The tree farmer from Virginia drove to the nation's capital with his wife two weeks ago, settled in a hotel room paid for by a lobbyist and spent a few extra minutes deciding which tie to wear the next day.
John Burke was a witness -- a Washington witness. When morning came, he reconsidered his tie choice, opting for one with a black and gold pattern, then went to Capitol Hill. From his reserved seat, he watched carefully as two dozen members of Congress grilled the undersecretary for natural resources about restoring money for a forestland conservation program.
James Warren, left, David Wilson and Marie deYoung are sworn in before testifying to a House committee about Halliburton Co. in Iraq.
(James A. Parcell -- The Washington Post)
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The 50-year-old tree farmer, coached but still a bit nervous, was third in line for the spotlight. "I was trying to gauge whether I was going to get questions like that," he said later.
At the hearing, held before the House Committee on Agriculture, Burke served the role of ordinary witness for his pet cause: trees. Burke, a lawyer who manages 2,000 acres of pine and hardwood in Woodford, about an hour south of Richmond, became another voice in the process of governing.
On any given day when Congress is in session, a dozen committees can meet to investigate wrongdoing, oversee government departments, check up on federal laws and solicit opinions on legislation. Burke and others like him play a crucial role in the sometimes enlightening, sometimes numbingly tedious process by which government exercises oversight.
The arrival of an ordinary witness in Washington is usually the result of careful choreography, a selection process that combines old-fashioned offerings from interest groups and high-tech Internet searches with studious vetting. Some are coached; others know their lines from the start. All end up in a stiff-backed chair subject to a chairman's gavel and a host of rules of engagement, their experiences differing vastly, depending on the subject.
"I've seen little old ladies get very nice treatment, and I've seen little old ladies get very rough treatment," said Rep. John D. Dingell of Michigan, the ranking Democrat on the House Committee on Energy and Commerce and its former chairman.
Before Burke sat in the witness chair, he was told to pay attention to a small digital clock that limited his time to speak. When it was his turn, he forgot to turn on the microphone. A staff member flipped the switch. As the clock's light kicked from green to yellow but before it turned red, Burke made all his major points:
That family-owned forestland like his helps protect watersheds and wildlife. That America is losing 1.5 million acres of forestland each year. That tree farmers need the funding from the conservation program to better protect, restore and manage their land.
"There's a certain amount of healthy nervousness," Burke said, describing the hours of preparation for five minutes of testimony. "You have to have a certain amount of anxiety to be on."
Hearings can range from highly political to unusually bipartisan, as was the case with Burke's hearing, where members on both sides of the aisle fought the administration's attempt to shrink a program funded by Congress. At other times, the points made by a witness are casualties of the verbal dueling between members.
James Warren, a truck driver from Rutherfordton, N.C., didn't do much to prepare for a recent hearing on contracting in Iraq. The former driver for Kellogg, Brown & Root showed up in short sleeves and khakis, with this goal: to prove that trucks aren't being maintained properly, that money is being wasted and that lives are at risk.
But the House Committee on Government Reform had other plans. In between shuffling notes and coming and going in mid-testimony, the members accused one another of playing politics. The trucker was caught in the crossfire over Halliburton Co., the KBR parent formerly run by Vice President Cheney.
Nobody seemed very interested in discussing truck maintenance.
