By Dana Milbank
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
House Republicans can't seem to make up their minds.
Eighteen times over the past 90 days, the minority tried, unsuccessfully, to force the House to adjourn. Now the House has finally adjourned -- for a five-week recess, no less -- and Republicans are demanding that the chamber be called back into session.
On Friday and again yesterday, they opened the doors to the darkened House chamber and invited tourists wearing shorts and sandals to sit in the members' chairs. The microphones, lights and cameras were off. The speaker's chair was empty. But, hour after hour, the Republican lawmakers stood in the well and cursed the darkness.
"The lights are dimmed, the cameras are off," Rep. Tom Price (R-Ga.) observed, accurately.
"The lights are not on, and the microphones are not on," concurred Rep. Marilyn Musgrave (R-Colo.).
"The electricity's cut off," deduced Rep. Wally Herger (R-Calif.).
"What we simply ask," said Rep. Mike Conaway (R-Tex.) "is for the speaker to turn those lights on."
Evidently, they didn't need to ask House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. While Rep. Tom Cole (R-Okla.) was speaking, somebody found a light switch and brightened the chamber a bit. "My God, there's been a surge in power," the lawmaker exclaimed.
But even under the lights, dimness prevailed.
The Republicans put the "rump" into rump session yesterday. Democrats, when they were in the minority, also played House from time to time with phony hearings and debates. But the current effort (blessed by the GOP leadership, the rebels vow to keep at it all week, if not longer) has turned into a sort of 19th-century telethon, as lawmakers, denied C-SPAN or even live microphones, find new meaning in playing to the gallery.
"Contact the speaker," Price exhorted the tourists in tank tops and sunglasses. "You all got a pen, a piece of paper? "202-224-3121. 202-224-3121."
Price and 17 colleagues kicked off yesterday's event with a news conference outside the House chamber, underneath a statue of Will Rogers. It was a fitting spot, for they seemed determined to prove one of the late Oklahoma humorist's best lines: "I don't make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts."
"It's time for Congress to go to work!" demanded Rep. Price -- the same Tom Price who, when Congress was busily working this spring, offered one of the many motions to adjourn.
The Republican beef: that Congress left town without authorizing offshore oil drilling. Problem is, while Congress did nothing about fuel prices, the average price of a gallon of gas fell 23 cents over the past month -- evidence, critics might say, that Congress should do nothing more often.
There were only 23 tourists in the gallery, along with a cop talking about his jogging routine, when Republicans began their session yesterday with a news conference underneath the watchful eye of the statue of Rogers.
"Call the House of Representatives back in session," Price demanded.
"Bring this Congress back to Washington," seconded Rep. Mike Pence (R-Ind.).
"Congress needs to come back in," echoed Rep. Marsha Blackburn (R-Tenn.). For emphasis, Blackburn carried a red plastic gas can. To burn down the Capitol? "Empty," she assured.
The rump legislators lacked the services of the House chaplain, so Rep. Gresham Barrett (R-S.C.) delivered the opening prayer, which competed with the sound of a police radio. Then they pledged allegiance to the dimly lighted flag over the empty speaker's chair. "We hope this will be an enlightening activity and also a rally . . . for an up-or-down vote," Price announced.
The result was more rally than enlightenment. Pence, taking his turn at the lectern, adjusted the non-functioning microphone out of habit. "This is the people's house, and the people's voice will still be heard this day." Some people's voices more than others: Within an hour, Pence had already returned to give a second speech.
With no clerk to keep time or opposition to object, the rump lawmakers were generous in assigning themselves floor time. Before a long speech, Rep. Lynn Westmoreland (R-Ga.) told the crowd that Republicans had accepted Pelosi's flippant recommendation that they "use their imagination" to get a vote on oil drilling. "We're using our imagination," he said.
Some imaginations got carried away. Rep. Donald Manzullo (R-Ill.) compared himself and his colleagues to Sir Thomas More and John Quincy Adams. "The very foundation of our government is at stake," he said.
Other imaginations turned inward. Barrett, the stand-in House chaplain, apologized for all the times he refused to come to the House floor to make a speech. "I'm sorry, because all of a sudden when I want to show up, somebody says 'you can't.' "
Rep. Phil Gingrey (R-Ga.), a gynecologist by training, paced the floor in his seersucker suit and urged the tourists in the gallery to "come down here and get a little closer and get a feel for what it's like." Among those who accepted the invitation were a boy asleep on his mother's shoulder and a girl bouncing in her seat and playing with her headband. In the front row, Blackburn turned to the tourist next to her and gave a cheerful "Where ya from?"
The tourists, in turn, became participants. When Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio) spoke, somebody in the gallery hollered "Louder!" When John Kline (R-Minn.) tried to convince the tourists that they were "part of an historic moment on an historic day at a historic time," a skeptic in the gallery called out, "Sure."
Clearly, the tourists required a higher grade of entertainment, and Rep. Steve King (R-Iowa) provided it. He brought a giant photograph of a grinning Nancy Pelosi onto the floor -- a crucial prop for what King called "this historic debate."
That might be a stretch. But Will Rogers would have liked it.
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