The last day of the DNC. And honestly, I’m not sure I could handle another day. I’ve been taking over 20,000 steps every day, getting home late, and feeling the pull to do at least a one-through of my photos of the day.

The organization March on the DNC, a coalition of some 200 groups participating in protests for the week, had two scheduled events: one on the opening day (Monday) and one on the closing day (Thursday) at 5:00 PM.

I started the day with photos in my neighborhood: Streeterville and the Gold Coast (near the Water Tower). 

One of the unexpected parts of the week came Sunday morning when I ran a couple of errands. The Water Tower was completely fenced in and the streets on either side of it was blocked off, manned by security, CPD, and Secret Service. A few other streets in the area were completely blocked off as well. 

This was surprising because there had been no reports of this area being fenced in. At first, I thought that perhaps the city was concerned that even thought they rejected protest permits at the Water Tower location they may have been concerned about people gathering there? Or causing damage? It seemed so strange. But then I realized that each street that was blocked off and heavily guarded had a luxury hotel on the site. This is where the VIPs (including apparently Harris and Walz) were staying.

I really thought I should get some photos around my neighborhood to document what was happening here.

Then I jumped on the train to head to the United Center. Should I get off at Union Park? Or at the next stop for the other park? I decided on the second. I would go to the other park and see if anything was happening, swing by the convention entrance, and then head over to Union Park for the March on the DNC. 

Sadly, while I was at the first park, where absolutely nothing was going on, I got a text from our little group of photographers that Vivek Rameswamy showed up at Union Park and that he just chased out. Damn! If I had decided to go there first, I would have seen that!

(But after everything that I happened to witness this week, I can hardly complain that I missed this one thing!)

By the time I got to Union Park, everything was quiet. A very small stage, really just a slightly elevated platform, was being set up. Nothing like the huge stage and sound system set up Monday. There were no porta-potties in sight. Apparently even the March on the DNC didn’t expect much from today’s protest.

A few of us decided to grab a beer at the BIlly Goat while we waited for it to get closer to 5:00 PM and the official start of the protest. One of the things I learned in that conversation was that I take way fewer photos! I was averaging around 800 photos per day, more than I actually wanted to take!

Just to give a little more info on that. I know 800 photos must sound completely overwhelming! But I have a system that I can get through pretty darn quickly. In my first run through, which I can do very quickly, I manage to eliminate at least half of those photos. There are plenty that are slightly out of focus, where eyes are closed, or where the composition gets screwed up thanks to a person walking by or something in the background I didn’t notice.

The second go through eliminates photos that are duplicates. I narrow each down to one per scene, often eliminating more than half of what is left. The next go through is when I have to kill my babies, a saying writers are familiar with. At this point, I consider whether the photo is unique (not like others I have taken), is particularly important in telling a story, or is asthetically striking. This is the hardest step, but my goal is to get the number down to somewhere around 50 or 60. And believe it or not, I can get that done and the photos ready in a few hours. I still don’t post that many, but I do save them to my computer. Then usually only a handful actually get shared.

But one of the guys I was having a beer with said that he takes nearly 6,000 photos each day! What?? That, my friends, seems impossible to manage!

Anyway, we headed back over to the park and one of my photographer friends struck up a conversation with a cop who had some level of authority (but I do not remember what that was) that he knew from other protests. The cop was basically making fun of him for being out here taking photos. He didn’t really acknowledge that I was standing there, so I felt really uncomfortable as he scolded my friend for wasting time taking these photos.

My friend asked him, “Do you have any hobbies?” trying to ge the cop to relate to having a hobby that you love to spend time on.

The response he got was “I feed homeless people on the weekends.” Ugh. “Maybe you should do something more positive. How many photos of Palestinian flags do you need?”

My first thought. What an asshole. Not sure feeding homeless people is even a “hobby.” It is service, but not a hobby. But ok, he wins for being a better person. Whatever.

Then he turned to me and said, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you?”

I told him I’m also a photographer and am out there on the streets all the time for protests. I told him my friend there could vouch for me. He sees me all the time.

The cop said, “Well, I’ve never seen you.”

Yes. Asshole. I excused myself and walked away.

Just to wrap up that story, I saw him again at the end of the night as the march was coming to a close and he mocked me. “So did you get any good pictures?” he laughed sarcastically. I just walked right by, ignoring him. I hope I don’t run into him again. And it’s too  bad because all of my other interactions with the police over the week were very positive.

I might as well take this opportunity to express a controversial opinion and get it over with! Haha. 

Lots and lots of female cops. Very small female cops. Obese female cops. Short female cops.

Don’t mistake this for me belileving there isn’t a place for female cops in the CPD or any other department. But I have to seriously question the placement of so many on the front lines with their batons and helmets. 

The good news is that things this week didn’t get really out of control. But the line of cops pushing people out of the park on that first day had many women, and it was obvious. Luckily, there was no resistance. People left. But as I watched, I thought of the game Red Rover. You know the one. 

Two teams line up on opposite sides, locking arms. One team calls out, “Red Rover, Red Rover, let [name of person on other team] come over.” Then that person would attempt to run through the line of the other team. If they break through, they take someone from that team over to their side. If they cannot break through, they switch over to that team. The goal is to get everyone on your team.

It should be obvious that the strategy for the person called out to “come over” is to find the weakest link. Find the two weakest people who are standing next to each other and linking arms because your best bet for breaking through the line is to go between them.

So I watched the line of CPD march forward, chanting “Move back, move back” as they extended their batons, and I knew exactly where I would break through in a game of Red Rover, or in the more serious game of resistance and revolution: the many places where two small women were standing next to each other.

Otherwise, here are some random observations from the day.

I spent some time at the main entrance to the United Center and saw people I hadn’t seen before. There were a few people from Black Lives Matters and a couple of Ukrainians. Abortion activists on both sides of the issue faced off: Live Action and PAAU (Progressive Anti-Abrtion Uprising) vs the menapausal women dress up as the abortion pill mifepristone. Palestianians read the names of children killed in Gaza into a megaphone with people walking byu plugging their ears.

Back at Union Park, the Kennedy bus showed up (this was, of course, before RFK Jr. suspended his campaign and endorsed Trump). They pulled over at the park, and a man from inside climbed onto the roof, where he threw t-shirts to a crowd that had gathered. Eventually, police had them move on as they were holding up traffic.

Then I noticed a commotion with photographers pushing and shoving, fighting for photos of someine. I went over to see what was happening and in the middle of the circle, people were screaming at a man, telling him is isn’t welcome and to leave. I have no idea who he was. Here’s a photo of him. Let me know if you know who this is!

Soon after, the march started. They walked right past the park adjacent to the United Center. No one even thought about trying to go into that park. The Damen L station that had been invaded the day before was now blocked off by dozens of cops surrounding the entrance. A woman cradling a fake baby screamed at lines of police. She was incomprehensible. A man who had gone viral on social media the day before stood outside his townhome on the route and screamed at people to get off his grass.

A photographer stood in front of the banner at the head of the march when they momentarily stopped for a round of chants and snapped photos. I have no idea what he did or said, but suddenly, he was surrounded by protest leaders surrounding him,demanding he leave, and pushing him away. The photographer pushed back, yelling that he has the right to take photos and he continued pressing his shutter release (no chance any of those photos came out – he was flailing his camera around). It got so crazy that I thought surely the police would come and break it up. They eventually got him about twenty feet away and let up. Then the photographer rushed them, camera held high, as if he were a linebacker trying to break through the offensive line. Why? What in the world was that about?

Finally, as the march wound down and got close to the park where it began, Chicago Police Department Superintendent Larry Snelling moved to the side of the street and proceeded to shake the hand of every bike cop lining the protest path, thanking them for their work over the week.

Before I boarded the train for home, I also had an opportunity to thank Snelling for the great job he and the police did all week. He stopped, looked me in the eye, and said, no, thank you. Then he smiled and continued on. 

What a week.

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More in DNC Series

Preparation    Pre DNC Protest    Day One    Day Two    Day Three