Dear, dear. Scandals, scandals. Criminal defense fund, that’s where we left off. Well, Scottie soon-to-be-former Governor Walker seemed to see himself as above the ordinary folk and even above the law. If he didn’t like a law, he’d change it or (worse) ignore it. 

I’ve known leaders who recognized their weaknesses and surrounded themselves with people who could fill in the gaps in their experience and knowledge. Smart leaders surround themselves with even smarter staff whenever possible. That is, smart and secure leaders surround themselves with good people. 

Insecure leaders, on the other hand, surround themselves with lackeys and staffers who will bow down and do their bidding without ever questioning their decisions – even the poor decisions. Those leaders might employ staff who will follow orders, even if those orders break the law. Toward the end of the Watergate scandal in the 1970s, the big questions were “What did President Nixon know, and when did he know it?” What? You don’t know much about Watergate? I suggested the book All the President’s Men before my nap. If you don’t want to read it, get the movie. Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman, be still my heart … but anyway, you wanted to know about the recall season of 2012. 

Walker’s previous office had been Milwaukee County Executive. His staff from that position, let’s just say, weren’t the admirable and trustworthy type. After Scottie moved into the governor’s mansion, law enforcement revealed that the County Executive’s office was riddled with scandal. Remember when I told you how teachers had to behave themselves on the job and keep their political actions clearly separate from their professional responsibilities? Elected officials have to be careful not to use time on the job as time campaigning. They can’t use materials, staff, or equipment from their jobs to further their election or re-election in any way. There’s a clear line between working and campaigning. 

Well, children, gather ’round and you shall hear of the wild ride of… never mind. That’s a different piece of literature. The Governor (that’s with an -or, dears) watched from his Madison mansion as the investigators moved into serious investigations of County Executive Walker’s staff. Five close aides were charged with fifteen felonies. The FBI raided the home of one of his top staffers. Allegedly, illegal campaigning took place within steps of the County Exec’s desk. The next piece of news was even more incriminating: the governor himself established a criminal defense fund and hired criminal defense lawyers. 

Kiddos, you might be thinking he was just acting as a precaution. That kind of precaution, however, was not legal. A sitting governor could only establish a criminal defense fund if he or she were charged with or about to be charged with a felony. Even then, they could not use a penny of state money to pay for the attorneys.  Walker had been compared to Richard Nixon in his attitude and demeanor, and now a group called One Wisconsin Now was running a website they called Walkergate Files.

What’s that? President Nixon – the president in All the President’s Men. Get the movie or the book, kids. You need the background. Then, and only then, will I share with you the rest of the story. 

Readers, you already know about Watergate and Nixon. You can find out more about Walker’s criminal allegations by visiting One Wisconsin Now’s website devoted to the Walkergate Files. Just click below.

Where were we, youngsters? Oh, yes, I was about to talk about recalling the governor of Wisconsin. There were times when we had to seek out the humor in order to keep from falling apart. We found that Walker’s supporters had made a campaign sign that spelled governor wrong- spelled it with an -er instead of -or. Duh. We shared pictures of the misspelled signs and pointed out the idiocy of following a group of people like that, people who weren’t smart enough to proofread their work before posting it in their front yard. 

We were proud that recall volunteers for our side gathered more than double the number of signatures needed to call for the recall election. We needed to submit just over 500,000 based on voter numbers and a complicated formula. When the day came, the organizers trucked in more than one million signatures. One million! Oh, yes, we were proud. There were rumors  about bad craziness, like the guy who claimed to have signed 80 petitions in order to get the petitions thrown out. Turned out he hadn’t signed any – not even one. 

But the real signatures: the real voters, the disenfranchised (look it up, sweetie, it’s a useful descriptive word) and the average middle class workers, they came out of the woodwork. The recall offices downtown were busy places. People actually came to the office and asked to sign petitions. They didn’t wait for recall volunteers to come to them; they came to the volunteers. The momentum in gathering signatures just never seemed to slow down. I was a volunteer myself, kiddos. I wore the lanyard around my neck that announced “Recall volunteer,” kept two recall petitions in my vehicle, and made sure I parked on the street when I went to work so I wasn’t violating the policy on having political items on school property. We teachers had to be careful. 

We had to be careful because there were strict policies about political involvement. Yes, I know I’ve told you that teaching was a radical and political career back then. Our budgets, our reputations, and our pensions were subject to public perception. Public hearing were even held to determine which books students could read in classes. It bordered on censorship at times… but that’s another story. 

We teachers could park a car with a political bumper sticker in the school lots. We were allowed to wear a campaign button on our jackets on the way in and out of school. We could volunteer on our own time or donate money to a candidate of our choice, but we couldn’t discuss it during school hours or use school equipment (copiers or computers) for political purposes. That meant no  emails, no printing or copying of recall-related news articles, and no reading of blogs on company time. 

We managed, though. We collaborated and shared news during our lunch and our prep periods. We walked out the door together and talked them. We updated each other before the bell rang in the morning and after the kids left in the afternoon. We teachers, we who had dedicated our lives to making a difference, were forced to stand up for ourselves and say we mattered. 

And say it we did. Kidlets, take a break and read All the President’s Men for a little topical entertainment. When I wake up from my nap, I’ll tell you about the governor’s criminal defense fund.