For just an hour or so Thursday night, the West Side of Chicago was the center of the universe.
Well, not a real universe, but for the thousands there and the many more television viewers who watched the nation’s quadrennial political process in progress, it sure looked like one.
The realities of poverty, health care, family disintegration, crime, drugs, the whole gamut of social woes that were talked about all week at the Democratic National Convention in the United Center were buried under a blanket of red, white and blue balloons.
The solemn intonations of politicians, would-be elected officials and special-interest spokesmen disappeared under a blanket of shiny confetti. The laments of the underclass, the middle class and the classy class were drowned out by the happy music of expected victory.
Heck, even Harry Caray came out of his Chicago Cubs broadcast booth to lead the impassioned crowd in a rousing version of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” apropos of nothing except to remind them where they really were. And Muhammad Ali sat next to the first lady. It was definitely the place to be.
Politics is a game to be won or lost, and nobody ever gets into it to lose, so why not have the party first?
And when President Clinton finally entered the room shortly before 9 p.m., it was everything everyone hoped it would be.
In short, the crowd went wild.
And when he said, “I accept,” they went wild again.
More Top Picks Swagtron T3
In fact, virtually every other sentence the president spoke brought wild cheers from the jammed arena.
No matter that one of those pesky scandals that seem to drift over Clinton like puffy thunderheads on an otherwise nice summer day popped up several hours earlier.
When you’re wearing a straw hat with blinking lights, yarmulkes with “Clinton” on them, and more flag attire than an Olympics opening ceremony, it takes more than a last-minute dustup over political adviser Richard Morris’ resignation to dull a party that has been in the planning for more than a year.
Avis LaVelle, who headed off periodic public-relations problems as Mayor Richard M. Daley’s press secretary for a few years, predicted that the Morris flap was not going to dampen the coming months’ campaign. She had left Daley’s staff four years ago to work on Clinton’s campaign and is no stranger to national political potholes.
“The public is used to this stuff,” said LaVelle, adding that “it’s unfortunate because it takes a little air out of the balloons.”
Clinton’s arrival at the United Center, home of the world champion Chicago Bulls, officially kicked off his quest for a two-peat–another four-year term in office that would make him the last president of the 20th Century and, for a while at least, the first president of the 21st.
The guests enjoyed every minute of the party, Chicago’s first national political convention in 28 years.
And, befitting a party, they wore their party clothes. The entire Puerto Rico delegation wore big, floppy straw hats. Mary Jo Neville, a delegate from Baltimore, wore a beige jacket that was covered in convention pins, and she bought four more just off the convention floor to bring her week’s collection to 50.
Lanita Gaines, a Detroit delegate, dropped $600 for a black sequined dress just for the occasion, which she described as “one of the biggest nights of my life.”
For 18-year-old Brenda Parra, a delegate from Colorado, it was a special occasion because she will be able to cast her first-ever vote in November. For 72-year-old Sara Hines, an “honored guest” from Washington, D.C., it was so special that “It would take me a lifetime to describe how I feel right now.”
California delegate Gladys Cannon, 72, discounted the Morris subplot by saying, “As long as people are doing their jobs, their private life is their business.”
A few minutes before Clinton’s arrival, a team of volunteers on the Democratic National Convention’s ’96 Host Committee’s “visibility team” stood prepared to hand out signs and flags not just to the floor delegates, but to the spectators in the upper-deck “cheap” seats as well.
Others made their own signs, or chose to wave placards boosting their local candidates or promoting their cities as the 2000 convention site.
Linda DeLeon from Lubbock, Texas, brought in a 4-foot bright yellow ball, heralding her hometown. But it wasn’t all civic pride for DeLeon. She said she figured the sphere would catch the attention of the many television cameras. “If I had to shimmy up that delegate pole to get on TV, I’d do it,” she confessed.
Nearby, actor Kevin Costner had no such problem drawing attention, as television cameras chased him around the floor.
National conventions are filled with media stars and local politicians who are big deals in their hometowns but are just part of the wallpaper out of town. While it takes a village to appreciate a local politician, it takes a lot more than that in a sprawling stadium filled with them.
It took the appearance of Massachusetts Sen. Edward Kennedy and one of his well-known old-time stemwinder speeches shortly before Clinton appeared to get the entire crowd paying attention to the podium. And Massachusetts Rep. Joe Kennedy, son of the late Robert Kennedy, continued to work up the crowd with his nomination of Vice President Al Gore.
Careful to take advantage of the pared-down network schedules that have reduced national political conventions to nightly one-hour spectacles, the event organizers used the early hours as a pep rally.
Television screens flashed, the music burst out in spurts to inspire the crowd and to keep up the tension level for the triumphant president’s anticipated arrival.
Delegates and visitors snapped pictures of each other as if it were the last day at summer camp, and spontaneous versions of the ubiquitous Macarena, the unofficial Olympics/Democratic Convention dance, erupted on occasions.
The day’s activities, which began with a scant audience at 3:30 p.m., drove some delegates to the regular stadium refreshment stands where they bought Chicago food at New York prices–but that was the whole point, anyway. There was to be no serious political business here tonight; this was a party and Bill Clinton was the big party favor for the evening.
When the balloons finally came down after Clinton’s speech, it was the culmination of the nearly perfect convention week. The cheers were deafening, the confetti swirled, and the delegates celebrated and celebrated and had the big victory party they had been working toward all week long.