By Gary Bennett
After Jimmy Carter died December 29 at age 100, much was made of his remarkable post-presidency, and rightfully so. He not only lived longer and spent more time out of office than any other ex-president, he carved out an extraordinary charitable and statesmanship portfolio for himself that culminated in the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002.
In 1976 I was a young political science major at a small liberal arts college in Maryland. My professors spent countless hours discussing Jimmy Carter’s rise to the presidency and his four years inhabiting the office, which happened to coincide exactly with my college career.
I feel super qualified to give my two cents here.
I decided that Carter was an undeniably attractive candidate. He was governor of a large southern state, even so was untainted nationally by racist or segregationist policies, was relatively young and active, had a brilliant naval career, was a businessman, and perhaps most importantly, had an “everyman” quality about him.
Carter’s timing was impeccable, too.
In 1976 the country was still reeling from Vietnam, Watergate and Richard Nixon’s resignation. Oil shortages were rampant. The economy was in free-fall. Trust of government was at an all-time low. Republicans oversaw this mess, and Washington democrats had no answers either.
Jerry Ford was in the White House, but he had never been elected to that post. He hadn’t even been elected vice-president. Many saw Ford as a best-case temporary caretaker and worst-case presidential imposter.
To me, Ford seemed like a nice enough guy. He appeared to be a loving husband and father, was purported to be a Christian, was moderate in temperament and his politics and had lots of government experience after a long career in Congress. Not too bad; I could have voted for him.
But then he did the unthinkable: he pardoned Richard Nixon. Most of the country did not want that.
I do believe Ford truly wanted to “end our long national nightmare” as he said, get the country moving again and give some peace to Nixon. This act of political courage was probably the right thing to do, but as most pundits now agree, almost certainly cost Ford the election in 1976.
That was not clear at the time, however.
Polls insisted the election was going to be tight, and they were right. During the primary season of 1976, Ford came out swinging, doing all he could to hold onto his job. He somehow fended off an aggressive challenge by Ronald Reagan and went on to accept his party’s nomination for president that summer.
Into this swirling, unsettled political mess came an unknown governor and peanut farmer from Georgia named Jimmy Carter. He started off 1976 as one of many democrats vying for the nomination. Think of the dozen or so republicans who competed for the republican nomination in 2016 before Trump emerged. That’s how it was for the democrats in 1976. As Trump did in 2016, Carter survived primary season, picking off his competitors little by little until there was no alternative.
Along with good timing, there may have never been a luckier politician than Carter.
There was no de facto leader of the democratic party in 1976 who would be the natural heir apparent to the White House like Ronald Reagan was for the republicans in 1980. George McGovern was not a good option; he was swamped by Nixon in 1972. Hubert Humphrey lost narrowly to Nixon in 1968 and was the choice of the party apparatus, but he chose not to run. Teddy Kennedy was scandal-ridden and not an option.
Carter was unknown, but he was the only large state governor, other than ultra-liberal Jerry Bown of California, to run in a year when the electorate was looking for an outsider. Governors were attractive. The other choices were all long-time Washington insiders: Mo Udall, Birch Baye, Lloyd Bentsen, Frank Church, Fred Harris, Henry “Scoop” Jackson and Sargent Shriver. They were sometimes chided as the “seven dwarfs.”
None of these politicians came off as trustworthy. Carter did. He wisely embraced his “outsider” image to perfection and hammered away at it in commercials and debates, telling us he would never lie to us. He eventually emerged as the easy democratic winner.
Not so for the republicans. Reagan took his candidacy all the way to the convention floor and nearly upended Ford. This bitter rift damaged the republican party and, along with the Nixon baggage, was too much to overcome.
Even with all these advantages, Carter eked out only a narrow win over Ford, 297 to 240 electoral votes. The popular vote was 51% to 49% in Carter’s favor.
That part of history is well known. What is not so well known is how Carter rose to the governorship of Georgia, thereby positioning himself for this improbable presidential run.
The answer is he leveraged a superior intellect and ambition with good old-fashioned hard work. Carter, much like Harry Truman, used county-wide community service activities, numerous business contacts statewide, and his national naval contacts to become a well-known activist and rising star in his state. As a born-again Christian and church leader he was also well known and respected among Southern Baptists who dominated Georgia politics.
His resume was almost pitch-perfect for the times.
He received a B.S. degree from the United States Naval Academy in 1946. He served in the Navy from 1947 to 1953 as a submariner, serving in both the Atlantic and Pacific, rising to the rank of lieutenant. He completed graduate work in reactor technology and nuclear physics. He served as senior officer of the crew on the nuclear submarine Seawolf.
When his father died in 1953, he resigned his naval commission and moved back to Georgia, taking over the Carter farm. He quickly became a leader in the community, serving on county boards that supervised education, the hospital authority, and the library. In 1962 he won election to the Georgia Senate. He lost his first gubernatorial campaign in 1966, but won the next one, becoming Georgia’s 76th governor on January 12, 1971.
Carter famously declared in his inaugural address as governor that “the time for racial discrimination is over.” This was a shocking pronouncement for a southern governor at the time and came after months of wisely downplaying his feelings about discrimination during the election.
He was ineligible for a second term in 1975 so began planning his run for president. His moderate democratic policies, ability to get southern votes, and ability to champion social justice positioned him well in 1976.
And, as they say, the rest is history.
