ATLANTA — There may be plenty of lobbyists in expensive suits throwing around the legislative lingo at the Capitol every day, but there are also scores of ordinary Georgians walking the halls, buttonholing lawmakers and having their own impact on legislation.
“Every elected official has to take into account when they hear from constituents,” said Kathy Floyd, a veteran lobbyist and executive director of the Georgia Council on Aging.
She recalls how when she was a lobbyist for the retiree-advocacy AARP one volunteer who would come to the Capitol had taught the wife of Sen. Jeff Mullis, R-Chickamauga, in high school.
“Sen. Mullis always recognizes David because of that connection,” she said.
Many people who’ve never lobbied feel intimidated, Floyd admits. The traffic, parking, terminology and the marble trappings frighten them.
Others have an unrealistic expectation of informality and believe they can simply stick their head in the governor’s office for a chat without an appointment.
Somewhere in between is the opportunity for people to share personal stories and preferences. Anyone can give a slip of paper to the aide in charge of having pages summon lawmakers into a hallway from the House or Senate floor. Usually, the hallways are clogged with constituents and lobbyists on one side of a rope line and legislators and student pages on the other.
Of course, the lobbyists, legislators and aides are paid to be there, and the pages get an excused absence from school. For the citizens pleading their case, just being there is the first challenge.
“It’s a big sacrifice to take a half day or full day away from work,” said the Rev. Chip Sweeny, pastor of Perimeter Church in Duluth, Ga.
Sweeny was one of 700 activists, wearing purple scarves and nametags with their legislators’ names on the back, who were urging support of safeguards against child sex trafficking. It was only his second visit to the Capitol, but he returned because he felt he’d made an impact the first time last year.
The scarves are a tactic used by several groups, adopting various bright colors for their own cause. Other tactics include T-shirts, stickers, homemade cookies and pushing children in strollers. One group Thursday gave out hand-dipped ice cream to anyone leaving an email address and phone number at their kiosk.
Another group stationed mothers of drug overdose victims to stand silently by doorways and staircases, holding photos of their children. Susan Calame was among them.
“It’s been great to see the whole process, to see how it really works,” she said. “The senators and representatives stop and ask questions, ask why we’re here.”
She is supporting legislation that would provide amnesty from arrest for people who call 911 to report a drug overdose, even if responding authorities discover small amounts of illegal drugs in their car or home. The supporters shepherded the bill through the House of Representatives last month and then celebrated its Senate passage late Thursday.
Did she ever picture herself at the Capitol?
“It’s just one of those things. You think it happens down at the Capitol and never expect you would be part of it,” Calame said.
Her friend, Laurie Fugitt, is a registered nurse and previously just as non-political.
“I never felt that I could make a difference,” she said.
Angela Bean and Jan Horne are very political. Horne, whose passion is so strong she regularly watches Congress on C-SPAN, decided to run for the Coweta County Board of Education this fall. The pair has spent a lot of time at the statehouse this year for various causes.
Thursday, it was with Georgians for Healthcare Freedom fighting Obamacare, and the day before it was with a different conservative group opposing the multi-state education standards known as Common Core.
“It’s my first year, and it’s exhausting,” Horne said. “I feel like a lot of legislators take advantage of that, our unfamiliarity with the process. I’m learning a lot of it. … Things are not as it seems.”
Despite feeling frustrated that last minute changes, obscure procedures and limited information make it harder to stay on top of developments, the women still feel they are having an impact.
“We know our being here is important,” said Bean, sporting a Fayette Republican Party name tag. “… If people are going to come down here, the legislators know we’re representing another 10 people who aren’t here that feel the same way.”
“Another 1,000 people,” Horne corrected.
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