IN THE SOUTH politics is a lifetime career. You enter it when you are young and you remain in it until the undertaker or the voters intervene. I entered politics at the appropriate age; six, to be exact.
It came about this way. There was a Hallowe'en party for the first grade of the Newnan grammar school and Miss Maggie Brown thought it might inspire her pupils if they drew fortunes out of a wishing-bag. She had the more agreeable occupations written out on small slips of paper in a neat Spencerian hand: banker, fireman, lawyer, preacher, merchant; I do not recall that any slip was labeled "sharecropper"; but Miss Maggie was a romantic, an optimist, and a Southern gentlewoman. My slip said: "Governor, you will be." I would gladly have exchanged it for that which predicted the more gallant and hazardous career of a fireman, but with the fatalism that inhibits the Southern mind, I accepted my unknown lot.
I took it home to my mother, who was appropriately pleased