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My Brief Foray into Capitolism
by Liam O'Donoghue
It was February 20, 2002, my first
time in the state Capitol building. I was accompanying
the 85% Coalition members, who were planning to sit in
the gallery during Governor George Ryan's State of the
Budget address. Since recent legislation had made it illegal
to carry signs or wear buttons in the Capitol, they were
all wearing T-shirts bearing slogans promoting House Bill
101. HB101 would amend the Illinois Human Rights Act,
which currently protects Illinois citizens against discrimination
based on race, religion, ethnicity, gender, age, disability,
marital status, and military status, to include sexual
orientation.
I got my first taste of how things operate in the Capitol
as I waited in line to sign in and go through the metal
detectors with the rest of the Capitol visitors. As we
waited patiently to get past the security checkpoint,
well-groomed lobbyists flew past the preoccupied guards
while flashing their laminated "Registered Lobbyist"
passes, barely slowing their rapid stride to be bothered
with the inconvenience.
Once past the guards, I strolled through the main corridor
of the historic building. Bronze busts of famous Illinois
politicians, oil paintings of prairie scenes, and booth
after booth of lobbyist groups lined the majestic, high-ceilinged
hall. It is now illegal for ordinary citizens or unlicensed
groups to hand out any literature within the Capitol building,
but the lobbyistsí booths were stacked high with
pamphlets, brochures, and fact sheets touting the great
advantages associated with things like tow truck unions
and chemicals. I even got a beer holder from the Beer
Distributors' Association.
We weren't there as casual tourists, though. The 85% Coalition
was there to raise awareness for its cause, and I was
there to cover the story. The last time they were in Springfield,
Coalition members had been thrown into a paddy wagon for
singing in the Capitol and charged with disturbing the
peace and trespassing, so I didn't know what to expect.
The place was packed, but Meg, the trip's group leader,
had called the House Clerk's office the day before to
make sure that we would be able to sit in the gallery
during the Governor's speech. The clerk's office assured
her that if we got there early there would be public seating.
But the officers at the gallery entrance had a different
story for us. There was absolutely no public seating,
they said. The only way to get in was to have special
passes that could be obtained only from certain legislators,
and all those had been gone for quite some time. Thus
began a frustrating and quixotic attempt to gain entrance
into the General Assembly.
Since I was there as a member of the press, I figured
that I might be able to use the First Amendment to my
advantage. I first went to the House Clerk's office, where
I was told that I needed to go to the House Majority Leader's
office, because that was the office in charge of distributing
press passes. That office in turn sent me to the press
room, because they didn't have any available passes. After
some serious haggling about my credentials, the press
room gave me a 2002 Capitol press pass, good for entrance
to the balcony, where the rest of the press was gathered
to cover the event.
Unfortunately, the balcony guards informed me that my
pass was not valid, because everyone was required to have
a special press pass good only for covering the State
of the Budget address. When I angrily took my worthless
press pass back to the press room and demanded to know
how I could obtain the "special" pass, the person
in charge of giving out the press passes told me that
he had never heard of such a pass. "What office do
you work for?" I inquired. His reply? "The House
Clerk's office."
Despite all the official stonewalling, the 85% Coalition
was determined to spread its message. Members stood in
the rotunda outside the large doors leading to the General
Assembly as news crews gathered, awaiting the grand entrance
of the Governor. I noticed that Capitol police stood around
unconcerned while a group of young churchgoers, definitely
not Registered Lobbyists, actively distributed leaflets
promoting their cause one of the activities that the homosexual
rights group had been informed was strictly forbidden!
I was wondering who decides which laws get enforced and
which laws get ignored in this building (wearing pins
or buttons is illegal, but that rule didn't seem to apply
to American flags; I speculated what would happen to a
person wearing an Afghan flag), when the crowd began rumbling.
The shiny, gold elevator doors parted, and out stepped
the Governor. Cameras flashed, and the crowd parted to
make way for him on his way through the rotunda to his
podium on the other side of the huge wooden doors. Then
a funny thing happened.
Governor Ryan walked past the demonstrators, all lined
up against the railing sporting their matching "Discrimination
NO House Bill 101 YES" T-shirts, and stopped. He
turned around, walked directly up to one beaming protester,
and shook his hand. The news cameras rolled as the Governor
of Illinois offered a few words of encouragement to a
young, gay man, and then continued on his way.
Goal: exposure. Mission accomplished. |
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