One of the hoary traditions of the House of Delegates involves animal noises. Whenever a bill involving a particular species comes to the floor, there is an undertone of barks, oinks, whinnies, quacks, etc., from various members. It’s one of the juvenile impulses that sets the House apart from the more, um . . . dignified Senate.
During the past session, a series of tax exemption bills came to the floor. One dealt with an exemption for medicines administered to farm animals, with predictable sound effects. The next bill exempted equipment used in the manufacture of computer chips. After it was approved in silence, the Speaker observed, “I guess nobody knows what a semiconductor sounds like.”
What brings this to mind is an item in this week’s U.S. News and World Report. I guess we all missed out because President Bush didn’t start his political career in the House of Delegates. Party on!
“Big John,” which looks like an oil derrick on steroids, is a monument to 
To the north, you see Lake Shore Drive, the beaches along Lake Michigan, and, off in the distance, Evanston and Northwestern University.
To the east, not so much. There’s 22,400 square miles of lake. There’s the water filtration plant and, on clear days, there’s a dot on the horizon that purports to be the state of Michigan. At a loss for landmarks, the observatory brochure highlights the sites of numerous shipwrecks: The Lady Elgin (1860);  The Evening Star (1894); The Jenny Lind (1883); and so on. They could be making it up for all I know.
To the west is the Chicago beyond downtown — block after block of neighborhoods that resemble East European or Central American towns as much as they do a corner of The City of the Big Shoulders. Ethnic tensions have been a fact of Chicago’s political and social life for most of the past century.
To the south is the central business district which used to be bounded by the Loop (the elevated transit line that brings commuters in from the north, west, and south) but that has burst out in all directions. 
Mark your calendars.
 or other Federal building that was constructed in the decade after the Great Depression. It’s called “Stripped Classicism.† My legislative aide/architectural researcher, Jean Barton, describes the building’s style as â€characterized by the proportions of Classical architecture but devoid of the ornamentation.†Faced with square blocks of limestone, the exterior reads as a two-story structure with recessed colonnades surrounding the second level, but the facades mask multiple levels. In 1970, an additional story was constructed, giving the building a distinctive stepped-pyramid outline. The building was abandoned in 1996 when the new State Library, across from the GAB, opened; but its prime location on Capitol Square, next to the Governor’s Manson, led to major renovations and the building’s reopening last year to house the Governor’s working offices, Cabinet Secretaries and executive agency offices.
During the 2006 Session That Wouldn’t End, the Delegates met in the Reading Room at the east end of the first floor; the Senate met in the slightly smaller Archives at the west end. Both have been restored to their original glory with art deco chandeliers and other details. The Legislative Branch is paying rent to the Executive Branch for their use – a turnabout from the traditional arrangement, where the legislators controlled the Capitol Building and the Governor occupied the Third Floor as a kind of Very Special Guest.
“The restoration included installing a glass brick floor, lit from underneath, in the courtyard and painting the arches and columns in the courtyard in richly polychromed colors. The Commonwealth has subsequently repurchased the property; the building’s exact future usage isn’t known, but it won’t include a parking lot. Most likely, given its convenient location, it will house some small state agencies.â€
