[Congressional Record Volume 168, Number 20 (Tuesday, February 1, 2022)]
[Senate]
[Pages S437-S438]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
AMERICA'S PHOTOJOURNALISTS AND JANUARY 6
Mr. LEAHY. Madam President, they are sometimes called the Fourth
Estate. The dedicated writers, researchers, editors, and investigators
of the media, new and old. Their reporting writes the first draft of
history. What an awesome responsibility.
But today, I want to recognize one particular set of reporters: the
press photographers. Their images, also part of the first draft of
history, bring the words to life. The photos they capture tell stories
through images--sometimes moving, sometimes horrific--a language so
universal that, sometimes, they need no words.
Many have written about the events of January 6, when a violent mob
of insurrectionists attacked the Capitol and, indeed, our very seat of
government. I was here that day, like so many Members of Congress, both
the House and Senate, and so many staffers. And what I saw was unlike
anything I have seen in my 47 years in the U.S. Senate. The press saw
it, too--going on air to give accounts of what was happening, filing
stories on the wires as the events were unfolding--and snapping the
photographic evidence of the violence, the fear, the vandalism, and,
yes, the determination of that day.
Scott Applewhite, a longtime photographer for the Associated Press,
earlier this month published a piece for ``The Public's Radio,''
recounting his experiences that day and sharing several of the
photographs he took that document the events that unfolded. It is well
worth a read, and I ask unanimous consent that it be printed in the
Record.
For anyone who is unaware of or who doubts the role of the press, and
of its vigilant photographers, know this: While we work to make
history, it is they who write it, as they capture and document it in
their images. And make no mistake: Their jobs are as critical today as
ever before.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
[From the Public's Radio Jan. 5, 2022]
`We have to be there': AP Photographer Recalls Capitol Siege
(By Scott J. Applewhite)
When the U.S. Capitol came under siege a year ago,
Associated Press photographer J. Scott Applewhite was in the
House chamber. In some respects he was the eyes of the world.
All these months later, he is still processing the events of
Jan. 6 as a photojournalist and as an American. When he
thinks about it, Applewhite's ultimate assessment is this:
The job of the photojournalist, is to show people what they
can't see on their own. And to do that, journalists have to
be there--as he was.
Washington (AP).--The U.S. Capitol was under siege. By
Americans.
It was Jan. 6, 2021, on Capitol Hill in Washington, and
Associated Press photographer J. Scott Applewhite was in the
middle of it all--and was the eyes of the world in some
respects. His camera recorded images that we are still gazing
at today.
Here, he remembers some moments that stood out to him--
moments that, so many months later, he is still processing as
a photojournalist and as an American.
``The Capitol has been breached!'' the Capitol Police
officer shouted to lawmakers. Tear gas was in the Rotunda.
``Get out your escape hoods and prepare to evacuate!'' the
officer said.
Glass was breaking in the main door to the chamber of the
House of Representatives--the very door where you see the
president enter for the State of the Union address. Quickly,
the police and a few lawmakers grabbed benches and cabinets
and barricaded the door.
From the officers came loud commands: Evacuate. Now.
Stragglers were not tolerated--members of Congress, staffers,
journalists, all.
But the move to safety was not immediate. Because they
didn't know what was on the other side of the door.
You could hear the growl of the mob just outside. In the
chamber, the officers were focused, their guns aimed. And I
was trained on the door as well--with a telephoto zoom.
It was pretty sure I was right where I was supposed to be.
I kept my lens focused on that reinforced door. Then: There
was an eye, trying to see inside--the face of one of the
rioters wearing a Trump hat. What he did not see were the
guns aiming inches from his face.
I kept steady and held tight on that spot.
When the breach of the Capitol was announced and evacuation
began, it was a chaotic and uncertain process. Evacuate to
where? The mob was on the other side of the doors.
Eventually, the officers announced that tear gas had been
deployed in the nearby Rotunda. All were instructed to don
escape hoods that were stashed under the seats. That was part
of the preparedness in the
[[Page S438]]
wake of 9/11. I didn't put one on because I needed to see to
use my camera.
After the evacuation order came, AP photographer Andy
Harnik lingered and took many important images: lawmakers
taking cover, and Capitol Police holding rioters at gunpoint.
Andy and I were both in the balcony that overlooks the
House chamber. Andy had been on a side where some members of
Congress were watching and the police presence was plentiful.
I had been on the opposite side with about 30 reporters and
photographers. The officers eventually pushed everyone out.
Andy must have been among the last. He said the final frame
he shot in the chamber was one of me sitting alone in the
House press gallery. Andy caught the terror in the faces of
elected members of Congress as they dived for cover. When
police rushed the members out, Andy kept his camera up,
capturing rioters held at gunpoint by tactical officers
outside the chamber.
The Capitol is where I work every day, and I am a familiar
face to most police. When those on the chamber floor shouted
up at me to get out, I told them I was fine and refused to
leave. This is what we do: We stay and report.
One got more belligerent until another officer, a special
agent in the protection division who guards the leadership,
intervened. He shouted over, ``Scotty's OK!'' Two words is
all it took (that and the obvious--they had their hands full
with a mob on the other side of door).
The officer, in plain clothes, was Lt. Michael Byrd.
Moments later, outside the House chamber, he shot and killed
protester Ashli Babbitt as she climbed through a broken
window of a barricaded door leading to the Speaker's Lobby.
From that point on, I was the only journalist and the only
person remaining in the balcony to witness the standoff in
the House chamber.
When the mob began to break the glass in the door, I could
barely see the face of one of the rioters. The cops and a new
congressman with a law enforcement background tried to de-
escalate the situation even as guns were pointed at the hole
in the glass.
The room was pretty dark. I was looking through a long zoom
lens usually used outdoors for shooting sports or wildlife. I
had brought it along for a little extra reach--closeups of
faces and details during Electoral College voting, which is
normally illuminated with TV lights.
The siege at the chamber door lasted about 45 minutes,
until tactical units moved the intruders away. I was then
able to move around the balcony above the House floor to
record the deserted room and the debris. The gavel used by
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi sat on the dais, surrounded by
discarded emergency escape hoods and debris.
After the lawmakers and press evacuated, those doors were
secured. For another two hours, I was locked in. Then an FBI
tactical team swept through and threw me out of the building.
The joint session of the House and Senate resumed about 9
p.m. Andy Harnik and I persevered through the night and
finished about 3 a.m. I went back to my office in the Senate
Dirksen building, ate some soup and slept from 5 to 7 a.m.
Then we started the next day's coverage.
The news went on, as it always does.
People have given me a lot of applause in the past year for
what I did on Jan. 6, 2021, for the photos I took, for
refusing to leave during the final evacuation. But I want to
make one thing clear: I was simply doing my job. As were many
of my colleagues.
AP photographers John Minchillo and Julio Cortez suffered
the brunt of the riot as they bravely threw themselves
between the mob and the police. Manny Ceneta maneuvered his
way around the Senate side of the Capitol to capture Trump
supporters as they were stopped outside the chamber.
Freelancer Jose Luis Magana took the photos of demonstrators
scaling the wall of the west side of the Capitol. Jacquelyn
Martin and Carolyn Kaster were also at the Trump rally and
the march to the hill.
I was working directly with Washington photo editor Jon
Elswick, who expedited my photos to the wire. Jon was patient
with me because I was sending lots of pictures in a short
time. This is usually not good form; we normally use judgment
and discretion in how many we send in a short time so that
the photo desk isn't overwhelmed.
In this case, I told Jon I was going to move as much as I
could. Why? My previous experience in conflict zones and
working around the military and police reminded me that my
cameras might be destroyed by the mob or my disks confiscated
by police. The ability to transmit from the camera ensured
that the AP--and the world--would get the photos.
The fact is, I never really came face to face with the mob,
except through a telephoto lens. And it really did take every
one of us to record this story. Most of us in the Capitol
that day--Getty, Reuters, AFP and others--couldn't move
around without interference from the mob or the Capitol
Police. Each of us covered what we could.
The result, if you will, was like a mosaic--views from
different photographers all around the Capitol that composed
a more complete picture.
I've witnessed plenty of violence and upheavals before,
coups and revolutions, when I was doing conflict coverage
abroad, but I am still shocked to experience it here. It was
Americans attacking America.
What I saw, and what my camera captured, during the
standoff at the House chamber a year ago was this: a place
where a line was drawn--with courage, duty and guns.
And though they ultimately failed, in a very real way the
rioters succeeded. It was an hour of anarchy, with an
unchecked mob bringing one of the country's most sacred
ceremonies--and the peaceful transfer of power--to a
screeching, scary halt.
I often think about what might have happened if Pelosi had
not called the Electoral College back immediately. Postponing
a few days might have seemed the normal thing, but that
didn't happen. The rioters had mostly escaped the police.
Donald Trump was still in the White House for two more weeks.
Jan. 6 was one of the longest days in our short American
history. Imagine how long 14 more days might have been.
I've been at this a while, and I've learned: Some moments
are hard to look at and some are hard to look away from. But
whatever the moment might be, the job of the
photojournalist--the responsibility--is to show people what
they can't see on their own.
To do that, we have to be there.
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