Overnight at the Capitol protest

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I had wanted to "be part of history" --to spend a night with protesters at the Capitol building.  So last Wednesday night, when I got a robocall during supper from a labor group, asking for people to go to the Capitol right away--I wolfed down my supper and got my gear together.

I wasn't sure of the "accommodations."   But I decided to travel light.  I put most of my essentials in two big, button-down shirt pockets--snacks, toothbrush, I-pod, flashlight for reading, cell phone, meds, etc.

And--of course--a thermarest mattress.

Background

I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get in--I'd heard rumors of people being let in windows.  But when I arrived about 8:00 pm, the first door I approached was open an unguarded.  I walked right in, and then up to the third floor, outside the Assembly Chamber.  That's where the action was to be, Thursday morning.

The bill stripping public employees of their collective bargaining rights had just passed the Senate on Wednesday afternoon.  At first, the loss of rights was part of the Budget Bill--the Governor claiming this was necessary to balance the budget.  But that move was stalled by Democrats when they left town, denying the Republicans the quorum they needed to pass the Budget in the Senate.  (Financial bills require a quorum, but non-financial bills don't.)

So on Wednesday, the Governor changed tactics--taking the loss of rights out of the budget bill so it wouldn't need a quorum.  The loss of rights swiftly passed the Senate late Wednesday.  The Republican majority then rushed the bill to the Assembly, to pass it on Thursday.

My strategy was to be there overnight, so I would be sure to be inside the Capitol when the Assembly voted on Thursday.  At least I'd be able to look the weasels in the eye, as they came into the Assembly chamber, and say "Shame!"

Inside were thousands of protesters--energetic and upbeat.  Long banners with slogans were hanging from the balconies.  People were chanting and beating on drums or plastic tubs.  Everything echoed around the great dome, reverberating back in a great jumble of sound.  The chanted slogans reverberated with energy, but you couldn't really tell what the words were.  Some of the most popular chants were.

• This is what democracy looks like.
• Our house! Our house! Our house!...
• Kill the bill, kill the bill...

People smiled when they saw my air mattress, under my arm.

Soon I discovered that a group of about a hundred determined folks were gathering in the ante-room to the Assembly Chamber.  They were planning to sit in--hoping to block or slow down access of Assemblymen in the morning.  Or at least mount a nearby vocal opposition to the proceedings. 

I decided I didn't want to get arrested, as people in the anteroom were planning to do.  So I watched from outside.  Pizza from Ian's was arriving in small piles of boxes at unpredictable intervals.  I was tempted... some people outside the room were intercepting the pizzas before they got inside.  But I decided those folks would need their pizza, and abstained.  Inside the anteroom, it was very hot and humid.  It was  going to be a long night there.  Several drummers created a din, when they could summon more energy.

As the evening wore on, people gradually drifted out of the Capitol.  Imperceptibly, quiet descended, and people staked out quiet corners.   By about 2:00 am, the chanting had stopped.

There are hundreds of nooks and crannies in that great building.

Some nurses nearby were trying to hang on.  One told me she had been up for about 20 hours.  She had arrived after her shift had ended in the afternoon.  Another said she normally worked nights, so she was wide awake.

About 1:00 AM, I ran into an old friend.  She was a nurse, arriving in her scrubs after her shift ended at St. Mary's.  She looked tired, but game to lend her support for an hour.

The wee hours

Traveling light, I hadn't brought my camera.  A friend, David Tenenbaum, lent me his pocket camera as he left.  But I didn't know how to use it, as you can see from the photos here.

Someone came around, passing out blankets.  About 400 people slept over--but in a building that size, it was no crowd (except in the anteroom).  There was plenty of room to spare.  Each little blind ally had two or three people stretched out.  Most seemed to sleep very well and comfortably.  Some had been there for a number of nights.

But I didn't sleep much.  I had too many clothes on--and it was a strange environment.  I wondered what was going on around me.   Every ten minutes or so, a patrol of two or three officers would walk by.

Towards morning, the temperature dropped to about 65 degrees.  There were strange sounds--something like a muffled, rising throng of voices... or maybe just trash bins on wheels being pushed about by the janitors.  As those bins roll along the halls, they sound like a rising cheer.  It raised my goose bumps several times, as I remembered the din from the aroused crowd the night before.  There's something primeval-- something that makes your pulse pound, when you heard the impassioned voice of tens of thousands.  The will of the people aroused-- or trash on the move--I wasn't sure which.

Officers came around and asked us to leave--to go down to lower levels.  I hadn't made up my mind, but I refused.  They said:  "That's OK for now.  But later, you won't have a choice."  They were polite.

My favorite scene, as dawn arrives. 

Sleeping on used pizza boxes, while a marble eagle keeps watch.

Later in the morning, the voice of the people did start to make itself heard above the muffled pulse of a waking Capitol.  About 8:00 AM, fresh protesters began to gather outside and to chant--but now they were locked out.  Suddenly, a large number of officers, State Patrol and Capitol Police, arrived and formed a line in front of the Assembly Chamber.  Luckily, I had just placed some signs along the wall inside the line.

Police were also stationed at the bottom of the stairs.  Now it was just a few hundred of us on the third floor, to give the Republican assemblymen a piece of our mind.  Just then, a group of three women arrived.  They said they had just managed to sneak into the Capitol.

People below began to pass up supplies, around the barrier of police at the bottom of the stairs.  Several large plastic bins of food came up the stairs, to the sound of cheers.  Chants: "Let the people in!"  Boxes of Pizza were passed up.  I had a slice, and saved the empty box.

The line of officers in front of the Assembly hall was impressive--but they were good natured.  Some of the protesters were talking to them.  I asked one to sign my Ian's pizza box, as a souvenir.  I said: "Go down in history--sign your name.  A hundred years from now, this may be displayed in a museum."  He said: "I'm not supposed to take sides."  I said: "You're not taking sides--just saying you were here."  He smiled, but didn't sign.

Some of the slogans on my pizza box

• This is what democracy tastes like.
• Power to the Pizza.

Three-year-old Caroline signed with a squiggle.

The mood began to heat up, with more and more chanting.  There were nearly as many media people as protesters.  The Democratic Minority Leader arrived and negotiated with police, to get some demonstrators into the Assembly Chamber, but with no success.  He gave an interview to the media, requesting silence from the protesters, who accommodated him.

Finally, camera flashes popped inside the ante room.  The protesters there were trying to block the entrance to the Assembly hall.  Pairs of officers dragged limp protesters out of the anteroom, and deposited them gently beyond the police lines, as the crowd chanted "Shame... Shame... Shame,"  or "The whole world is watching."  About 50 or more people were dragged out, swelling our numbers.

It was now about 11:00 am, time for the Assembly to begin session.  I never saw the Republican assemblymen arrive.   It turns out that Badgers can't look these weasels in the eye.

People were checking their twitter feeds, and I had several calls from Liz, telling me what was going on outside.  But if there was chanting nearby, then I couldn't hear a thing on the phone.   Liz told me that students were marching from East and West high schools towards the Capitol.  It was encouraging.

Some Republican assemblymen weren't allowed into the Capitol by the police.  A nice move!   But I heard it happened because assemblymen were being ushered into the Capitol via a subsurface passageway.  Apparently the ones that tried to get in though the regular doors at the Capitol weren't "with the program."

In any case, some time after 11:00 AM, the Assembly did begin session, and by afternoon, had rubber stamped the despised bill, stripping public employees of most collective bargaining rights.

The excuse-- "a budget emergency."  But this has never been about the budget.  It's a stealth attack on the working class by the rich--the opening shot in real class warfare.  If there's a budget emergency, why did Governor Scott Walker cut some taxes for the rich, as one of his first acts in office?

A sleeping giant has been aroused.

I noticed the number of people inside was slowly increasing.  Someone told me people were now being slowly let into the Capitol through screening.  So I figured my job was done (for now), and went home.  I was very tired, and my voice froggy from so much chanting.  Outside, thousands were gathering at one entrance, or picketing on the sidewalks or in the blocked street around the Capitol.

See all the photos here.