(By the way, you can order Tax Revolt from Amazon.com right here, and help support Right Minded in the process.)
In the book, Valentine heavily documents the battle scene of July 12, 2001. He makes a passing mention to the fact that there were protestors inside the State Capitol, but otherwise focuses that chapter on the events that occurred outside. As one of the protesters who did make it inside the State Capitol before the doors were closed (to everyone but the pro-income tax lobbyists), I am telling that story here.
It was the afternoon of July 12, 2001. I was on my way to the pharmacist around 5:00 p.m. when I turned on Phil Valentine’s afternoon program, then broadcast on 1510 WLAC. No sooner had I pushed the knob than I heard Phil’s plea that “we need troops now” because Senator Bob Rochelle was going to run the income tax in the Senate at 6:30 p.m. Valentine had gotten word from Senator Marsha Blackburn that troops were needed immediately. Phil was broacasting somewhere on location until six o’clock, and was trying to figure out a way to get from there to Legislative Plaza by six-thirty.
I drove home and promptly informed my disgruntled wife “sorry, but I’ve got to go. They’re fixing to run the income tax.” So I hopped back into my car and headed toward downtown Nashville. I pulled off the interstate onto Charlotte Avenue at approximately six o’clock.
There were already several protestors headed up the hill, many carrying signs, and I drove a couple of blocks past the Capitol and found a parking space on a side street right beside the Municipal Auditorium. I practically ran up the hill, then up the steps that lead to the Capitol, and entered the building on the east side. It was about six-fifteen. Little did I know then that I would be one of the last rank-and-file taxpayers allowed into our Capitol that evening.
After sprinting up the stairs to the second floor, which is where the House and Senate chambers are, I found myself in the middle of a crowd of citizens and legislators. All was peaceful then, although I did find Senator Rochelle talking to someone outside the Senate chamber. Once he was free, I went up to him and said “Senator, please don’t do this. We don’t need it.” He offered a curt “Thank you” as he sat down on a bench, and I went over to a small group of anti-taxers to let them know Senator Rochelle was temporarily accessible. A short time later, Senator Rochelle was nowhere to be found.
At six-thirty, the Senate promptly went into session, and the crowd of tax protesters, between 100 and 150 of us, began to crowd around the chamber doors. Someone standing in front of me yelled “No tax!” as the senators filed in, and the crowd then erupted into bedlam. We finally stumbled onto the words “No means no!” and that phrase was yelled repeatedly for the next hour. Senator Rochelle crossed the hallway between the Speaker’s office and the Senate chamber a couple of times, and the crowd swarmed him like a magnet whenever he appeared.
Once the doors were closed, and there are three sets that lead into the chamber, one gentleman walked up to the middle doors and began pounding on them with both fists. He was pulled away by a security officer, but was allowed to stay. This incident would be reported by the media as “people pounded on doors,” even though there was only fellow who did so.
About 6:45 p.m., someone suggested we serenade the Senate with the national anthem, and we thought it was a pretty good idea. So we suspended the “No means no!” chant long enough to sing the Star Spangled Banner, then resumed our chant. You have to realize that the ceilings up there are 30 or 40 feet tall, and with all that marble, a hundred people can make a lot of noise.
At approximately 7:00 p.m., about 30 people from Tennesseans for Fair Taxation showed up. This was long after we were told that the doors to the State Capitol had been locked to keep the commoners out. We knew who they were from the “Fair tax, not food tax” stickers they were passing out. Up against a hundred angry taxpayers, their pitiful bunch could do nothing but keep quiet. They were no match.
If you’ve every stood in a large group and yelled at the top of your lungs for 50 minutes, you know how exhausting it can be. At about 7:20 p.m., I couldn’t take any more. Not knowing how long the Senate would be in session, I decided I would walk back outside. I was hoarse and light-headed, and wanted to tell the folks outside what was going on. By then, Phil Valentine and Johnny B. were set up on the sidewalk beside Charlotte Avenue, and I walked to their table to tell Johnny B. what was going on.
No sooner had I started talking than Phil got word that the “bare bones” budget had passed, and not the income tax. A cheer spread across the crowd as the news was made known, and I watched the jubilation for a couple of minutes before heading home. I knew even then that I’d participated in something that would last far longer than the next day’s news.
