always has. And no one will question my decision to end the book where I did.
But what if it passes? What if the people of Alabama actually approve that son-of-a-gun? That sure will make me look silly.
Why, some folks will ask, couldn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I see that a man with no meaningful experience in state government, a man with a reputation for fiscal conservatism that made supporters of the status quo salivate and reformers shudder — BOB RILEY — would come in, recognize the problems facing the state, and propose to solve them in a way that turned Montgomery-business-as-usual upside down?
Why didn’t I see that?
Why didn’t I see that Bob Riley, the Big Mule’s poster boy, would convince some of the biggest that his plan was as good for them as it was good for Alabama, and in the process split the Big Mule coalition into just about everybody on one side and Alfa, the Forestry Association, and one big bank CEO on the other?
And why didn’t I see that Riley would motivate ministers to motivate their flocks to support his plan because Jesus would support it if Jesus was registered to vote in Alabama (wonder what ID he would bring to the polls)?
Why didn’t I see all this was coming and wait to end the book after it did?
Well, if this happens and Amendment One passes, my only excuse will be — "Who’d a thought it?"
And then I’ll call Alabama Press to begin talking about a sequel. Because if the Riley plan passes, folks like me had better get ready to write a whole new history of Alabama.
And I’ll look forward to that.
