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On the scene of the airport press conference, the first scheduled event of
Wallace's two-day visit, I was impressed to be in the company of veteran
reporters from as far away as Augusta, Georgia. At the appointed time, the
short, well-built politician walked in, and his press secretary, signaling the
start of the questioning, announced, "Gentlemen, Governor Wallace."
To my surprise, no one jumped in with the first question. A minute of silence
crept by. I had prepared a question, but, surrounded by seasoned journalists, I
had no intention of going first. Thirty more seconds of silence. It was becoming
downright embarrassing; so, I plunged in. "Governor, down in Charleston over the
weekend, the KKK held a rally in a field and burned some crosses and endorsed
your candidacy for president. Do you accept that sort of support?"
What came next immediately confirmed my instinct to remain silent and let the
adults lead the way. Governor Wallace turned toward me, moving those famous
bushy eyebrows in an awful-looking scowl, and started jabbing his finger in my
direction. "You people in the news media are always trying to identify me with
the Ku Klux Klan. I have never been a member nor have I ever been to one of
their rallies." And on and on he went with his tirade.
Then, abruptly, he shifted tone and began to talk in a reasonable, even
plaintive fashion about the difficulties of running for president, all the
obstacles a country boy from Alabama faced, and how, of course, he had to take
support in his uphill struggle from wherever he could get it. Other questions
came quickly now, and the affair ended a half hour later.
There followed a lesson about successful politicians that I have never
forgotten. As soon as the press conference ended. Wallace came bolting over to
me grabbed me by the arm, and with a huge grin on his face, said, "Son. you
better watch out for those KKK boys. They gonna get you.'' The
lighthearted. non-threatening way he now addressed me despite the words
themselves-so sharply contrasted with his response to my question when the
cameras were running that I was stunned.
Anyone who could so quickly charm the object of his recent verbal assault
certainly had some subtle and effective qualities I had been unaware of. Years
later when Wallace won his fifth gubernatorial term, in 1982, with ninety
percent of the black vote, I was less surprised than many of my colleagues. I
knew how clever he could be.
Through working in television news during my last two years at the College of
Charleston. I was able to observe in action many other important political
figures, including Martin Luther King, Jr., Hubert H. Humphrey, Richard Nixon.
Gerald Ford, Strom Thurmond and Ronald Reagan.
The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965―twin
products of Lyndon Johnson's Great Society―were just
then transforming Southern politics away from a one-party system dominated by an
all-white Democratic party dedicated to the preservation of racial segregation.
In the I 964 election, South Carolina and four other Deep South states had been
swept by Barry Goldwater, the Republican presidential nominee, shattering
traditional Democratic voting patterns and beginning Dixie's long march toward
two-party politics.
I had little perspective on what was happening in the region. Observing
politicians and understanding what they were up to, of course, are far from the
same activity. Lacking the analytical skills necessary to gain deeper insight, I
accepted the personalities and events of that time for what they appeared to be
on the face of things. Later I came to realize how important those observations
were to shaping the course of my research.
In 1973, after service in the US Navy, a tour of Europe, and a few newspaper
reporting jobs, I entered graduate school at Vanderbilt University. It would be
neat and logical to write that I went to graduate school to find the tools to
help me understand the Southern political world I had observed as a college-age
journalist. While it worked out that way, it didn't happen quite like that.
My interest in politics extended beyond the American South to national political
institutions and processes-Congress, the Presidency, the courts, interest
groups, and political parties and elections, among other American topics-as well
as to politics in foreign countries and between nation-states and other
international actors. It was to these pursuits that my graduate training was
directed.
Recognizing that the best advice to budding novelists is to go to Paris, if
you must, but write about what you know, I decided to draw on my firsthand
acquaintance with the Southern political scene, master the Southern
"literature," and try to make a contribution to it, first with a dissertation
and then a book. To me, the most interesting topic in Southern politics was the
collapse of the one party system that I had witnessed in the mid 1960s and its
replacement by a complex set of arrangements not then clearly understood. I
adopted a broad approach that included interviews with politicians and political
observers, analysis of election returns, and surveys of newspaper accounts of
politics in each of the eleven Southern states.
The Southern Democracy of the one-party era was rooted in the desire to
preserve white supremacy. The argument, in its most basic form, went as follows:
If whites remained united in a ruling, segregationist Democratic party, blacks
would be isolated from the political process and unable to offer their support
to competing white groups and to bargain for an end to their treatment as
second-class citizens.
Through the lifetime of President Franklin Roosevelt, the national Democratic
party leadership, dependent on powerful Southern Democratic interests, refused
to take the lead in fighting racial segregation and discrimination in the South.
When the national Democratic party moved off dead center on the question of
equal rights for blacks, starting slowly with President Harry Truman in 1948 and
ending momentously with President Johnson in 1964, the Southern rationale for
white unity in the Democratic party collapsed and the region's politics
underwent a massive restructuring that still is not complete today.
The broad outline of what transpired is portrayed in the accompanying figure
below,
which, in essence, is a simple picture of the death of the solidly Democratic
South. The figure charts the decline of Democratic party strength as measured by
voter support both for presidential candidates and for candidates at lower
ballot levels. The bottom line-the Democratic vote for president in the
South-pinpoints the initial break in 1948 when President Truman cautiously began
the national Democratic embrace of the civil-rights cause. The line also depicts
the bottom falling out of Southern Democratic voting for president in the late
1960s and early I 970s in the aftermath of President Johnson's dramatic actions.
Also shown is a partial recovery in 1976 when a Georgian, Jimmy Carter, was the
party's standard bearer.
The top line, a composite of the vote for three major offices below the
presidential level and a good measure of overall Democratic strength,
illustrates the precipitous decline of Dixie's Democratic party. If one views
the figure from the Republican perspective, it shows the rapid takeoff of the
GOP in the South after the party was energized by Senator Goldwater's triumph in
the Deep South following his highly publicized vote against the Civil Rights Act
of 1964.
Southern Republican growth in the first decade after 1964 was fueled by white
antagonism toward all things remotely connected with the national Democratic
integrationists. The GOP had to share this harvest of while-backlash votes with
Governor Wallace, who, as a Democrat, added confusion to the early years of
partisan competition until it became clear in the mid-1970s that he had been
passed over by the historical forces reshaping Southern Democratic politics.
Equally important, the collapse of the racial rationale for the one-party South
allowed the economic and philosophical foundation of party politics that had
existed outside the South since the New Deal 10 filter into the region's
emerging two-party structure. Dixie's Republicans argued that Southerners now
had the option of voting at the state level for the true national conservative
party. Under the Southern one-party system, there had always been considerable
competition between conservatives and liberals, but the struggle occurred with
both sides carrying the Democratic label.
The GOP's economic-conservative appeal is crucial to understanding how
Republicans in the region were able to build a substantial and lasting base of
support in the post-1964 years. In the relative calm of today, Republicans
stress the economic-conservative aspect of their party's Southern growth, while
they understandably play down or even deny the role of the race issue.
Following President Nixon's sweeping reelection in 1972, the rest of the 1970,
witnessed a reversal of the subpresidential trend, which is shown in the
figure's top line as a mild increase in Democratic strength. There was more to
the change than merely voter disgust with Watergate and the recession of I
974--or even Southern pride that the party of George McGovern could nominate a
Georgian for president. Unraveling why this reversal occurred takes us a long
way toward understanding the nature of contemporary Southern politics.
After the Southern Democratic party was forced to abandon white supremacy, there
occurred a remarkable irony: The former party of segregation became the home of
the region's newly enfranchised blacks. Clever white Democratic politicians
shrewdly sized up what was happening and put together in state after state a
fascinating coalition of nearly all blacks and those whites who had weathered
the integration crisis with their Democratic voting inclinations intact.
The potency of this coalition was surpassed only by the deep tensions existing
between its two elements. Apart from the natural difficulties that came with
attempting to resolve decades of racial antagonism, there is a fundamental
economic divergence of interest in the two wings of the Democratic coalition.
The legacy of segregation is starkly illustrated by US census data. For example,
in South Carolina in 1970, 49.7 percent of the state's blacks lived below the
poverty line; the figure for South Carolina's whites was 12.3 percent.
In the main, despite the potential for conflict, the ideologically diverse,
black-white Democratic coalition has held its own throughout the 1970s and
1980s. To list its beneficiaries is to produce an honor roll of Southern
Democratic politicians: Charles Robb of Virginia; Sam Nunn of Georgia; Terry
Sanford and Jim Hunt of North Carolina; Bob Graham and Lawton Chiles of Florida;
Lloyd Bentsen of Texas; and Dick Riley and Ernest F. Hollings of South Carolina,
among scores of others. They are known as "Southern moderates," which, though
imprecise, does serve to differentiate them from Huey Long Democrats, who are in
short supply these days south of the Mason Dixon line.
In order to hold together their biracial alliance, the Southern Democratic
"moderates" often have engaged in a political tightrope walk that requires
Olympian balancing. This performance, to put it mildly, has irritated the
Republicans, who could see no logic in the majorities that were regularly
checking their advance. One Georgia GOP leader remarked in 1974 that the
conservative whites and liberal blacks "are voting hand in hand, and when they
do, they're squeezing the lives out of us. And yet there's no tie-in between the
two at all. Ideologically, they're as far apart as night and day."
At the presidential level, the GOP has had its greatest success in breaking the
coalition. Waller Mondale and Michael Dukakis came lip woefully short of white
Southern Democratic votes in 1984 and 1988. Even President Carter had a
substantial drop-off in white support in 1980.
But below the presidential level, the Democratic black-white coalition continues
to coast along, even gaining strength in 1988, as the figure indicates. Wrapped
up in its uncertain fate is to be found the future of Southern politics in the
1990s.
I finished my study of Southern politics in 1984, and it was published that
fall by Oxford University Press as The Two-Party South. The book came out in
paperback in 1986. I added a hundred pages in 1988, and the expanded edition
appeared in hardback that fall. A new paperback edition with a chapter on the
1988 elections-along with treatment of the historic 1989 election of an
African-American, L. Douglas Wilder, to be governor of Virginia-appeared earlier
this fall.
Despite my continuing interest in Southern politics, my research focus has
shifted in recent years to national electoral and party system change. The
Southern component certainly is part of the picture, but there remain many
questions of national scope that I am now studying. The term most commonly used
to refer to these changes is realignment, and it is to the question of whether
we have had a major national realignment since the famous New Deal realignment
of the 1930, that my new project is directed.
As part of this research, I am delving into voting patterns in the thirty-nine
non-Southern states; Ohio trends are especially intriguing and usefully
representative of other diverse Northern industrial states. Last summer I
conducted interviews in ten states stretching from Wisconsin to Oregon.
The project is only now taking shape, and it is too early to speculate about
findings. This fall semester I am teaching a course on the 1990 midterm
elections, and my students and I will be scrutinizing the November 1990 results
closely. Everyone agrees that the decade of the 1960s and the years since
exhibited tremendous ferment in the national party system. Sorting out the
diverse elements involved and weaving them together in an accurate analytical
narrative is the task at hand.
CWRU Magazine, November 1990
Sunday Forum: Back Load the Primaries
Here's one way to improve our presidential nominating process and end the ugly
scramble among the states to gain influence, offered by ALEXANDER P. LAMIS and
RENEE M. LAMIS Sunday, October 14, 2007
The vigorous jockeying among the states to move earlier and earlier in the
2008 presidential nomination process demonstrates that the system is seriously
flawed and ought to be revamped.
The unprecedented decision of a score of states to move the selection of
their delegates to a single, early date -- Tuesday, Feb. 5 -- is a logical
reaction to defects in the post-1968 "reforms."
The same is true of the even bolder attempt by Florida and Michigan to defy
party rules and encroach on the first-in-the-nation status of Iowa and New
Hampshire.
This audacious move suffered a serious setback when national Democrats ruled
recently that any delegation selected prior to Feb. 5 would not be seated at
their August convention, except for those granted special status -- Iowa, New
Hampshire and two states added for the 2008 cycle, Nevada and South Carolina.
All major Democratic presidential candidates signed a pledge not to campaign in
"rogue" states.
Despite the indecorous nature of the scramble to be first, the efforts to
challenge the status quo could lead to substantial reform of a defective
process. Why should the voters and politicians in our most populous states
acquiesce to a nomination process that effectively ends before their states
weigh in?
A quick look at the evolution of the nomination process explains how we arrived
at the current, contentious situation.
The old system vested nominations in the hands of party leaders who met every
four years at their national conventions. Typical were Franklin Roosevelt's
fourth-ballot nomination in 1932 and Wendell Willkie's sixth-ballot victory in
1940.
Rule changes following the divisive 1968 Democratic convention spawned a
proliferation of primaries, accelerating the movement of decision-making away
from party leaders and toward voters in party primaries.
So far so good. Unfortunately, the "reformed" system has itself undergone a
transformation that has undermined the role of voters, except for those in the
states that vote first. This front-loaded and compressed process produces de
facto nominees before most citizens have a chance to participate.
The problem started in the mid-1980s when Southern states created a
quasi-regional primary by moving their contests to the same, early date. It grew
in 1996 when New England states copied the Southerners and California
politicians, miffed at the irrelevance of their June primary, moved it to late
March, prompting New York to hold its primary in early March.
In the 1996 Republican contest, three-quarters of the convention delegates
were chosen by the seventh week of the primaries. In 1976 the three-quarter mark
hadn't been reached until the 14th week!
The situation eased slightly in 2000 but front-loading came roaring back in
2004. Just five weeks and a day after the New Hampshire primary, the Democratic
contest ended when Sen. John Edwards conceded to Sen. John Kerry, dropping out a
day after Super Tuesday on March 2, when more than half of the delegates needed
to win the nomination were selected.
By that time, the bulk of the candidates already had quit, reducing the
choices even for Super Tuesday voters to only two serious contenders. Tens of
millions of voters in 21 states, including Pennsylvania, Texas, Florida,
Illinois and New Jersey, had yet to be heard from.
The 2004 schedule was so compressed that there was just a week between New
Hampshire and seven primaries on Feb. 3. Imagine campaigning in seven states in
seven days just as the process is starting! Multiply by three and that's what is
planned for next year's Mega Tuesday primaries.
What is needed is to "back load" the selection of delegates. We propose a
four-month process, running from Feb. 1 to June 1, starting with smaller states
(in terms of population) and ending with larger ones.
The four-month period would begin slowly with one or two small- to
medium-size states holding events every week through March. Then the larger
states would go weekly through May, with a mixture of the remaining smaller
states participating toward the end. The goal would be to have 15 percent of the
delegates chosen in February, 25 percent each in March and April, and the final
35 percent in May.
How would the states be chosen? The only fair way is by a lottery to
determine the region from which the first small states would come as well as
their order. Then, the regions would be rotated every four years through a
sixteen-year cycle to give all the smaller states in the country a chance to go
first.
Is such a system practical? Absolutely. The major parties have the power to
exclude from their conventions delegates not chosen according to their rules.
State legislatures would be forced to comply or risk denying their citizens a
role in the process.
Would Iowa and New Hampshire like this reform? Of course not. But why should
they have so much clout and attention every four years?
The most persuasive argument in favor of having Iowa and New Hampshire go
first is that they are small states, allowing candidates without much money an
opportunity to get their messages across through personal campaigning. In our
reform, by starting with smaller states and rotating them every four years, you
keep this small-size advantage, but you allow all such states a chance to share
in the limelight.
Our scheme also would space out the early contests, making it more likely
that voters in later states have a say and that potential nominees are more
fully tested. This would remedy the current system's inexorable rush to judgment
propelled by the media momentum that the early results generate.
The one good thing about the unseemly struggle among the states to go first
in 2008 is that it might force wholesale change by highlighting the faults of
the current system. Even wider demand for reform is likely this spring after
voters experience first-hand the rapid-fire nomination cycle coming their way.
Alexander P. Lamis is an associate professor of political science at Case
Western Reserve University and the author of "The Two-Party South" (apl2@case.edu). Renee M. Lamis is the
director of research and planning for PA Futures, a public affairs consulting
firm in Erie, and the author of "The Realignment of Pennsylvania Politics Since
1960: Electoral Change in a Battleground State" (reneelamis@pafutures.org).
First published on October 14, 2007 at 12:00 am
The link to this article is:
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/07287/825063-109.stm#
Journal of Southern History, May, 2001, pp. 489-490.
By James Guth-Furman University
Southern Politics in the 1990s. Edited by Alexander P. Lamis.
Baton Rouge University Press, 1999. Pp xviii, 490. $39.95, ISBN 0-8071-2374-9.)
Scholars have attempted to
update V. O. Key's magisterial Southern Politics in State and Nation
(New York, 1949) at regular intervals since the 1960's. It seems to
require, in most cases, at least a dozen political scientists to match Key's
exquisite thematic analysis and his memorable depiction of individual states.
(Of course, to be fair, Key had a research team working with him.) Although
such volumes are often worthy memorials to Key, none has quite matched his
scholarly virtuosity. Alexander P. Lamis has long worked in this genre.
He single-handedly produced The Two Party South (New York, 1984), a
justly praised book that reviewed southern political terrain during the
critical years of the 1970s and early 1980s. He continues the story,
this time with the aid of twelve journalists and fourteen political scientists
(at least one of each per state), in Southern Politics in the 1990s.
Between Lamis's useful introduction and concluding chapters, the book moves
from state to state to focus on the rise of the Republican Party in the South
during the 1990s, especially during the critical year surrounding the 1994
election.
After the Democrats recovered from the first
Republican challenges during the civil rights battles of the 1960s, the party
dominated southern politics by molding an effective biracial coalition of
blacks and moderate whites. That combination was still working quite well
as late as 1990. The Republicans might use exceptional circumstances, scandals, or
the talents (and money) of charismatic individuals to win some races for top
state offices and even the presidency, but the GOP found it much harder to make
inroads down ticket.
State legislatures and local governments remained in Democratic hands, with
Republicans not even contesting many offices. By the early 1990s, however,
demographic trends benefited the Republicans. For years a bourgeoning middle
class, a wave of
in-migration, and booming suburban communities
all created potential Republicans, (as well as "independents"). The GOP
finally tapped this potential following the 1990 census as a result of legislative--and often judicial--reapportionment for the U.S. House of Representatives and state chambers. Most reapportionment plans created new "majority minority"
districts that were to be won by black Democrats, at the cost of making many
other districts
"majority Republican." The GOP's biggest advance came in 1994, when
reapportionment, strategic errors, and the unpopularity of President Bill
Clinton hurt the Democratic Party. Although the 1994 election results varied
state by state in the South,
the GOP generally consolidated its wins, insuring continuation of the new
two-party system. The reader wishes that Lamis had withheld the volume
from production for a few months, so as to incorporate results from the 1998
elections, which confirm much of the book's analysis.
While telling the story of the
new two-party South, the authors also describe the critical coalition problems
facing each party. Most chapters are quite informative on Democratic
factionalism, painting in fine textures the critical relationship between
moderate whites, who still constitute the overwhelming majority of Democratic
office-holders, and liberal blacks, who supply critical votes to put them in
office. Given the semipermanent centrality of race in Southern politics, this attention is certainly
warranted. But the authors seldom exhibit equivalent insight into the contentious
Republican alliance between economic and social conservatives. The chapters
and conclusion stress the ubiquity of the GOP's coalition problem, but that
crucial subject
receives less attention than the Democrats' racial dilemma. Indeed, although
Christian activists have enjoyed their greatest success in the South (and
purportedly control most GOP state organizations there), the book's
depictions usually leave the Christian Right a shadowy and largely anonymous
force.
The editor's strategy of tapping
the combined expertise of scholars and journalists pays off. Each
chapter is informed by scholarly perspectives as well as the inside dope that
only journalists who have spent years interviewing and observing politicians
can accumulate. There are no "weak" chapters: each is very informative
and, perhaps because of Lamis's critical guidance during the book's long
gestation, the chapters are much more thematically integrated than the typical
edited collection. Because the electoral developments portrayed exhibit
remarkable similarity from state to state, however, the reader occasionally
longs for an idiosyncratic intrusion. Whatever its minor limitations, Southern
Politics in the 1990s will for a long time to come remain an
indispensable resource for students of southern political history. Ironically, as Lamis
argues in the conclusion, the developments described here have undermined or
even destroyed the region's political distinctiveness, arguably eliminating
much of the rationale for this honored genre of scholarship.
Key, V. O., Jr. International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences. Ed.
William A. Darity, Jr. Vol. 4. 2nd ed. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2008.
p258-259.
 Full
Text: COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale
Key, V. O., Jr.
Page 258
Key, V. O., Jr. 1908-1963
By Alexander P. Lamis
V. O. Key Jr., one of the United States' greatest political scientists,
pioneered the study of elections, political parties, and public opinion, and
left a remarkable collection of books and articles despite a career cut short
at age fifty five. His Southern Politics in State and Nation (1949) analyzed in
penetrating fashion the confusing, little-understood political arrangements of
the one-party Democratic South using innovative, intelligible techniques of
electoral analysis. Noting that in "its grand outlines, the politics of the
South revolves around the position of the Negro" (1949, p. 5), Key went on to
show that the big losers in the region's odd political system were "those who
have less," of both races.
Likewise, his masterful Public Opinion and American Democracy (1961)
offered invaluable theoretical insights into the elusive role of public
attitudes in the governing process, elucidating the all-important linkage
between what governments do and what the people think. "If a democracy tends
toward indecision, decay, and disaster, the responsibility rests [with its
political leaders], not in the mass of the people" (1961, p. 558), he
concluded.
Key grew up in the West Texas town of Lamesa, where his father was a
prominent lawyer. After earning a BA and MA at the University of Texas, he
studied at the University of Chicago from 1930 to 1934 under Charles Merriam,
an advocate of a "new science of politics," earning his PhD in 1934. After two
years of teaching at UCLA and a year each working for the Social Science
Research Council in Chicago and the National Resources Planning Page 259 Board
in Washington, D.C., Key assumed his first longterm faculty position, at Johns
Hopkins University in 1939. There he immediately launched into writing his
influential, path-breaking textbook Politics, Parties, and Pressure Groups,
which appeared in 1942 and went through five editions. His colleagues hailed
the book; Charles Beard wrote to the author that his "bully" book "gleams with
humor well concealed" (quoted in Lucker 2001, p. 49). Key made political power
the book's central theme, telling the publisher in his 1939 proposal that "all
of what we call political phenomenon can be interpreted" around this concept,
adding: "By imaginative treatment, these dry-as-dust matters could perhaps be
made, if not to sparkle, at least gleam" (quoted in Lucker 2001, pp. 43―44).
Therein lies an element of Key's success: He matched insightful analysis with
an engaging writing style.
Key remained at Johns Hopkins University for a decade, broken only by
wartime service at the Bureau of the Budget. Yale University lured him away in
1949, but two years later he moved to Harvard, where he operated at the
pinnacle of his discipline for the last twelve years of his life. In the
Journal of Politics in February 1955 he published his most famous article, "A
Theory of Critical Elections," which called attention to a type of election
"in which the decisive results of the voting reveal a sharp alteration of the
pre-existing cleavage within the electorate" (p. 4). The article gave birth to
an enduring subfield―the study of electoral realignments.
Always at the forefront of his discipline, Key mastered the new techniques
of survey research in the late 1950s, taking up residence at the University of
Michigan to work with the National Election Studies, then in their infancy.
"To speak with precision of public opinion," he asserted at the outset of his
resulting 1961 book, Public Opinion and American Democracy, "is a task not
unlike coming to grips with the Holy Ghost" (p. 8). But in 550 well-crafted
pages, Key captured the elusive topic, locating it firmly within the political
process.
At the time of Key's death in 1963, he was at work on a massive study of
the voting process. Using Key's incomplete manuscript, his student Milton C.
Cummings published The Responsible Electorate in 1966. The central theme of
this slim volume is that voters exhibit an impressive amount of rationality in
light of the choices they face, a notion still widely quoted using Key's apt
phrasing: "Voters are not fools." If he had lived to complete the work
himself, there is no doubt he would have produced a weighty study comparable
to his last classic, Public Opinion and American Democracy.
SEE ALSO Democracy ; Elections ; Interest Groups and Interests ;
Merriam, Charles Edward, Jr. ; Political Science ; Politics, Southern ; Public
Opinion ; Race and Political Science ; Rationality ; Survey ; Voting Patterns
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Key, V. O., Jr. 1942. Politics, Parties, and Pressure Groups.
New York: Thomas Y. Crowell.
Key, V. O., Jr. 1949. Southern Politics in State and Nation.
New York: Knopf.
Key, V. O., Jr. 1955. A Theory of Critical Elections. Journal of
Politics 17 (1): 3―18.
Key, V. O., Jr. 1961. Public Opinion and American Democracy.
New York: Knopf.
Key, V. O., Jr., and Milton C. Cummings. 1966. The Responsible
Electorate: Rationality in Presidential Voting. Cambridge, MA: Belknap
Press.
Lamis, Alexander P., and Nathan Goldman. 1987. V. O. Key's Southern
Politics: The Writing of a Classic. Georgia Historical Quarterly
71 (2): 261―285.
Lucker, Andrew M. 2001. V. O. Key, Jr.: The Quintessential Political
Scientist. New York: Peter Lang.
Source Citation: "Key, V. O., Jr." International Encyclopedia
of the Social Sciences. Ed. William A. Darity, Jr.. Vol. 4. 2nd ed.
Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2008. 258-259. Gale Virtual Reference
Library.
Gale Document Number: GALE|CX3045301249
 2008 Gale.
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politics
over the past decade are found in Ohio Politics, edited by Case Western
Reserve University political scientist Alexander P. Lamis. The book is the only
comprehensive study of the state's post-World War II political development.
