Mega Media 2000
Arthur D. Robbins

Thirty-five thousand visitors descended upon the city of Los Angeles. Fifteen thousand of them were media personnel. Never have so many gathered in one place for so flimsy a cause: the nomination of pre-ordained, pre-purchased candidates who would give carefully staged performances to a viewing audience who had fallen asleep at its television sets. Nonetheless, one experienced a noticeable increase in adrenalin as one cast ones gaze across the brightly lighted convention floor, decorated in red white and blue. At one end was a large stage, at the rear of which was an enormous crescent-shaped TV screen, rising to the heavens like the spires of a gothic cathedral, dwarfing any mere mortal by its physical presence. At the front of the stage, in modest proportions, was a podium. Before one was a vast arena of seats and miles and miles of hidden cable. Each delegate had his or her own computer terminal. This was hi-tech democracy, democracy of the media, for the media and by the media.

It is doubtful that anywhere, ever was there as large a gathering of media personnel, equipment and paraphernalia. Out of doors parking lots were filled with heavy duty, media equipment, housed in tents, trailers or prefabricated structures of various kinds. The Staples Center is a large, indoor, oval-shaped sports arena. On every level, starting in the basement, locker room level and ending at the upper reaches of the highest concourse were media installations. As one surveyed the arena from any perspective one was surrounded by electronic banners announcing the presence of the various TV networks. Walking the various concourses, one was smitten by a galaxy of yellow and orange lights illuminating steel-gray consols stacked one upon the other. There was a rushing hither and thither, a subdued excitement in the voices, a hum of enthusiasm generated not by any genuine interest in the convention itself but by the such intensive activity of media personnel, the criss-crossings and interactions of so many people all working at the same task.

One exits Staples Center, transverses a large open area, and mounts and enters a large, multi-storied, rectangular building, the Los Angeles Convention Center. This is the official media building, where media personnel, mostly print and radio have set up shop. This is the back office, support area for what goes on at the Staples Center. Large banners announce the presence of the The New York Times, The Boston Globe and every other major newspaper. A whole section was devoted to dot.coms. A live airing of "Democracy Live" was about to begin. The tone here was quieter and more business like. Nonetheless the presence of so much and so many, all dedicated to reporting and making the news had an energizing effect on all those who participated in the endeavor.

The events of greatest import, however, were not at the convention center, itself. Rather they surrounded it like a hot air balloon. Inside was the hot air. Outside the fabric which kept it in place and gave it its meaning. Sunday evening, August 13, the eve of the convention, the Santa Monica pier was the gathering place for some of the wealthiest most influential figures in the country, a who's who of American business. Philip Morris Co., the National Rifle Association along with many others enjoyed the food and booze, the rides and games. Monday, evening, August 14, after the first day of the convention, Paramount studios threw a party, described by one reporter as "the most decadent event" he had ever attended. Influence peddling and fund raising were the main events. There were front page stories about the Gore people fretting that President Clinton and his wife, who were in town doing their own fund raising, were drinking at the Gore trough and that it might run dry before the Gore people got their laps in. The climax of the convention was not Al Gore's acceptance speech but the party that followed, featuring Barbara Streisand, Whoopi Goldberg and Enrique Iglesias. Sixty-five hundred attended, including Al and Joe. Street value of a ticket was rumored to have gone as high as $50,000.

And then there were the dissenters. This reporter watched as thousands of spirited protesters, dressed in costume, organized in groups, riding on floats, walking on foot, carrying placards, chanting out slogans streamed by on their way to the convention center. "Dykes for a Just World," "Justice for Janitors," "No Nukes," "Nurses for Health Care" read the placards and banners. Al Gore's involvement with Occidental oil drilling at Elk Hills was decried. Peace and disarmament were appealed for. "Justice for Mumia Abu Jamal." was demanded. "United Students Against Sweatshops" were there in numbers. Apparently the garment industry and its exploitative labor practices have relocated from its home in New York City to the City of Angels. This was a most civilized, spirited and imaginative parade of committed people. And it was going on outside of the convention.

About a mile south of Staples Center convention, in Patriotic Hall, there was another civilized gathering, known as the Shadow Convention. For the first time in the history of American democracy, important personalities with political commitment saw fit to create their own convention as a means of giving expression to issues of consequence that they felt were not being addressed by the political establishment. In attendance and overflowing out onto the streets were hundreds of essentially white middle class adults who were fed up with what they were being fed. There was a parody of the Los Angeles Times entitled Los Angeles Crimes with stories like "Clinton Decries Wealth Gap Between Billionaires" and "Drug Czar McCaffrey Declares 'Total Victory' Over Bill of Rights."

There was an impressive array of invited speakers. Representative Tom Campbell, Senator Paul Wellstone, Senator and one-time presidential contender Gary Hart, the Reverend Jessie Jackson. Authors Jonathan Kozol, Gore Vidal, Cristopher Hitchens were on the program, along with many more well-known names. On Sunday night, Bill Maher (Politically Incorrect) gave a talk on the role of money in politics and concluded by donning a jacket emblazoned with labels from the brand names that were sponsoring him and encouraged members of congress to do the same. Ben Cohen of Ben and Jerry's ice cream gave a talk on armaments and domestic programs, demonstrating with the use of Oreos that there would be plenty of cookies (bombs) left over to destroy the world many times over even if we took some cookies and applied them to education and a health care. Cohen concluded with a rousing rap about money and politics.

The second night of the Shadow Convention, Monday, August 14, was the night of President Clinton's speech. The plan at the Shadow Convention was to have the likes of Gore Vidal, Cristopher Hitchens, Jonathan Kozol and others on stage making humorous observations and critiques as the president delivered his speech. As this reporter approached Patriotic Hall attendees were streaming out the doors. Apparently there was "a bomb scare," necessitating the evacuation of the building. Earlier in the day the organizers of the Shadow Convention had been denied access to their offices. A delivery of diesel fuel for generators necessary to power the heavy duty electrical equipment had been interrupted.

Evicted from Patriotic Hall, the Shadow Convention regrouped onto the streets and set up shop off the back of a truck. Technicians worked to get the sound systems up and running. Gore Vidal began with an impeccable imitation of Ronald Regan. As he spoke, a single line of police in riot gear entered the building and left in the same neat, single file some minutes later. Had there truly been concern about a bomb, special teams of bomb squad personnel would have been summoned. A phalanx of riot police, their shields down and batons in ready waited for orders to approach the peaceful unarmed, mostly middled-aged white Shadow Convention attendees apparently in an act of intimidation. A siren was heard in the distance. Another twenty or so police arrived, hanging off the side of a personnel carrier. These were dressed in blue and also ready for action. Apparently Shadow Convention attendees were blocking traffic after being forcibly evacuated from Patriotic Hall by these very same police. Stunned and disbelieving that such mild forms of dissension should not be tolerated by the current administration, the group paraded back into the building. Hitchens and company resumed their biting commentary. Shadow Convention attendees had the last laugh. The media missed it.

Arthur D. Robbins is the author of Greenfield for President, a novel satirizing presidential politics.