I used to have two copies of the Constitution, both published by that venerable bureaucracy, the Government Printing Office in Washington, D.C. (The GPO’s name was changed to the “Government Publishing Office” in 2014, apparently because while a lot of the stuff it does is still “publishing,” it doesn’t do as much ink-on-paper “printing” as it once did.)
Anyway, one of those Constitutions had a red cover, the other a dignified grey, the kind of binding you’d expect to find on a volume of congressional speeches about tariffs on hog bristles. Both contained the full text of the Constitution, complete with amendments — and even some, like a proposed ban on child labor, or guaranteeing equal rights for women — that were never ratified. But when you read those volumes, you felt like you were getting the government’s “official” version, stamped with the imprimatur of Uncle Sam himself.
But, as the old timers say, sic transit gloria Constitution. Now all you can get from the GPO’s online store is a pocket-sized Constitution that looks like something you might slip into your jeans before heading off to a particularly nerdy Fourth of July barbecue. It’s handy, yes, but lacks the grandeur of the earlier editions that opened like a proper legal document. Today’s versions? More like the freebie you get stuffed into a swag bag at a civics teacher’s conference.
Still, we should count ourselves lucky we can get a printed copy at all, because the federal government seems to have a habit of losing the Constitution altogether. You know how it is — you had it when you were in the kitchen, but then when you to into the living room you just can’t find it anywhere.
I have to emphasize: I am not making this up.
Within the past few months ago, alert citizens browsing Congress.gov noticed that the Constitution was missing. Not “misplaced,” but just . . . gone, as if James Madison slipped it into his coat pocket and wandered off.
Eventually, after some inquiries, the text reappeared — but not the whole thing. The restoration instead had a curious amputation: part of Article I, Section 8 (the laundry list of congressional powers) was missing, along with all of Article I, Sections 9 and 10. Those latter sections impose some interesting limitations on the government — no granting titles of nobility, no suspending habeas corpus, and no acceptance of emoluments by federal officials.
Oops.
Of course, the “real” Constitution is still safely locked away in the National Archives, preserved under fade-resistant bulletproof glass. But if you wanted the government’s “official” version, the kind you could browse on your phone while in line at the DMV, well . . . you were out of luck. Or perhaps, the government sometimes forgets the Constitution on purpose . . . or at least just shrugs when it does.
There’s a certain irony here. In the 1970s, when my red-and-grey booklets were printed, the Constitution seemed eternal, even a little boring. It was printed on stock about half the size of a sheet of notebook paper, bound respectably, and could be carried by every law student and junior high civics teacher. You could count on it being there — like landline phone service or Saturday morning cartoons. Today, though we live in an age of instant access, other things seem to have a bad habit of disappearing — or, when they do reappear, showing up with important parts mysteriously absent.
So yes, the GPO still prints the Constitution, but now it’s a tiny booklet that’s “conveniently” pocket-sized. And yes, you can still find the text online, provided no one at Congress.gov has misplaced Sections 9 and 10 again. But if you want the comfort of permanence, of knowing that the text is fixed and whole, you may need to hunt down one of those old editions with the red or grey covers. They may not be pretty, but at least they never mislaid the power of Congress to raise an army or the prohibition on titles of nobility.
And if the Constitution ever vanishes again from the internet, well, don’t worry. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. Just keep a printed copy handy (pocket-sized or otherwise) because in an age where digital files disappear at the click of a mouse, the safest place for the Constitution just might just be on paper.
And at least when you go to check what’s in all of Art. I sec. 8, or what’s in both sections 9 and 10, you won’t get a “404 Not Found” error.
Frank Zotter, Jr. is a Ukiah attorney.
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