I ran around the Capitol like a maniac. That's what they must have thought of me.
I really did back then. I was determined to get to as many places in the one shot I'd been given, in the one day that my union had paid for, several times a year.
I never did get everywhere I wanted to go. But as I went, I loved every single minute of it.
My fellow NEA Directors from Wisconsin probably shook their heads. They were all seeing more than one legislator, sure. But no one had my agenda--to see if I could see them all in one day.
Was it selfish? Yes, in a way. After all, I had been elected and I wanted to be re-elected. To do that, you have to distinguish yourself in a way that people can see is helpful or beneficial, that you can return to report that you have done so that they know their dues dollars were spent well and relatively efficiently. And once I got there, I wanted one thing: To return for a second term (though we were termed out after that).
I got tired, yes. You quickly learn that the Capitol is a big, big place and people don't just automatically connect with each other. It takes time, often the whole day, if you have a broad agenda.
But the more I did it, the more I wanted to do it. There were two reasons: One, so that all Wisconsin members of Congress knew that, at least a few times a year, they'd get a visit from a teacher--granted, one from an interest group that was considered as powerful as any in the state. But they all needed a face put to it. At least, that's what I thought at the time.
Some of the legislators brushed us off, sending staffers to listen to us tokenly, maybe write down a couple of things, and probably then ignore us or file us in a place they'd vaguely remember when we'd return a few months later. Some genuinely yelled at us, worn out at the game-playing, that no matter what they did, they were the members of the opposite party and would never get our recommendation.
That was true. Because they were of that persuasion, they would never go far enough in our direction to get an endorsement. I'm sure it was frustrating. But it was the reality. They learned to tune us out.
Some of them did try to cooperate, to give us valuable information and, once in a long while, to support our position with a vote. But they never got what they were looking for at the other end: Our stamp of approval and our money. We kept asking for our cake and eating it, too. I'm quite sure they thought of us as arrogant.
We weren't, at least not as people; I never acted snooty. But it was. That is the power of an interest group. It represents people with similar feelings about things. It represents voters.
I knew that. I had studied it in college. And here I was, fulfilling the meaning of those studies by representing one of them that could make a real difference.
Becoming a teacher was a good reason to go to college. Now I had another one. It felt wonderful. It felt like America, where some kid from little Grafton, Wisconsin could walk the halls of Congress. It felt like a privilege.
Even those convincingly on our side didn't always like it. "Legalized bribery!" Dave Obey of the 7th District kept shouting (not an exaggeration; he really did shout that at us, among other things). We had our forms to fill out, even though he'd done it a bunch of times. He had to answer the same questions for one election campaign after another, and in the House of Representatives, of course, you have to run every two years.
But we had to be sure he hadn't changed his mind about supporting us. It was a pain for them. But we had our jobs to do. And we knew we weren't the only interest group they would see.
There are thousands of them in America, of course. That's how you organize in the big town: You represent. Nobody has all that much time. Nobody can give you all that much access. You take what you can get, and walking in just representing yourself puts you at the end of a long line. You can do it, but it's a big country. Take a number.
I was paid by union dues to do what I did, yes, and I got dressed up for the occasion. It was an honor. You think about who you're representing, back in their classrooms, trying however they can to deliver a good education to the masses. There was nothing rich about me, and there never has been. But neither would I dress down to show someone how poor and destitute I was. Neither would I paint my face red, white and blue and wear horns. That would be a complete lack of respect.
At no time, in no way, did I or anyone else I knew there feel like walking in and tearing the place apart, to put my feet on the desk of any Congressperson, not to mention the Speaker. That would be sacreligious. That would be ignorant of the process. That would be stupid and insulting for no reason. It would be anarchy. It would be the opposite of what everything meant.
That's the tragedy of what happened Wednesday. In the name of one person, and one person only, who would never reciprocate (and didn't; you recall him saying to the crowd "I'll be there with you," but of course he only meant that figuratively; he wouldn't have the guts or energy to face legislators himself), and never cared about anything but himself, five people are now dead. The people's house is wrecked. And for what?
They didn't go there to lobby. They didn't go there to meet their representatives, who were behind closed doors for exactly the reason revealed, to go to the otherwise pro forma task of authorizing the presidential election, one that was unjustly and ridiculously challenged, and attempted to be undermined (and which, in no small way, egged on the rioters). They went there because they didn't think anything mattered.
They went there to blow up the electoral, the democratic, process, and failed because Congress returned to finish the job the very same day. They wanted that building to be reduced to the sad, pathetic lives they were living. They did it under the directive of the worst possible person to be our president.
I was genuinely offended by what I saw. I had done what a good citizen should do back then, and with respect. Bad citizens exist, sure, but wrecking that building would accomplish what, revenge? Revenge for what? Did they think people inside wished them badly? Really? Then there's a disconnect that needs to be fixed.
As a former lobbyist, performing my tasks with respect and often admiration for those with whom I communicated, I feel betrayed. As a citizen, I feel betrayed because from now on, should I choose to re-enter that building, the level of trust extended to me will automatically be reduced. And as a human being, living in a country which, to this point, could pride itself as being what Steve Schmidt last night called the "miracle" of representative democracy, I feel betrayed.
But it's hardly the fault of the people inside. And normally, it's open for anyone to visit their member of Congress. That's what it's supposed to be there for.
And it has an excellent, recently refurbished Visitor's Center, too. It's impressive. If you don't feel like wrecking it.
Yeah, I ran around like a maniac back in those days, twenty years ago. But I was the kind of maniac that's often seen there--determined, purposeful, and genuinely informative and seeking information (because that's the essence of lobbying, the sharing of information), someone in a hurry for all kinds of good reasons. Not the real maniacs, the idiots, the pathetic, low-class, disgusting bottom feeders somehow proud of it, filled with self-pity and unjustified resentment, that trashed the Capitol Wednesday.
I want nothing to do with them or with anyone who supports them, certainly not limited to the trashing that took place and those that did it. I mean this. If you think any of this was a good idea, I'm done with you. This is my country and I happen to care about it. Even if you don't.
I want the perps arrested and convicted for vandalism, at the very least. I want them to pay--for those who preceded them and will succeed them, who really do the people's business, who want America to be, again, a great nation. And I want the murderers of the Capitol policeman who has just died to be brought to justice. Though they will take several months, arrests of the insurrectionists have already begun.
Otherwise, we have all been reduced to thuggery. Our very society is now at risk. We must rebuild. Teachers like me still need to go to Washington, be awed, and yet do their business. But the atmosphere must be rendered safe to do so.
January 20 comes none too fast, but there might also be a time problem in cleaning up the security issues. Some of the insurrectionists had lead pipes and pipe bombs; next time their efforts will be at least doubled. They are domestic terrorists and need to be treated as such. They are not citizens in the true meaning of the word. They seek to destroy. They want to overthrow our system. They cannot be tolerated.
Some of them will get away with this. But many will not. They think this is all a joke. It'll be on them.
We'll probably survive this January 20. But next January 20 might be another issue, when the initial problem calms down and it looks like it can go back to normal. But as with the pandemic, it will be a new normal. Memories last long. This can't happen again. We have all lost.
Be well. Be careful. Wear a mask. One day closer to a vaccine. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.
Mister Mark
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