Alabama Governor George Wallace found parts of Milwaukee to be very welcoming of his pro-segregation message during his 1964 campaign for Democratic presidential nomination.

“If I ever had to leave Alabama , I’d want to live on the Southside of Milwaukee!”

- Gov. George Wallace, April 7, 1964.

This was an odd sentiment, coming from a confirmed Son of Dixie and ardent segregationist, but Wallace was merely returning the love shown to him by Milwaukee ’s Southside and voters across Wisconsin . As Wallace made this statement, he had just tallied a shocking 34% of the Democratic vote in Wisconsin ’s 1964 presidential primary. As the 2016 presidential campaign has been thus-far defined by a certain tiny-fingered pseudo-candidate’s bombastic and often-inflammatory rhetoric, it seems appropriate to take a look back at one of the most notable presidential primary votes in state history and an ugly campaign event on Milwaukee ’s Southside.

State presidential primary elections were far different affairs in 1964 than they are today. On the Democratic side, only 16 states actually held a vote that year, leaving the rest of the party’s delegates to be assigned at state conventions or at the national nominating convention in Atlantic City , NJ . This was all considered moot, however, as President Lyndon Johnson’s nomination was never in doubt and Johnson himself did no actual campaigning. The Democratic primary was expected to be of little importance.

Wallace’s literal stand against forced integration in 1963 made his a national figure in the ongoing Civil Rights battle.

That is until Alabama Governor George Wallace threw his hat into the ring. Wallace had gained national prominence with his election as governor in 1962, running on a hard-line segregationist platform. In September 1963, he made his infamous “stand in the schoolhouse door” at the University of Alabama to oppose a federal court order to integrate the school. In early 1964, Wallace made a number of speaking engagements in the north, including one in Madison on February 19. It was in Madison that Wallace learned that Wisconsin required only sixty state residents to agree to act as delegates in order to secure a candidate’s name on a presidential primary ballot. The delegates came together in just a few weeks and on March 6 – the deadline for filing as a candidate, Wallace flew to Madison personally to declare his candidacy. Tensions over the announcement were so high that Wallace filed his paperwork accompanied by two armed bodyguards. The vote was just over a month away.

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Wallace’s opposition in the election was Wisconsin Governor John Reynolds, who was running as a “favorite son” candidate, essentially a placeholder for supporters of President Johnson. Before Wallace jumped in to the race, Reynolds had not expected to do much of anything in the campaign, and even afterward felt that his impact would be minimal. The earliest opinion polls showed Wallace with about 5% of the vote.

Wallace made his first campaign trip to Wisconsin on March 17, drawing large crowds of supporters and protesters at every stop. In Oshkosh , Wallace defended his stance on Civil Rights (Civil Wrongs, as he put it), saying that the only difference between northern and southern segregation is that “in the south, we believe in segregation as we say so.” While his stump speeches were peppered with such rhetoric, many of his supporters merely tolerated his views on race, drawn more to his campaign for his limited-government and anti-communist stances. But it was, of course, the race issue that dominated the conversation around his candidacy and would define him historically in Wisconsin .

A Wallace campaign pin from 1964.

Wallace visited Wisconsin again in late March, speaking to even larger crowds and even louder protesters. Bomb scares at Wallace events and threats on his life became common. He was forced to sneak in and out of events on campuses, surrounded by armed guards at all times. His security staff even took to placing small strips of tape on the cracks around the hood of his car, so they could tell if it had been opened and possibly tampered with.

The gains by Wallace forced Governor Reynolds on to the campaign trail, as he joined Democrats and Republicans from around the state in denouncing Wallace’s views. One prominent Democrat who remained conspicuously silent on Wallace was Milwaukee Mayor Henry Maier. The recent battle in Milwaukee over open housing and school bussing seemed especially to prime the city for a candidate like Wallace. Maier, who would face reelection on the same day as the primary vote, was unwilling to stir the pot, worried that the cross-over between Wallace supporters and his own might be substantial enough to swing the mayoral election.

Wallace supporters stand as Civil Rights activists remain seated during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner before Wallace’s Serb Hall speech. The protesters would be driven from the room before Wallace took the dais. (Milwaukee Journal)

On April 1, Wallace made the most infamous stop of his Wisconsin campaign, speaking to a packed ballroom at Southside Milwaukee’s Serb Hall. Richard Haney, in his excellent article on Wallace’s Wisconsin campaign in the summer 1978 Wisconsin Magazine of History, described Southside Milwaukee in 1964 as “beer, brats, and bowling leagues,” largely blue collar and overwhelmingly white. It was an area when many still spoke with the accents of the old country. These were the northern voters that Wallace was hoping to tap in to, lower middle-class working men and women who resented the disruptions of the Civil Rights era and strongly preferred their neighborhoods and schools to remain white.

The Serb Hall rally was organized by Bronko Gruber, ex-Marine, World War II veteran, and the owner of Brownie & Ann’s Tap on 25th and Walnut. After the overflow crowd of 550 sang a few verses of Dixie (in Polish, no less) and the playing of the Star Spangled Banner, Gruber took the dais to introduce the candidate. Things got ugly as soon as Gruber began to speak. He immediately pointed out two African American men who had not stood during the national anthem. Only two people in the room, he said, lacked the “cordiality to stand up – and they’re none other than these two colored gentlemen here.” The crowd booed and hissed. “Send them back to Africa !” someone shouted. The two men and several others who had come with them quickly left the hall. As Gruber continued, a black minister from the rear of the hall shouted for him to “get his dogs out,” a reference to the tactic of southern police forces using attack dogs against Civil Rights protesters.

“I’m going to tell you something about your dogs, padre,” Gruber shouted back. “I live on Walnut Street and three weeks ago one of my friends was assaulted by three of your countrymen or whatever you want to call them.” Once again, the crowd roared. Gruber continued, speaking off the cuff as the audience urged him on. “They beat up old ladies, 83 years old, they rape our women folk, how long can we tolerate this?”

Wallace fed off the energy of the crowd. He denounced the Civil Rights Act, saying it would mean death to labor unions and private property. He said nothing about Gruber’s comments. He left the stage to a standing ovation.

Wallace signs autographs following the tense event at Serb Hall.

The Serb Hall rally was a turning point in the campaign. President Johnson began to personally monitor the situation in Wisconsin and took the rare step of making a statement in support of a favorite son surrogate, calling Reynolds a “patriot.” Although his comments did not mention Wallace or any issues related to race, Attorney General Robert Kennedy also made a statement in support of Reynolds, saying that a vote for him was a boost to the cause of Civil Rights.

Wallace made two more campaign stops in Milwaukee , following up the Serb Hall event with speeches at Marquette University – where a bomb threat was called in during his talk – and addressing 110 members of the City Club at the Pfister Hotel.

A Wallace newspaper ad that ran just before election day in the Milwaukee Journal.

What had just a few weeks before been considered a non-event had become an election of national importance. Media from across the county were in the state on the evening of April 7 as the returns rolled in. Wallace stayed in his room at the downtown Schroder Hotel (now the Hilton), unsure whether or not he was legally able to campaign on election day in Wisconsin (he was, but the practice was illegal in Alabama ). Nonetheless, late that evening, as his vote tally neared and then passed a quarter million, Wallace spoke to a room full of jubilant supporters and declared that they had “won without winning.” Wallace had captured a third of the Democratic vote in the state, a clear signal that a candidate could succeed in the north while taking up a posture much more familiar to Dixie .

In his “non-victory” party following the Wisconsin vote, Wallace donned an “Indian war bonnet” presented to him by the Consolidated Tribes of America. (Milwaukee Journal)

Wallace went on to run in primaries in Indiana, where he won 30% of the vote, and Maryland, where he captured a stunning 43% and finished only ten points behind Johnson surrogate Senator Daniel Brewster. His national profile boosted, Wallace sought the presidency directly in 1968, running under as a candidate of the American Independent Party. Wallace carried five southern states and totaled 13.5% of the national vote.

Wallace is ecstatic as his votes are totaled in the downtown Schroder Hotel. (Milwaukee Journal)

Had Wallace fizzled in the Wisconsin primary in 1964, he may never have made the inroads he did in 1968. But given the simmering resentments of a white middle class that somehow viewed the Civil Rights era as an attack on their values and the easily aroused racism of many northern whites, the Wallace boom in Wisconsin was an unfortunate movement waiting to happen. The residue of these attitudes is still evident today, plainly so for anyone watching the current primary campaign. The Wallace campaign, both across the state and in Milwaukee , is certainly not a proud part of our heritage, but must not be forgotten.