The pix barely begins to portray the moment. One picture definitely NEEDS a thousand words here.But I'll try to tell you in fewer than that.
Two parades almost smash into each other. Of course, the police don't let that happen.
The pix barely begins to portray the moment. One picture definitely NEEDS a thousand words here.
But I'll try to tell you in fewer than that.
How does it happen? What do I hear? What do I see?
First the noise. Whistles, shouting, rustling feet growing into tramping. Inexorable, unstoppable, like a great creature of many bodies, the crowd comes. Its song calls out to you. Siren song. Exciting, frightening.
Cops fill the street, blocking traffic, opening passage, then standing back as the moving mass passes left to right in front of the gates, several hundred strong, marching along K Street, west to east, chanting, raising fists, cursing Governor Wilson and the GOP, with banners, signs, voices proclaiming the human rights of all immigrants. "El pueblo, unido...!" Then they are gone, and all the sounds of mass voices, stamping feet, shrill whistles, all of it fades into the distance. They will be back, however, in a few hours, for the 5:30 rally of the Coalition for Social & Economic Justice.
Last, the second parade approaches head on toward you, coming straight down Fourth Avenue toward the gates, the group which has walked down from St. Paul's Cathedral at 5th and Nutmeg - two miles away, only to be greeted at the gates of the zone by another parade marching by across its path. But now it it their time: the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, most carrying signs in uniform lavender color, moving forward, chanting in a more mellow tone of voice, but chanting nonetheless, "Prayerfully Pro-Choice! Prayerfully Pro-Choice!"
They are "led" by a cluster of Pro-Lifers, notably the towering banners proclaiming hard-line Christian messages. Hecklers to the left of them, Republicans to the right of them, into the valley of the protest walk the three hundred.
I see my mom's friend (Evelyn, on the right), who asks me to snap a picture of her and her walking-mate, with their signs they made themselves. I think they did a good job. Letters all straight- don't look at all sloppy or hand-scribbled (like the Dope/Hemp '96 signs some kids are carrying), and messages (the ladies' I mean!) - as I'm sure you will agree even if you are offended - is catchy. Hey, it rhymes, even!
The last minutes of break time tick forward through red light toward green, and the Choicers take up position. I hunt through the center, looking for the right person to sign in. Succeed. He introduces me to the bishop. I smile.
Then, shunning the burning sun, I retreat back to the open tent and try to write down some impressions of what it is like to watch two crowds pass each other in the street.
I am very excited. This is the biggest action we have had so far. The media is circulating through the crowd, clicking, whirring, recording, questioning; however, I get the distinct impression that these mainstream moderates are just a little too tame for the press needs to put on TV. That question from early this morning - "Where's the action?" - circulates around and around in my head.
But I am happy. The crossing of the parades was pretty hot. And now there is an actual crowd in the protest zone.
GOOD MORNING! THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING DOWN HERE WITH US!
"Hi, Danial."I look up. It's Bob, one of the techs from NBC. "Hey, how's it going? Look, we finally got a crowd!"
"Yeah. Man, be glad you're not across the street."
"Why?"
"The cops over there are something fierce... I was walking through - my credentials get me into the outer zones - and some guy just came jogging right into the gate. They took him down, pulled a full bend and spread, slammed him onto the asphalt...."
"Huh! What the hell was he doing?"
"I don't know, but it looked to me like he was just a jogger who didn't know where he was going. He was wearing a walkman, and ran right by me as I was going through the mag-gate. A woman cop yelled - Hey, stop that guy! - and like in five seconds four other cops ran after the guy, pulled a football tackle and jumped on him."
BLA BLA BLA BLA BECAUSE WE ARE -
"Prayerfully Pro-Choice," the crowd answers, lifting their lavender signs up to heaven.
"Jesus Christ forbids you all to..." one of the hecklers shouts from the side.
BLA BLA BLA BLA BECAUSE WE ARE -
"Prayerfully Pro Choice!" Louder this time. The crowd is working up their voices, getting their breath back after the long walk in the sun.
"I tell you, Danial, the cops in your city are really serious about their little perimeters.""Well, we've got this whole security plan, and now, after the Atlanta bombing, they've upped the volume on the broadcast."
Bob laughs, "Upped the volume? Hell, they've fuckin snapped the damn switch!"
"They didn't beat that jogger?!"
"No, no, nothing like that. Once they had him down, they just escorted him out. It's the way they were on him so fast, I... I hardly knew what was happening. Whoosh - he ran by me, and WHAM - they tackled him."
THEREFORE WE CALL UPON YOU, REPUBLICANS, TO ALLOW THE AMERICAN WOMEN THE FREEDOM TO MAKE THAT DIFFICULT CHOICE OF REPRODUCTIVE RESPONSIBILITY....
"Hi!" A group of young people, credentials hanging around their neck."Hello! Welcome to San Diego."
"Oh, thank you... who's speaking now?"
"Pro-Choice church-people."
"Oh."
"You guys Young Republicans?"
"Yeah!"
"Having a good time at your party zone out in the park?"
"Oh yes, it's really cool. Good music, food. And that park is so beautiful, right there on the water. But we want to get around and see some other stuff, too, you know."
"Uh-huh. Have you been into the convention?"
Nervous laughter. A young woman answers, "Well, yes, actually we have, even though our credentials aren't supposed to get us in the inner area, we actually got onto the floor of the hall this morning."
"Huh? How'd you do that?"
"Oh, we just turn our tags around, like this, so you can't read 'em, and smile, and walk in."
I laugh. Bob shakes his head beside me. "It can't have been that easy," he says, and I know we are both thinking of the jogger.
"Well," the young woman says, "actually, we had to go door to door inside the hall until we found someone who let us slip through."
Bob laughs. I lift up my camera, "Can I take your guys' picture for my journal?"
"Well, okay!"
[PHOTO of the guilty young ones... Oh, those spunky GOP kids! - Future Upload Under Construction]
"Excuse me?"
"Ah, hello. Are you the next group?"
"That's right."
Or, you can "Table" the motion.