Between the Pope ruckus and the exciting Bolton confirmation hearings, most of you probably missed my
diary from yesterday. It's a tale of a young, wide-eyed liberal getting his first glimpse of true democracy in action (or democracy inaction) at the California Democratic Convention. If this interests you, by all means, please read on.
Saturday 8:30 - Coffee Line
I hate Starbucks. Anybody who knows me knows that I will do whatever it takes to avoid buying from the satanic mermaid. And yet, I find myself not only at Starbucks, but actually waiting in line for over twenty minutes to enjoy a $2 small (I still refuse to say `tall') Starbucks coffee. That's what being trapped in a Convention Center in the country's most walking-unfriendly city has reduced me to. It's early, and I'm grumpy.
The only entertainment is when suddenly a whole crowd of people come in with signs for LA Mayor James Hahn. They're all shouting and waving and generally acting way more pumped up than what's natural, especially for 8:30 am. They also represent a level of diversity so complete that they look straight out of Central Casting. I mean, in the real world, would you ever see a biker looking guy pushing a woman in a wheelchair who's chatting amiably with a middle-aged lesbian Latino woman? I think not.
Saturday 9:00 - General Assembly
It was pretty cool entering the big hall. There were those big, red white and blue poles with each Assembly District number on it to tell us where to go. I sat in 6 (East Bay). It was like the DNC, except smaller and not televised. Exciting!
One of the first things I notice was the convention slogan, which was on a big screen behind the stage: Democrats Protect Real People. I heave a sigh.
First of all, why haven't I seen this before? Later, I look around for it and notice it on some signs, but if you're gonna have a theme, it should be freaking everywhere, and everyone should be saying it in every speech. Otherwise, what's the point?
Second of all, I hate the slogan. I like the idea behind it - that Democrats are standing up for the working men and women of the State. And `protect' is a verb that the Democrats need to steal back from the Republicans. But, just, ugh. The way the slogan is phrased, it sounds like Democrats themselves aren't real people. We just stand a safe distance away from them, protecting them. Also, using the word `protect' in this context sounds coddling and condescending to me. It's like, "Hello, my friend, Mr. Fireman. I know that with the exciting life you have climbing ladders and sliding down poles, you never had a chance to attend Yale and learn about economics. But don't you worry. We have some very nice and very smart people working here to protect your cute little pension from big, bad Arnold. Now if you'd just stand over there, downwind from our offices, we'll be able to get our work done for you, our friend, Mr. Fireman. OK? Vote Blue!"
Maybe I'm reading way too much into it, but that's what I do. Also, there was another sign up behind the stage reading We are the People. Yeah! That's much better. Why couldn't we have used that?
Anyway, Art Torres, the California Democratic Chair, kicks off the morning. He's good. He's very warm and informal, but keeps things organized and moving. I like him immediately. He then shows us a video they've put together under the Democrats Protect Real People slogan. It focuses on stories of - who else - real people the Democrats are helping. It's horrible. It makes me want to tear my hair out. Apparently they either lacked the time or the money to actually film anything. Instead, they show a series of about 40 pictures of each subject behind an insipid voiceover. This rapid slide show effect is somewhat motion sickness-inducing. It kind of reminds me of that one Rolling Stones video with Patricia Arquette in it, except really boring. And, worst of all, without hearing the actual voices of the subjects, the audience doesn't connect with the people's stories at all, which just proves my point about the slogan. Argh.
Then LA Mayor James Hahn gets up to speak. His focus-group-approved clique of supporters surround the stage, too excited to hear him speak to possibly sit down. Hahn's speech honestly makes zero impression on me. I'm too fascinated with the crowd. It's just so obviously staged. Who are these people? Where did they come from? And, more importantly, who does this impress? To me, it just looks like he has so few supporters that he has to bus in his own. Is having your own crowd supposed to rally the rest of the audience? If so, I don't think it works. In fact, I end up cheering less for him than for others, simply because his people were doing it for me. In general, the actual, non-imported crowd does not seem all that psyched to see LA Mayor James Hahn.
The other speakers prove a bit better. Theoretically, this is the "Budget Town Hall", but we all know it's another excuse for aspiring politicians to practice their stump speeches. First up is Phil Angelides, State Treasurer and aspiring governor. Angelides is surprisingly fiery and comfortable on stage, considering my first impression of him was that he looked like a darker-haired Gray Davis. He's got some good language about Arnold's problems ("Arnold has brought borrowing, bullying, and betrayal to Sacramento." "We're right, he's far right.") But my favorite sound bite of his is the following: "When Arnold spoke to the Republican National Convention, he said that he was inspired to go into politics by Richard Nixon. [crowd boos on cue] Well, you know what, Mr. Schwarzenegger? So was I." Nice one. The crowd obviously prefers Angelides as the Democratic nominee, as he seems to get a standing O every time he opens his mouth. Well, he sounds good to me.
Next is Steve Westly, the State Controller, who is `exploring' a gubernatorial bid. He also comes with his own crowd, which I have been seeing everywhere in the convention. The Westly Kids are all under twenty, eager and wide-eyed, and always trying to hand you a button or a bottle of water with a Westly sticker on it or something. They always cheer unnaturally every time he speaks, though not as scarily as the Hahn people. It's all kind of cultish. Now, Westly was the first politico to come by the Progressive Caucus last night, and I have to say that in that context, he completely skeeved me out. He was completely plastic. We were a room full of idealistic, dorky, rough-edged progressives, and he came in like a tidal wave of hair gel and Eddie Haskell smarm. Up on the big stage, his style plays a bit better, though Angelides still blows him out of the water. Westly does have some really interesting points, though. He tells the story of his wife, who is an immigrant. He says that the state of California invested in her by providing her with a good public education (she must have graduated pre-Prop 13!), and now that investment is paying off, since she's a successful executive, and paying higher taxes. That's a really good frame for the value of public education. Nice one, Steve.
The next few speakers aren't running for anything, and their speeches are not all that memorable. The one exception is a metaphor I really liked that came from Dave Low from the Alliance for Better California. I'm going to get all the stats wrong, but you'll get the point: He says, "If you had invested $1,000 in Enron, you would have $42 left. If you'd invested in NorTel, you'd have $15. If you'd put $1,000 in WorldCom, you'd have 79 cents. Now, if you'd invested that $1,000 in Budweiser - not the stock but the beer - if you'd drunk all that beer and turned in the aluminum cans, you would have $219 today." He calls it the 401 Keg Plan. I love it, though the numbers don't completely add up to me. To get a close to 25% return on the beer, wouldn't each can have to cost like 20-25 cents? Can you really get beer that cheap somewhere? And if so, where? Because I'll buy it.
Next, they bring out the big guns: Pelosi and Boxer. All I have to say is wow. Sadly for you, I get a little too excited and completely forget to take any notes. My flummoxment increases when Oakland Rep. Barbara Lee sits a couple of rows in front of me. I love her! Anyway, as a result, I have no recollection of what they said, except that they were good. Very good. Actually, one thing I remember noticing is that Pelosi had a whole section of her speech where she spoke about Iraq, and she said flat out in no uncertain terms that the war was a mistake and that we need to bring the troops home as soon as possible. I didn't remember her publicly taking such a strong anti-war stance before. That was pretty cool.
And it is during these speeches that I noticed something else. I had expected to be politically on the leftish edge of the convention crowd. But as everyone whoops it up for Pelosi's Iraq rant, and falls all over themselves for Boxer when she brings up her Senate floor fights on Ohio, Condi, and now Bolton, it occurs to me that pretty much the whole room feels the way I do about these issues. How is that possible? I know California is not exactly Nebraska, but we've got huge red swaths of the state where I would imagine most Dems would be pretty moderate. Where are the hawks? Where are the Lieberman apologists? Where are the DINOs? Apparently, not here. Or else really, really quiet. How strange. It almost makes me feel like this is my party.
Saturday 12:30 - Break!
I decide to forego the Education Town Hall for some much needed air and to explore the convention center. First I travel through the booths and pick up some much-needed buttons. I mean, my chest area has been slogan-free for nearly the first 24 hours of my convention experience! That's not right! I snag one of the We Are the People buttons to indicate my slogan preference, and I pay a buck for a Barbara Lee Speaks for Me button, because as I previously said, I love Barbara Lee. Also, because the woman behind the booth is kinda hot. But mostly for Barbara.
Done with shopping, I wander for a bit. OK, remember how I said the Westly kids were kind of cultish? Well they've got nothing on the LaRouche kids. The LaRouchies make the Westleyites look like biker thugs. Each of them very aggressively wants to talk to you about how to fix the world's problems, hand you supporting literature, and get your phone number. The literature looks eerily progressive in its hatred of Dick Cheney and love of FDR and Social Security. I almost start to nod in agreement before I remember, "Wait! This is the guy who wanted to quarantine AIDS patients and thinks that homosexuals are Satan's children! Must... stop... reading!" It gets to the point where every time they would approach my friend asking, "Hi! Do you want to help make the world a better place?!?", he answers, "No. No, I don't". I soon adopt this strategy. But not before one of them hands me my favorite piece of paper of the weekend, the LaRouche Youth Movement Schedule, which includes such memorable moments as "LaRouche Youth sing Bach's Jesu, Meine Freude," and "LaRouche Youth Perform Scenes from William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar," as well as the vital information that "at all hours of the weekend, LaRouche Youth will be conducting science experiments at available `LaRouche pedagogical stations,' to unveil the principles of our universe." Sadly, I never found one of these stations, and now I am doomed to a lifetime of ignorance about the universe.
Saturday 2:00 - Afternoon Session
All right. Can I be frank for a moment here? To be honest, I kind of blow off the rest of this day. I'm getting burnt out, the afternoon's schedule seems less interesting to me, and I want to see some of my friends in LA while I was here. I told you, I'm no political junkie. There's only so much democracy I can take!
I do manage to attend the Youth Vote Workshop, which is ostensibly the reason I got my pass in the first place. I find it so useless, however, that I sneak over to the Education Workshop, which is almost as lame. I think I'm saving us both valuable time by not describing those in my typical excruciating detail.
Sadly, my flakiness means that I miss Howard Dean's speech. This is not entirely my fault. He was only supposed to talk to the paid dinner crowd, which did not include me. We actually joke about how `elitist' Dean has become by forcing his fans to shell out a hundred whole dollars to see him speak. Sure, not everyone can afford that, but relative to most fundraising events, that's chump change. Anyway, I think that there's no chance for me to see him, so I make arrangements to see friends during what I thought would be down time. He adds a public speech at the last minute. Crap. So, no Dean for me, which kind of sucks because I've never seen him live. I also manage to miss the actually cool-looking Rock the Casbah party at the nearby Hotel Figueroa. This is no Hospitality Suite, but a real, honest-to-goodness party. Unfortunately, I've already convinced my LA friend to pick me up in traffic-laden downtown, feed me dinner, let me sleep in her guest room, and drive me back downtown first thing Sunday morning. I can't convince her to party with me, so I have to let that one go.
Kind of an ignominious end to my Saturday night, huh? But I swear, I did a lot more on Sunday, which you will have to read about in the next installment. Lots of excellent speakers talking about communication and messaging, as well as the surprisingly fascinating process of approving resolutions. Tune in to find out more!