Scenes from an Extraordinary Session

I wandered about the New York State Capitol building for a few hours on November 10, 2009, before and during the Extraordinary Session of the New York State Legislature. I was even more smartly dressed than usual. I appeared to blend in well. I left before the Legislature passed the few bills it would pass during the Session. During my brief visit, this is what I saw.

For some reason I start on the 5th floor, I guess so I could wander my way down which seems easier than wandering up. The Capitol is very much like a maze, with twisty passages and rooms that sometimes seems slightly bigger from the inside than you'd think they “should” be from the outside. There's a lot of climbing up and down short staircases. The 5th floor is a little dingy, more dimly lit than you would expect.

There are several Senate Majority offices about, and one Senate Minority office, mostly different kinds of counsels. This implies lawyers, and there's a good amount of these offices, so that implies a lot of lawyers. This makes me think of how the Majority has hired outside counsel to manage the investigation into Senator Monserrate. They obviously have a lot of lawyers on payroll, and they can't all be that busy. They should use in-house counsel for the investigation.

Senator Neil Breslin has an office in the Capitol Building, as advertised on his official Senate website. This might imply that he, and Upstate, retain some influence in the New York City-dominated Democratic Conference. But what you can't see from the website is that Senator Breslin's office is off in a particularly dingy, dimly lit corner of the fifth floor, which is as I mentioned generally speaking dingy and dimly lit to begin with. Frankly, based on where his office is, Senator Breslin actually seems rather marginalized. Later on this afternoon, I'll come to see Senator Breslin, on the floor of the Senate and in the hallways outside the Chamber. He's confined to a wheelchair for some reason. Was there some news about him that I missed? Google searches tell me nothing. He seems unhappy.

In an amusing case of bad timing, Senate Elevator 3 is out of service. Senate Elevator 4 is manned by an elevator operator, whom I now know is the retiring “Sandy,” one of the last elevator operators at the Capitol. The Extraordinary Session marks her last day on the job. An era has ended.

I see someone on Sandy's elevator with two apparently identical Blackberries. Overkill much? Even assuming one is State-issued for State-business and the other is for political and personal business, wouldn't it be cheaper to the State to reimburse him for State business done on his personal Blackberry rather than buy him a second one? Does he ever confuse them and accidentally send a political E-Mail or two from his State Blackberry? Or perhaps they are both his, neither belonging to the State, and he just really, really likes Blackberries? There is no way to know.

I decide that I should not fret over how many Blackberries some random person has. I wander to the Senate, and I sit in the gallery and I look around at the magnificent chamber. Some of the Anti-Federalists, writing about the U.S. Senate, worried that it would maintain itself in “opulent splendor” on the public dime. I don't know if the New York State Senate Chamber qualifies as “opulent splendor,” but it's certainly something above nice. The Chamber looks very old, very historic. This is not the first time I've been in the Senate Chamber, I attended a couple of the Extraordinary Sessions during the coup period, but the effect hasn't worn off for me yet. Each time I see it I understand less and less how the Senators can sometimes behave so pettily. Just seeing this chamber makes me want to behave well, makes me want to impress the history that surrounds me. I can imagine many historic moments taking place in this chamber. I know all-too-well that pettiness and thuggery is part of the story of Albany as well; it always has been, and it always will be. I know this, but somehow, in the gallery looking down at the Senate Chamber, I can't imagine it.

I look over and see Senator Bonacic flirting with one of the female clerks, teasing her about her “science fiction” colored glasses (they are some kind of neon color). I shouldn't say he's flirting; I don't know his intent. He may just being friendly. But from my vantage point it looks like flirting, and whatever it is the girl doesn't appear to be enjoying it very much. She seems embarrassed, but she does put up with it well, giggling in a manner that to me sounds fake to me. But, again...Just like I can't know his intent, I can't know her feelings. I just describe what I see, as best I can.

I look at the staff of the Senate Republican Minority. They look lean, hungry, tired, defeated. Even a little scared. I wonder if a lot of them have been called to testify at the trial of former Majority Leader Bruno. I know some have, you see their names on the witness list.

Or perhaps they are just tired. It's likely been a long night. Because the Democratic Majority is so narrow, a few Republican votes can matter a lot, and hence the Minority staff is likely to be involved in the deficit reduction negotiations.

I see Senator Addabbo, who beat then-Senator Maltese to represent a district in Queens. From his look, I would think he was either a cop or a mob enforcer (the two types are physically similar, which I guess makes sense), not a Senator. I think perhaps he is an ex-cop, but his official biography says no. He seems to be a career politician.

To some that would sound like an insult I suppose, but I don't mean it that way. I don't mind the thought of career politicians. Max Weber wrote that politics is a vocation and calling, and if it's a vocation it can surely be a career.

Like Republican Senator Joseph Robach and Democratic Member of the Assembly Kenneth Zebrowski, Democratic Senator Addabbo is following in his father's footsteps; politics is the family business. All 3 of these families are thus contenders to join the long-standing New York tradition of political families and political dynasties. I don't mind dynasties, so long as the individual members of the dynasty are deserving. This has surely been the case with at least some of New York's dynasties, which include the Yates, Livingston, Jay, and Roosevelt families. It's easy to think of those people as being national figures, but they were all New Yorkers.

I wonder if the Robachs, the Zebrowskis, or the Addabbos will become New York State's next political dynasty. Or perhaps all 3 will.

I see Jim Odato, reporter for the Albany Times-Union, wander across the Senate floor. I hadn't realized reporters were allowed there. I have read that bloggers can supposedly get credentials now-a-days, I wonder if I should. Odato doesn't seem to be comfortable with the fact that people recognize him, which seems odd to me. More on that in a few paragraphs.

The gay marriage activists are out in force today. This is understandable. As I write this, 2 days after the Extraordinary Session, we know that they were to be disappointed; there was no vote on gay marriage on the 10th. But during the Session, none of us knows that yet.

Some of the activists remain out in the hallways, chanting slogans very loudly. Anywhere except the Senate Chamber, it's impossible to not hear them, and that's the point. Some of them file into the Senate Chamber, and during the Pledge of Allegiance they loudly over-emphasize “with liberty and justice for all,” their meaning clear. The gay marriage activists, though loud, are not disruptive. In video footage, I see them being more confrontational than I witnessed personally, but they still were not disruptive or violent. I think of how Senator Diaz has claimed activists “jammed” his phone and threatened his staff. I wonder if he was exaggerating or not.

I note the presence of Lieutenant Governor Richard Ravitch at the podium, fulfilling his Constitutional duty to preside over the State Senate. I note Temporary President Malcolm Smith sitting in “floor leader” chair. I hadn't expected this somehow. The Senate has 3 leaders at the moment, and it's hard to tell who does what. Somehow, though, I had expected to see Conference Leader John Sampson in the chair, but he deceptively sits like an ordinary member. Same with Majority Leader Pedro Espada. They all share some power, but, today at least, they allow Malcolm Smith the dignity of the spotlight.

The gay marriage activists appear to think that the issue of gay marriage will be dealt with as soon as the Senate gavels in, which is of course not the case. We endure many long minutes (20 or so, maybe more) of speeches honoring veterans, especially those who currently serve in the State Senate. Senator Eric Adams manages to work his support for gay marriage into his speech in a clever way. Honoring veterans is a noble cause to be sure, but it seems cruel to do it at the start of an Extraordinary Session with so many important issues are up for consideration. Eventually, the Senate goes “at ease” (basically meaning they are still in Session but there's nothing to do just now). The bills, they say, are being printed. After the bills are printed, they will, we are told, go through the Rules Committee or the Finance Committee first. Despite its name, which might imply that it deals with the Rules of the Senate, I know that the Rules Committee has broad jurisdiction and can deal with any matter the leader of the Senate deems appropriate. (For the moment there are at least 3 leaders of the Senate so I'm not sure how they manage that.) For a bill to go through Rules during the normal Sessions means it's on the fast track. And I have read that, in the waning days of a regular Session, when most important things go through, Rules and Finance are the only committees that meet regularly. Rules can meet several times a night during the final days of normal Session.

The activists in the gallery don't seem to know the process. I find this interesting; I wonder if it's the fault of college Political Science classes, not giving a practical enough political education, or perhaps the fault of whatever advocacy organization they are part of not informing them. I suppose it could be the fault of the Senate itself, but somehow I don't like to think of it that way. I expect legislatures to have seemingly-arcane rules, and I don't blame them for it

I leave the gallery foolishly thinking that a Rules Meeting might be imminent. If it is, I want to be sure I catch it, but it was not to be. Too bad, I was looking forward to seeing my first Rules Committee meeting.

I wander out into the lobby of the Senate; the location where, I have read, the term “lobbying” was supposedly coined. (I actually don't believe that story.) The couches are obscenely comfortable, even if they are ridiculously over-sized. You sink into them, like quicksand. I'm not an overly small man, and they surround me, envelop me. It's a very strange feeling, sinking into this big couch, surrounded by powerful people. The activists wander through the lobby on occasion. This seems appropriate, as in a sense they are lobbyists, they are just using different tools than we normally understand lobbyists to use. Placards and signs and demonstrations aren't allowed in the lobby, so they fold their signs in half, and wander through to get to the other side, then unfold the placard and resume demonstrating. Outside the lobby, where signs and placards are definitely allowed, the loud demonstrations continue. The sound of it echoes through the lobby. There is a State Police presence, but they don't interfere. Nothing illegal happens.

I see Senator Pedro Espada in the lobby, conversing with a group of people. I wander close, trying to hear (you can't possibly have an expectation of privacy having an open conversation in the lobby of the New York State senate), but between the loud roar of protests and the low drone of conventional lobbying there's too much ambient noise. I see the Senator straining to hear the voices of those to whom he's talking, so I know he's having trouble too. I note that he looks different than the other times I've seen him in-person. He seems tired, worn, a little hunted. Jet lag from Puerto Rico? Is the pressure finally getting to him, breaking through the frighteningly calm facade he likes to project?

I converse briefly with some lobbyists, because it seems I look like I might know what's going on. I am, after all, more smartly dressed than usual (did I mention that?). I explain what I know. I don't know how to describe myself. Do I pretend to be a lobbyist? Do I call myself a reporter? A blogger? Luckily it doesn't seem to come up. I find it odd that the lobbyists don't seem to know the process any better than the activists. And, again, I wonder if this is the fault of Political Science classes in college or of the organization not properly informing its employees. Or both. And then there's always that other possibility, that maybe parliamentary procedure could be a lot clearer than it is, and not something you'd have to become familiar with. That still feels unrealistic to me, but I need to keep it in mind.

My mind wanders a bit. I try, unsuccessfully, to overhear some random conversations. I wonder if real reporters will report what they hear in public conversations, or if this is considered taboo. Or perhaps they know that nothing of importance is ever discussed that openly. I'm not interested in "scoops," however, I just want to hear informal political discourse. I want to hear if these people use the same kind of language in informal political discourse as they do in speeches and the like.

I sink back down into the over-sized, overly comfortable couches in the Senate lobby. Senator Monserrate walks by. I jot down “it's funny seeing someone walk by whom you've advocated should resign.” I don't know if he notices me or not.

I see Fred Dicker of the New York Post, wandering around. He seems, oddly, to be in the same kind of confused fog that I and the lobbyists are in. I infer that he doesn't know what's going on either, and that he and I are in the same boat. I quickly jot this down. I am far from only one who notices Dicker. I take note of the others and wonder who they are. Do they think that Dicker knows what's going on, and that they can figure it out themselves by watching what he does and noticing who he speaks to?

Like Odato had earlier, Dicker seems nervous and suspicious that people know who he is, are noting his motions and trying to see where he may be going. Famous reporters, like Fred Dicker, Jim Odato, and Liz Benjamin are part of the story of Albany. They are not really neutral observers. Willingly or not, they have worked their way into life at the Capitol and are part of the story as much as tellers of the story. These people are often opinion makers as much as they are reporters, and are thus used by “sources” who wish to plant a story or two. Dicker's column in particular seems like a grand place to plant a story, and of late I can't help but notice how many of his stories are beneficial to Attorney General and apparent Gubernatorial hopeful Andrew Cuomo. It makes me wonder who his sources are, which of course is part of the point. To wonder about his sources I had to read the story to begin with, and that means I bought the paper or visited the website or both. The reporter gains a source, the sources gets the story planted, and we in the public “gain” juicy political gossip. Fred Dicker's targets, however, sometimes suffer, and not always justly. In my brief period “covering” State politics I've so far seen little in the way of concern on Dicker's part for his targets.

For the moment, however, Dicker is the target. He's been noticed, by multiple people, and he oddly enough doesn't seem to like it. Has he not realized after all these years that he is part of the story? That he's subject to scrutiny as much as the politicians are? Perhaps he hasn't. What about Odato? Benjamin? I make a note to later see if anything's been written about this, about the "reporter as story" phenomenon.

I wander to the Assembly side of the Capitol, which seems quiet and boring. Today at least, the upper house, which Political Science teaches us should be genteel and scholarly and collegial, is actually the nexus of activity and action. Some of this is doubtlessly due to the fact that the Assembly has already passed gay marriage, multiple times, and thus the activists are drawn to the Senate. But some of it must also be due to the way the Senate's ongoing implosion generates news, excitement, and activity.

I leave, convinced I've seen everything I can see for today. And besides, I have someplace to be.

The oddest thing about my afternoon at the State Capitol is that I almost feel more in-touch behind a computer, occasionally checking the blogs, than I do in the center of the action. Granted, information in the blogs is not always accurate, and can be out-of-date by the time it's uploaded (5 minutes or less after it was obtained, that's how fast things move around here). But is that any different from if I had sources of my own, telling me the same thing I'd have learned from some blog anyway, 5 minutes after I was told and 10 minutes after it was proven wrong or out-of-date?

But what I do not have is an excuse to be as smartly dressed.