Tag: politics

voting from Spain

… voting in the June recall election.

one upside to going on a “planning binge” in early April was that by the time we left for Spain on May 4, I had the majority of our lodging planned out. it resulted in a more inflexible schedule for distances that we had to complete every day, but came with significant benefits — at least in my opinion. while traveling open ended certainly has its benefits, I’ve always been more of a planner and take comfort in knowing where I’ll bunk up each night. I’ve had fewer bad experiences with planned lodging than with unplanned lodging, but maybe that’s a question of my inability gauge a place on sight. on this particular journey, I found it far less stressful and emotionally taxing on the days I knew I had a bed to sleep in. even if it turned out to be an uncomfortable mattress with terrible pillows and no climate control or cross-breeze.

another benefit to having places planned out — we were able to have absentee ballots for the recall election sent to us! it took us a couple of days to get postage to return them, but it was a thrill to arrive and ask the woman checking us in (in muddled Spanish) if there was any mail addressed to our attention. and there was! in the end, it looks like they might not have made it back on time to be counted (which is rather despairing) but it was exhilarating to be able to exercise our right to vote from someplace so far away in a period when the shape of our daily lives took a shape so outside the ordinary. it’s one of those times where you feel the scope of your freedom and importance of your voice.

Mount Rushmore


I started this post right after we got back from South Dakota in September, but wasn’t inspired to complete it until I saw a StoryCorps piece on NPR about one of the stone carvers who helped craft the monument.

growing up, my family was big on road trips and on visiting Sites of Historical Importance (see also: Boston’s Freedom Trail) and Mount Rushmore and western South Dakota were on that list. I must have been … between second and third grads, or so. what I remember most from that trip is washing dishes at our campsite in what seemed an unexpectedly dense coniferous forest. it reminded me a lot of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan or northern Wisconsin. also, that the Crazy Horse monument underwhelmed because they’d only completed his forehead and profile of his nose. (also, “Rount Mushmore.”)

one upside to visiting places while young, and returning later, is that appreciation can be twofold. my recollections of Mount Rushmore are vague but rosy and, now that I can place its construction into historical context, I’m rather more impressed.

the massive carving, suggested by Doane Robinson in the early 1920s, sought to entice tourists to the Black Hills. both environmentalists and Native American tribes objected to various proposed locations, but eventually supporters and opponents settled on this mountain (the tallest in the region, renamed for a New York lawyer  from the original Lakota name, Six Grandfathers). (for purposes of this post, I’ll forego discussing the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 and ongoing tensions between the U.S. government and the Lakota people for whom the Black Hills are sacred.) Robinson convinced sculptor Gutzon Borglum (who had lately worked on the face of Robert E. Lee at Stone Mountain, Georgia) to come to the Black Hills to ensure the completion of the project. Borglum died before the completion of the monument, but his son, Lincoln, carried on in his stead.

political and financial wrangling ensued: Congress authorized a commission to oversee the project; President Coolidge insisted that, in addition to President Washington, the monument include two Republicans and one Democrat — Borglum based his final selections on the role the Presidents had on preserving “the Republic” as well as expanding territory for said Republic.

between the start of construction in October 1927 and its completion in October 1941, some 400 people worked on constructing the monument. nearly 90% of the carving was done by dynamite; blasters could place charges specifically enough to blast rock off to within 3 inches of the final surface. once it got close enough, carvers switched to jackhammers, drilling a series of holes into the surface in a honeycomb patter to allow for more precise carving. this kicked up an incredible, fine dust. while they were provided with masks to prevent inhalation and subsequent damage to their lungs, the masks were stuffy and, in the direct sun hanging off the rock-face, many workers opted to go without. despite the dangerous working conditions, no one died during the course of the project, something rare for a monument of this size.

while the carvings at Mount Rushmore today don’t match the scope of what Borglum had in mind initially — head-to-waist high sculptures of the presidents, plus monuments to the Louisiana Purchase, Constitution & Declaration of Independence, as well as other territories, what stands today is pretty damn impressive.

a San Diego Occupation?

in something of a San Diego mood today, I did a search for “Occupy San Diego.” enjoy and/or bear with me.

on a whim, I searched for “Occupy San Diego” to see if there were any protests organized for this week. I was somewhat skeptical of finding anything. whether because the radical polarization of the last nine months has changed my perspective on activism in Madison, because of the vicissitudes of memory, or because issues inspiring political activism didn’t engender this degree of passion while I lived there, I never felt like San Diego could generate much enthusiasm for protest. as I’ve said many times, despite popular perception of California, San Diego is the most conservative place I’ve ever lived. even though the city went blue in the 2008 election, the county is still red, and that reality came across in the limited size and scope of Democratic (much less progressive) mobilization.

even though the weather would make for great “Occupying”, I don’t know how many San Diegans feel passionately enough to challenge the establishment and do so. perhaps there’s a greater degree of ambivalence or apprehension about how the San Diego Police Department would react to protesters. seeing how some NYPD officers have reacted to Occupy Wall Street I am even more impressed with how law enforcement officers treated the #wiunion. weeks of protest; people taking up residence in the rotunda to protest the shady way in which Republican lawmakers called and held meetings; hundreds, then thousands of people marching around the capitol day after day, week after week. and no police-protester altercations like those that have come out of New York. would the actions of the San Diego PD be more like in Madison, or New York? if the protests become large enough, how might the strapped resources of the SDPD come into play?

the behavior of the law enforcement officers combines with the real dangers of a city as large and (comparatively) troubled as San Diego. New York City might share many of those problems, but geography changes things, too; in an already more-ambivalent San Diego populace, how are you going to inspire people to drive miles and miles to participate in something that, at least at this point, is largely symbolic? there have been insightful commentaries unpacking the genesis of this protest movement and I’m inclined to agree that the mobilization of the last several months will prove a turning point in our history. my generation is finally mobilizing on a broad scale to affect societal change and we’re using the tools of the 21st century to do it. it’s about time.

Wisconsin’s Old Capitol

what remains in Belmont is certainly nothing so grand as the oft-preserved and restored structure in Iowa City, but the buildings are older. when the Wisconsin Territory was established in 1836, a land speculator who established the town of Belmont, John Atchison constructed four public buildings in town to attract lawmakers. the ploy worked and on September 9, 1836, territorial Governor Henry Dodge said that at least the first legislative session would meet at Belmont.

part of Belmont’s selection as capital likely due to the population density that nearby lead mines occasioned. at the time, that area was the most populous in the territory. not surprisingly, some questioned Dodge’s intentions in selecting Belmont, insinuating that he’d accepted some sort of bribe. to counter this cynicism, after lengthy debate (and promises of land from speculators in town) lawmakers selected Madison as the permanent capital for the Wisconsin territory.

during the interim, however, the territorial government met in the public houses of Belmont, passing laws that created the structure of Wisconsin’s government and judicial system and established new counties. after the legislative session ended in December, the legislature never met in Belmont again, though they did meet in Burlington (now Iowa) for a time before the town became part of the Iowa territory and forced the government to move to Madison earlier than anticipated.

two buildings still stand at the site of the original territorial capital, one used as the Council House and the other as lodging for legislators.. the Mineral Point Railroad built tracks that passed to the southeast of the original location and many residents and businesses relocated to the new town. the current town of Belmont is three miles from the original site. eventually, the remaining buildings became residences (the latter belonging to the territorial Supreme Court Justice Charles Dunn) before conversion into barns. they’re now owned and maintained by the State Historical Society.

(wikipedia)

El Ávila

one thing that amazed me about Caracas was how close it is to the coast. from the top of El Ávila you can see the incredible blue-green waters of the Caribbean. (no wonder, since the peak rises in the midst of the “Cordillera de la Costa”.) the airport sits right on the water and coming in for the landing was rather unsettling. I’d never made an approach that brought me so close to the surface of the water before and in the last few moments it seemed as though the wheels were inches from dragging through the water. but we landed without incident, I disembarked in my second not-yet-visited country in as many weeks, and found my ride over the mountains and into the city. 

(more on the harrowing adventure that is vehicular travel in Caracas later.)

one afternoon when my eyes had begun to cross from browsing microfilm in the Biblioteca Nacional, I set off to scale El Ávila. looking back at my pictures, I began to wonder why the mountainside remains undeveloped — after living in San Diego I know there are few places building developers won’t go if given the opportunity, especially with prime mountain or coastal land. turns out that El Ávila became part of a national park in 1958 and is now a well-used recreational area. there’s a teleférico that goes from the base of the hill up to the mountaintop and offers spectacular views of the whole city (as seen above), the first incarnation of which was inaugurated in 1952. the original not only ran from the city to the mountaintop, but also down the other side to the coast and along the length of the peak to the (now-derelict) Hotel Humboldt. the teleférico ran until the late 1970s when it was abandoned. riding up we saw the wreckage of the original structures, rusted and abandoned beside the newer line.

despite successfully getting the teleférico up and running again, the private corporation responsible for it lost their concession to the state in 2008. according to a government statement, the company ran up a debt of some 19 billion bolivares which prompted the state to take over the tourist operations. since taking over, the state has promised to expand the teleférico service once again to include some of the old routes. whether anything comes of the state’s grand plans remains to be seen, but somehow I imagine that the rusted skeletons of the original system will rest where they lie.

the Libertador rises again

apparently immune to accusations of absurdity, Hugo Chavez has had the remains of Simon Bolivar exhumed from the Panteon Nacional in Caracas to determine the precise cause of the Libertador’s death.

since 2008, Chavez has publicly called into question the conclusion that Bolivar died of tuberculosis while in Colombia. the cult of Bolivar is profoundly strong in Venezuela, not unlike that constructed around George Washington in the U.S., and with good reason — he successfully united the people of the Viceroyalty of New Grenada to throw off Spanish colonization and formed the short-lived nation of Gran Colombia (which included parts of what is now Venezuela, Brazil, Colombia, Panama, Nicaragua, Honduras, Peru, Guyana, Ecuador, and Costa Rica). Chavez in is particularly enthralled with Bolivar’s legacy — he pushed to rename the nation the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela (the precise meaning of which could be debated at length)  has espoused self-proclaimed Bolivarian ideals from his earliest days in politics, and has gone to lengths to highlight similarities between himself and his nineteenth century idol. (whether Bolivar and his nineteenth century “liberal” ideals would support Chavez’s efforts is another topic for lengthy debate.)

and so, perhaps because his antics haven’t been capturing sufficient international attention of late, and acting upon the inconclusive conclusion that Bolivar’s recorded symptoms could indicate long-term arsenic poisoning, the tomb in the Panteon has been opened and the contents therein will be subjected to further tests.

(again, another quandary: Bolivar died in and was initially interred in Santa Marta, Colombia. twelve years after his death, the then-president of now-Venezuela requested that his remains be returned to Caracas, where Bolivar was born. not so very long ago, the authenticity of the bones resting in state in the Panteon was called into question and, as Bolivar had no direct descendants, verification is even more complicated.)

will science prove some nefarious alternative to the tuberculosis conclusion? I doubt it. what does it matter, 180 years later, how, precisely, the Libertador died? the new information won’t alter the course of the intervening years or how Bolivar is perceived by anyone. mostly, it seems Chavez is interested in dredging up more reasons to rattle a saber in Colombia’s direction, to provide more fodder for verbal attacks if tensions over FARC and cross-border paramilitary incursions lose their ability to agitate.

word from the BBC that the remains were to be exhumed, and an article from 2007 (while I was writing my thesis, in fact) in which Chavez proposed the idea.

Texas seems to have a thing for symbols. it has flown under six different flags since first settled by Europeans, though without a doubt the one representing the Republic of Texas is the most important. the seals for all six were incorporated into the terrazzo floors of the rotunda after a remodel in the 1930s–Spain, France, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, the Confederate States of America, and the United States of America. (prior to the terrazzo floors, the floor was glass bricks laid out in an octagonal pattern; the original concept is preserved on the ceiling of the ground floor immediately below the rotunda. must say the new floor is much more impressive.)

the hinges of the doors — again, originals — make sure you know where you are. and the knobs have the state seal imprinted on them as well.

capitol rotunda

the star at the top of the capitol dome in Austin is 8 feet across and is 218 feet up. on the other side (on the top of the dome), there is a statue known as the Goddess of Liberty. the original was made of iron and was raised to the top by hand (the guide did not specify what, precisely “by hand” might mean); it is now in the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum up the street and a replacement of aluminium stands in her stead. she holds a five-pointed star, the symbol of Texas.
the rotunda is also, apparently, a whispering gallery, though we didn’t test this out. the portraits of all the presidents and governors of Texas line the walls of the rotunda, shifting one to the right with each new office-holder. on the first floor there is a bust of the first female governor of the state — Ma Ferguson — who served twice, from 1925-27 and 1933-35. (it took nearly sixty years for another woman to reach the post — Ann Richards served 1991-95.)

more on the Statehouse

designed at the end of the 19th century, Myers incorporated electricity into the design of the Austin capitol. he argued that, as a technology, electricity was here to stay. others disagreed, skeptical that anything they might build would “last for generations” and warrant incorporating this new technology. also, they were understandably nervous about the prospect of electrifying the statehouse when the previous one had burned to the ground. as a compromise, Myers was convinced to add natural gas fixtures to his design as well.

as a result, the light fixtures in both the Assembly and Senate chambers are original. in more ways than one.

the Texas Legislature only meets for 140 days, beginning the second Tuesday of January every other year. this year is not a year they are meeting, so the capitol was very quiet. apparently committees still meet during the interim, and if you want to get legislation passed, you have to make damn sure it’s ready to go the second your peers return to work.

the Texas Statehouse

designed by Elijah Myers in 1881 (who was later all but fired from the project), the current statehouse in Texas was completed in 1888. the previous structure burned to the ground and the fledgling state did not have the funds to pay for construction of a new building. instead, a barter transaction granted over three million acres of ranch land to people who could provide the construction material and manpower to complete the project. that acreage became the XIT Ranch, at one time the largest cattle ranch in the world (and mentioned in Timothy Egan’s Worst Hard Time). initially, the facade was intended to be limestone but, when this proved undesirable due to discoloration, it was replaced by the now distinctive red granite from Marble Falls.

the building has nearly 900 windows and more square footage than any other state capitol building. it’s slightly smaller than the capitol in D.C., but is 15 feet taller.