Inside the Capitol, drums kept time for 18 days as people of various ages and backgrounds joined in the protest against Gov. Scott Walker’s budget repair bill. During those days, the people who occupied it brought the rotunda to life.
As the movement outside the capitol continued to grow and mature over the past three weeks, so did the occupation inside. Similar protests have been occurring nationwide.
“Already the political climate and the political culture of the United States has been reshaped by this movement here. I think people are again putting faith in mobilization as a means of political participation- not just any kind of participation though but the kind that produces outcomes, which is something that institutional politics have not done for us in a long time,” said Andy Stefan, a student at the University of Wisconsin Madison.
People began sleeping at the Capitol on Tuesday, Feb. 15 as an impromptu means of keeping the public hearing open. When it was first announced around 10 p.m. that the hearings were to adjourn, hundreds of protesters who were still waiting for their chance to testify, swarmed the chamber of the Joint Finance Committee. People threw their fists in the air and chanted, “Let us speak.”
Many vowed to remain in the capitol until they had the chance to be heard. Thus, the occupation was born. However its purpose quickly evolved from one of simply strategy, to one that meant quite a bit more to those who occupied it.
“It is symbolic. Possessing the capitol kind of shows that we’re trying to take the government back and that we’re willing to do things to alter or abolish that government,” said Christopher French, who stayed at the capitol almost every night during the course of the occupation.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of individuals spent the night in the capitol. In the beginning, people could come and go as they pleased. Then, the crackdown began.
At first, the Capitol building doors were locked at night and then the curfew got earlier and earlier. By week two of the protests, rumors began to fly that protestors would soon be forced to leave the premises. This came to a head on Sunday, Feb. 27, when protestors were informed that they would have to vacate the Capitol property by 4 p.m. or risk arrest.
Debate ensued. Many hundreds followed the lead of Rep. Brett Hulsey (D) when he told them to “go home, take a shower, get a good nights’ rest, and come back in the morning.” Many hundreds of others refused to leave, citing their rights under the Wisconsin Constitution to have access to the Capitol building.
Sharpies were passed through the crowd as people frantically scribbled the phone number of the ACLU lawyers onto their arms. Tension ran high and many talked about how it would be their first trip to jail. They were not sure if they could be fired from their jobs. Hundreds stood hand in hand, forming a circle around the rotunda singing “We shall overcome.” The group included off-duty policemen, firefighters, and pastors.
“This is the house of the people. This is like a sacred place. And the people in the United States have the right to gather,” said Charles Wolfe, pastor at Plymouth United Church of Christ as he prepared for possible arrest.
Above the din of nervous individuals, the beat of the drums could be heard, their pulse quickening as it grew closer and closer to four. As time dragged on past the deadline and the swarms of police did not make their move, the mood lightened. Protesters were informed that they would be allowed to stay for the night and the doors of the Capitol would reopen to the public at 8 a.m. the next morning. A roar went up from the crowd.
Many went home, thinking their work was done for the night. However, the doors were never reopened in the morning. Only about 100 people remained in the Capitol. If they left, they were not allowed back in.
“We feel duped,” said one of the protesters that first night.
Many who stayed remained only out of obligation to the movement. There was a sense of duty felt toward maintaining public access to the building. Drum patterns began to sound like a funeral march and many sported ear plugs to escape. The demographic of people remained broad, and they looked for ways to coexist as best as possible. Soon, the drums were limited to beating only certain hours of the day.
“We started having popular assembly meetings where everybody gathers in the capitol,” explained UW Madison senior Ross Wagner at the time. “We’re trying to make this all more democratic you know, but we also need to make a plan for resisting the police and getting rid of the blockade which isn’t easy given the lack of sleep.”
That wasn’t the only problem. Due to the confined living arrangements nearly everyone in the Capitol had the same cold and cough. Tempers grew short as long hours turned to even longer days. Changes of clothes were scarce. Few were able to show or see sunlight.
“I’m going to be honest. I would like to leave as soon as possible. It takes a toll on you,” said UW Madison sophomore Scot McCullough. “Not to mention the fact that there are more police than people is a little stressful. It sort of makes peoples’ eyes twitch.”
After four days of heavy, but respectful police supervision, McCullough managed to open the Capitol doors with the help of a handful of other people. More than 100 protesters who had been attending the “Kill the Whole Bill” funeral procession and rally outside surged into the capitol. At the exact same time the remaining occupiers, who were unaware of the open doors, received word that a court order was coming to allow police to remove them from the building. They had been under the impression that the evacuation would happen the following day.
“Right at that moment when everyone’s going ‘oh my god what’s next,’ we hear this incredible roar and there’s a frickin’ parade coming in with coffins and signs,” Andrew Mazur said.
Before they knew what was happening, the newly arrived and the permanent occupiers were separated by a wall of dozens of police men. Angry shouts of “stand down” ensued. Rep. Hulsey used a microphone to urge both groups of protestors to stay peaceful and to consider leaving or risk arrest. This statement was met with an equal amount of resistance.
In the midst of the chaos a shaky voice began to sing the national anthem. Soon she was joined by people around her. Then the drums began to beat in step. About halfway through the song the entire group, on both sides of the police wall, was singing. “And the home of the brave,” they concluded as one.
The instigator was Erin Proctor, a special education assistant at Jefferson Middle school. Tears glistened in her eyes as she sang the last notes.
“I don’t risk anything by staying. I risk everything by leaving,” Proctor said tearfully as she awaited her fate.
The court documents arrived and occupiers were ordered to vacate the building after 6 p.m., but it was already well past that. At the same time UW Police Chief Susan Riseling read a different court order aloud. It declared the capitol would be reopened to the public starting Monday, March 7. The “people of the rotunda” had won the lawsuit.
The remaining occupiers joined in a group hug chanting, “Showers. Sunlight.” No one was arrested that night. The victorious occupation maintained what many referred to as the “moral high ground.”
“These are the people that did what the people need to do which is to claim their house,” said Rep. Janet Bewley of the 74th district that night. “They have done it peacefully. They have done it with dignity. They have done it with passion and they won.”