Seeing Alito: the other story on the confirmation hearings

Though by Alito may have already been subject to his up or down vote by the time this story gets read, the tale of the behind the scenes things that only the political junkies care about still prevails. This is the fix for us DC-junkies that snatch up commentary from Nina Totenburg about the commerce clause, or listen to Tim Russert’s wailings with not-feigned interest.

It was an overcast day in Washington. It threatened rain all day, but the clouds seemed to vacillate on deciding what to do. It was also the third day in the Alito confirmation hearing on Capitol Hill. Since I was home for the break and had nothing better to do, I decided to witness history in the making.

I had planned on hearing oral arguments at the neighboring Supreme Court that day anyhow, on my power tour of DC, but after a late start and delays on the metro, I missed the chance to see Justice O’Connor in the last of her days at court. So why not check on the potential replacement for her?

The Capitol Hill complex of buildings is actually quite massive; it’s a sprawling city of its own with its own underground tunnels, trains, not to mention its own closed road system. The hearings themselves were being held in the Hart building, which is the farthest from the Capitol itself, within sight of Union Station. The newest of the Congressional buildings, it has a polished look to it. Though architecturally blockish like many of its neighbors, the inside features a towering metal sculpture that reaches towards the top of the atrium. Room SH-216 was where the hearings have been held, but I first needed to get a ticket to get into the hearing.

At 2:30, I approached the white ticket distribution tent, which I affectionately (and creatively) named the Little White Tent. I walked up and asked the Congressional aide for a ticket. “The earliest I have for right now is 5:00,” he said. I had misjudged the interest in this; there were other political-junkies that had beat me to the punch today. I acquiesced in a tired way and shuffled off to do a walking tour of places in DC I hadn’t frequented yet.

There was the Library of Congress, which is actually spread out over three buildings. The Jefferson building, which is named after the donor of the first set of books that started the Library has a series of exhibits on Americana as well as a large giftshop, a truly American touch.

There also was the newest addition to the mall in the Smithsonian museums repertoire: the Museum of the American Indian. It’s a glorious form of architecture, complete with earth tone walls, fountains that add that great background sound as you walk by and a prism in the atrium that casts a lovely rainbow on the floor as you walk in; on this day, the constipated clouds above did not afford such a greeting on the floor.

After regaling in these lovely attractions, I came back to the Little White Tent. I stood behind an African-American woman and her children and someone who I later found out was her boyfriend. “So you for or against Alito?” she asked me, looking me straight in the eyes as I sidled up behind her. I admit I was a bit taken back by the directness of her question. Most people at least say hi, or comment on the weather before going straight to politics, even in DC.

I said that I wasn’t quite sure yet, but based on what I knew I didn’t think I would support him.

“Good. I don’t either. I’ve had some run-ins with him as well as some of my friends.” I nodded and before I could ponder or even ask what the nature of such run-ins were, she continued on.

“I’m down here with my family today. We’ve been handing out flyers all day and I’m glad we’ve finally had the chance to go and watch the hearing.” I mumbled something encouraging, asking why she didn’t like Judge Alito. Ms. Philadelphia, as I will call her, went on to describe three unpublished opinions. One regarding pro hac vice rules for appearing in court, another regarding pensions, and another she was not able to tell me about, as we were moved towards the Hart building.

Ms. Philadelphia proudly pointed at her children, saying it was important for them to see such an important part of our system at work. Her boyfriend made no comments as we moved up the steps and into the building. I thanked Ms. Philadelphia and went through the security checkpoint. I wanted to talk to her more. Ask her why she was so vehemently opposed to this man. Ask her about her life and what her dreams was. Though she had majored in education, why did she think that the only way to change society was by going to law school?

But, we got separated at the line and sat in different parts of the hearing room.

The room is impressive when you first walk in. CSPAN does it no justice at all. The entire wall behind the senators is made of marble, with the Senate seal displayed prominently high up. A block is missing from the wall though to make room for a camera that can fix upon the testifying parties and the audience. But beyond the fixtures of the room, there is most noticeably a buzz. It’s the media which outnumber the casual audience and the Senate aides even who are trying to talk to the senators or each other.

And there’s definitely the whispered conversations that people notice. What is Sen. Leahy saying to Sen. Specter and actually chuckling about? How are the two otherwise-rivals actually finding something funny to talk about?

We were lucky in walking in during a recess. So, it was a chance to get our bearings and look around and see the casual things like Sen. Kennedy blow his nose or the cameramen play with different shots. They have two large screen televisions in the room also, broadcasting CSPAN live with the closed caption on. I didn’t understand the reason until the hearings resumed later: the microphones are simply too soft. Though we could hear mostly what was said, the shuffling and moving about in the cavernous room caused some swiveling of the heads to the CSPAN screens, which blessedly were running a few seconds behind in their close caption production.

Us people in the back strained to see Alito, but we could at most times only see the back of his balding head. He courteously turned his body to face the senator that was addressing him as he was being asked questions though and spoke confidently as he was grilled about executive powers, the establishment clause and even a note he wrote in law school. If this tells you anything, it’s the high scrutiny that these nominees must endure on minutiae of their life that others would have normally dismissed or forgotten.

After about forty-five minutes, it was over. Various senators had been slipping out as the day grew longer. Most disappointingly, the Democratic half of the hearing table was empty; Sen. Feinstein had a doctors appointment apparently, and the other senators were not accounted for. The Republican side had most present to the very end.

I walked out of the room and back into the cool and now dark streets of Washington. Ms. Philadelphia trounced off with her entourage in tow, perhaps ready to do more flyering or ready to get back to Philadelphia. Though exciting to have been in the presence of such a talked-about event, I felt somewhat let down. I’m not saying I expected Alito or Sen. Specter to have come over to me and ask me about Youngstown, but I thought I would have gained some great insight into the political system.

And as I watched Ms. Philadelphia turn the corner ahead of me, I did have something come to mind. How could these people who believe so strongly about something spend the day in the rain and still walk away feeling like they had done something? The Republican confirmation is coming like a freight train, and barring something substantial to change things it will happen, and even Ms. Philadelphia feels that; but it was her opportunity to say something and most importantly show her children that she could that was special.

A few drops of rain started to fall; finally the heavens had decided what was going to happen; I was going to get drenched.