The Pledge_ A History of the Pledge of Allegiance - Jeffrey Owen Jones [73]
As the date neared for oral arguments, I contacted the Court’s press office in hopes of getting into the press gallery. The official who turned me down explained that the Court was hard pressed to fill requests even for all the major media representatives because interest in the case was so intense. I decided to go to the capital anyway and hang around the Court to see who I might talk to.
March 23, 2004: the eve of the oral arguments. It was a crisp afternoon in Washington. The Capitol gleamed alabaster white against a limpid blue sky. Across First Street, by the marble steps of the Supreme Court building, I found a group of college students gathered on the sidewalk. They were a smiling bunch, easily approachable. Most were freshmen from George Washington University and American University. They had come to be first in line for the few seats in the Court chamber available to the public.
The students were split down the middle on the “under God” issue. All spoke earnestly and thoughtfully in laying out their positions. A young woman from Long Island saw the phrase as clearly religious with no place in a civic ritual, and a fervent young Unitarian from Connecticut took the same position. A fellow from Puerto Rico said the phrase should be kept in because it reflects the nation’s historic beliefs. A government-affairs major from Delaware, who carried a pocket edition of the Constitution, also argued that “under God” should stay in. “It all goes back to John Locke,” he said with a gentle smile, “the idea that the rights of mankind come from God.”
The calendar said spring, but as the afternoon turned toward dusk a lingering winter chill descended. The rumpled sleeping bags and blankets the students had with them looked as though they would offer flimsy protection for overnight camping on the sidewalk. The young people seemed unconcerned though. They buzzed in anticipation of witnessing the landmark case.
As the evening wore on, someone got on a cell phone to order pizza and succeeded on only the second try to find a place that would deliver to a sidewalk. A tour bus pulled up and members of a church group piled out for a prayer vigil. I left for dinner with friends, and when I came back to check on the students found them as fresh and voluble as ever. One of the churchwomen with a friend living around the corner had invited the students over to warm up and to use the facilities, which they had done in rotation. A long line had formed behind them, with what looked like many more people than would be able to get into the Court the next day. I went back to my friends’ place to sleep.
Upon my return, in the half-light of dawn, I found the students looking remarkably chipper, still glowing with excitement. Dominick, the young man with the pocket Constitution and the de facto leader of the group, had a surprise for me. One of the group had left. “You can take his place,” Dominick said. Wow. All I had expected was to stay with the students until they entered the building and then to pick up the buzz around the Court. Thanks to Dominick and the boy who left, I might get in.
After waiting another hour or so on the sidewalk, security guards brought us up a few steps to a plaza at the foot of the main staircase. Dominick pointed to the frieze above and identified the stone figures: “That one is Moses, there’s Confucius, and the other one is Solon.” A few of the students tossed remarks about the case back and forth, still engaged in amiable argument after the long night on the sidewalk. However the case turned out, I found myself thinking, Thomas Jefferson would have been pleased to see these young people debating on the steps of the nation’s high tribunal.
The guards began counting off the people waiting in line. Of the forty or so seats available, the students got the first ten and the writer they had taken under their wing got number eleven.
Inside, the Supreme Court