Reporter's Notebook

Political conventions are all about hype, hoopla

About two months ago, when Gov. Tom Ridge was a leading contender in the Republican "veepstakes" it seemed like a good idea to send staff writer Tom Fontaine and me to Philadelphia to cover the Republican National Convention.

As the county’s former congressman and a favorite of many local Republicans, Ridge is always a local story. Philadelphia wasn’t all that far away and if Ridge was tapped for the No. 2 spot, we’d be right there to cover the triumph of a local politician. As a side benefit, we could actually see what our local delegates were doing instead of depending on a daily phone call for a local angle on the convention.

The deciding factor: It would be cheap.

The Herald’s parent company, Ottaway News Service, was already sending Harrisburg correspondent Robert B. Swift to cover the convention and, as a former Herald reporter, he could be imposed upon. It was decided that Tom and I would go, crash in R.B.’s hotel room and keep the expenses down.

But George W. Bush chose Dick Cheney as his running mate. Our major story was gone. What were we to do?

Go anyway. Herald Managing Editor Noel Carroll said we could use the experience and it would be a good time. "Everybody should go to the convention once, nobody should have to go twice," he said, paraphrasing R.B., a veteran of previous conventions.

It took a bit of wrangling with the Republican National Committee to secure a single press credential that would provide access to the convention site, The Comcast Spectator’s First Union Center. (Notice the double corporate sponsorship, everything associated with the GOP confab was sponsored -- read that paid for -- by fat cat corporate donors. I am not editorializing, it is a simple fact and it will apply to next week’s Democrat blow out in Los Angeles.)

How do you cover an event that’s drawn 14,998 other reporters, photographers, pundits and pontificators to do the same? The Associated Press, other wire services and cable news takes care of the convention hall action and all the big league politics. What were we doing there?

Our only clear assignment was to talk to our local delegation about what was going on at the convention. But as anyone watching at home discovered, there wasn’t much going on. The Republicans put out a fairly innocuous message and presented a diverse and non-threatening image. There were rousing speeches from the likes of Gen. Colin Powell, Sen. John McCain, Laura Bush, Dick Cheney and George W. Bush There were pomp and pageantry, music and merriment. Unfortunately, my seat for the show was in peanut heaven, behind the stage and even out of sight of the huge TV screens on both sides of the convention hall.

We quickly learned the best way to cover our local angle was to troll breakfasts at the Pennsylvania delegation’s Doubletree Hotel, where each morning a different corporate sponsor supplied a buffet, state party leaders rallied the troops, lawmakers made speeches and everyone got a nice parting gift -- the convention is all about freebies. Midafternoon in the hotel’s lobby was also a good time to bird dog our quarry, as were after-session receptions in a hotel banquet hall. I caught some of our sources outside the auditorium and, thanks to R.B. and state Sen. "Bob" Robbins, Tom caught quiet a bit of the action on the floor.

If the city of Philadelphia had a marquee, last week it should have read "Live Nude Republicans, July 31 -- Aug. 4." Don’t get any crazy ideas, I mean nude in the sense of naked in their desires, not streaking down Broad Street after the last booze-soaked reception was over.

The town was crawling with them and they weren’t like the ones on TV. They were real and they were unapologetic. The rank-and-file conventioneers I talked to were, for the most part, sincere in their belief in less government, lower taxes and a strong defense. They’re into education this year too. On the other hand, there were more than enough smug, cigar-smoking, "I’ve got mine" types prowling around and many of the politicians I talked to were like avuncular robots, spouting the party line or making ambiguous small talk about Sharon or western Pennsylvania when they figured out where I was from.

There was little in the way of drama. The action on the convention floor was well-choreographed and the final result preordained. The real action was at the many parties, receptions or fund-raisers held for delegates, members of congress and their entourages, and other hangers-on. All the parties were paid for by corporate sponsors, many of them hosted by lawmakers or their political action committees. While an American Bandstand party, or a show featuring Lynyrd Skynyrd or Blues Traveler, or an Italian street fair, or even trout fishing with the speaker of the House may sound like fun, it’s really work.

While some just sit back and indulge themselves at the open bar and hors d’oeuvres trays, most of the professional politicians, their handlers, lobbyists and corporate executives at the convention are networking like crazy. The politicians line up money and curry favor with more powerful politicians. The lobbyists push their agendas and the CEOs pay for it all. Everybody’s in on it, even the media. I spent part of one evening at historic Carpenter’s Hall, where the American independence movement was born, at a reception held by Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and Toledo Blade owner John Robinson Block. Block wined and dined the state and local politicians his papers pillory every day, apparently out of the goodness of his heart,

Our work schedule in Philly was flexible. We couldn’t actually follow our local delegates around all day, nor would we have wanted to. But we were there to work and, thankfully, the sideshows in Philadelphia didn’t let us down.

Our first day in the city coincided with a mass protest march. Tom found it fascinating and walked several miles with the ragtag band of anti-capitalists, welfare activists, anarchists and the man who wanted breast feeding banned. I watched the police. Hands on their nightsticks, they were watching the protesters and watching out for the out-of-towners. There was a constant, kind of disturbing and definitely intimidating police presence all around the convention action. "You won’t get robbed down here today," a woman said on Market Street as a troika of police choppers hovered overhead.

Almost as constant as the cops were the protesters, They were a mix of young, white, college student or drop-out types, some real down-and-outers and some professional activists. You saw small bands of them on corners, walking down the streets and generally hanging around.

At their wildest moment Tuesday they succeeded in shutting down several key streets in the city and snarling rush hour traffic. The Doubletree was locked down. No one was supposed to go in or out of the high-rise hotel. It was easy work getting out but when I did, there wasn’t much to see. On one corner there was a mob of TV cameras gathered around a tiny band of protesters who had blocked the intersection. On the other corner there was a phalanx of cops blocking that intersection. It made little sense.

The powers that be said nothing was delayed by the action, but that night at the convention, reporters who usually have half an hour on the floor found they could hang out as long as they wanted. The packed convention floor you saw on TV that night was awash with reporters.

As far as the protests were concerned, I kind of think the conventioneers found them flattering. The media spend all this time telegraphing the convention, so by the time everyone gets to Philly they know exactly what’s going to go on and everyone’s already bored. The street theater lent excitement and uncertainty to the convention. The fact that the convention drew the protesters at all is at much gravitas as any speech by W.

Also shaking up the convention doldrums was the Shadow Convention, an alternative to the big show organized by ex-Republican darling Arianna Huffington and paid for by international financier and drug-legalization advocate George Soros.

The Shadow Convention offered anyone hungry for a policy debate more than enough to chew on. Unfortunately, most of the people there shared the same opinions on the three themes of the second-stage show: campaign finance reform, "the failed drug war," and poverty and the wealth gap. I learned some interesting things there. Apparently, large corporate donors exploit campaign finance rules to give boatloads of money to politicians who do their bidding. Who would have thunk it?

That convention’s platform, a vague mix of fringe liberalism and libertarianism, was interesting but ultimately the participants were preaching to the choir. Of course, there was a lot of that in Philadelphia last week.

In the end, we did what we were supposed to do. Whether it was worth it not, whether any political coverage is worth it or not, isn’t for us to decide. That, dear reader, is your call.

If you want to know what I took away from it, here it is: Political conventions -- Republican and Democrat -- are anachronistic rituals that offer those outside the party little except a chance to scoff at the other side’s slick, tailored messages. No one needs to go to an overheated auditorium to ratify decisions made long before by primary voters and the kingmakers who control the purse strings. The only excuse to continue holding them is that they’re a lot of fun.