Standing Up for Freedom of Speech
I'm working on an article for Intercessors for America, and when I told our friend and neighbor, Michael V. Austin, about it, he told me the following story, which he kindly wrote up:
It was March 1, 1997, when President Bill Clinton, Hillary, and Chelsea (plus friends) hit Broadway for a matinee of RENT at the Nederlander Theatre on W 41st St in NYC.
I was listening to the radio in my $488/mo actor’s railroad hovel on W 36th St & 10th Ave when I heard that The Clintons were en route to the Broadway District, just a few blocks from my home, and that there was a kerfuffle from the public over the fact that there was a cordon for protestors set up several blocks from the theatre near Port Authority. The problem was that the cordon was so far that the President would never be able to even tell that citizens were peaceably gathered to protest.
The timely cause for protest was that a story had broken just a week before about the Clintons’ unconscionable renting out of The Lincoln Bedroom in exchange for political contributions. Aside from being completely grotesque in my opinion, there was concern that selling off the people’s property was a violation of The Emoluments Clause. Of course my blood pressure spiked at the thought that allegedly free citizens were being prohibited from voicing peaceable redress of their government.
I jumped to action and ran to the store, probably a Duane Reade, and grabbed a giant permanent marker and a foam core placard and then hurried to find my way as close to the theatre as I could get. I succeeded in getting to the last Secret Service cordon about a half a block from the theatre.
There didn’t appear to be any protestors there. I suppose there were some poor unfortunates who felt OK being subjects and went to the Imperial approved protest zone away from the theatre. Not me. I stood calmly and surveyed the scene to see if there were any other fellow travelers and thought there might be a few, and there were many regular onlookers trying to see the President. I had a feeling that the Clintons were already in the theatre. I heard that the limousine was there and obscured by a canvas tent.
It was clear that, in spite of my best efforts to have my opinion known, I’d have to stay through the entire show if I hoped to have Bill and Hillary see my sign. I then realized there were an army of journalists and news outlets all around me, and there appeared my opportunity to at least be seen by the people and the masses. In a move reminiscent of Sally Fields in the motion picture Norma Ray, I stood up as tall as I could and raised my placard high in the sky, and there my liberty rang out uninhibited. There and then the world around the Nederlander Theatre and the world beyond the camera lenses of the media saw my message. Media started filming and snapping up my one-man protest seeing my hand scrawled message which I wrote with the jagged letters of the RENT Playbill, “LINCOLN BEDROOM FOR RENT.” It was an instant hit (to anyone with a sense of humor). It created a stir, smiles, buzz of the crowd, and the clamoring of the media hounds.
Just then, a large, well-dressed Secret Service agent rapidly approached me wearing his best intimidating look, not knowing that you cannot intimidate a free patriot on a mission. He barked, “What are you doing?”
My response had to be directly from God, as I had never met aggression with such utter calm and control. I mildly replied, “I am John Q Public and I am exercising my sacrosanct First Amendment Rights.”
He smugly replied like an automaton, “This is a 'no protest zone.’ There is a place for you back at Port Authority.”
I calmly and assuredly asked, “On whose authority are you claiming to be able to deny my right to peaceable protest?” Just then, very well prepared for the moment, I pulled my pocket sized U.S. Constitution out and firmly stated, “This is The Constitution of The United States, and it guarantees my right to peaceably redress my government for grievances.”
That was the abrupt end of the conversion. The agent huffed and turned away.
The onlookers in my immediate vicinity gave me much praise and a few back pats for winning the day. I half jokingly asked them all to tell me if they saw any red laser dots on my forehead. There were snipers on several of the rooftops, and I have no doubt they were told about the dissident in the crowd.
Unfortunately that is the state of freedom in America, and worse, in the police state formerly known as “liberal,” The Empire State.
The next day I did see myself in one of the NY papers. My off-kilter RENT letters looked great. I don’t recall which newspaper it was and also had reports from friends that they saw my RENT sign on the local news. I was so proud that I stood my ground on the blood of my forefathers, who gave all so that potentates would never have super-powers to deny peace-loving citizens their First Freedom, the right to simple dissent. We have a Savior who paid the ultimate price for simple dissent that rattled the power establishment of His day. We must never, ever cede that blood stained ground that paved the way to liberty.
It won’t happen on my watch.
—Michael V Austin
My article is scheduled to post on April 14 on www.HeadlinePrayer.org. You can sign up for an email alert at www.RichDrama.com/blog/post/Prayer.
