The year was 1982 and I was working as an administrative aide to the House Chairman of the Appropriations subcommittee of Mental Health.
It was a fascinating time to be working in government, particularly in the field of mental health. I worked for a brilliant, compassionate individual by the name of Joseph Young, Sr. Joe had experienced, first-hand, the ravages of mental illness with his own son, a schizophrenic, and was actively involved in prevention well ahead of his time.
The House Mental Health Subcommittee had recently passed the budget and we were conducting a joint meeting with the Senate Mental Health Committee to finalize the plan before taking it before the House for vote.
On our subcommittee was a rookie legislator, rare for Appropriations, but a favor must have been involved somewhere. Midway into the joint meeting the rookie legislator piped in with a question about a $250,000 line item.
You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
I swear the silence lasted all of 30 seconds. And then, without missing a beat, the meeting continued as if a question had never been asked and the budget was passed.
Walking back to our offices, I asked Joe about the $250,000 line item. I had no idea what it was for either.
Reading the news coverage, I’m convinced there isn’t a reporter alive who can truly read an appropriations bill.
“That’s for Senator X’s wife’s clinic,” Joe responded, “she gets it every year. No one ever questions that line item.”
Of course Senator X was the Chair of the Senate Mental Health Subcommittee of Appropriations.
Sometimes it really is who you know.
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