By Michael Falcone
Daily Bruin Senior Staff
During four days of scripted political speeches by makeup-laden
political actors at the Democratic National Convention, early
morning walks through the Pico-Union neighborhood several blocks
west of Staples Center provided a daily dose of reality.
Occasional police and news helicopters passed overhead, brigades
of limousines and black sedans shuttled the political and media
elite into and out of Staples Center, but this primarily Latino
neighborhood remained quiet during most of the convention.
Three of the five entrances to the Staples compound were located
at the edge of this neighborhood, which could have made it an ideal
area for protesters to congregate
But the only groups in Pico-Union last week were those who sat
on their front porches on makeshift chairs and benches as children
played on sunburnt grass.
During a week when all eyes were on the DNC and when politicians
like Al Gore spoke of seeing the future through a “fresh set
of eyes,” the eyes of the residents of this small
neighborhood were more often focused on their card games than on
what was happening behind the police barricades separating them
from one of the year’s biggest political and media
events.
Though very few of the Pico-Unioners seemed to have an interest
in crossing the security perimeter, thousands of others several
blocks away wanted to do exactly that.
The protesters and the politicos were not only split along
ideological lines during the DNC, but also along police lines.
The thick, three-foot high concrete slabs topped by ten more
feet of reinforced wire fencing wrapped around Staples Center like
a selectively permeable membrane ““ allowing few in and
keeping most out.
Even with the proper credentials, getting into Staples was an
ordeal.
Entering the convention area by car entailed a five-minute
inspection. Car hoods and trunks were opened and searched by one
agent, while another waved a metal detecting wand around the
interior and a third held the leash of an intimidating
bomb-sniffing canine. Petting the Secret Service dogs was,
predictably, out of the question.
It’s no wonder why the security perimeter was never
breached once it was erected.
During the convention, placement in the political and media
hierarchy was determined solely by the color of your credential.
The press, delegate, and special guest credentials were printed and
distributed by the DNC. Those without them were relegated to the
other side of the 80-block security fence.
A green pass afforded a view of the convention floor partially
blocked by the top side of the Staples lighting grid, purple
provided access to the three suite levels, some orange passes
allowed floor access, and coveted red “backstage” or
podium passes could get its bearer close enough to smell Joe
Lieberman’s cologne.
But the corridors of Staples and the L.A. Convention Center were
undoubtedly the best places to experience the DNC’s signature
element ““ the fusion of politics and media.
Whether it was watching Dan Rather casually chatting with Jesse
Jackson; or Sam Donaldson interviewing The Rock; or California
Highway Patrol officers shouting “Make a hole, make a
hole” as they escorted Gov. Gray Davis to an escalator, being
at the convention was a jaw-dropping experience even for the
jaded.
Despite the crowds and chaos, most of the political and media
elite were on their best behavior.
Jay Leno paused with his entourage to let a woman in a wheel
chair go by, former White House chief of staff Leon Panetta was
willing to take a picture with a star-struck woman wielding a
disposable camera, and actor John Lithgow stopped briefly to be
quoted as he exited the men’s room.
But what went on inside the walls of Staples only told part of
the story. Cameras perched on the tops of downtown buildings and
attached to the underside of helicopters captured images of the
protests ““ the story that usually ran second on the evening
news.
At the news desk of one of the networks covering the convention,
six TVs were on all day. At least one of those showed a
never-ending shot of the podium and another displayed a live news
feed, usually showing a helicopter’s view of the protests
taking place near the convention center.
It was during the prime time speeches that the protests always
seemed to be more intense and the dichotomy between what was
happening inside and outside became more pronounced.
As politicians spoke on one television set, protesters were
climbing the barricades and ducking rubber bullets on another.
As news anchors fine-tuned their scripts, and techies made sure
TelePrompTers weren’t scrolling too fast, back in Pico-Union,
children were finishing a game of soccer in the street as their
parents prepared the evening meal.