Before I get started on this post, I need to apologize for not following through with my plan to post after each day of the DNC. So much was going on each day that I didn’t get home until pretty late and was absolutely exhausted. I did little more than upload my photos to my computer each night before collapsing in bed. And then Friday morning, I left town for a family memorial, meaning I didn’t do any writing while away. So now is my chance to catch up!

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Day One of the DNC was promised to be the day with the largest protest, led by the Coalition to March on the DNC which represented over 200 groups. They advertised that they were expecting tens of thousands. Not quite. But thousands did show up.

Protesters gathered at Union Park, less than a half mile from the United Center. The park is huge. A large stage was set up, but groups set up spread all over the park. The whole atmosphere was one of a summer festival. Many organizations had tables with information about their group and free giveaways. Other groups brought instruments and played music and sang songs.

Piles of free signs were in every corner of the park, and newcomers were encouraged to take whatever sign they wanted. And free bottles of water were everywhere (much appreciated – even though the day was a low humidity 70-something degrees).

Where the organizers really screwed up came in the area of porta-potties! There were only six or seven available, so the entire time, the line for the bathroom was as long as the park. If they were seriously expecting tens of thousands, I cannot imagine how they calculated that they only needed a handful of porta-potties. Just glad I did not need to use one.

But before I get into the rest of the day, let me go back to my train ride over on the Green Line.

At the State/Lake station in the Loop as I waited on the platform, a group of five protesters (complete with signs, keffiyehs, and even a banner) climbed up to the platform. We boarded a half-filled train. A young woman sitting next to me saw the crowd and said half outloud and half to herself, “Oh, I guess I can pull this out now,” as she pulled her keffiyeh from her backpack and proceeded to try it on. A few people noticed and did the same. Soon, everyone was laughing at the fact that so many were hiding them until they saw others and felt comfortable pulling theirs out.

Just then, a homeless man wandered by (as is typical anytime you are on a train here in Chicago). He said something unintelligible to the young woman. She was confused. Then he told her he thought she was going to give him money. And didn’t she have a couple of dollars to give him. Sweetly, and naively, she started digging in her bag for a couple of dollars. But she was struggling. So the homeless man decided to help himself. He reached into her bag and came out with a fistful of dollars.

The man next to her grabbed the man’s hand and tried to rip away as much as he could. The homeless man then told her he needed more. I managed to say something stupid, like, “Leave her alone. She was trying to be nice to you,” as he leaned in for more. Thankfully, there was a real man standing next to  me. A real man who was huge. He stepped forward without a word and pushed his chest up to the homeless man and walked  him away from us. And the homeless man walked off.

We all checked with the young woman to make sure she was ok. She was clearly shaken, and I don’t blame her. It broke my heart. I struggled to not cry. It was strange to be so emotional. I guess I was thinking about if that had happened to my daughter. And I made sure to thank the man for, well, for being a man. We don’t run into enough of them these days.

So I arrived in a strange mood.

But I soon got into the energy of the rally.

Not too much to tell  – all the usual characters: Palestinian flags, communists, street preachers, cops, black bloc agitators, piles of signs, never-ending list of speakers on stage.

And the requisite counter-protesters. This time it was a group of people with Israeli flags. They marched into the park and were quickly escorted by police and led to the edge of the park. Some protesters followed and taunted them, but for the most part, the police did a good job of surrounding them and avoiding any problems.

After way too long spent on speakers, it was time for the march. Police on bikes lined both sides of the street (Washington) that led out of the park towards the United Center. I’ve never seen so many bike cops. They were lined up for a couple of blocks before the parade even started. 

I got distracted by who knows what and got cut off from my normal place in these protest marches: in front of the first banner. And the bike cops would not let me or anyone slip through to get to the street. A bunch of us photographers, including national news reporters, were so confused> one reporter from ABC kept yelling, “Press has a right to cover this. Let us in.” He was ignored, but I did decide to follow him! Sadly, we ended up having to go all the way to the far end to find the opening. But guess what? They would not allow us into the street even there. The march was a couple of blocks down the street. None of us were going to get a decent shot. But I met a few people as we complained together.

After a while, I ran into one of my photographer friends. He said he got trapped in front of the banner in a mob of photographers, and he finally escaped. He was surprised I wasn’t in there! So I traveled down the sidewalk outside the bike barricade to the front of the march. It was absolute chaos, and there really seemed to be no possibility of getting any decent or unique photos. So I just took the whole thing in.

Eventually we got to a park that was in sight of the United Center and the crowd disbursed. People found shade to sit down. Others climbed on playground equipment. A makeshift stage was set up and a big crowd gathered around that. But then the group looking for trouble pushed up against the barrier at the edge of the park facing the United Center.

The fence sections were held in place by concrete Jersey barriers. Then an empty space of maybe ten yards was followed by another fence. This fence was much more flimsy, and on the other side of it stood police.

After pounding on the fence and taunting cops, someone finally managed to take apart one section of fence and discard it. The first row of people poured through. They then turned around and encouraged others to follow, to stop being cowards, to stop being merely observers. They directed others to take down more sections of fences and to lead people into the empty space. Some came through, and some definitely hesitated.

One of the organizers of this thousands of people event was on the speaker system encouraging people to continue on the planned march. Apparently she wasn’t getting much cooperation because she showed up at the fence begging the guy who was leading the charge to give it up and join the march. We don’t want problems or violence, she yelled. Please.

Her request was met with anger and name calling. He finally said hell no. There is a genocide going on. And he walked away from her.

I stayed at the park, but from what I understand, the march did resume.

Meanwhile, as I am in the space between the fences, snapping photos and watching for trouble, I suddenly notice that a lot of the protesters are now wearing gas masks! Then I turn to look at a line of cops on the other side of the fence, and they are all wearing gas masks! That was a concern – no kidding! I immediately started looking around for my escape should gas be deployed.

Then lines of police gathered in the opening to the left and the right of the two fences, in helmets and holding batons. 

A protester yelled out, “Kettle!”

I knew exactly what that meant. It was one reason I wanted to be sure to have a press pass. If I got caught in a kettle, I hoped the press pass would spare me from getting into trouble.

 I have seen kettling on TV. In case you aren’t familiar with the practice, kettling is when police surround a group of protesters, and then they slowly march toward the center, compressing the people in the center until there is nowhere for them to escape. It is usually then that the arrests begin.

The police on each side began the steady march, but before they started arrests, one cop yelled for the press to leave immediately through an opening in the fence. And we all did! And sure enough, the arrests began. Inside the fences, four people were tackled, handcuffed, and taken into custody.

As soon as they were carted off, Capitol Police showed up and lined the fence. They were a tough looking bunch. On the outside of the fence, a handful of protesters continued to try to tear down the fence. They kept trying to move down the fence beyond the Capitol Police, forcing them to spread out and potentially be unable to guard the fence as well. But that didn’t work, and no one else was able to take down a section of fencing.

The police then proceeded to push everyone still there out of the park. They formed a long line and in unison chanted, “Move back,” as they stepped forward. One older woman got tangled up in the line and went down. She was eventually helped up by an ABC reporter as the police stood frozen and watched. But she laughed. She claimed she was 80 years old and that it would take a lot more than this to stop her.

In the meantime, the rest of the protesters had finished the march and were gathering again in the park where they started. I was exhausted by this point. And my adrenaline was definitely pumping. It was getting late – the sun was going down. And I really did not want to be in that park after dark. I figured I had seen plenty of action and should probably count my blessings and get home.

As a photographer, a pretty exciting day. But I think it is also important to understand, because I know this incident made national news, just how small the group was that initiated this and caused the trouble.

Day Two actually turned out to be even crazier. And I never could have guessed that what would happen would pale in comparison to what I experienced Day One. Stay tuned!

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More in DNC Series

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