Sorry Crop of Scoundrels
by Alex McRae

Once upon a time we elected people to get something done. Our current batch of public servants don't do anything but whine, moan, point fingers and investigate everything from the weather to whether or not gas companies are gouging at the pump.

These things deserve to be looked at, but our elected officials can't seem to do anything else. It sure makes for dull political news, at least compared to the not-too-distant past. No one's ever done a better job of recalling the good- and bad- old days of Southern politics than Billy Bowles and Remer Tyson in their 1989 book, They Love a Man in the Country.

Bowles and Tyson scoured the Southern countryside for years preparing this book, interviewing some of the giants of Southern politics during a turbulent era that swept the region from the 1930s to the 1960s.

This collection of tales makes you long for the times when voters were more concerned with getting electric lights, civil rights and paved roads than they were the character of the men who provided those basic needs. If the political giants profiledby Tyson and Bowles were in officenow, they'd be indicted in a day and convicted in a month. But it sure is fun to hear how the good old boys got things done in the bad old days.

One of the book's more colorful characters is diminutive Alabamian Shorty Price, who made a career out of opposing George Wallace, Price's college roommate.

After several unsuccessful races against Wallace, Price proposed legislation to cut the governor's term of officefrom four years to two.

He explained it this way: "If you can't steal enough to last you the rest of your life in two years, you ain't got enough sense to have the officein the first place."

They all stole, but the greats had a gift for putting things into "context." The book recounts an incident when former Georgia Governor Gene Talmadge, while serving as secretary of agriculture, was accused of using state money to play the Chicago hog market.

When confronted, Talmadge told a crowd of farm constituents, "Yeah, I stole, but I stole for you."

A classic tale of political revenge involves former Georgia governor Marvin Griffin. According to Bowles and Tyson, Paulding County representative George Bagby, near the end of Griffin'stenure, decided to oppose Griffin on a major piece of legislation. Word circulated that if he did, Griffin would get rid of Babgy's brother, John, a State Patrol employee.

Knowing the possible consequences, Babgy took to the floor of the Georgia General Assembly and said, "My colleagues, I know what I have to say here on this floor today is going to enrage the governor. You know I've got a brother named John Bagby that's a license examiner out in Villa Rica, on the State Patrol. John was by my house and ate dinner with me last Sunday. I told my brother that, in good conscience, I couldn't support this bill. I had to be against it, and the present governor would probably firehim from his job. But I told my brother, John, that's all right.

"I've got a ham in the smoke house, I've got meal in the barrel, and I've got a hoecake on the stove. We can take care of our own."

Griffin had John Babgy fired by the end of the day. He then sent a letter to George Bagby. It said:

"Dear George,

Get that ham out of the smokehouse, get that meal out of the barrel, keep that hoecake on the stove, 'cause John's coming home."

Priceless. Pure, bare-knuckled politics at its best - and worst. We don't see much of that anymore, and to tell you the truth, I miss it. Back then, at least you knew where a politician stood.