VCC Magazine Summer 2019

V irginia C apitol C onnections , S ummer 2019 22 In 2017, after a 40-year absence, passenger service returned to Roanoke, a city founded by and for railroading. Efforts are underway to extend service to Christiansburg, and potentially to Bristol, where rail fans and people who have never ridden trains before eagerly await its return. Railroading in Virginia from page 21 Michael Abraham is a writer and businessman, author of 8 books including Chasing the Powhatan Arrow, a travelogue in economic geography . He lives in Blacksburg. Last fall I had the opportunity to be in Richmond for an event, and a bunch of us lobbyists got together. I hadn’t been in Richmond for about a year and half, when I retired. As my wife and I were leaving Richmond, driving up N. 9th Street, I looked toward where the old Virginia General Assembly Building (known as “The GAB”) used to be. My heart sank. I had worked in that building for over 20 years. I represented small organizations and associations that really couldn’t afford a lobbyist but needed one. That’s right. I was the “storefront” lobbyist in Richmond. I took on all causes of the little guy. More importantly I made a lot of friends over the years and at the GAB. I learned to respect a lot of people. A lot of these people are criticized by the public, but when you are there, as I as, you know that everybody up there does a good job. Everybody cares about the citizens of Virginia. And everybody wants to do what’s right. As I looked at what used to be the General Assembly Building and is now nothing more than an empty lot with construction fence around it, my mind went back to the very beginnings of when I started working there. I was an appointee by Governor DoughWilder. I guess that’s what started it all, but actually I really didn’t get my feet wet until the late 1980s when my wife had start working in Richmond. I started coming up every day. We came up and I needed a place to stay because it was cold outside so I got in touch with Chip Hardy, who was renting spaces for David Bailey Associates. We worked out a nice little deal, and so I had an office to go to. It had some perks, and it also had some work—you know they expect you to answer the phone, make the coffee, change the water tank, and participate in the Friday pizza. We did all kinds of fun things daily David Bailey’s suite. I remember there was a time when all every lobbyist in David’s office would take turns bringing some kind of treat. I brought Krispy Kreme doughnuts.We had one guy—the hilarious John Stone—who obviously brought in store-bought cookies, but he insisted his wife made them. We knew better, but we played along. My favorite was the Papa John’s Fridays. Good times. Thinking back about all the different things we would do, I love to remember. We had “Brunswick Stew Days” when Brunswick County would come up. Somebody would have an “Apple Pie Day.” They’d bring apple pies and of course you always look forward to the credit union coming in because they gave the nicest, warmest neck scarves. I still have a couple of them. (On chilly days, I always advertise the credit union.) I also remember how it seemed like every year the GAB offices and furniture were moved around. Being legally blind and not able to tell one person from another, I was confused. I didn’t know where people were. It was always fun for me to try to find someplace, and only in the last for five years of the existence of the building were things stationary. I got to where I could zip around that building like nothing flat. Then knowing they were going to tear it down, I figured I’d better retire. (I’m now “semi” retired.) I remember some of the secretaries would talk to me about my trips to Japan and overseas. I remember Emily Couric’s legislative aide sometimes yelling, “Is that crazy man out there?” Paula Miller was a good friend and became an even better friend, as did Thelma Drake. I liked Vicki Karen, and of course Clancy Holland, who was a senator and also my doctor. So many people have come and gone in that building. So many good people. I miss a lot of people who have passed away or retired. Most people thought there were only nine floors in the GAB, but some of us knew that there was a floor that housed the Senate Finance Committee, a floor that housed JLARC, but the best of all was the basement. Back before there were computers, email, Snapchat or whatever you want to call it, there was the bill room. You’d go down and ask him for Bill Number Whatever. We would go back to our offices with stacks and stacks of paper that we had to pore over. Internet changed all that. Now you can even sit and watch the sessions and the subcommittees. Things have really changed now—just one click and you got the bill. One click and you can even say whether it’s a good bill or bad bill. Everything is on the Internet now. You didn’t realize what the romance it was to get bills, but now those are the things you miss. Leaving the building in the dark, walking over by the trees, by the fence—those are the things you miss. Going to Chickens and having a cup of coffee. Being successful with your client. Making sure that all your i’s are dotted and your t’s are crossed. Making sure everybody’s onboard and then finding out that you missed someone and there goes your bill. Making friends with all the secretaries, all the legislative assistants, and even the delegates and the senators. I’ve met some really wonderful people in that building so it’s not just brick-and-mortar. It’s not just wood panels. It was the throbbing of the life of Virginia in that building, and that’s what I miss most. When I saw that empty ground, I just felt ghosts of everybody who has been there. I’m proud to say I was one of those ghosts. Ken Jessup worked as a lobbyist for over 20 years. He has represented a wide variety of clients, including people with disabilities. He currently serves a chairman for the Virginia Board for the Blind and Vision Impaired. Thank goodness the walls can’t talk By Ken Jessup V V