House Speaker to Somali Activist: Hello, I Must Be Going
It’s always slightly thrilling to be at the capitol the first few weeks into a new legislative session since there’s truly the sense that Something Very Big Is Going On. With Dan “The Human Spreadsheet” McElroy, our new budget czar, swinging the axe at the state budget this week, there was something very big going on indeed.
“It’s the dismantling of the Minnesota Miracle,” Larry Pogemiller, a state senator from Northeast Minneapolis, told me this afternoon. “We’re heading back toward the dark ages before Wendy Anderson, when Minnesota had no social programs.”
Pogemiller, a DFLer who was first elected to the Senate in 1982, was assessing Governor Tim Pawlenty’s public spin on his slash-and-burn tactics to fix this year’s budget gap. “We’ve got a new administration that’s very Clinton-esque,” Pogemiller mused. “They say one thing when they really mean another. The administration is almost all lawyers who do a lot of doublespeak. It’s like Clinton was with race relations. He always said he would help minorities, but what did he ever actually do? Oh, yeah, well, there was welfare reform. Anyway, the point is, Pawlenty did plenty this week that was harmful, but he did it with a smile.”
Pogemiller is hopeful, however, that there will be some serious backtracking for Pawlenty as legislators scrutinize his recommended cuts. The debates, Pogemiller said, would be vital, sure. But the deals cut far away from the House chambers, far away from the Senate floor, will be the real test of Pawlenty’s resolve.
This is how it’s always been, and that’s why it's insightful to witness the wheeling and dealing when the legislature is bustling. The effort of the week belongs to Omar Jamal, director of the Somali Advocacy Justice Center in St. Paul, as he tried to bend the ear of none other than Steve Sviggum, a Republican representative from Kenyon who is also the state’s speaker of the house.
On Wednesday morning, Jamal had seemingly pinned Sviggum against the wall of the tunnel that leads to the State Office Building. Whatever case Jamal was making, he was very earnest, and Sviggum was very antsy.
“I’m really sorry, but he’s late to a meeting,” an aide to Sviggum told Jamal, as the two tried to slink away.
“I’m just asking you to consider this for a minute,” Jamal responded politely, to no avail.
“I’ve really got to get to this meeting,” Sviggum apologized. “If you want to talk to me, go up to my office and set up an appointment. I don’t mean to be rude, but I just don’t have the time.”
Sviggum and the aide then departed, heading down the tunnel, while Jamal was left standing by himself.
Recently I've taking note of Jamal’s ability to attract attention and get people to listen to him. When Minneapolis police shot a machete-wielding Somali man nearly a year ago, Jamal appeared to be a voice of reason between his community and Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak.
But I was more impressed with Jamal’s quiet tenacity the day Senator Paul Wellstone died. The mass of media gathered near the front stoop of Wellstone’s campaign headquarters on University Avenue was hungry and pushy that day. Alison Dobson, a Wellstone staffer unaccustomed to dealing directly with the media, amazingly maintained her composure and grace as literally hundreds of reporters and mourners tried to wheedle their way through the door. Dobson was politely resolute in keeping people out.
(Dobson later turned and pressed her face into the brick wall of the headquarters and sobbed so violently that human nature compelled me to put a hand on her shoulder to steady her--likely a huge breach of some sort of journalistic ethic.)
At some point, while we were all waiting for Ted Kennedy, Walter Mondale and Roger Moe to come and address the press corps, Jamal slid past me and handed a small, crumpled note to Dobson. She gave him a heartbreaking smile and let him through. I still wonder what Jamal possibly could have written on the note.
Within an hour, Mondale was on the loading dock on the east side of the building, addressing mourners and national news cameras. Fritz was surrounded by various staffers and clergy members, but right at his side was Jamal, whose grave visage appeared on all the nightly news broadcasts and even in a photo in the New York Times.
Later that night, at the vigil for Wellstone at the capitol, Jamal told me a touchingly vivid memory he had of Wellstone; one in which the late Senator implored the Somali to keep fighting for all of his friends and countrymen who had been detained in the last year. Jamal vowed to me that night that he would carry on in Wellstone’s memory.
Pretty glib stuff that could easily be dismissed. And a cynic could point only to Jamal’s blatant opportunism.
But in the last few weeks, Jamal has made good on his vow. A Star Tribune reporter followed him to Seattle and Lewiston, Maine, on what was dubbed the “National Tour Against Hate.” Both cities have large Somali populations, and Jamal went to address increasing tensions between whites and African immigrants. By the Star Tribune’s accounts, Jamal drew captivated crowds and rave reviews.
Jamal shook up Lewiston in particular, as he called for the resignation of Mayor Laurier Raymond after the mayor wrote an open letter asking Somalis to discourage friends and family from moving there. Jamal even had a chance to meet with Maine’s governor over the issue.
Safe to say it was a slightly different reception from our speaker of the house when Jamal came home. After Sviggum scurried away, Jamal walked toward the State Office Building, climbed the steps to the ground floor, and trudged out into the cold Minnesota air.
4:54:06 PM 
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