Election '82: Fresh Faces in the Mansion

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ARKANSAS. It is easy to understand how Bill Clinton, handsome and facile, got too big for his britches: in 1978, at the age of 32, he was America's youngest Governor, fawned over by the national Democratic Establishment. He naturally felt charmed, headed for greater things. But Arkansas voters, fed up with his national ambitions and his ties with Jimmy Carter, turned Clinton out in 1980 in favor of Republican Frank White, a banker.

This time, almost a year before Election Day, Clinton started running an effective series of TV ads in which he apologized for wanting too much too soon. He also said he was sorry for his major policy gaffe during his two years as Governor: raising the annual automobile registration fee. In response, White argued that he would be sure to stay at home in Arkansas, fighting for jobs, and claimed he was tougher on crime than Clinton. Clinton in turn put on TV spots depicting White as a liar. The fight generated an astonishingly large voter turnout (72%), which helped Clinton win another stay in the Governor's mansion by a 10% margin.

ALABAMA. As recently as 1976, when he last failed to become President, George Wallace was still the most famous exemplar of racism in the U.S. Last Tuesday, however, a majority of Alabama's black voters almost surely cast ballots for Wallace, 63. He won easily, 60% to 40%. After a three-year retirement Wallace is, for the fourth time, the Governor of Alabama.

Paraplegic since a gunman's attack in 1972, Wallace admitted that segregation and his past racial belligerence were wrong. Blacks apparently forgave him or, like poor white Alabamans, at least preferred his familiar populism to the flaky conservatism of Emory Folmar, 52, Montgomery's Republican mayor. Explains George Wallace Jr.: "My father represented stability." Folmar, in contrast, carries a pistol and once made a splashy citizen's arrest. His argument that Wallace would embarrass Alabama seemed disingenuous. And Wallace countered that his infamy, now mellowed into statesmanlike fame, could help solve Alabama's 14.8% unemployment. Said he: "I'm known all over this country. I can pick up the phone and ask the chairmen of the boards to come to Alabama."

NEW YORK. A year ago, New York voters had no idea who Lew Lehrman was. They were only vaguely familiar with Lieutenant Governor Mario Cuomo. This odd, dark horse vs. dark horse election was a classic in its way: a smart and thoughtful Reagan conservative against a smart and thoughtful Roosevelt liberal. Cuomo won, in a decently fought, closer-than-expected (51% to 48%) race.

The issues were largely defined by Lehrman, 44, who spent $8 million of his $24 million discount-drugstore fortune on campaign advertising. He promised to crack down on criminals, and his rage attracted votes. Some of his penal ideas were archaic; he said that overcrowding existing prisons would be preferable to building new ones. Lehrman's plan for economic rejuvenation was an unalluring version of Reaganomics.

Cuomo, 50, a middle-class lawyer, opposed the death penalty and government cutbacks. Instead of cranking out novel policy prescriptions, he tended to talk about "faith" and "justice." Hazy on specifics, he exuded a kind of reassuring, world-weary wisdom and sensitivity.