The Wheels of Justice Turn, Sometimes, not so Slowly.

The Georgia Department of Agriculture moved the public hearing on coloring raw milk from downtown Atlanta to Forest Park two days before the event to accommodate a larger-than-average crowd. Apparently there wasn't a room in downtown Atlanta that could hold the 150 people packed into the meeting room in the back of the Georgia State Farmers Market Exhibit Hall.

I was expecting to see a crowd of mostly urban, mostly young liberals, with a smattering of governmental conservatives, and some of the farmers who would be shut down by the rules change. The people who spoke were nurses, a doctor, lots of pet lovers, farmers of pigs, goats, chickens and cattle, and parents. Lots of parents with shockingly well-behaved children. I arrived 20 minutes after the hearing started, and at 11, people were still talking. Technically, the hearing was over, but tell that to the doctor who'd had the microphone for five minutes. He opened with "I can't believe that we're here giving you people a free education..."

Some, like the doctor, were angry and vented their frustrations on the three members of the Department of Agriculture, who furiously took notes and occasionally grimaced or chuckled at the comments. Others were polite and logical. Animal-lovers made personal appeals, and the Christians cited raw milk as a perfect creation of the "great architect."

The farmers were probably the most persuasive, and with good reason: the rule would have been a severe blow to a young movement. Farmers producing meat or eggs of any quality in Georgia feed raw milk to their animals. They're "small" farmers by today's standards, and Georgia know something about losing small farms. According to Chad Carlton of Carlton Farms in Rockmart, 3,729 Georgia dairies have closed in the past three decades. Carlton also criticized the Department of Agriculture for changing the rules, making it difficult for small farmers to sell. "You encouraged us to find value-added products like this," he reminded them.

Nobody wanted to talk about human consumption of raw milk. "For our animals" seemed to be the mantra, and it's probably best that way till Tommy Irvin moves on. He's been doing what he can to limit or end the sale of raw milk in Georgia since the 1980's, and he's unlikely to stop doing so anytime soon.

Four minutes before the start of service that night, chef tapped me on the shoulder and showed me an e-mail of the AJC story: Irvin had dropped the proposed rule change that afternoon, and the issue was dead for another year. Score one for civic participation.