The bus driver pulled over to the curb and stopped
the school bus on Smithfield Street. He
had driven us from the meeting hall on the South Side across the Smithfield
Street Bridge and into downtown Pittsburgh.
The driver opened the door and a police officer climbed up the steps to
confer with him, and then the officer walked back out. We looked expectantly at the driver as he
stood up to address us.
“Hey, folks.
I am sorry, but this is as close as they’ll let me get to Grant
Street. You’ll have to walk the rest of
the way from here.”
“Where will you pick us up?” the lady behind me
shouted.
“The police told me to park down on Stanwix Street –
across from the PPG Building.”
We all got up and exited the bus. It was only a couple of blocks to the
building where Senator Romey had his office.
At least the weather was good, with temperatures in the low fifties –
Pittsburgh was experiencing its midwinter thaw.
As we got closer to Grant Street, we had to wend our way through mobs of
people. Some of the people shouted at us
as we made our way across Grant Street toward the steps of the Grant
Building. They carried signs expressing
their opposition to our rally with slogans like “Don’t Take Our Guns,” and “2nd
Amendment Forever.” The police seemed to
be keeping the counter protesters on one side of Grant Street and our group on
the other. A small dais had been set up
for those giving speeches. I saw a microphone
and loudspeakers. At least I would be heard over the crowd noise. I hadn’t expected so many people. I glanced at my watch. It was 5:50 PM. The official program would
start in ten minutes.
I crossed Grant Street and began working myself
through the group friendlier to our position.
With the others scheduled to speak, I made my way toward the dais.
“Dad! Hey Dad!” I heard Jennifer’s voice and turned
to see her waving. She wasn’t hard to
pick her out with Jeff standing beside her.
The high school basketball star towered above those around him. He and Jennifer’s best friend Liz were also
waving. I waved back and continued
walking toward the podium.
Brent Corey, the President of the local chapter of
CommonSense, was carrying a clipboard and checked off my name when he saw
me. Ten people were scheduled to speak
during the hour long rally. After the
speakers finished, Corey planned to present a petition to Senator Romey requesting
that he introduce and support legislation requiring universal background checks
for gun purchases. If Romey didn’t show
up, we would march to the U.S. Post Office to mail the petition to the Senator.
“Okay,” Corey said.
“All the speakers have checked in.
It’s just past 6:00 PM. Let’s get
started.” He walked to the podium to
welcome everyone and to introduce the first speaker, which was me.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for coming downtown on a February
evening to participate in a conversation about gun violence in our nation. This evening you will hear concerns expressed
by a number of your fellow citizens, some of whom have experienced gun violence
and the damage it has caused. . . .”
A chant started up from across the street. “Don’t
Take Our Guns! Don’t Take Our Guns!”
“Let me assure all of you,” Brent Corey continued,
“Nobody is advocating the confiscation of any guns from law abiding
citizens. But our next speaker will
describe some of the reasonable measures we do support to protect other law
abiding citizens from gun violence.
You’ve read his article in the Post-Gazette and seen him on television,
please welcome George Leskovic!” There
was scattered applause on our side of the street and chants and catcalls from
across the street. “Go get ‘em, George,”
Brent Corey whispered, patting me on the back as I approached the microphone.
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