Next week the Democrats convene in Philadelphia to formally coronate Hillary Clinton as the party’s presidential nominee. The big question: Will it look more like a progressive love-in than a compromised Bern unit? Optics, platform and less-than-nuanced speeches will be telling.
It takes me back to the last time Philadelphia, which has hosted a dozen of these, was the venue for one. It was 2000 and the Republicans gathered to nominate George W. Bush.
That was then and this–isn’t even close.
For openers, I was covering it for a local Tampa newspaper that no longer exists. More importantly, it was pre-9/11, pre-Iraq invasion, pre-Obama polarization and divisiveness, pre-Clinton historics and private-server arrogance and pre-Trump ignominy and fright.
There were generic demonstrations downtown featuring signage about corporate greed. Demonstrators weren’t perceived as would-be terrorists or edgy racial activists–just idealists and wise guys.
The convention itself was held at the First Union (now Wachovia) Center, a 20-minute, chartered-bus ride from downtown. The press were housed and humbled in parking lot work tents. Yes, that really was Peter Jennings in the buffet line.
The delegates, a number of whom were wearing elephant-themed hats and happy-hour expressions, milled around, glad-handed each other and were mostly seated for the prime-time speeches of Laura Bush, Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, Elizabeth Dole and John McCain. Virtually nobody was seated, however, when the “Regular Joe” rock band performed–the one that featured Florida Congressman Joe Scarborough. Yes, “Morning Joe” Scarborough.
As a Philadelphia native–Kensington and Mayfair, not the suburbs–it was also about going home. Downtown looked so different since the city uncoupled itself from the economically-dumb tradition of not allowing construction above the height of the statue of William Penn atop City Hall. It also meant meeting up with my Republican brother, Mike, who would bust it up from the Jersey Shore for a one-day, mini reunion.
It was more than a reunion. I had an extra press credential–from the Danville (Pa.) News. A buddy was the editor, and I had done some opinion pieces for him over the years. It came with a photo. My brother and I looked nothing alike.
No matter. It was pre-9/11 and security personnel took a less-than-cursory look at someone who looked like the respectable, corporate CPA-sort that he was. He even scored press souvenirs that day.
He also met a Bush.
We were hanging around the Florida delegation when a smiling, long-striding non-Floridian headed our way with an outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Neal Bush,” he said. “George’s brother.” We all laughed, and I responded, “Hi, I’m Joe O’Neill, Mike’s brother.” Then I formally introduced them.
Best I could do, but my brother had already checked off political convention from his bucket list. Plus, he would hear Powell speak and “Regular Joe” rock the Republican house.
Austin Insight
A final thought from the 2000 convention. It’s the memory of seeing Al Austin, taking it all in near an arena entrance. The finance chairman of the Republican Party of Florida and Tampa’s “Mr. GOP” was leaning against a wall, looking contemplative and probably thinking of, among other things, how he could win such an event for Tampa.
I mentioned the stagecraft, the goofy hats, the non-stop schmoozing and the celebrity scrutiny. This was equal parts pep rally and infomercial. What was the relevance for something that was pre-ordained–from nominees to platform planks?
“One of the biggest problems we have in this country is voter apathy,” said Austin. “An event like this is an opportunity to get people focused on the fact there’s a presidential election coming up. It’s a way for voters to get aware and interested–and introduced to candidates.”
The other benefit, added Austin, was what you’d expect from any convention–from electronics to pharmaceuticals. These are forums to reward, to share strategies and to energize the troops.
“It fires these folks up and generates a lot of enthusiasm for carrying the message,” underscored Austin. “If you’re a delegate, this is an honor. They feel like they’re part of something big.”
Austin died two years ago. His legacy includes West Shore visionary, MacDill AFB defender and key 2012 Tampa GOP convention recruiter. He was also, by today’s standards, a societal anomaly: a politically partisan gentleman. We’re reminded of that every day.