by John Aloysius Farrell
Boston Globe, June 19, 1991
 

WASHINGTON / NOTEBOOK

Washington is famous for its bicycle messengers: lean guys and galsin Lycra on 10-speeds who don't bother to blink at red lights as they keepthe stream of paper flowing from office to office in the nation's capital.

As a tribe, they share a certain mystique that calls for fluorescentclothing, surfer-punk haircuts, cultivation of an attitude, and the occasionalstrategically placed tattoo.

The rise of the fax machine has cut into business, however, and someof the messengers have been forced to enter symbiotic relationships withhigh-priced lobbyists and lawyers who ride limousines around town.

As the lobbying industry grows, it has become harder to find a seatat congressional events. And so it is not unusual to find, as at Tuesday'shearing of a House Energy and Commerce subcommittee, one or two gearheadsin full regalia, nodding their heads to the music on their Walkmans asthey make money holding seats for the lobbyists who have hired them toreserve chairs in the crowded hearing room.