As debate unfolded on the floor of the Maryland Senate, Melissa Ballowe leaned into the marble wall and tried hard not to be noticed.
In a room full of politicians, where it seems everyone has something to say, Ballowe is one of a handful whose mission it is to stay silent. For a young woman of strong convictions, that is one of the few sacrifices involved in joining the gray-coated brigade of legislative pages in Annapolis.
"Sometimes it's hard for me, because I care a lot about these issues," said Ballowe, 18, who is president of her school's Young Democrats club. "But I don't mind it, because this is such a rare opportunity to see how things work from right up close."
Long an institution in the General Assembly, the page program invites high school students like Ballowe for an inside glimpse at the gears of government. This year, 120 will have served by the session's end, somehow managing to spin fun from the drudgery of paperwork and turn somber traditions into something that's a little like summer camp.
On first glance, the page program appears to be a supply of cheap labor for the State House. The students line the walls of the House and Senate chambers waiting for the call to deliver a message, pass around the photocopy of an amendment or carry cups of coffee to lawmakers during long-winded debates.
In the House, the requests come by way of signal lights, something like the call button on an airplane. In the Senate, lawmakers can summon a page as they would a waiter, with a quick wave of the hand.
During a recent session, as pages scurried from desk to desk, crouching low to escape notice, the woman who has directed the page program since shortly after its inception 30 years ago said she saw something more than simple toil. Cornelia C. Watson said that beneath the veneer of drudgery, there is a subtlety to this work that can give a 17-year-old an impressive working knowledge of government.
"What they learn is the mechanics of how a bill becomes law," Watson explained from the wings of the House floor. "There are many presidents of large companies that know less about the process than these kids will."
The pages themselves strongly agree that it's a valuable experience. Chris Pennington, a senior at Loyola Blakefield High School in Baltimore County, quickly became riled when another page suggested their job amounted to little more than a glorified gofer.
"No, no, no," he said, interrupting 17-year-old Ashlee Smith during a break in the spare room that serves as a page lounge. "This is not like reading a textbook. We see how the government really works, right in front of our faces."
Still, the utility of the job could pose a problem for the program as legislators begin relying more on computers. With laptops on some Senate desks for the first time this year, and more planned for the House next year, the program's directors have wondered aloud if the pages will have outlived their usefulness.
With e-mail and an Internet site that make bill reports and amendments easy to see, Watson said, it "is something we're going to have to deal with, probably in the next two or three years."
She is confident the program will not be cast aside. Over its history, spots have become so coveted that most pages must endure a lengthy application process and stiff competition to be chosen. They are rewarded with two weeks off school to attend.
Ballowe, who attends Patuxent High School in Calvert County, said she and other applicants had to write two essays, respond to questions during a series of interviews and be grilled by a committee that included other students, teachers and members of the school board.
Once selected, the pages work two one-week rotations and stay with families in the Annapolis area. They are paid a stipend of $38 a day. When new groups arrive each Monday at 3 p.m., they are coming to work. But as they file into the State House, lugging suitcases and book bags, the scene looks more like the first day of vacation.
Waiting in the hallway as Watson pulled out each page's blazer, Ashlee Smith passed around photos of the group taken during its first week in the session. They began drafting plans to get out of their 10 p.m. curfew to go to a nearby rock concert (all with parental permission, of course).
"Whenever you get in with a group of kids your age, you're going to try and have a good time," said Amanda Jimenez, a senior at Frederick Douglass High School in Prince George's County.
Something about the freedom of a week away from home keeps the pages jovial come morning, as they slip on their blazers and begin sorting through copies of bills for the next floor session.
Pennington, an Eagle Scout who tells everyone who will listen of his plans to run for president in 2020, puts on his campaign face and greets arriving senators with a handshake and the offer of coffee.
"We'll always be able to say that we played a part in keeping the Maryland Senate running," he said.
Pub Date: 3/16/99