Even after the deceitful tricknology of last evening's procedural charade foisted by Walker's Republicans on the great state of Wisconsin, I awoke today feeling ever more fortified to continue my work at rallies and recall drives. Yes, I felt depressed as I drank my morning coffee and thought about life in these United States, but I found deep within a renewed conviction towards political activism. Sure, I've always voted, donated to causes when it seemed essential, and engaged in the ubiquitous clicktivism of web campaigns, but this is different. Something shifted inside. A concerned citizen is now an actively engaged citizen. And I'm clearly not alone in this conversion.
At 9:00 a.m. I drove down to the Milwaukee County Courthouse, where a rally was gathering. The courthouse looms over cement fields in ugly antipathy to Madison's elegant State Capitol. It is a rude and inhospitable place, a monolithic testament to the functionaries of bureaucracy. There were about sixty people already assembled in front of the building. We chanted the usual chestnuts, banged our drums, waved our signs. I have a particularly loud rattle that adds strong rhythmic punctuation to the proceedings; interactivity is always essential for one's engagement and enjoyment.
There was news that Scott Walker was in the District State Office nearby. At 9:15 we marched the few blocks, entered the blue glass building, went up five floors, and ended up in a small tiled antechamber in front of the Office of the Governor. Walker was said to be in a meeting inside. The grim masses of civic architecture had dwarfed our group outside, but inside it was a different story. We were a huge crowd for this modest space. We chanted, drummed, rattled, sang and made impromptu short statements. The hard surfaces of the space amplified our sound, and it was loud! TV crews were present, and an imposing and implacable policeman stood guard at the glass door in front of us, assuring us that no one would enter. The cop intrigued me, and at one point I called for silence and praised his patience and forbearance, mentioning how incredible the policemen in Wisconsin were. Everyone clapped and gave him the "thank-you" chant. He stood impassively, but I could see a softening of his response.
Around 10:00, a police woman came up and asked me who was in charge. No one was - certainly not me - but I'm beginning to feel a veteran of these events and told her that I would try to help her with her concerns. She wanted us to leave the closed-in hallway, because the noise was bothering other workers in the building. We chatted for a while (amidst a cacophony of chants) and I was going to suggest that if she would give us 5 more minutes I would try to convince the group to move downstairs, when a cry arose behind me. There was Scott Walker, coming out of the glass door under armed guard. He ducked down a long hallway and we rushed to approach. The policemen (two now) wouldn't let us pass into the hallway, which was fine. A roar of shouts and chants chased our Impervious Imperial Governor down the hall. It was an absolutely amazing sonic experience; sound spatialized into a linear audio assault, waves of sound almost visibly careening against the gleaming hard-surfaced hall. Not that it will make any difference, but I dare say that this time Scott Walker heard us.
As we dispersed, the policewoman thanked me and shook my hand. I thanked her. I shook hands with the policeman on duty at the door, and he thanked me, too. He commented that "we were loud, but he totally understood why, and that we were respectful, which is important." He warned me that we need to always be mindful regarding violence, because that is what "they" want to happen. I asked him if he had been to Madison, and he said, "yeah, six times." I said "we're all in this together," and he said "you got that right."
It was reported that Walker was going out to State Fair Park, to another meeting. Many from our crowd headed out that way. Walker is not going to get too much peace in the next few years, at least until his recall. I'm sure he'll get a cushy job out of this in his future, but I sure wouldn't want to be him. I thought of the times that I've been kayaking in Lake Michigan, and have gotten too close to a particular seagull rookery. Those angry birds dive straight for your head. They can get pretty close to you, screaming their ornitho-epithets, and they can sure make you want to get away fast.