PhotoDude.com

Thu. Jul 29, 2004

This Week In Atlanta History

16 years ago this week, Atlanta played host to John F. Kennedy, Jr., Jesse Jackson and a host of Democratic stars (plus, Rob Lowe and his video camera). Ann Richards gave a speech that brought her to the public eye with the refrain, “Poor George.” Then Governor Bill Clinton gave a speech that was over three hours long, and earned the vocal contempt of the delegates who had to endure it. It was the 1988 Democratic Convention, and I was lucky enough to see a small part of it (I would also note that after that convention Dukasis led Bush in the polls … by almost twenty points).

It’s from that perspective that I’ve watched the various blogger’s coverage of this year’s convention. Like Jessamyn showing us a photo of the media pass:

You can notice a few things about this pass: it’s good for one day only, it doesn’t have my name, picture, retinal scan information, or fingerprint on it. I guess the reason they make you get a new one every day is to give you some incentive to not give the pass away, but let me be perfectly clear: you could give it away. Easily.

Why do all this holographic two-sided fancy odd-sized printing and then not put someone’s name on it? Or not make you show ID to get in to the building?

Daily Kos tells us even more:

So here’s how it works.

There are a few thousand delegates with credentials. But lots more people want to come in and partake in the festivities. Even if it is a “stage-managed event”, it’s a party for political junkies, and there are lots more of us than most people realize.

So a delegation gets in the building. One person collects all their credentials, walks out the Fleet Center, and returns with a whole new group. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

So suddenly, there are three times as many “delegates” walking around. And by the time the prime time speeches come around, it’s freakin’ packed. Last night, the blogger section was so packed with “delegates” that I gave up and went home to watch the Edwards speech from my hotel room.

Shocking, eh?

It was the same way in 1988, and I profited from it. During the first three days, I had the same access as any member of the public, and I spent much of my time at the “designated protest area” directly across the street from the Omni where the convention was being held. Unlike the “Texas Caged Death Match” decor they used in Boston, here the protest area was a simple open parking lot, with a line of basic police barricades (you know, the low ones that look a bit like bike racks) along one side of the lot.

But on the last night, I lucked into a pass from someone who’d had enough after three nights. Like Jessamyn’s, the pass had no name on it, and no one asked for my ID or affiliation. The Secret Service checked my camera bag going into the “post keynote” party, but didn’t question me in any way.

There was no realistic way for them to do it. The place was packed, and unlike Fleet Center, the Omni was smallish for an arena. It held maybe 15,000, before you built the monstrous stage they always do for these things. And on closing night, everyone (including me) wanted to get inside. But no matter what their name, not all of them would fit:

About 10p.m. the night of the nomination, the fire marshall closed the door to any more people. About a thousand people, including many “dignitaries” were caught outside. Among them was Willard Scott. He started egging the crowd on; “Are y’all mad?”, “YEAH”, “Want to know what to do about it?” “YEAH”, “Vote Republican!”

16 years ago. The names and the technology have certainly changed. And maybe the security threat. But I’m not sure what else has.

Which brings me to the other historical item. Eight years ago this week, I had my first experience with a terrorist attack on my “homeland,” and my first experience with people banding together spontaneously in great numbers to rise above it. It was eight years ago this week that Centennial Park was bombed during the Olympics, followed by the citizens of Atlanta reclaiming it:

If you read the report of my first trip to Centennial Park, you may remember that I was underwhelmed by the exhibitions, and overwhelmed by the logo-mania. I intended to return only to photograph the night lights, and to people watch, as the park just didn’t excite me very much. That was then…

Centennial Park is now a symbol, an important one, to me. It’s not only a symbol of American defiance of terrorism, it’s very much a symbol of a place I hold most dear, Atlanta, the “comeback city”.

So, when I heard that the park would re-open 7/30/96 at 8am, with a memorial service at 10am, I knew I had to be there. Not just because of this web site, but primarily, because I’m an Atlantan. I knew I wouldn’t be alone

From our vantage point, although we could see a lot, we could only see the edge of the crowd, and couldn’t judge its size. As we walked around the back of the tower, the panorama of people opened up before our eyes, people jammed shoulder to shoulder as far as the eye could see. Atlanta had returned to the park, and given loud notice that it will not be taken away.

It was a tiny piece of what New Yorkers went through a little over five years later. And I wrote something then that remains just as true today, not just as related to the upcoming Olympics:

The problem is not a lack of security. The possibility of terrorism at the Olympics is something I’ve thought about for a long time, since I was a 13 year old glued to the news reports coming out of Munich. This is the price we pay for living in a free society. We are sometimes vulnerable to lunatics, because we refuse to allow a police state to rule us. The incredible benefits of our free society far outweigh the fact that it also presents hideous opportunities for monstrous deeds.

The world is much different than it was eight or sixteen years ago. But in some ways, it remains the same.