Roland Burris' Capitol Steps
no seat for Illinois' controversial appointee
2009-01-07
By Kevin Chappell

He may have arrived on Capitol Hill in an inconspicuous silver minivan, but make no mistake, Roland Burris stole the show. As soon as he stepped out of the car, he was mobbed by dozens of reporters, photographers and camera crews.

I was in the midst of the mob.

This story, this scene, this day, had it all. Power. Money. Race. Confrontation. Politics. The law.

And rain. Lots of bitterly cold rain.

As he walked forward, we all waddled back in unison, looking more like a gang of wet ducks than a gaggle of top journalists. From the sidewalk, to the grass, to the mud, and back again, we pushed and shoved our way in and out of the mix. We were all looking for that perfect shot, that perfect quote, from the man looking to claim President-elect Barack Obama’s vacated Senate seat.

It didn’t take long for the first reporter to take a fall. Then another. Then another.

I was the next to take a dive.

Perhaps one of his first times at the Capitol, Burris looked lost. He was directed to the visitor’s entrance (a makeshift trailer staffed by Capitol Hill police). With salt-and-pepper hair that was thinner in the middle and grayer on the sides––and the ginger walk of a grandpa afraid to break a hip on the wet pavement––Burris looked more like an accidental tourist than the self-proclaimed “junior senator from Illinois.”

Peering through the widows of the trailer, I watched 71-year-old Burris pass through the metal detector. Afterwards, he was subjected to a good looking over by Capitol Hill police. Sergeant-at-Arms Terrance Gainer met Burris on the other side. Gainer escorted him to the Secretary of the Senate’s office on the third floor of the Capitol.

Burris and Gainer took the elevator. Reporters, after getting cleared by security, scrambled up the stairs in a mad attempt to cut off the two at the pass. Stumbling and bumbling up two flights of stairs, I found out the hard way that wet dress shoes, marble floors and an all-out sprint don’t mix.

As I made it to the third floor, I could see the Secretary’s door closing in the distance. For about 10 minutes, we waited outside for Burris to emerge. Down the hall, I could see Senators arriving to be sworn in and start the 111th Congress.

Soon more Capitol Hill police arrived. “No photos, no recorders,” one officer said, as we were pushed further back.

No one listened.

As Burris exited, it was the moment of truth. Would he keep straight and join the other senators as a certified, ratified, card-carrying colleague (and the nation’s only Black senator)? Or would he hang a sharp left, and head down the same elevator that he took up?

The elevator operator held the door for a dejected Burris. We all scrambled down the steps.

As the longtime Chicago politician made his way across Constitution Avenue to an outside interviewing area known affectionately by the media as “The Swamp,” he paused several times to greet visitors. He even stopped to chat with a wheelchair-bound man holding an American flag.

Once in the swamp, a drenched Burris remained confident that he wouldn’t be on the outside looking in for long. “I presented my credentials to the Secretary of the Senate and was advised that my credentials were not in order, I would not be accepted, nor will I be seated, nor will I be permitted on the floor."

Perhaps it was only fitting that as Burris left the Hill, he was almost sideswiped by Vice-President-elect Joe Biden’s motorcade. As Burris was being kicked to the curb, Biden was making his was inside to the Senate floor to be sworn in as Delaware’s senior senator (a position he will keep until Inauguration Day).

Alphabetically, Vice President Dick Cheney read Biden’s name, then Sen. Saxby Chambliss (R-GA).

No Burris—at least not yet.

Kevin Chappell is a Senior Editor at EBONY magazine.

PHOTO: Kevin Chappell