Spectacle

The day after the convention, Denver breathes a sigh of exaltation and relief. The highways are open again. Neighborhoods near INVESCO Field can get back to normal. The crowds have gone.

Yesterday was a whole different story. Crowds all day long. Mile-long lines in the Mile High City, snaking around buildings, down long stretches of the street. And on the way out of INVESCO, not a line but a wedge-shaped mass of people, pushing into one another, poking one another with little American flags, but not moving anywhere. For some reason, coming and going, everyone was funneled through one entrance, so on the way out this meant thousands of conventioneers were stuck trying to cross one bridge.

But it’s doubtful any of us will forget the night. Last night’s acceptance came on the 45th anniversary, to the day, of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech in Washington. As John noted to me later, there was the feeling that, this night, there was nothing more important going on in America. One must be careful with hyperbole when dealing with politicians and their institutions, but the historical nature of the moment was undeniable. To see a black man, who looked so small from the rafters of this cavernous football stadium, command the adulation of a stadium full of Americans….and to do so without singing a song or dribbling a ball was astounding.

The crowd was electrified. If you closed your eyes the noise was like a giant wave of thunder, simultaneously distant and near. From underneath the upper seats, the sound was like a subway train rumbling overhead.

Symbolism alone hardly counts as substance, and who knows how well this all is playing outside the stadium, among the undecided. But America, which always seeks to be defined and redeemed by spectacles such as these, sure knows how to put on a show.