The MoveOn press conference, which is supposed to start at 10:30, is on the second floor of the Chicago Temple, at the First United Methodist Church. But how do you get to the second floor? There’s no “2” button in the elevator, a nearby staircase leads to a locked door, and the elevator operator is occupied. There are no signs to help me out. A woman standing outside the door to the church notices my confusion and asks if I’m here for the talk on housing set-asides. What? No, but here’s another stairway.
I’m a middle-class citizen who happens to work as a journalist. Journalists are allowed to have opinions, of course, but we’re not supposed to allow them to slant our coverage of a story. And generally we’re not supposed to become part of the story. Which means, in the strictest interpretation, that if you’re reporting on a drought, you shouldn’t give your subject a glass of water because it would destroy your credibility as an objective observer. Or that if you’re covering politics you shouldn’t vote. But the fact is I like the idea of do-it-yourself democracy, and I figured I could at least help set up some chairs in support of it.
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Mary arrives at 9:35, dressed in a powder blue suit and carrying tapes of the ad in a paper bag. Seconds after her arrival, Perry Recker, Michael Stephen, and Kristin Brown come in; now they’re standing together in front of a table that holds a vase full of flowers, meeting one another for the first time. Perry, neatly dressed in a brown suit, with graying hair and a goatee, is a donor. Michael, a white-haired psychologist, will be a spokesperson. Kristin, dressed in a black suit, will also be a spokesperson; she appears to be in her mid-30s, which makes her the youngest-looking volunteer.
When the third spokesperson, Donna Conroy, arrives, it’s time to watch the ad. After wrestling with the TV and VCR for five minutes, calling on the pastor, the pastor’s secretary, and the church techie, Kristin gets a picture.
The other five people here know what everyone else is doing, but I have no role. I’m not a donor, nor am I a spokesperson. Mary tells everyone I’m a journalist. I came as a volunteer, but I brought a notebook. I take it out and the spokespeople use me to practice for the upcoming media onslaught.
“Am I the spokesperson?” Donna asks.
