Mackerel by Monlight

The irony of it set in at the parking garage.

Pulling in under the Library of Virginia, I was told that it was full due to the General Assembly being in session and using all the spaces.

Leave it to the Gen Ass to make it more difficult to get to a lecture on John Randolph of Roanoke, a man who served in the House of Representatives and the Senate.

Speaker David Johnson began by saying, "I spent ten years with John Randolph of Roanoke and a lot of people say, why?"

The why soon became apparent as he told of Randolph's personal eccentricities, acerbic wit, penetrating looks, flashy dressing and quick-thinking oratory skills.

He was Jefferson's confidante, at least until they parted ways on ideology.

According to Johnson, Randolph linked every issue to a higher power, always expounding on principle.

Clearly that's no longer a requirement of serving in Congress.

As the son of a planter (read: rich), he said things like, "I am an aristocrat. I love liberty. I hate equality."

Chances are, plenty of rich people still feel that way.

But I had to admit, the man had a way with words.

"He is a man of splendid abilities, but utterly corrupt," Randolph claimed. "He shines and stinks, like a rotting mackerel by moonlight."

As one who makes her living with words, I only wish I'd written that last sentence.

Randolph referred to Congress as "a mass of mediocrity," a phrase both prescient and apt.

And, by god, he was a Virginian, in that way that the forefathers were devoted to this place.

"When I speak of my country, I mean the Commonwealth of Virginia."

Ah, yes, that country. The one of landed gentry and slavery.

His 20-year battle with Henry Clay ended in a duel, with Clay's bullet going through his outer garment and Randolph demanding, "You owe me a coat."

Johnson was full of fun facts like that.

Randolph was an opium smoker, likely impotent and brought his hunting dogs to the House floor.

I'm guessing that you couldn't say those three things about any other representative, then or now.

When he died and was buried, per his request his face was turned westward so he could keep an eye on Henry Clay.

They later moved his body to Hollywood Cemetery, but no word on where his head and eye were placed.

An hour spent listening to a lecture about a cocky man whose main cause was liberty left me older and wiser, but needing to get out.

After all, our very own "mass of mediocrity" had forced me into a one-hour parking space and I didn't want to risk a ticket.

Especially for a man who hated equality.