Downtown workers don’t need a newspaper to tell them when an income tax vote is scheduled in the state legislature. All they have to do is listen for the sounds of hundreds of horn-honking protesters who descend upon the state Capitol as regularly as seven-year cicadas.
They drive down Charlotte Avenue blowing horns and gather in Legislative Plaza under the inscribed words of Woodrow Wilson: “America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured.”
Anti-income tax protestors—who, ironically, are quite pro-income—no doubt view their raucous rallies beneath the Wilson inscription as a vital defense of such American principles. But many who work in downtown Nashville, on the other hand, treasure peace—and wish the tax protestors would too.
There is perhaps no more prominent peace proponent than a librarian, and state librarian and archivist Edwin Gleaves, who is something like the librarian-in-chief of Tennessee, has the misfortune of working in the honk zone. His office, located across Seventh Avenue from the state Capitol, was filled with the sound of honking horns during last year’s tax protests. A charitable man, Gleaves notes that the noise hasn’t been as bad this year since the Tennessee Department of Safety closed the Capitol’s side streets to through traffic.
“I have no problem with people who protest,” he says. “But it’s a lot easier to criticize than it is to fix the problem.” After listing the effects that libraries across Tennessee will feel if the state library is forced to cut $1.3 million next year on top of this year’s $1.5 million cut, Gleaves says that the income tax debate “hasn’t been a very rational discussion” and that walking through the rowdy rallies has made him “uneasy.”
Others aren’t so diplomatic in their analyses of the protesters. “They’re a bunch of idiots. That’s what I think,” one state employee says.
There’s no law against being an idiot. (If there were, Mae Beavers wouldn’t be the only legislator under investigation by the TBI.) There are, however, laws forbidding unnecessary horn honking. Section 12.32.010 of the Metro Code says it’s legal to honk only when “reasonably necessary to insure safe operation” of an automobile. And Section 55-9-201 of the Tennessee Code labels unnecessary honking a Class C misdemeanor.
But according to talk radio host Steve Gill, who uses the airwaves to mobilize protesters between commutes from his Brentwood home, the horn blowing that he encourages isn’t petty lawbreaking; it’s bona fide civil disobedience. “There is imminent danger to the taxpayers and people of Tennessee,” he says, adding that “the unconstitutional and illegal income tax” should be of more concern to Tennesseans than any laws broken by income tax protesters. Furthermore, he notes, horn-honking laws limit political expression, which is protected by the First Amendment.
Everyone knows the First Amendment is nothing if not steadfast in its protection of the American right to circle a city block for hours honking one’s car horn. Everyone, that is, but David Hudson, a research attorney at the First Amendment Center, who cites court cases from Montana, New York and Oregon that dealt with such horny issues.
“There is a split of authority from the courts,” Hudson says. “In the Montana and New York cases, the courts rejected the First Amendment argument on the grounds that there was a legitimate public interest in restricting horn honking to situations where danger is imminent.” In the Oregon case, however, the court declared the law “overbroad.”
“One of the issues is simply, 'What is the reason behind the regulation?’ ” Hudson says. “Is it designed to limit free expression, or does it serve the public interest?” Based on existing case law, anyone who challenged the Tennessee horn-honking statutes on First Amendment grounds would face “high hurdles,” Hudson says. “But,” he adds, “it would be interesting to know if there is selective enforcement” of the law.
Actually, there is. But rather than discriminating against tax protesters, the Metro Police Department discriminates in their favor. At Chief Emmett Turner’s “suggestion,” “the police department is being tolerant with the horn blowing that is occurring [at anti-tax rallies],” says Metro Police spokesman Don Aaron. According to Aaron, protest honking is allowed as long as the vehicle is moving. “If a person stops and sits on the horn, they will be subjected to enforcement action,” he says.
When an “overzealous” police officer wrote a couple of tickets at an anti-tax rally last August, Gill says, someone from the police department “called and advised us that the tickets would go away.”
Aaron confirms that police wrote one or two tickets last year. “It was not our intention to write them, and they were administratively dismissed,” he says.
Some state employees, whose offices surround the honking route, wish the police would accidentally write a few more tickets. “When I go home at night after they’ve held a rally, I can’t hear anything,” says one legislative assistant, whose office overlooks Charlotte Avenue.
What’s more, tax protesters—who perpetually complain about government inefficiency—are keeping state employees from getting their work done. “When that barrage of Lexuses, Cadillacs and SUVs starts honking outside my window, I can’t help constituents with problems because I can’t hear to talk on the phone,” the assistant says. Ironically, the horn honking is barely audible in the state Capitol building.
Another anti-tax protest, complete with all kinds of signs, is scheduled for June 19, but with the state library only yards away, perhaps the horn honkers’ time—like their money—could be spent more wisely. “I’ve seen the spelling and grammar errors on those signs,” the assistant says, “and yes, we are 49th in education.”
