The US House of Representatives was on edge on Tuesday night: would the homeland security secretary, Alejandro Mayorkas, be impeached? The Republicans’ mission looked likely to succeed, just barely, when a lone Democrat in a wheelchair and a hospital outfit emerged and put a stop to it.
That man was Al Green – not that Al Green, but a representative from Texas who’d taken an Uber from the hospital to make his views known. In a line perfectly tailored to a scene the New York Times compared to a political thriller, Green told the paper: “I came because it was personal.” He had undergone emergency abdominal surgery days before and was back in his hospital bed when he spoke to the reporter, Kayla Guo.
It’s not the first time the US Capitol has played host to such a dramatic vote. Lawmakers have always had to balance their physical health with the demands of the job – and on occasions from the passage of the Civil Rights Act to the near-death of Obamacare, the results have been momentous.
Green was the latest politician to make such a memorable entrance. “I had to cast this vote because this is a good, decent man whose reputation should not be besmirched,” he said of Mayorkas, who Republicans, in a partisan effort, accused of purposely failing to enforce immigration laws. Signs suggest they may attempt the process again – but for now, Green’s last-minute rush to the chamber prevented the first impeachment of a cabinet member since 1876.
A comparable moment in recent memory came in 2017. After he was diagnosed with brain cancer, John McCain returned to the Senate to weigh in on the future of the Affordable Care Act, AKA Obamacare, travelling across the country from his home in Arizona. And that wasn’t the most surprising part: with Republicans only slightly outnumbering Democrats in the Senate, 52-48, there was little wiggle room in their effort to undo the health law.
McCain’s return could have helped his party undermine legislation that members had been whining about for almost a decade – and which McCain himself opposed. But his views on the “skinny” repeal were more complicated. On 25 July, he voted to begin debate on the bill but expressed his reservations about it, calling it a “shell of a bill” and condemning the process that created it.
A few nights later, with a scar over his left eyebrow, he told reporters to “wait for the show”. When it came time to vote, he gave a thumbs down, casting a decisive vote that salvaged the healthcare reform he had campaigned against; gasps could be heard in the chamber. “I was thanked for my vote by Democratic friends more profusely than I should have been for helping save Obamacare,” he later wrote. “That had not been my goal.” Still, the healthcare act lived on.
Another historic piece of US legislation, the Civil Rights Act, benefited from the heroics of a single lawmaker in poor health. In 1964, the law had passed the House and was facing a Senate vote – but 18 senators were determined to filibuster it. Senator Richard Russell, a Georgia Democrat, said he and his allies would “resist to the bitter end” efforts “to bring about social equality” in the south. The chamber needed 67 votes to end the filibuster, and Senator Clair Engle, a California Democrat, was in the hospital with a brain tumor.
On the day of the vote, as Colin Son recounted in the journal Neurosurgical Focus, an ambulance carried Engle to the chamber. In a wheelchair, he struggled to speak; instead, he pointed to his eye, mouthing the word “aye”. Some colleagues were said to be in tears. The vote counted, and the measure passed, allowing the bill to move forward. Engle returned to the chamber for the last time nine days later, on 19 June, when the Senate passed the Civil Rights Act.
Other instances of rushed trips to the Capitol have had somewhat lower stakes. In 1985, for instance, Pete Wilson of California arrived in the Senate in a wheelchair and a bathrobe at 1.32am after getting his appendix out. According to a Times report, he asked colleagues: “What was the question?” and then voted to pass Ronald Reagan’s 1986 budget, prompting cheers. And across the ocean, Westminster has seen its share of politicians overcoming illness to cast votes: in 2018, for instance, the Labour MP Naz Shah discharged herself from a hospital and traveled four hours to London for a vote on a Brexit amendment. “I was standing next to Laura Pidcock [the Labour MP for North West Durham], who is eight months pregnant and in agony,” she told the Guardian at the time.
Shah called the voting process archaic; similar arguments have been made about the US system. Last year, several House Democrats introduced a bill to allow voting by proxy, which was permitted early in the pandemic but shut down when Republicans took control of the House. “Of course we’re going to try to get here no matter what, but we have medical emergencies, just like our constituents do,” Representative Deborah Ross told CQ Roll Call.
Then again, some perfectly healthy US lawmakers have done the opposite. On multiple occasions, senators have had to be essentially hauled on to the chamber floor.
In 1988, the Senate’s sergeant-at-arms was ordered to arrest no-shows – it was the only way to halt a filibuster. According to the chamber’s official history, he “led a ‘posse of six Capitol police officers’ in a post-midnight search” of their offices. Senator Robert Packwood, an Oregon Republican, had jammed a chair against his door, but officers finally managed to get him to the chamber.
“By prearrangement, Senator Packwood collapsed into the arms of the officers who then transported him feet-first into the Chamber,” the history says. “On his feet again, he announced: ‘I did not come fully voluntarily.’”
