Is it possible nobody else has covered the CDC? It's my first ever diary, so I expect to be breaking several golden rules in my blind ignorance.
Prologue - Self-Deprecating String of Qualifiers
The following is an account of my trip to LA for the CA Democratic Convention. Now I'm no activist, and I'm not a political junkie. I've never even attended a meetup. I'm just a cynical SF liberal who votes in every election and reads the newspaper most every day. Or does that make me an activist by today's standards? Yet a friend had access to some passes, so I said I would go and be a part of democracy.
I had no idea what to expect. I imagined middle-aged men gladhanding each other and walking off to private meetings. I imagined coiffed women in blazers demanding to see my registration and denying me access to anything interesting. I imagined progressives behind a velvet cordon, waving conflicting signs and chanting incoherent slogans. I imagined myself standing apart, detached and amused. Did I mention I was cynical?
Well, I must have been thinking of the Republican Convention, because that's not what I got.
This is very much a personal account. My own interests are progressive messaging and communications, so I have tended to focus on those aspects of what I saw and heard. At times, I have even skipped over content to talk about form. Superficial, I know, but since my background is in theatre and non-profit communications, that's just how my mind works. Additionally, much of what you will read below is my own biased, skewed opinions of things. I am at times very snarky about people or speeches or slogans. Please remember that it all comes from a place of love. I just want the best for my party, and I hate to see it make mistakes. However, please also feel free to take issue with my characterizations and mini-rants. I frequently have no idea what I'm talking about, and I love a healthy debate.
Friday 5:00 - Progressive Caucus
We complete the six-hour drive in the nick of time to make this meeting, and rush into the convention center, our backs still clammy with car sweat. I have no idea what this meeting is about. I don't even know if they'll let me in. That's just where my friends are going, so I go with them. We skip registration to get there, and breeze in unquestioned. We arrived at the designated 50-seat room to find it completely overflowing with people. We squeeze our way into a niche in the back and settle in to watch the show.
I start off this meeting, and this convention, feeling (of course) cynical. Who are these so-called progressives? In the room I spy quite a few representatives of the `crunchy' wing of the democratic party - long, free-flowing hair, sandals, mismatched clothes - you know what I'm talking about. All my worst suspicions are confirmed. I've been developing a habit of trying to look at progressives with the eyes of an Iowan. In general, the room did not pass the Des Moines test.
Once I've finished judging the attendees, I try listening for a while. The people at the front of the room (who seem reasonably sane) are telling us that Progressive Caucus is not yet a caucus, and we are all urged to petition the powers that be to make us into an official caucus. OK. What's a caucus? My friend tells me that it is a subgroup of Democrats representing African Americans, or women, or gays and lesbians, or whoever, that make recommendations (unenforceable, of course) on what direction the Democratic Party should take. There are Caucuses for all those groups. There has never been a Progressive Caucus before. OK. That's interesting. I can get behind that.
It's a little difficult to follow the thread of the meeting, which is not entirely the fault of the organizers. It's because of the politicians. Every California Democrat who is running for anything wants to come in and give us a mini-stump speech. I've got some opinions to share about the politicians, which I will include later. It's interesting to watch, but fragments the already-scattered meeting. I amuse myself by writing down the obvious one-line intro each politician has inserted into their speech to make it relevant for progressives:
"Progressives will change this party."
"Progressives have to first take back our party, then our congress, then the White House."
"I see the future of the Democratic Party in this room."
"It's thanks to progressive democrats that the Governor's approval rates are going down."
"The progressive movement is not a dying movement."
"Who said the progressive movement is dead?"
Those last two irritated me. Who said we're dead? Uh, you just did! Bad Framing! No cookie for you! In general, I didn't put much stock in anything any of these people said. I imagined them going from caucus to caucus, using the same line but replacing the word `progressive' with `Filipino' or whatever. I was impressed, however, by how many people wanted to talk to us, and that they had actually prepared to court the progressives. Could they actually be taking us seriously?
In between candidates for Lieutenant Governor, we move on to voting for caucus officers. That's when it all goes to hell. I'm reminded of how people are seduced by Fascism. At least the freaking trains run on time! Instead, we get liberal chaos. The woman chairing the meeting clearly has no idea how it's supposed to work, and the half a dozen people shouting incoherent conflicting directions at her from all sides aren't helping. Moreover, any time a nominee has an unusual (i.e., non-Anglo) name, the chair butchers it, continuing to say it wrong no matter how often she's corrected. Add to this the random shouted pleas for tokenism ("We need more African-Americans on the committee!" "Why was nobody from San Diego invited to be here?!"), the continual reminders that we were rapidly approaching our 7:00 deadline to vacate the room, and the constant interruptions by slick State Assembly candidates, you can see how by the time we got to Treasurer, my ears were starting to bleed.
I abstain from most of the voting, feeling unqualified to make decisions solely on first impressions. I finally decide to step in, however, when the chair's daughter, who can't be older than 14, is nominated for Parliamentarian. Now, I have no freaking clue what a Parliamentarian is, and the girl does give her sweet little speech about how many meetings she has attended, but I just can't stand by and watch a clearly immature girl, no matter how cute her speech or how crushing this loss might be to her teen-aged ego, take a leadership role in a group, possibly the only group, that will represent my interests to the Democratic Party. Sorry. OK. Breathe. Mini-rant complete.
Anyway, she loses by a small margin and ends up getting a slot as one of three At-Large Members, which I decide I can deal with. She seems uncrushed. In general, the group we elect seems like an interesting, intelligent, and dare I say diverse group of folks. And despite the chaos, there is a real excitement in the room. There are a lot of people who really want to create a progressive agenda for the Democrats. People are talking about change, and I'm believing them. I'll admit, my skepticism has largely evaporated by the end of the meeting. I even sign up for the Communications Committee of the caucus on my way out. We'll see if they're organized enough to call me.
Friday 7:00 - Registration
At the registration desk, I learn that my piddly little workshop pass (which I got for free) will get me into everything at the convention. Basically, I can do anything a delegate can do, except vote for party officers. Woo hoo!
It's at about this time that I start noticing, amongst all the buttons, tags, and other political paraphernalia everyone but me seems to have, several people wearing bright green stickers that say Real Democrats are Pro-Choice. I decide immediately that I have an issue with this. Now, don't get me wrong. I am completely pro-choice, and I believe that the Democratic Party should take an unequivocal, strong, vocal pro-choice stance. But these stickers seem to imply that if you disagree, there's no room for you in the party. And I can't buy that. Does that mean we need to kick out Harry Reid? Because I'd hate to lose him. I just think that this is the wrong way of approaching this important issue.
Friday 7:30 - Labor Caucus
My friends all head to the Rural Caucus, but I want to check out Labor. Basically, it's the same parade of politicos, though with a labor slant, of course. In general, the messages are the same, though there's a lot more Arnold-bashing - not surprising considering the animosity between him and unionized teachers, nurses, and firefighters.
The Labor Caucus digs a little deeper than the progressives, however, and actually calls for speeches from any union member who is running for office, no matter how local. These speakers are all far more sincere and less canned, which is refreshing. They also all start with `Brothers and Sisters', which is great. Such inclusive language. Can higher-level Democratic candidates get away with saying that without sounding like they're trying too hard? Probably not.
Friday 9:30 - Hospitality Suites
Oh my Lord, Hospitality Suites are hilarious. On the surface, they are `parties' in various conference rooms, with free food (and sometimes booze). Many have `fun' names and themes like Senator Liz Figueroa's Late Night Beach Party! and Hector De La Torre's Freshman Dorm Party! No matter how hard they try, however, they're not fooling anyone. These events are business, not pleasure. They're for networking, and I'm a crappy networker, especially considering I know nobody. My favorite was the postcard I saw for Bill Lockyer's Back to the 80's night with the CA Young Dems. Let me tell you, no CA Young Dem could have been involved in the making of this card. It reads like an overzealous youth minister's attempt to woo the popular kids. The selling points included games (always a hit with the cool kids) and `ice-cream', whose hyphenation made me start reading the whole card aloud in the voice of The Simpsons' Mr. Burns - "Smithers, I'm feeling frisky. Fetch me a sasparilla and an ice-cream!"
Sadly, I missed that one. I amuse myself going from party to party, though, sampling the free stuff. Councilwoman Janice Hahn, in addition to martinis and a live band, has a chocolate fondue fountain, which is sadly too small to pull an Augustus Gloop. Senator Joe Dunn's Especially Irish Bash runs out of green beer right as I get there, so I drown that disappointment with a Corona at the SEIU reception. I hear that all the cute young women are at the EMILY's List event, but the party's dead by the time I get there. Eventually, I find all my friends again and we call it a night.
Will our hero maintain his newly found sense of Democratic optimisim? Or will he be bored out of his skull by endless speeches and droning procedures? Find out in the next installment of this diary!