The Caucus

The legislators noisily left the hall. It had been a very short speech, followed by an early adjournment. The buzz following the adjournment testified to the reception of John Smith's words. He had had the attention of the entire body, a rather unusual happening. They were at first puzzled, shocked, and then intrigued. Their first abhorrence was soon replaced by admiration for a new idea of taxation. Taxation was a very significant thing, dear to the heart of any politician. Usually taxation ideas involved cutting taxes and immediately presented the painful thought of where to shift the tax burden. A tax cut without some other compensating tax rise was a political no-no.

The more perceptive of the legislators soon realized that this idea was so unusual that the old political ideology of their party did not give any guide as to what political stand they should take. They had not the slightest glimmer of where the public stood, or, more importantly, where the various pressure groups might array themselves.

Word quickly spread to the party leadership. Both leadership groups met that evening over drinks to discuss not only the speech but whether to call a party caucus. Each leadership, to a man absent when Smith spoke, had only word-of-mouth reports as to what Smith had said. Although printed versions of the speech would be available Monday, that would be too late. The press would carry the speech in detail to the public in tomorrow's paper--maybe on the front page. Both parties wanted to capitalize on Smith's publicity, but to do that each party had to take a stand. This meant thrashing out their position in caucus over the weekend.

By putting both parties in the position of having to work over the weekend, Smith was in the doghouse. Both parties would be down on him. In this perhaps the leadership was right; in general these were hardworking times. The pols were now willing to spend a good five-day week working hard for their special-interest clients. Gone were the days when many objected to a Wednesday caucus because it spoiled both weekends. But to take their whole weekend, what was the state legislature coming to?

The minority party had Smith, which was fortunate because they could question him closely before making a decision on the new issue. True, he might later be a liability, but there was a certain advantage to their position.

The majority leader was quite in the dark. A caucus was, of course, necessary, but there was no time to prepare a leadership position; a party line to be handed out to the legislators of his party. He would have to decide from the scanty reports on what Smith had said what party position to adopt.

Both parties decided that they should hold joint lower and upper house caucuses, since the senior house was completely in the dark. The calls went out for a Saturday caucus, each party clerk busy trying to reach the legislators who had scattered for the weekend. The times set for each meeting reflected due regard for the Friday night festivities already underway. Both caucuses were to meet late Saturday afternoon. The minority party took pains to keep Smith under wraps and immediately dispatched aides to shield him from the press.

This move was most fortunate, taking advantage of the slight delay by the newspaper copy rooms in getting reporters over to Smith's residence, for Smith, an unknown, was difficult to locate. When his party representatives did reach him, they made sure it became impossible for the press to reach him. He was literally quarantined until the caucus, in a small down-at-the-heels hotel, one with vain aspirations of second class.

An immediate castigation by the leadership of his party was blunted by two facts. First, Smith had tried to discuss his bill with the leadership but was unsuccessful in getting an appointment even after several tries. Second, there was the vague suspicion among the minority leadership that they might have a good thing going, something that would gain much press coverage for them and perhaps discomfit the majority party.

Smith was sequestered in his hotel room and told to be prepared to present his idea to the caucus and answer their questions. He got the impression that the party was in general aroused and negative, Smith sat down with a yellow pad to prepare himself for the ordeal.

Smith reviewed in his mind the principal elements of his tax proposal. He suspected that, before adoption, if it were adopted, there would be many amendments. These would normally represent the special-interest groups. But, since he was a man of principle, perhaps abnormal for a politician-and here the author wishes to make it clear that no deprecation of the second oldest profession is intended; the author merely wishes to note that in the "art of the possible" it is usually better to seek accommodation to the existing pressures than to espouse and work from basic principle, no matter how lofty-Representative Smith had designed his bill to address the taxation issue directly. Perhaps Smith might not have realized that the proposal be offered would receive such approbation that very few amendments would be successful, but he certainly expected extensive debate because of the nature of his bill. He was probably well aware that the recent television coverage of legislative sessions had inspired a significant verbosity increase among the more silver-tongued legislators, an increase from a high-level base.

More productive was Smith's second train of thought. What sort of questions would an unimaginative dolt be likely to ask? Now here he was on solid ground. He would review his bill in detail and note what sort of misunderstandings might occur. He surveyed the background of the duller party members and prepared answers. After a few hours of this he gave up. The number of questions an idiot could ask was legion. Smith turned on the television.

Much to his surprise the local late news carried accounts of his speech. it was then Smith realized that he had struck a responsive chord with the public. They might not want to be taxed for sex, but at least they were interested.

Smith had to go to his party caucus uninformed further, because the next day, Saturday, was without early national news coverage. The morning networks were all devoted to cartoons, giving blessed relief to tired and sometimes hung over parents.

Somehow, the world would have to get along without news until the cartoons and the Saturday sports events were over. Then the world could get back to the tense hype and action that kept things in a ferment for the rest of the week. The two-day delay of the weekend only sharpened the public interest, as we shall see later.

After a sleazy lunch, brought in by a party functionary from a quick-food joint around the corner in lieu of room service, Smith was taken by taxi to the caucus room. He entered by the back way to avoid reporters gathering on the rumor that Smith would appear. Indeed, Smith would be cosseted only if the party approved his bill. If not, he would be as welcome as a bastard at a family reunion.

Smith realized all this, but, as a man of courage, he rose to the challenge. Gone was the quaver; the issue was joined and he would battle it out if necessary. Here Smith's true nature came out, Actually, there wasn't much battling ahead. Smith's fundamental contribution had been made, and the machinery of the party would take care of the rest. All they needed was a direction and the party was prepared to go, go, go.

With only, the briefest of introductions, the minority leader set the caucus meeting in motion. Word of mouth had informed all who had not been in attendance at Smith's maiden speech. Smith was introduced and took the floor.

He reiterated the basic principles of sex taxation before going into his political analysis. A tax was to be levied on married males annually for the privilege of cohabitation and the pleasures of the bedroom. The tax was to be a flat tax equally imposed upon all those who were married, excepting those married men who were impotent.

The simplicity of this taxation concept was staggering. The state knew who was married; it collected a few dollars when they were married. It collected a joint tax each year, and some states even collected a tax on their joint possessions. it allowed them to separate without charge, but, when they were divorced, the court collected again from them when it granted their divorce, a final separation.

The minority caucus was thrown open for questions, and the first question asked was the one uppermost in everyone's mind. Would such a tax enjoy public support? The legislators, to a man, were keenly aware of the growing public resentment of taxation in general and in particular.

Here Smith was at his best. He pointed out that, in analyzing the support base, one must analyze not only the pressure groups and the political contributors but the broad public, the masses. Any analysis that did not include the lumpen-proletariat might flounder upon the shoals of a grass-roots revolt movement. Grass-roots revolt didn't happen often, but it was possible. With such a dramatic and personal issue as this, hidden maneuvers would be difficult. In this area the public was aware and informed. Sex was a basic of life. Smith reminded the legislators of how sensitive the inflation issue had become. He reminded them of how the persiflage of environmental issues had tumbled before the reality of food price rises.

Smith reminded the legislators of how this was a bedrock issue, ignoring the aside from a nearby legislator that this was more of a bed-rocking issue. Actually Smith had deliberately set this up, and the resulting ripple of laughter served to relieve the tension that had been banging over the meeting.

Smith then followed with the comment that this issue was even deeper than a gut issue, catching the caucus by complete surprise, because it was the first indication that Smith possessed even the slightest sense of humor. That did it, and Smith knew he could now proceed to the more serious discussion of his bill.

Smith proceeded, with his exposition directed to the basic question of popular political support. He pointed out that all those bachelors, unfortunates who did not share the connubial bliss, would not be taxed. One might well count on their support.

Fairness would not allow them to be taxed for the pleasures of others, even for the infrequent pleasures they might enjoy. In return, Smith felt sure they would look upon the party as the staunch defender of their celibate rights. They would not only support the bill but might give their undying gratitude to a party that recognized them as a minority and appreciated their deprived condition. The entire bachelor population would be brought under the fold of the party, a great voter resource for years to come.

Then there was the Church. Its entire celibate constituency would appreciate the Party's efforts to compensate for its sacrifice, a small token from the rest of humanity. One might confidently count on clergy votes.

The gay population would certainly back the bill, on two counts. First, the gays were exempt from taxation, and, second, the gay couples might reasonably hope that someday they would be taxed. Everyone knew how taxes eventually spread, and the gays were certain to be one of the first extensions. This would legitimize their movement in a way that was impossible to prevent. Direct legitimization hopes had been dashed in orange juice recently; now there was another path. The gays would be strong advocates.

Smith might have gone on to mention many other groups, but a few examples would suffice. He knew he must face the major problem: what of the married people? After all, they were the ones who must bear the tax. Smith was equal to this task! This had been the first concern of his political analysis.

Smith continued, "The major groups of the adult population are the married: young, old, and middle-aged. I shall proceed to analyze each group's response. The tax is a flat tax," he continued, ignoring the snickers. "All would be taxed equally among the married. The young will shortly come to realize that on a tax-dollar basis they are doing very well. Nature grants them more than their equal share of sex, and they know it. The young will be solidly for the tax." Smith didn't need to remind the members of the importance of the youth of the party, and the growing youth vote.

As Smith moved on to the analysis of the older population, there was a bit of uneasiness, which he quickly assuaged. Smith pointed out that the bill was a model of fairness. Not only did it not tax those who could not enjoy the benefits of coitus, but more humanely ranted those who were not willing to declare their impotence a chance to be with the young and share the taxation. Their human rights, indeed the most dearly possessed human right, were carefully guarded. They too could be taxpayers and enjoy the pleasure of trying, along with the young in heart. This bill was a definite improvement over Medicaid.

The old would not lightly swear away their potency. They would not fill out the forms to declare themselves impotent. The husband would lie about it and the old lady would back him up. Think of the pleasure they both would have complaining about the tax at the senior citizens' center. This bill was positively therapeutic, Smith said, and so it proved to be.

Now, the middle class included the great majority of taxpayers, as all the representatives knew. Smith was very careful in his analysis of this group, because it was the most important. First he pointed out that the middle class, long overtaxed, still realized that taxation was a fact of life.

No matter what the politicians said, the middle class knew that they would pay. In fact they rather prided themselves that they were the ones who made the country go. Every country where the middle class had been destroyed had fallen into complete decline.

Somebody had to pay, and the middle class knew it. They were the bulwark of democracy. Not only had they been indoctrinated by their parents but also by their teachers. They accepted taxation as the British of an earlier generation had accepted the "white man's burden."

But, Smith pointed out-and here there was an audible silence, for it was the critical point-"This is the only tax where a man can get more for his tax dollar if he is willing to work at it."

Had Smith wanted to say more, he couldn't have. The room broke into cheers. His point had been made. The leadership realized they had a hot one. Smith was in. He had solid backing. His fellow party members now knew which way to go.

Across the capitol building in the other caucus room the majority party was trying hard to determine its position. Though handicapped by lack of knowledge of the details, the leadership analyzed Smith's bill as carefully as it could.

The majority party, hindered by not having either Representative John Smith present or even a copy of his speech, had to piece together the details of Smith's proposed sex tax from the memories of a few majority party members who had actually beard the speech. However, they were able to agree as to the major details, and their political analysis proceeded.

The early TV coverage had alerted all to the importance of the issue, and the majority party members were of one mind as to the seriousness of their caucus. Action was necessary, particularly as to what to tell the press. Those who had heard rumors from the minority party pointed out that it was not at all certain that the ideas of Smith were those of his party. There was strong feeling that the matter had not been cleared by the leadership and might later be disclaimed by the minority party. It was known that a Saturday caucus was being held by the minority, a matter unlikely had there not been the element of surprise for that party, too.

Even though the logic of surprise was accepted by all in the majority caucus, the situation was not relieved, because the uncertainty as to their opponents' position made their decision even more difficult. Essentially the majority caucus had to evaluate the sex tax proposition ab initio and, more important, without a Gallup Poll to guide them. "What a hell of a situation," one member commented. "How are we going to lead the people if we don't know where they are going."

Even time-tested political axioms were in doubt. For example, the basic ideology of the majority party had always been "soak the rich." Any level tax was considered to be regressive; even a linearly proportional tax was. But who were the rich?

Could the young now be considered the rich? They certainly were, genitally speaking. But to levy a heavier tax upon the young would be immoral, somehow. Besides, statistics showed that they had a higher percentage of young voters in their party. It would be political suicide.

As might have been expected, the nuances of Smith's analysis were sadly missed. However, the majority caucus did reasonably well in assembling its political analysis. The weaknesses and gaps that the majority analysis showed were compensated by the strong determination to take advantage of any new taxing opportunity.

Some in the majority caucus were of a mind to lie low, acquiesce. Let the opponents carry the ball. A failure could be exploited later to the party advantage. Nothing like 20-20 hindsight! Others felt that a policy of indecision was better. Rather than plunge in, a big-toe testing of the water was better politics.

One member said that a policy of plunging in followed by retraction would bring charges of coitus interruptus from a gleeful opposition. Yet if they took the bait and were too hasty, they would be tagged with premature ejaculation. One wit in the caucus even observed that here was a "right to wife" issue.

In the end, all felt that the best and safest position was to join in the debate, amending as the issue became more clearly defined. Their position with the eager press for the time being would be to indicate a favorable attitude, with, of course, ample caveats. Each one of the majority party hoped to milk the most individual publicity from the bill by public comments, seeking to rival the "Kennedy wit," but all feared caustic reaction by various pressure groups, although no legislator could put his finger on where public opposition would arise.

In this their political sensitivity was correct. The public response was as unusual as the issue. Aside from vast interest and much humorous comment, the public attitude was to be indiscernible for a long time.

Both caucuses took the same stand, a highly unusual situation. Unknowingly and without guidance from established party ideology both favored the measure. From that point on the real question was how to structure the debate for maximum publicity. Each party, of course, had its antenna out, seeking guidance from the public, and had there been any outstanding outcry, both would have dropped the issue like a hot potato.

The press was only slightly discomfited by the congruence of both parties, for the issue was of such breadth and interest that there was plenty of legwork for the press in seeking the opinions of civic leaders.