Convention Diary: Mile High Stadium, Obama's Second Speech
4:30 p.m. : I just checked out the press section at Mile High Stadium, where tonight’s events will be. At the arena, the press section had a somewhat obstructed view but you could work there and at least see the speaker from the back. But the Mile High section is ridiculous. I can’t see a thing, and there’s nowhere to plug in. I decide to go in search of better seats with a college buddy who’s here as a guest of his state’s delegation.More
Convention Diary: Boilerplate Speechwriting, The Tsuris over Unity
9:45 a.m.: Jogging on the treadmill in the hotel fitness room, I watched CNN. Since I’ve arrived in Denver, I’ve watched very little TV and spent surprisingly little time on the Web; there’s real-life interaction to be had. (Although it should be added that the barrage of the cable news channels is there for those who want to heed it—in every media tent, in the arena itself, in bars and restaurants and hotel lobbies.)
Severa... More
Convention Diary: Raiding the Luxury Boxes, Corporate Invasion
3:30 p.m.: I continue to be struck by the things convention reporting doesn’t tell you about. It doesn’t reveal, for example, the rhythms of the days at the DNC. In keeping with the collegiate feel of the production—by which I mean the incessant socializing, the free food, the crashing of parties—the day starts late. People sleep in, and the main action takes place at night: the big speeches, followed by the parties. (Because we’re in the... More
Convention Diary: Dems Go Green, Will Hillary Supporters Vote For Obama?
5:45 p.m. The Democratic Party, in an effort to go green, has set out in the arena clusters of three trash barrels—one for “landfill,” one for “compost,” one for “recycling.” Although explications of these terms are provided, and workers with green shirts are standing by to help, most garbage-toting passersby seem too rushed to stop and read the fine print or too confused to sort out their rubbish appropriately. I peer into the barrels an... More
Convention Diary: Bumping into Buchanan, Orwell in the Men's Room
4:30 p.m. (Mountain Time): The Cherry Creek Hotel, where I am staying, is a lot farther from downtown Denver than it looks on the map. The place is rather desolate at this hour. Maybe everyone’s gone to the arena (I refuse to call it the “Pepsi Center”). Then, all of a sudden, into the lobby walks Pat Buchanan. We begin to chat and I remind him that he sent me a nice note when my book on Nixon came out a few years ago. He f... More
Convention Diary: NYC Takeoff, Denver Arrival
12:40 p.m.: Waiting around at LaGuardia Airport, I see a middle-aged guy—the sort of man who has made peace with losing half his hair by shaving off the rest—wearing a blue “Obama” shirt, with the letters, all capitals, printed in red. It occurs to me that everyone on my plane must be going to the convention. It’s nonstop to Denver, arriving at 12:48, just in time to check in, shower, get one’s credentials, and not miss an... More
