Saving the Constitution: unbeknownst to most people, ten years ago the United States nearly had its Constitution rewritten under the guise of bringing the federal government to heel.

Twenty years ago I was appointed to lead the Birch Society's effort to preserve the U.S. Constitution. My special assignment came on the brink of a federal constitutional convention (con-con). The Constitution provides for amendments to be initiated by a two-thirds vote of Congress, or by a convention called at the request of two-thirds of the state legislatures. All 27 constitutional amendments adopted up to this time were initiated by Congress. No con-con has been held since 1787, when a new Constitution was drafted to replace the Articles of Confederation.

In 1985, the United States was just two states short of the magic number needed to trigger a con-con. We were alarmed by this because the inherent authority of a con-con goes far beyond merely proposing amendments. A con-con could radically change our Constitution or scrap it entirely. My new job was to keep the Constitution out of a con-con where demagogues, internationalists, and think-tank reformers could get their hands on it.

Two-minute Drill

The subtle but legal route to a new convention began with causes appealing to conservative state legislators. A group of well-financed lobbyists had worked quietly, traveling from state to state, urging legislators to petition Congress for a convention for the purpose of adopting a federal balanced budget amendment. After hasty hearings and no debate, the organizers had captured 32 of the necessary 34 states. The hurry-up tactics of the promoters kept all eyes on the budget--none were on the Constitution. Most state lawmakers had no idea their action had brought the Constitution close to a crisis. There laid the Constitution, tied to a gurney, ready for surgery, and "we the people" didn't even know it was "sick."

Armed only with my homemade copies of memos, Birch Society members began to oppose con-con bills in the 18 states that had not yet passed the legislation. In one year, the Birchers--and other citizens--were able to block con-con bills pending in 14 of the 18 uncommitted states. The "other citizens" brought an element of irony into the battle. Many of them were labor union activists who opposed a con-con fearing such an assembly might actually balance the federal budget!

In 1986, new strategies to create a con-con emerged, but so did better weapons for this terribly difficult fight. A research specialist for this magazine, Gary Benoit (later to become its editor), discovered a movement called Project '87. Its organizers had made plans to "celebrate" the Bicentennial of our Constitution in a way that might instead repudiate it.

Members of Project '87 did not pretend they were working for a balanced federal budget. The group's co-chairman, Professor James MacGregor Burns, left no doubt about the organization's purpose. Professor Burns lamented:

   Let us face reality. The framers of the
   Constitution have simply been too
   shrewd for us. They have outwitted
   us. They designed separate institutions
   that cannot be unified by mechanical
   linkages, frail bridges, tinkering. If we
   are to "turn the founders upside down"
   --to put together what they put asunder
   --we must directly confront the
   constitutional structure they erected.

We at the John Birch Society were alarmed, but not surprised, by this brazen plan to subvert the expected "budget" convention. Based on his research and sound understanding of limited government, Benoit created our first powerful weapon, an article in THE NEW AMERICAN magazine entitled "Bicentennial Plot." In order to expand our reach, we immediately reprinted the article. This bombshell article created quite a stir. It helped to convince innocent state leaders that powerful forces intended to take over the convention that the legislators had opted for.

Copies of the reprint were delivered by the case to Birch Society members who then provided copies for men and women on both sides of the aisle. It was very interesting to see labor union activists handing out copies of "Bicentennial Plot" in the legislative halls. This happy development helped us cover a broad spectrum of influence at the state capitols. It was the first time I had seen ordinary citizens work side by side in a cause far greater than their partisan leanings. One thing became certain: no matter how well or poorly Americans understood the roots of our country, nobody wanted them pulled up.

Some of our friends sent copies of "Bicentennial Plot" to every state legislator, while other concerned citizens went in person to their state capitols to urge elected officials to oppose all requests for a con-con promoted under any pretext. Obviously, our purpose was not only to keep two more states from triggering the con-con, but to repeal measures already passed in the 32 states.

Regaining Lost Ground

By 1988, the hurry-up, no-huddle plays at the state capitols had come to an end. Hearings were scheduled for the introduction of all con-con bills, either for or against a convention. Witnesses were called and respectfully heard. In Alabama and Florida previously passed con-con measures were formally withdrawn. Convention advocates now needed four more states, and they played hard and fast while attempting to recover their losses and reach their goal. They brought in the big stars from Washington, influential U.S. senators and representatives, to plead their case. They resorted to subterfuge and many clever parliamentary tricks.

In Utah, a bill to withdraw that state's con-con request was reported favorably out of the House Judiciary Committee. When it reached the floor, the speaker announced that no vote would be taken until Senator Orrin Hatch addressed the matter before the entire house. The bill's sponsor, Rep. Reese Hunter, objected. He said it would be unfair to hear a one-sided opinion of his bill from a U.S. senator. So the speaker agreed to turn the occasion into a formal debate, and Mr. Hunter was free to choose anyone he wanted to argue the issue against Senator Hatch.

That "anyone" turned out to be me! The contest was arranged, and there I stood before the entire Utah house, not knowing how on Earth I could beat a popular U.S. senator in his home state. But in a peculiar way, the senator beat himself. Questions from the floor were entertained alternately between Hatch and me. Only three minutes were allowed to answer each question--not enough time for me to reply and still bring out the crucial points. But Senator Hatch inadvertently did that for me. He had prepared written questions for some of the legislators to ask me.

Amazingly, the questions he wanted them to ask me were exactly the points I wanted raised. His attempt at subterfuge was my gift from Heaven. After the 70-minute debate, the house voted, and this obscure, unlettered Bircher from Appleton, Wisconsin, won by four votes. Actually, America won back its Constitution that morning at the Utah statehouse. I was amused the next day to read in the Salt Lake Tribune that the senator had "lost to a constitutional lawyer."

More new weapons were added to our arsenal when the John Birch Society published "Silent Crisis" and THE NEW AMERICAN published "The Con-Con Network." Both articles exposed the groups bent on a federal convention, which was now being promoted under almost any wishful pretext, such as term limits, the right to life, school prayer, anti-flag burning, and lately, same-sex "marriage." Our articles are still used in efforts to roll back states' previously passed con-con bills. As of this date, we have reversed, by formal legislation, the applications of nine of the 32 states, and we have blocked passage of all new "bud- I get" con-con bills introduced in the remaining 18 uncommitted states.

COS Camouflage

Just as we were beginning to breathe more easily, we discovered a unique movement aimed at the Constitution, but organized under a new pretext and a new name. In January 1995, while watching C-SPAN, I saw Utah Governor Mike Leavitt offer testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee in Washington. Leavitt was then serving as chairman of the National Governors Association (NGA). In that televised hearing, Leavitt announced that all 50 states would soon pass Resolutions of Participation in a Conference of the States (COS), which he described as an historic occasion, to be held at Annapolis or Philadelphia in October of that year. Delegates from the states, he said, would propose constitutional amendments to remove federal mandates that burden the states, and would find ways to restore the balance of power between the states and the federal government. What? Did I really hear that?

No matter how you spell it, this was a con-con masked as a friendly meeting of state representatives. Dials had been pre-set for quick passage by the states. Resolutions of Participation were written and ready before the 1995 sessions had begun. They bore the names of house and senate leaders and were first on the legislative agenda.

It was my job to gather the facts and document our case against this new camouflaged con-con. I felt impressed to open the history books and compare the planned procedures of the COS to those of the Convention of 1787. Presto! It was all there. Every step taken by our Founding Fathers, from the appointing of delegates, to the required quorum of the Philadelphia convention, had been duplicated in Governor Leavitt's plan. He, or someone else, had stayed up nights on this one. Only the name of the meeting had changed. It was a fully powered con-con in every traditional and practical sense, and it was well on its way. It was so deceitful that one of our writers called it a con-con con.

By the time we were prepared for battle, 12 states had passed Resolutions of Participation (all identically worded). They would open the conference (read: convention) when 26 states, a simple majority, were present, just as George Washington did in 1787 when seven states, a simple majority, were present. Passage of the resolutions in 12 states meant they were nearly halfway to their goal--and we had not yet begun to fight. Those first bills were passed without the benefit of public hearings and with zero deliberation. By the end of January 1995, four more states had passed resolutions and the COS was well on its way with 16 states in its camp.

In March 1995, THE NEW AMERICAN published my article, "Con-Con Call." The magazine featured Governor Leavitt on the front cover, and a fully documented story graced its pages. Due to the urgency of blowing the whistle on the COS, we ordered 100,000 copies of the reprint before the magazine came off the press. This move paid off instantly. Our thousands of patriotic friends who had helped kill the "balanced budget" con-con were experienced and knew just what to do.

Our loyal friends in the states immediately demanded hearings, and another state-by-state war began. In every case, the COS bills were introduced by house or senate leaders, backed by the state's governor, and praised by the local media. I was one of the witnesses scheduled to testify in opposition to the COS resolutions.

When fair and open public hearings were finally held, the COS movement began to fail rapidly. After blocking COS resolutions in Colorado, Nevada, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Mexico, stopping passage of COS bills in those states, I was invited to testify in Montana.

When I arrived in Montana for hearings before the House Judiciary Committee, the hearing room was in commotion. Television crews and reporters were setting up their cameras, and swarms of spectators were finding seats. I was there to testify against another Resolution of Participation, but I had no illusions about any media excitement over my presence. I asked someone what was going on. "Oh, haven't you heard? Utah's governor, Mike Leavitt, is going to be here, and our Montana governor, Mark Rasciot, will be here with him."

The news that Leavitt would be there left me numb. Well, to be more honest, I was terrified. How could I argue successfully against the man who originated the COS crusade? He had the backing of the National Governors Association, wore a confident smile, and was renowned for winning debates. With only 10 minutes remaining before hearing time, I looked around for a quiet place where I could ask for God's help. I found a stairway and climbed to an empty gallery above, where I told my Maker there was no way I could win against two governors without His help.

Truth vs. Duplicity

The help came, but not as I had expected. Apparently trying to employ the strategy of Orrin Hatch, Leavitt had primed one of the committee members to ask a question that was obviously calculated to deride the John Birch Society, discredit me, and elicit praise for himself. Well, his tactic backfired.

The committee member held up a copy of THE NEW AMERICAN that featured Leavitt and asked the governor, "Is it true, as Mr. Fotheringham asserts, that when you served on the Goals 2000 panel, you handed our children to the feds?" In other words, the member was asking Leavitt if he had agreed to increased federal control of schools in exchange for increased federal funds. Leavitt replied, "As a matter of fact, the National Governors Association wanted me to serve on Goals 2000 to make certain its federal objectives were not accomplished." And so I felt it was my duty to explain to the committee that inasmuch as the Utah Education Association had contributed $10,000 to the governor's reelection--with the understanding that he had supported the objectives of Goals 2000--that in all fairness, he should refund the money.

I believe Leavitt's duplicity did him in. The committee voted six to five against the COS.

In all, we destroyed the COS in 27 states to ensure that Governor Leavitt could not reach his constitutional majority of 26. It is important to understand that 13 of those 27 victories were accomplished by well-prepared Birch volunteers in the states where I could not arrange to appear.

Also, I would be remiss if I failed to credit the Salt Lake Tribune for superb coverage of the COS issue. Reporter Laurie Sullivan was fair, thorough, and accurate--so much so that her colleagues at the Tribune teased her about "leaning to the far right." A few of the other groups working against the COS complained to the Tribune that the Birch Society was being given too much credit for killing Governor Leavitt's con-con. Then one day Laurie was seated on an airplane--as fate would have it--right next to Governor Leavitt. Well, she thought, this is a perfect time to pop the question: "Governor, I've been accused of giving the Birch Society too much credit for derailing the states' conference. Who really pushed your train off the track?" He answered, "You have reported it right Laurie, it was absolutely the John Birch Society."

Our magazine is published under the maxim "that freedom shall not perish." To this end THE NEW AMERICAN, its editor, writers, and research experts have lived up marvelously to their noble commitment.

Don Fotheringham, now retired, for many years headed the national effort of the John Birch Society to preserve the U.S. Constitution