Reflections of a Former Congressional Page
Despite the Scandal, the Page Program Should Continue
Elise Viebeck
Last Updated: 12/19/06 Section: Opinion
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At 2 a.m. in the Capitol building, little specks of light from the perimeter of the rotunda illuminate the frescoed canopy above that depicts George Washington rising majestically into the clouds. This spectacle often inspires reflection on the enduring strength of American democracy and is best observed in quiet reverence while lying on the marble floor, staring directly up into the heights of the dome… that is, until a yawning security guard says that lying down is not really allowed, and that your boss needs a package picked up in the basement anyways.
Such is the experience of a congressional page: elevating and inspiring, yet tinged with sharp and often disappointing realities. The position has existed since the early 1820s when the speaker of the House began to hire boys from the ages of 9 to 15 to perform housekeeping tasks on the House floor. After expanding to the Senate in 1842, and with the integration of women starting in 1970, the program now employs over 100 pages for each seasonal term. They aid in the administrative operations of the House chamber by answering phones, taking messages to members, and making deliveries using the underground tunnels on Capitol Hill.
The most obvious purpose of the program is to give young people a first-hand look at the workings of the government. Because pages report to duty in the back of the House chamber, they constantly study floor procedure, witness votes, and interact directly with members of Congress. The program occupies a specific niche, as it is available only to 16-year-olds, who would otherwise have difficulty finding opportunities and living alone in Washington, D.C.
The recent scandal involving former Congressman Mark Foley has spurred much debate on the necessity and relevancy of the page program. Kathryn Lopez of the National Review believes that Congress should abolish the program, calling pages "prematurely political" and "needless errand boys." According to her, pages would be "richer, deeper people for having spent more time in real America before heading for the Hill-and the Beltway will be better for having a Renaissance 'you' and not a kid who has wanted to be president since he was 12 and filled his resume accordingly."
Such is the experience of a congressional page: elevating and inspiring, yet tinged with sharp and often disappointing realities. The position has existed since the early 1820s when the speaker of the House began to hire boys from the ages of 9 to 15 to perform housekeeping tasks on the House floor. After expanding to the Senate in 1842, and with the integration of women starting in 1970, the program now employs over 100 pages for each seasonal term. They aid in the administrative operations of the House chamber by answering phones, taking messages to members, and making deliveries using the underground tunnels on Capitol Hill.
The most obvious purpose of the program is to give young people a first-hand look at the workings of the government. Because pages report to duty in the back of the House chamber, they constantly study floor procedure, witness votes, and interact directly with members of Congress. The program occupies a specific niche, as it is available only to 16-year-olds, who would otherwise have difficulty finding opportunities and living alone in Washington, D.C.
The recent scandal involving former Congressman Mark Foley has spurred much debate on the necessity and relevancy of the page program. Kathryn Lopez of the National Review believes that Congress should abolish the program, calling pages "prematurely political" and "needless errand boys." According to her, pages would be "richer, deeper people for having spent more time in real America before heading for the Hill-and the Beltway will be better for having a Renaissance 'you' and not a kid who has wanted to be president since he was 12 and filled his resume accordingly."
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