On the Ground in Philadelphia, Day 3

by David Safier

Here’s a next-morning post about Friday.

• 11:30: Went to downtown headquarters and picked up a stack of fliers about the big Independence Mall rally along with a handful of posters. We walked the mean streets of Philadelphia’s Center City (OK, it was 70 degrees and the streets were very friendly, but where’s the drama in that?) passing out fliers and giving posters to people who asked for them. I felt like I was hawking half price drinks for the disco around the corner. (Did I say "hawking"? Did I say "disco"? Remind me, what decade is this?)
• 1:00: Ate lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown (What a wonderful country we live in!)
• 2:30: Arrived at Independence Mall, the grassy area between all the big Independence/Constitution/Liberty Bell stuff, walked past the security guards and asked how we could help. An organizer said, "Field the people walking in asking questions so we can get work done. Here are a bunch of orange tickets you can give them, then tell them to wait at 5th and Market." We said we didn’t have tickets. She said, "Here are a couple of blue ones for you. They get you in first." Yeah!
• 2:45: Acting very official, I went up to people who looked lost. Most of them were overjoyed when I gave them tickets, though a few tried to talk me into blue tickets, which I didn’t have. I felt like the guy in front of Studio 54 holding the rope, deciding who could get in. (Studio 54? Again with the last-century allusions!)
• 4:00: All the tickets are gone, and the blue ticket people are lining up to get it in at 5:30. We happen to be at the front of the line, so we stay there.
• 5:30: We’re among the first 150 people in through the airport-quality security. They even confiscated our water bottles, and it’s over 80 degrees. We end up in the third row of people standing behind the barricades next to the podium, about 15 feet away from where Obama will speak. Around 7:30, we think.
• 7:00: So many people have filled in behind us, we can’t see the back. A volunteer coordinator pitches the crowd about the need for people to work the streets Saturday through Tuesday.
• 7:30: The singer from the Black Eyed Peas who did the "Yes We Can" video sang a drop-dead gorgeous number accompanied by an acoustic guitar, like in the video.
• 8:15: The crowd is hot, tired, and frustrated with waiting. Chants of O-ba-MA! O-ba-MA! spring up. We’re in the third loop of the 45 minute mix tape, and between songs, people chant, "No More Music! No More Music!" To no avail. A few people mutter, "If he doesn’t show up soon, I’m voting for Clinton." "No, you’re not," another says. "I know, but where the hell is he?" By this time, one little girl has had an asthma attack, four people have grown faint from the heat and lack of water, and one older woman has to be taken away in a stretcher. And that’s just around me.  The people around us are great, by the way. As tired as I am standing there waiting, at least I’m in good company.
• 8:45: Obama shows up. 15 feet away. His face in the harsh TV lights is sculptural, full of planes and angles. And his speech is marvelous, wrapping the theme of independence from the British (we’re in Independence Mall, right?) around the idea of breaking away from the business-as-usual traditions of Washington. The crowd is with him 100 percent. Occasionally he has to say, "Wait a minute, wait a minute," to quiet us down so he can finish his thought. He gets in some forceful digs at Clinton, not personal attacks, but comments about her acting like Republican-lite in the campaign. Very effective.
• 9:15: Obama shakes hands, working the line in front of us. We start to get crushed in the people crowding forward. I understand how people can get trampled at rock concerts. But as we work our way out of the crowd, people gladly let us pass, hoping to get closer.
• 11:00: I watch the local news and learn that 35,000 people were at the rally, about double what the campaign set as its success number. The crowd stretched for two city blocks. I feel a weary satisfaction that I was part of it all.