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 hen
last we looked, a pack of devious state legislators hoped to pass
a state income tax for Tennessee, one of a handful of states without
that onerous levy. The schemers were lying low, like the dogs they
are, waiting for the right moment to pounce. They thought it had
come last week. They were wrong.
The pro-tax
forces have been kept in abeyance by a coalition of talk-show radio
hosts, political opponents, and howling citizens, the latter having
mastered the art of intimidating representatives by surrounding
the capital at voting time. Many drive around the legislative square
blowing their horns. Others attack on foot, making their way into
the galley and glaring daggers into the quaking pols. In one earlier
instance, a mob stormed the premises, causing such a shock that
some legislators had to be carted away in ambulances.
It is all a
very beautiful thing.
We pick up
the story last Thursday evening. Nashville talk-show host Phil Valentine,
a relentless foe of the proposed tax, was doing a remote broadcast
15 miles south of town when he got a call from state senator Marsha
Blackburn. The schemers, Blackburn reported, had lined up enough
votes to pass the tax (already approved by the House). A vote was
set for 6:30.
Valentine immediately
sounded the alarm, advising those who oppose the tax to head for
the capital and start raising hell. He would meet them there.
"I got
within about 2 miles of the place and the roads and streets were
jammed," Valentine said. "I had to get out and walk the
rest of the way." Citizens were chanting, singing the national
anthem, and blowing their car and truck horns. Gridlock commenced
when some protesters abandoned their cars. By vote time, about a
thousand highly hacked citizens were in full cry. Suddenly, the
authorities arrived in force — and in riot gear.
"It was
bizarre," Valentine says. "These were citizens opposing
an unconstitutional income tax. At about 6:45 the police descended.
They started dragging soccer moms out of their cars and handcuffing
them. They gave out tickets to people for blowing their horns. They
gave citations for disorderly conduct. They tried to keep citizens
out of the gallery — though when a lobbyist or state employee with
a pro-tax button showed up, they got escorted in."
But the mob
would not be intimidated. Some members began banging on windows
— at least a couple of which were broken, including one at the governor's
reception area (apparently by a stone). Harrowing howls filled the
air. "It was mayhem," says Valentine.
Inside, legislators
began to sweat. Their brains trembled. Their resolve melted. State
Senator Bob Rochelle, a proponent of the tax, had apparently believed
his years-long mission to pass a state tax had come. The introduction
of mayhem destroyed his dream. His majority headed for the tall
grass. All he could muster was a yes vote on a "bare-bones"
budget increase of 5.2 percent — Governor Don Sundquist wanted a
9.7 percent increase. Sundquist can now either veto the budget,
approve it, or let it sit for ten days, after which time it goes
into automatic effect.
The governor
was clearly not pleased, and issued an official condemnation: "I
appreciate the right of all Americans to free speech and peaceful
protest. I do not, however, approve of those who advocate violence
and I regret that happened tonight. I am particularly critical of
some radio talk show hosts and at least one legislator who encouraged
disruptive behavior and destructive acts."
This in turn
drew a sharp rebuke from Valentine. "Since I was the only talk-show
host there, I assume he's talking about me. Since he didn't name
names, I guess I have no legal recourse. But it's quite irresponsible
to say what he said. In no way did we incite violence. In his usual
fashion, the governor is lying again."
Valentine does
admit that things got a bit out of hand. "On my broadcasts
I urged restraint and said that anyone who struck a policeman was
going to have to answer personally to me. And while I regret the
broken window in the reception area, it was apparently caused by
a very small rock." The real scandal, he says, was in the treatment
of protesters. "I have seen the marks on people's wrists from
the handcuffs. Police were threatening people walking on street
with arrest. That's ironic because just a few weeks ago the Fraternal
Order of Police staged massive public protests to demand a pay raise.
But when it comes to regular citizens, they get cuffed for doing
the same thing."
The horns have now gone silent in Nashville, giving way to the pleasant
sounds emitting from the town's honky-tonks and listening rooms.
State residents have been spared the imposition of yet another tax
on their incomes. This is the sort of thing that can give political
activism a good name.
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