By Jeremy Lott on 6.10.04 @ 12:07AM
The scene on Constitution Avenue.
WASHINGTON -- As these things go it was a less-than-ideal day
for a wake. It was hot and humid and sticky in a way that only June
days in D.C. can be. Except for the local police, no one wore black
and very few bothered with anything approaching formal attire. My
roommate, a fellow ink-stained wretch, sat across the street on the
north side of Constitution Avenue in the reserved stands and stuck
in a stifling "monkey suit" the whole time. He saw a woman in front
of him pass out just before members of every branch of the armed
services transferred the flag-draped coffin from the hearse to the
caisson.
On the other side of the street, I bobbed and shifted to watch
the servicemen load the casket onto the carriage and play with the
flag to make sure that it would stay on. The people in front of me
strained against the cordon and tried to capture as much of this on
their various recording devices as possible. Behind us, girlfriends
and wives sat atop their mates' shoulders to get a better look.
Others stood on lawn chairs or stepladders they'd brought from
home. Teens scaled the walls in front of the Washington Monument to
get a cicadas' eye view of the proceedings.
We heard the officer behind the flag-bearer give the marching
orders as the whole thing kicked into gear, and a fit of clapping
erupted from this normally restrained crowd. The horses and limos
started forward at a pace that was measured to get them from 16th
to Capitol Hill in about an hour, where the body will lie "in
state" for the next day or so, allowing thousands of visitors to
pay their last respects. Nancy Reagan trailed the coffin in a
stretched limo and waved to the crowd. Many of the people who
started out at the coffin transfer, including yours truly, ran
along with the procession, until we were forced to detour.
I followed the parade, several blocks removed, and eventually
ended up in front of the reflector pond in front of the Capitol
building. One woman next to me called a person with her cellphone
and struck up a conversation. She said that it wasn't her choice to
be a part of the proceedings but that everything road-wise, had
been shut down, and her car was stuck. "And there are people
everywhere," she added.
And they were everywhere. I have no idea what the final
estimates will be but people packed the steps of the various
Smithsonian museums, and the roofs of government and office
buildings along the way. Coming in, I watched the armed services
marching bands marching from the Washington Mall to an advance
position, East of 14th Street. That force, I said, to no
one in particular, would be large enough to invade a Third
World Country.
Eventually the crowd started to thin and some spectators headed
home. The Smithsonian Metro station was backed up with two Metro
police officers, in flak jackets and blue short-sleeves, standing
on the concrete perimeter of the escalators, trying to keep order.
When I finally got into the packed-to-the-brim station, I found a
payphone and called my father back in Washington state, and told
him what had been occupying me this evening.
"Yeah, Ronald Reagan," he said. "He did a lot of good. Too bad
he hasn't gotten much credit for it."
I looked at the crowd and said, "Oh he will, Dad. He will."
topics:
Constitution, Law
