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Tucked Inside a Gun Show
Josey1
Member Posts: 9,598 ✭✭
Tucked Inside a Gun Show, Right-Wingers Throw a Small Party
Sunday, April 21, 2002
Ex-Idaho Rep. Helen Chenoweth-Hage and her husband, Wayne Hage, at the Independent American Party Convention. (Glen Warchol/The Salt Lake Tribune)
BY GLEN WARCHOL
THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE
ELKO, Nev. -- In the best style of a casino marquee, a flashing electronic sign downtown greets visitors: "Independent American Party Convention 2002 presents: Helen Chenoweth-Hage . . . Randy Weaver . . . Sheriff Richard Mack . . . and much much more." Then in huge letters, it flashes: "GUN SHOW!!!!"
The lineup of speakers at the statewide meeting of Nevada's 30-year-old fringe party is dazzling by right-wing standards. Organized by party founder Dan Hansen shortly before he died in a January car accident, the convention evolved into a tribute to him.
The weekend he chose for the gathering marks the anniversaries, in chronological order, of the battle of Concord of the American Revolution, the burning of the David Koresh compound in Waco, Texas, and the bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building, all dates of near-religious significance to the attendees.
"Dan is up in heaven now smiling down," proclaims more than one attendee, many of whom are Hansen's relatives.
"This is the best convention yet," says his brother, Christopher Hansen. "The only thing sad is that Dan is not here to run for office again."
Dan Hansen was a perennial unsuccessful candidate, having run for most of the offices in Nevada, including congressman and governor.
"We will have more candidates this year than we have ever had, in fulfillment of Dan's vision for the party," says Joel Hansen, the party chairman and another brother.
But somehow, the convention, with its 50 delegates, strikes a pathetic note. Convention visitors must pay a $6 fee to the gun show to enter the convention meeting room. And the speakers bring more of a nostalgic revisiting of bygone glory than a renewed assault on "rogue government."
Part of it can be linked to the terrorist attacks of September. The federal government has lost much of its menace in the eyes of mainstream conservatives. A Republican president has pushed -- with the endorsement of a conservative Congress -- security measures that the farther right see as a threat to individual rights. And the president's Office of Homeland Security is seen as a giant step toward a loathed "national law enforcement."
The heralded speakers, former lions of the far right, are long out of power and now make the rounds of a speakers circuit that includes gun-rights rallies, Eagle Forum dinners and gun shows.
Former Idaho Congresswoman Chenoweth-Hage, a freshmen in the 1994 Republican takeover of the House, fell victim to her own campaign promises -- in this case, self-imposed term limitations. She resigned in 2000. Now, she joins her husband, Wayne Hage, in land disputes with the Bureau of Land Management and vaguely hints of a return to politics.
Mack, a former sheriff in Arizona, won fame in 1994 by leading a challenge of the Brady gun-control bill that resulted in the U.S. Supreme Court overturning a key provision of the national handgun law. But the unimpressed voters of Graham County, Ariz., turned him out of office even before the final ruling. A 1998 campaign for sheriff in his old college town, Provo, failed. He still lives in Provo and is a spokesman for the Gun Owners of America.
But it is Weaver, who stood off with federal agents at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, who is the star of the gathering.
"Most of us have not felt the power of a government out of control," Joel Hansen says in presenting the wiry, gray-haired Weaver.
Weaver was at the center of a 1992 standoff at Ruby Ridge that began when federal marshals botched an attempt to capture him on a charge of selling illegally sawed-off shotguns. Before it was over, federal agents had killed his son, wounded Weaver and put a sniper's bullet through his wife's head, killing her. One marshal was killed.
Men solemnly shake his hand, women get his autograph and tearfully greet him, "God Bless you for what you've been through."
The soft-spoken Weaver has developed a powder-dry sense of humor and refuses to make speeches, but will answer questions. Still, in his quiet way, Weaver brings the only real fire to the convention hall. Someone asks Weaver what he would do differently, if he could turn back time.
"I would have put on my full camo and shot them in the back -- as many as I could."
The room erupts in cheers.
Later, he stands behind a table at the gun show where he sells and autographs his book, Ruby Ridge, for $20. Sales are brisk.
Mack holds an invitation-only seminar for Nevada sheriffs and deputies on dealing with federal incursions into their counties. Attendance is sparse. Eureka County Sheriff Ken Jones, who has a reputation for purity in standing up to the feds to the point of refusing all federal grants, is present and a deputy from Las Vegas' Clark County checks in. The rest of the attendees are political hopefuls planning campaigns against incumbent sheriffs or ranchers, and right-wing activists infuriated with the BLM's stewardship of rangeland.
Mack explains that sheriffs, who he believes are the supreme law enforcement entity in any county, are the key to regaining balance between local and federal power. Sheriffs across the country must tackle "federal criminality," he says, which includes Internal Revenue Service abuses, the Army Corps of Engineers' invasion of local affairs, and, of course, BLM and Forest Service usurpation of county law enforcement. "This is 'High Noon' stuff," he tells the gathering.
Mack is upbeat. Sheriffs across the country have been standing up to federal agencies successfully in isolated cases, he says. Threatened sanctions, fines and even arrests never materialize, proving "government impotence."
"If the sheriff in Waco and at Ruby Ridge had remained in charge, we would have never heard of David Koresh and Randy Weaver," Mack says.
But Jones, a 27-year veteran who calls himself "that crazy ol' sheriff from Eureka," gives a more pessimistic assessment: The office of sheriff is threatened with extinction.
"This is how they are going to do it to us -- the Office of Homeland Security," he says. "When you try to stand up to them, they're going to say, 'Remember those people on 9-11? You're a traitor.' We'll have a federal police department and there'll be nobody left to protect people from our damned government."
Jones announces that after five terms, he will not seek re-election this year.
By the end of the meeting, Mack fights back tears, "I've had it with them [federal law enforcement]. There's not any person I would allow to be a victim of them -- if I were still a sheriff."
As the banquet speaker, Chenoweth-Hage reminisced on her congressional days when she used the "bully pulpit" to strike fear into the hearts of liberals, federal bureaucrats and often the less-ideologically pure members of her own party.
She says the news media targeted her as a member of the John Birch Society.
"I wasn't but I told them, 'The only problem I have with the John Birch Society is that there is not enough of them.' "
As to innuendoes she supported the potentially violent militias that in the '90s seemed to be emerging all over the country, she maintains, "From that day to this day, I will not denounce the militia. They are organizations that free men and women can join and participate. [The media] set up this straw puppet of the militia to draw attention away from the real problem -- a runaway government.
"We've got to fix our moral bayonets and go after those who would destroy our freedoms," is her windup.
Weaver, who few would argue went through hell at the hands of federal law enforcement, offered little rhetoric.
"I'm no closer to God than I was before," Weaver says in answer to a question. Then, getting a laugh from the delegates, "And I don't think any worse of the government than I did before."
http://www.sltrib.com/04212002/utah/730170.htm
"If cowardly and dishonorable men sometimes shoot unarmed men with army pistols or guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary and gallows, and not by a general deprivation of a constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878
Sunday, April 21, 2002
Ex-Idaho Rep. Helen Chenoweth-Hage and her husband, Wayne Hage, at the Independent American Party Convention. (Glen Warchol/The Salt Lake Tribune)
BY GLEN WARCHOL
THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE
ELKO, Nev. -- In the best style of a casino marquee, a flashing electronic sign downtown greets visitors: "Independent American Party Convention 2002 presents: Helen Chenoweth-Hage . . . Randy Weaver . . . Sheriff Richard Mack . . . and much much more." Then in huge letters, it flashes: "GUN SHOW!!!!"
The lineup of speakers at the statewide meeting of Nevada's 30-year-old fringe party is dazzling by right-wing standards. Organized by party founder Dan Hansen shortly before he died in a January car accident, the convention evolved into a tribute to him.
The weekend he chose for the gathering marks the anniversaries, in chronological order, of the battle of Concord of the American Revolution, the burning of the David Koresh compound in Waco, Texas, and the bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building, all dates of near-religious significance to the attendees.
"Dan is up in heaven now smiling down," proclaims more than one attendee, many of whom are Hansen's relatives.
"This is the best convention yet," says his brother, Christopher Hansen. "The only thing sad is that Dan is not here to run for office again."
Dan Hansen was a perennial unsuccessful candidate, having run for most of the offices in Nevada, including congressman and governor.
"We will have more candidates this year than we have ever had, in fulfillment of Dan's vision for the party," says Joel Hansen, the party chairman and another brother.
But somehow, the convention, with its 50 delegates, strikes a pathetic note. Convention visitors must pay a $6 fee to the gun show to enter the convention meeting room. And the speakers bring more of a nostalgic revisiting of bygone glory than a renewed assault on "rogue government."
Part of it can be linked to the terrorist attacks of September. The federal government has lost much of its menace in the eyes of mainstream conservatives. A Republican president has pushed -- with the endorsement of a conservative Congress -- security measures that the farther right see as a threat to individual rights. And the president's Office of Homeland Security is seen as a giant step toward a loathed "national law enforcement."
The heralded speakers, former lions of the far right, are long out of power and now make the rounds of a speakers circuit that includes gun-rights rallies, Eagle Forum dinners and gun shows.
Former Idaho Congresswoman Chenoweth-Hage, a freshmen in the 1994 Republican takeover of the House, fell victim to her own campaign promises -- in this case, self-imposed term limitations. She resigned in 2000. Now, she joins her husband, Wayne Hage, in land disputes with the Bureau of Land Management and vaguely hints of a return to politics.
Mack, a former sheriff in Arizona, won fame in 1994 by leading a challenge of the Brady gun-control bill that resulted in the U.S. Supreme Court overturning a key provision of the national handgun law. But the unimpressed voters of Graham County, Ariz., turned him out of office even before the final ruling. A 1998 campaign for sheriff in his old college town, Provo, failed. He still lives in Provo and is a spokesman for the Gun Owners of America.
But it is Weaver, who stood off with federal agents at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, who is the star of the gathering.
"Most of us have not felt the power of a government out of control," Joel Hansen says in presenting the wiry, gray-haired Weaver.
Weaver was at the center of a 1992 standoff at Ruby Ridge that began when federal marshals botched an attempt to capture him on a charge of selling illegally sawed-off shotguns. Before it was over, federal agents had killed his son, wounded Weaver and put a sniper's bullet through his wife's head, killing her. One marshal was killed.
Men solemnly shake his hand, women get his autograph and tearfully greet him, "God Bless you for what you've been through."
The soft-spoken Weaver has developed a powder-dry sense of humor and refuses to make speeches, but will answer questions. Still, in his quiet way, Weaver brings the only real fire to the convention hall. Someone asks Weaver what he would do differently, if he could turn back time.
"I would have put on my full camo and shot them in the back -- as many as I could."
The room erupts in cheers.
Later, he stands behind a table at the gun show where he sells and autographs his book, Ruby Ridge, for $20. Sales are brisk.
Mack holds an invitation-only seminar for Nevada sheriffs and deputies on dealing with federal incursions into their counties. Attendance is sparse. Eureka County Sheriff Ken Jones, who has a reputation for purity in standing up to the feds to the point of refusing all federal grants, is present and a deputy from Las Vegas' Clark County checks in. The rest of the attendees are political hopefuls planning campaigns against incumbent sheriffs or ranchers, and right-wing activists infuriated with the BLM's stewardship of rangeland.
Mack explains that sheriffs, who he believes are the supreme law enforcement entity in any county, are the key to regaining balance between local and federal power. Sheriffs across the country must tackle "federal criminality," he says, which includes Internal Revenue Service abuses, the Army Corps of Engineers' invasion of local affairs, and, of course, BLM and Forest Service usurpation of county law enforcement. "This is 'High Noon' stuff," he tells the gathering.
Mack is upbeat. Sheriffs across the country have been standing up to federal agencies successfully in isolated cases, he says. Threatened sanctions, fines and even arrests never materialize, proving "government impotence."
"If the sheriff in Waco and at Ruby Ridge had remained in charge, we would have never heard of David Koresh and Randy Weaver," Mack says.
But Jones, a 27-year veteran who calls himself "that crazy ol' sheriff from Eureka," gives a more pessimistic assessment: The office of sheriff is threatened with extinction.
"This is how they are going to do it to us -- the Office of Homeland Security," he says. "When you try to stand up to them, they're going to say, 'Remember those people on 9-11? You're a traitor.' We'll have a federal police department and there'll be nobody left to protect people from our damned government."
Jones announces that after five terms, he will not seek re-election this year.
By the end of the meeting, Mack fights back tears, "I've had it with them [federal law enforcement]. There's not any person I would allow to be a victim of them -- if I were still a sheriff."
As the banquet speaker, Chenoweth-Hage reminisced on her congressional days when she used the "bully pulpit" to strike fear into the hearts of liberals, federal bureaucrats and often the less-ideologically pure members of her own party.
She says the news media targeted her as a member of the John Birch Society.
"I wasn't but I told them, 'The only problem I have with the John Birch Society is that there is not enough of them.' "
As to innuendoes she supported the potentially violent militias that in the '90s seemed to be emerging all over the country, she maintains, "From that day to this day, I will not denounce the militia. They are organizations that free men and women can join and participate. [The media] set up this straw puppet of the militia to draw attention away from the real problem -- a runaway government.
"We've got to fix our moral bayonets and go after those who would destroy our freedoms," is her windup.
Weaver, who few would argue went through hell at the hands of federal law enforcement, offered little rhetoric.
"I'm no closer to God than I was before," Weaver says in answer to a question. Then, getting a laugh from the delegates, "And I don't think any worse of the government than I did before."
http://www.sltrib.com/04212002/utah/730170.htm
"If cowardly and dishonorable men sometimes shoot unarmed men with army pistols or guns, the evil must be prevented by the penitentiary and gallows, and not by a general deprivation of a constitutional privilege." - Arkansas Supreme Court, 1878