Lying Media Bastards: RNC Archive

I decided to leave around then. Because I was bored. Didn’t care to hear the vice president of regional 38373 thank the shop steward from local 472 before saying that Bush and the Republicans were bad for America or whatever.

Without thinking, my exit route was taking me right past the Madison Square Garden entrance. It wasn't as crazy as I would expect, mainly because there is a major subway station beneath the Garden. Sure, there were concrete and steel barriers, hundreds of cops, and mobile barriers in the form of giant dump trucks filled with sand, but no 14-foot high fences or barbed wire.

The streets directly surrounding the Garden are totally locked down with fences and cops and barricades. And, I couldn't help but notice, directly across the street from the Garden was an enormous billboard for the Fox News Channel).

And a mere block away, a giant video screen broadcasting Fox News.

The streets around the Garden were closed to cars for maybe 6 blocks in every direction. The sidewalks were lined with wooden police barricades along that whole route. There were at least two cops on every street corner. And every side street had 3-6 police vehicles waiting in the wings: motorcycles, golf carts, squad cars, shiny black SUVs, vans, buses. Crazy.

I stopped off at home base, and then decided to take a peek at the March on the Media. I wasn't expecting it to be spectacular, but it wasn't too far from where I was staying. It was going to be a three-stage protest, stopping at the headquarters of major media outlets CNN, Fox News, CBS/Viacom (I'm not entirely sure why CBS was on the menu, maybe because it's on the same street as the other two). I guess it was a little surprising that the media buildings didn't look any different than any of the other buildings. Just another skyscraper office. Maybe that's a good thing to remember.

So I tried again with my Fox photo to find a bit of news crawl that was more indicative of Fox News.

Surprisingly large turnout, maybe 2000-3000 people for a protest that didn't get publicized that well. And let me tell you, people are pretty pissed off at the media. The main sentiment seemed to be that the media was complicit in the abuses in the war on terrorism, and in the deadly, unnecessary Iraq war, either because they were incompetent or because they were actively supporting the Bush administration.

After a bit of protesting outside CBS, the folks marched to a spot across the street from CNN, that was set up for speakers to say a few words. I didn't catch the names of all the speakers, but Jello Biafra's name stood out. He gave a speech which gave many examples of the media missing the important stories or acting as cheerleaders for the war, and wrapped up with his battle cry, "don't hate the media, become the media!" He should’ve stopped about 2 minutes before he did. If you have people give speeches at your protest, they all should be really short.

Of course, the street was swarming with cops again. There were times when 5 out of every 6 cars that would drive by would be police vehicles. And both cops and security guards had taken up positions in front of CNN and Fox News, as though the protesters were going to storm the buildings or something. They didn't.

I was across the street from the protesters most of the time, listening to the speakers yet staying out of the crowd. After a bit, police came and told us that we couldn't stand there and listen, that they had to "clear the sidewalk." So some of us started walking towards the Fox News building, but the police then told us that we couldn't walk that way. So we turned around and walked in the other direction, and cops told us that we had to turn and get off of that street altogether. I turned the corner and walked until cops stopped ordering us around, but at that distance, I couldn't hear the speakers anymore, so I decided to head home.

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For more photos, click here

Jake at the RNC: Day Four

...wherein Jake misses most of A31, attends a rock and roll concert, and stays up quite late

August 31

August 31 was dubbed A31, the Day of Action. Anti-RNC activists had called for this day to be filled with surprise acts of civil disobedience, so this looked to be one of the craziest days of the convention.

Ironically, it was one of the most laid back days for me. First of all, most of the folks planning these actions were keeping their plans secret (why would you want to give police a chance to shut you down before you start?), which made it nearly impossible for me to observe the protests to write about. Secondly, I had to spend the second half of the day setting up for, and tabling at, the Axis of Justice concert, and I couldn't let my quasi-journalism get in the way of that. Therefore most of my day was free.

I was only aware of two planned actions: the War Resisters' League "die-in", and the Fox News "shut-up-a-thon". The former was going to be an anti-war march ending near Madison Square Garden, at which point the protesters would lay down on the ground as though dead, and refuse to move. They publicized this well in advance, so it was destined to end in arrests. I didn't quite understand the logic of that decision.

The "shut-up-a-thon" was a dig at Fox News host Bill O'Reilly. If you've paid much attention to the behind-the-scenes stories about the man, you've learned that he often yells at the guests he doesn't like, demanding that they "shut up." So hundreds of activists went down to Fox News headquarters in New York, and shouted "shut up" at the building. Not particularly illegal, but I don't think they had a permit. Funny stuff.

I got up in the morning and decided to head over to Bryant Park. It's a nice shady area in the middle of the city, with trees, grass, and, surprisingly, wireless internet connections. I sat down at a small outdoor table to try to catch up on my update backlog. I was barely there 5 minutes when a Billionaires for Bush troop showed up. They pushed a bunch of the tables together to, covered it with a tablecloth, and held an elite tea party in the park, filled with satirical snobbish talk about the poor and their beloved tax cuts and such. Although I did find this particular protest a bit tacky. As do most public parks in large cities, Bryant Park had quite a number of homeless folks whiling away the time there. And sure the Billionaires mean it satirically, but I thought that insulting the poor in plain view of truly poor folks was a bad call.

Shortly after, I headed over to Union Square. I'd been invited to lunch by one of those activist acquaintances we make over the internet but don't usually ever meet (she turned out to be taller than I'd expected). I wandered around the Square (which was supposed to be the site of mass civil disobedience in a few hours). It was lined with cops, of course. Some group was giving a press conference, but the volume on their microphones was so low that I couldn't make out what they were talking about. A man on stage held up a handwritten sign which said something like "Stop protecting union bosses! Rank and file workers need to speak and vote too." Maybe that was the theme, or maybe he’d just snuck onstage and no one had noticed.

Nearby, artists from the Beehive Design Collective were displaying an enormous black and white mural they'd created on a large cloth, depicting all sorts of issues regarding free trade, globalization, corporate power, and genetically-modified foods. One of the artists was giving a guided tour of the mural, showing a small audience the various images and explaining their significance.

My favorite was a single man in a dapper suit some yards away, simply holding a sign that said "Satanists for Bush." A somewhat perturbed conservative tried to question the "Satanist" about why he would try to associate the devil and the president, but the "Satanist" was a verbal genius, and talked absurdist circles around the guy. "Well, our group has literal intentions, based upon their figurativeness. Literally figurative, I guess you'd say, but in a figurative way," and so on. Until he reached his abrupt conclusion, "well under Bush, we think that we'll see lots of fire and flesh-ripping, and we're thankful for that."

After a late lunch, I was ready to head over to the Knitting Factory, the site of our concert. After running a frantic errand for a friend (you can't free arrested protesters if your cellphone battery dies!), I caught a super-crowded subway train to the venue, multiple bags of Axis-related stuff hanging off my person.

The venue was a hell of a lot smaller than I'd expected. There is a Knitting Factory venue in Los Angeles too, but it's much larger (and trendier, I imagine). I met up with Indira, one of our long-time Axis volunteers, and we hung an Axis banner and set up an info table in the bar area. We were joined by Educating for Justice, Music for America, and Not In Our Name.

Quite a show. I didn't know half the bands, honestly. Outernational, the Naked Trucker, the Nightwatchman (Tom), Steve Earle, Boots Riley, Serj, Saul Williams, a handful of odd political film shorts, and Spearhead. The show lasted quite a while; I don't think headliners Spearhead even took the stage till at least 12:30am, and then there was a big ol' jam session after that, with an extended rendition of Bob Marley's "Get Up, Stand up", featuring rap breakdowns by Boots and Michael Franti, and some great horn solos from the Outernational guys.

I get word that lots of people were arrested today. I put a notice about that on our table, along with info on how people can donate to the arrested activists’ legal fund. I also give a note with the info to Tom to read onstage. He forgets to.

It seemed like a good show, but I was stuck in the bar for most of it, so I can't say for sure.

Lots of folks seemed interested in Axis. Let's just say that activists can be a... chatty bunch. I ended up talking at length with folks from Amnesty International, International Concerned Family and Friends for Mumia Abu-Jamal, Fairness & Accuracy In Reporting, a handful of filmmakers, some folks from a Canadian TV station, and some guy who talked and talked about the way that hallucinogens are going to save mankind and the world (serves me right for admitting I’d heard of Terrence McKenna).

And after the show, Tom insisted that we hard-working Axis folks join him and some of the performers at a Chinatown restaurant called Wo-Hop. It’s 3:30am, good time for some fried rice, I guess. Indira and I took a taxi over, and not knowing the actual address of the place, the driver took us all the way to the street’s beginning so we could try to find the place by name. I’m pretty sure he did this simply to take our money.

Wo-Hop is a 24-hour basement-level Chinese restaurant that apparently has a bit of a following (I saw two guys wearing Wo-Hop t-shirts the very next day). Indira and I joined our posse, which had lined up tables stretching the entire length of the place. About half the performers from the show were there, as were their girlfriends, as was old-skool punk icon Jello Biafra. I wasn’t starstruck, but Biafra did play a significant role in my political education in high school. Biafra, Chomsky, Gore Vidal, Abbie Hoffman, Lenny Bruce, Frank Zappa and William Burroughs were pretty heady stuff for 16-year old Jake. I’ll just say that it was bizarre to see his croaking-trumpet drawl come out of a human being, even more so when the human being is sitting down the table from you, badly ordering moo goo gai pan.

I noticed something which I now realize is fairly common in social gatherings among musicians. Most of the musicians are male. They don’t bother introducing their girlfriends to anyone, and the girlfriends are uncomfortable and don’t talk much. This turns the event into heroic men talking and laughing while most of the women sit huddled quietly, waiting to go home. I don't like it.

We ate and left. We stood outside, saying long goodbyes (well, not me. I’m antisocial and rude). Several Chinese men from a nearby shop were chatting and laughing, until two got angry at each other and tried to kick the shit out of each other. One of the women from our party came up to me, “Hey, I’m Veronica, but you can call me V. I liked your ‘Day Zero’.” [on the Axis website I posted a pre-convention report explaining who I was and what I’d be doing. Before the first day of the protests, so I called it Day Zero. Apparently she liked the concept] I thanked her, mumbled something about something, and she was off. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and hopped in someone’s car. I’m still not sure who she was (and hell, was her name Veronica or Victoria?). Ah, compliments from mysterious women at 4 in the morning.

Indira and I shared a cab back to midtown by a driver who seemed determined to scrape the side of his car along something—anything—at high speed. By really ridiculous coincidence, it turned out that Indira was actually staying directly across the street from where I was. I should have been blown away by such an unlikely occurrence. I wasn’t. Too jaded or overloaded or something.

Made sure to hit my head on the bunk above before collapsing into bed.

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Click here for even more photos.

Jake at the RNC: Day Three

...wherein Jake looks for fellow bloggers, attends Still We Rise, and does not receive a phone call

August 30

I started this day off looking for The Tank. A number of the popular lefty bloggers had apparently set up shop there for the course of the RNC. I was a bit trepidacious. What was this place? A bar? A café? A private residence? The address for the place was close to where I was staying, so I decided I should at least check it out. And maybe I could make use of the space too, lacking much internet connectivity at my friend's apartment.

Turns out The Tank is some kind of small performance art space. A woman greeted me warmly at the door and asked how she could help me. I wasn't sure. It looked like a cross between a barren coffeehouse and a barren campaign headquarters. There was a card table for some sort of liberal democrat group to my left, and a counter with donuts and coffee to my right, and something I couldn't see yet around the corner to my left.

When talking to strangers, I generally work on the assumption that they have no idea what I'm talking about, and try to be as broad and simplistic as I can, until I get signs that my words aren't coming out like gibberish. I'm not sure why I do this, I guess part of a "better safe than sorry/assume the worst, hope for the best" sort of thing. So instead of saying "I'm a blogger and I was hoping I could join up with some of the other bloggers you've got here," I said something like "I heard that there are some people here reporting on the convention over the internet," in a tentative manner.

"Oh yeah, we've got a few," she said airly, waving around the corner. I peeked around, and there was a small area with some folding tables and plastic chairs. I think I recognized Kos from a photograph, sitting on a couch. No one else seemed to be around. I mentally shrugged and figured I'd seen all I needed to of The Tank.

In retrospect, I do regret coming to the convention as Axis of Justice reporter instead of Jake the blogger. As it was, I had to write somewhat dry and detached reports once a day for my paying job, and try to get those done, edited and uploaded with some... let's say "limitations", operating out of a friend's crowded apartment. If I'd come independently, I could've written comfortable, fun material in an environment suited for that, befriended some big name bloggers, and maybe been on Janeane Garafalo's radio show, which apparently broadcast from The Tank during the course of the convention.

Oh well. At least this way I didn't have to pay for my own airfare.

This day two marches were scheduled. One of them had a permit and the other didn't, and I got confused which was which. One of the two protests was the "March for Our Lives," organized largely by the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign. It's an organization run and organized by poor and homeless Americans who argue that poverty itself is a violation of human rights. And, since the United States has a responsibility to its people to guarantee those rights, the government should do something about these problems. The March was scheduled to meet at the United Nations building.

I went instead to the "Still We Rise" march, another protest focusing on issues important to the poor: poverty, housing, homelessness, education, immigration, health care, and AIDS. And, although it was not explicitly said very often, they were also fighting the underlying racism that often causes or magnifies those problems.

The sad part of this march was that it originally had the support of rap mogul Russell Simmons' Hip-Hop Summit Action Network organization. But at the last minute, HSAN pulled out, citing concerns about "security" and timing of "the MTV Video Music Awards in Miami". I believe when I first heard about this, my response was "Russell Simmons is a punk-ass bitch."

Took the subway down to Union Square, which ended up being the starting point for like half of the rallies for the entire convention. Being a Californian, subways are odd to me. Sure, I used them a lot when I lived in Philly, and LA has its own limited subway, but we Californians are so used to long, spread out cities and having to drive fair distances to get anywhere. During this visit to NYC, the main subway dynamic was this: the subway stations were stiflingly, oppressively hot, yet the subway cars themselves were air-conditioned. Every time you waited for a train, you had to wonder if you were going to last until the train arrived, with its life-giving refrigeration, or if you were you going to pass out and die before it got there.

My first view of the protest, before the march began, was a performance by Billionaires for Bush. They are an activist group who's members dress up in fancy clothes and pretend to be a members of a super-wealthy protest group, who want everything that the left does not: more tax cuts for the rich, huge cuts to social programs, and more war (for more profiteering). At this protest, the Billionaires were arguing that US businesses needed to cut more American jobs and send them overseas, so that the rich could make even larger profits.

I also think that the billionaires should have fake journalists on leashes, while the journalists scamper around like monkeys.

Anyhow.

I snapped a picture of these guys, who I saw working in small groups throughout the convention:

I looked it up. TARU is Technical Assistance Response Unit. They "provide investigative technical equipment and tactical support to all bureaus within the department." Which seemed to mean "spy on, take pictures of, and film activists". I didn’t like em.

I was glad that many young people seemed to have played major parts in organizing their own contingents for this march, and that the organizers had made an effort to get rid of some old, overused activist chants. Let's face it, the "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!" and "Hey Hey! Ho Ho! Blah blah blah has got to go!" style chants really blow. At least some activists realize that the popular cadences and styles of hip-hop and punk have more appeal to the crowds.

Here're some photos:

An unnamed group of anarchist drummers and dancers in pink and black, who would sporadically pepper their performance with the chant "No Kerry, No Bush, Give Us a Choice, Give Us a Choice!"

Yes, this is the anarchist threat that the police and NY Daily News warned us about. And you can't blame them. If one of those flags or drumsticks had gotten out of control, someone could have been poked in the eye.

After marching some blocks, we were stopped and held by cops. I was never close enough to the front to know what happened, but it seemed like we were there for a real long time. Just as I started to worry about mass arrests and whatnot, the march began to move again. Here was what had been holding us up:

I ran into my friend Garrick, who some of you may remember as the fellow who was posting reports from Palestine to the LMB site a year or two ago. He now works for the LA Coalition to End Hunger & Homelessness, focusing on Section 8 programs for affordable housing, I think. We chatted a bit about the protests and the mood in the streets. We laughingly decided that if there was one message that the protesters wanted to get out to the Republicans, it was "We hate you! We fucking hate you!" And while we meant that as a joke, there's some truth to it. People are fucking angry at being screwed over, patronized, condescended and lied to by the conservatives in power. It seems that there is simply no point to trying to talk to or work with these elites, because they have no interest in your or in compromise. All you can do with these people is fight them.

All this time I was waiting for a phone call. My bosses had been given three hours of airtime on KROCK radio, where they would be playing political music and talking politics. Michael Moore would be joining them, and they said they'd call me for a live report from the protests.

That never ended up happening. I was a little irritated about that.

The march led to a rally very close to Madison Square Garden, the site of the convention itself.

A number of speakers talked about the march's issues, but I noticed that the crowd steadily dwindled in size as time went on. I think this is a sign that political activists like to do something rather than listen to someone talk at them.

Saw a couple of familiar right-wing crazy signs.

Saw two very similar signs at an anti-war protest in LA back in the spring:

It really is odd. These nuts come around to many public events, including protests, and seem to focus on the message that you should stop all attempts to better the world, or have a good time, or anything. Just worship Jesus and go to heaven and shut up.

My highlight of the rally was the surprise appearance of the mighty Chuck D. He talked about how so many people want props for doing the right thing. "You never deserve props for doing the right thing. That's just what you're supposed to be doing!" So no one at the protest should feel like they should be congratulated. And he also referred to the old Public Enemy song, "Don't Believe the Hype," saying "this time around, if you don't watch the hype, the hype's gonna kick your ass."

I stayed at the protest a lot longer than I'd intended, waiting for that phone call. When their radio show ended, I walked back home (at least the show had a decent playlist).

Grabbed some quick dinner at a restaurant at Port Authority bus terminal that night, and saw six soldiers in military fatigues. With machine guns. M-16s, I think. Nothing says safety like firepower.

And ended the night by seeing the new movie "Hero." Couldn't help but notice the irony: the movie's about a man trying to take down an empire, yet the trailers before the movie included biopics about plutocrat Howard Hughes and conqueror Alexander the Great.

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For more photos, click here.

Jake at the RNC: Day Two

...wherein Jake attends the huge anti-Bush march, and bears some witness to militant Times Square action

August 29

Today was the day of the Big March. If you've followed the history of these convention protests at all, you'll know about the controversy. The organizers, United for Peace and Justice, tried to get a permit for a march through the city, ending with a rally at Central Park. The city OK'd the march, but refused the rally permit, because the predicted 250,000 protesters could "ruin the lawn." Good to know that our free speech rights are worth less than grass. Well, I'm just being snide; I know damn well that grass had nothing to do with the decision. It was your standard "maybe if we make enough trouble, the protesters will just go away" tactic.

UPFJ then compromised with the city, and made their new rally spot the West Side Highway. A fucking highway. Miles from the convention, miles from any sort of audience, miles from fucking shade. Seriously, if the march had ended up taking this path, it would've been heat stroke mania.

At the last minute, UFPJ realized their rally location was stupid, and tried to get Central Park again. And failed. So the scary thing was the possibility that thousands of pissed off protesters would go to Central Park without the permit, and then get arrested in droves.

So we lucked out that UFPJ found a third alternative at another, smaller park, and we didn't end up packing the jail cells of New York City by the end of the day.

I arrived at part of the huge gathering point for the protests, taking in the sights. One of the first things I saw was a cardboard box sitting on top of a newspaper kiosk, filled with sealed, videocassettes simply marked "Urgent Programming for RNC." Someone had scrawled "a perfect circle" on the box with a ballpoint pen. I remembered hearing a rumor someplace that the band A Perfect Circle was going to release an album of political or anti-war songs on Election Day. Maybe this was related? [Fast forward to the future: yes, it was. I took a copy and watched it later that day. The tape had a cartoon video the a APC song called "Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums." Pretty good imagery about television turning people into sheep, and Bush as a murderous dictator. You can see it here. Props to APC.]

Jesus, this march was huge. How many people were there? I dunno, but the reports say something between 100,000 and 400,000. All people who hate the president, his harmful agenda, and his terrible war. Young and old, men and women, Democrats and Greens and Socialists and Commies and anarchists. I was in good company:

It was very hot. I kept finding myself drifting towards the right side of the road, because that side had shade. I wondered if everyone was going to follow my example and have a lopsided march traveling down the street.

Then I got a call on my cellphone. It was Scott Goodstein of Punk Voter. He said that he was in town for the protests, and we should try to meet up. After a few moments, we realized that although totally improbable, he was actually eating at a restaurant about 20 feet to my left. So meeting up was pretty easy. He gave me a sackful of Punk Voter stuff, more than I could ever use.

Lots of creative signs, costumes, puppets and theater. Dozens of protesters solemnly carried mock coffins draped in American flags.

A small group performed the "RNC Freakshow", a fake circus sideshow featuring activists dressed as monsters, wearing the masks of prominent White House officials. Some high school-age kids walked in a group all wearing t-shirts that read "Republicans for Voldemort".

The Missile Dick Chicks dressed up as odd Red White & Blue cowgirls with rockets jutting out of their crotches.

A group in black and orange quasi-military uniforms carried an assortment of drums, and hammered out some nice beats while one member sang.

I left about one-third of the way through the march, deciding to get to the march's finish line before the marchers so I could get some good pictures. Halfway there, I started kicking myself because I realized that I'd miss the protest as it passed the site of the Convention, Madison Square Garden. It was possible that the march could have some real conflict there, if people were feeling combative. It would've been only symbolic though, because the Garden was empty: the convention wouldn't start till the next day.

The closer I got to Union Square, the greater the police presence, the more streets were closed off, the more barriers were set up. When I finally arrived at the park, I saw the protest pen.

It wasn't as bad as the protest pen at the Democratic convention last month, the one with 14-foot high fences and barbed wire. This one was a series of metal barricade fences maybe three feet high to corral all the incoming protesters. I don't like the idea of being fenced in when around arrest-happy cops. "I am not going in there," I vowed, and watched from a bit of a distance, and circling the park as the protesters entered.

Then I realized that it wasn't as bad as I'd thought. Sure here were barricade fences on along one side of the park, but the rest of the park was fence-free. So I went ahead and entered. The first thing I did was look for a good place to photograph the incoming crowd. The best place was inside a children's playground area, enclosed by a fence. Ironically, after freaking out about being caged earlier, I entered this new cage without much of a thought, until a little boy outside tried shutting the gate on me. I gently opened it back up, nudged the kid out of the way, and exited.

Very cool environment at the park. There was no rally planned, so it was almost like a big punk & hippy picnic. Very chill. Watched a puppet show about Republicans, saw many folks trying to sell various anti-Republican buttons and shirts, walked away as some guy started spitting some bad political poetry. Cops were all over the place, so I kept on my guard, but overall it was pretty nice.

I’m told that around 2000 folks went to Central Park anyway in an act of defiance that no one seemed to notice. But we should all thank Mayor Bloomberg for Making Grass Safe for Democracy (my suggested re-election campaign slogan).

But protest was not done for the day. I'd read several "calls to action" for activists to bring the protest to the Republicans themselves. Some clever person discovered that many Republican delegates were planning to attend various Broadway plays and musicals that night. One group of activists called for "Chaos on Broadway", while another called for a "Mouse Bloc" (the Republican symbol is the elephant, and mice scare elephants...). Shit was gonna go down.

Except that when I walked through the theater district, I saw an insanely huge police presence. 16 cops just in front of the theater playing "The Lion King" musical. Dozens of cop cars. No kidding, probably about 400 cops in a six block area. If any action was going to happen, it seemed destined to end quickly, with lots of arrests. So I went home.

I went out again later and found some of the Mouse Bloc folks, but the turnout was pretty weak. Once I returned to the apartment again, havoc was wreaked...

To my great surprise and happiness, I was wrong. True, many of the activists were arrested, but they managed to do what they'd set out to do: let the Republican delegates know that they are not welcome in this city. More specifically, some had tracked down some delegates outside the theaters and confronted them. My favorite was a group that had found some delegates outside a fancy restaurant and chanted "right-wing scum, your time has come!" Warms my heart to think of it. The powerful folks in this country are so sheltered, so shielded from the consequences of their actions and policies, how could they possibly know their effects, or how that makes people feel? Time to let em know.

At one point, I looked out a window and saw several punks walking quickly along the street. Cops began to follow and yelled for them to stop. Then everyone was sprinting. I don't know how that turned out.

I was pretty anxious all this time. I knew I could get out of the apartment, but with all the cops and barricades, if I left the block, I wasn't sure the cops would let me back in. I was also worried that my friend could have been arrested and be in police custody at that very moment. I kept checking the NYC IndyMedia site for updates. I braved the outdoors once to grab some quick dinner, and took a picture of a big ol' police arrest.

But I had a personal happy ending at least: my friend was not in jail. She just had to keep going to law offices and courts on behalf of the arrestees.

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Gothamist is posting links to dozens of caches of photos for each day of the protests. Click here to see today’s gaggle.

Jake at the RNC: Day One

...wherein Jake takes the redeye to New York City and groggily attends a pro-choice march

August 27

It began with two tiny dogs.

One of them was at the curb as we pulled up to the Burbank airport. It was the size of a large ball of yarn. Well, a large ball of yarn with bangs. Adorable as fuck.

The second tiny dog was on the plane, its tiny Chihuahua head poking out of a woman's carryon. "Do we need to get him any water or anything?" asked the stewardess. The tiny dog panted, but his owner said no.

I have to recommend the Burbank airport (AKA "Bob Hope Airport") to all Angelenos, unless you live in or near west LA. Burbank was empty and laid-back, the dead opposite of the nightmare that is LAX.

Took the tiny plane up to San Francisco late Friday afternoon. Saw one of the most fascinating sunsets I've ever seen out the windows: red, yellow and brown. No meal, just a cookie snack, which caused another bizarre moment. The stewardesses began to hand out the mint chocolate chip cookies to the passengers from front to back of the plane. As the passengers received their snacks, opened the packages, and bit into them one by one, a mint smell began to inch its way towards me. You ever have a smell roll in like a slow-moving fog bank?

Had a two hour layover in San Fran. I was quite pleased walking around the airport, people-watching, browsing the shops, chewing on bagels. Jesus, if I’m having a grand old time at an airport, I really need to get out more.

Long flight from SF to NYC, I'll arrive at the crack of dawn. I was unable to find a comfortable sleeping position, so the flight was an unpleasant combo of naps, startled wakings, and grumpily watching "Garfield the Movie." You ever watch a movie and actually feel insulted? Yeah.

I stayed with a friend of mine near Times Square. Before I'd left, she'd said that once I got in, I could nap a bit before any protests got started. No such luck. Took a bus into Manhattan, and had to leave for a protest within two hours. Sigh.

August 28

Before we left, I heard about the Critical Mass protest the night before. CM is a monthly event that takes place in many cities, where people just hop on bikes and take over a lane or two of traffic. Sometimes there is an underlying political motive-usually to make a point about cyclists' rights, or about the damage caused by car culture-and sometimes there isn't. At this pre-RNC Critical Mass, somewhere between 5000-8000 protesters on bicycles took to the streets, and police arrested around 250 of them for "disorderly conduct." About 1000 New Yorkers cheered them on as they began their ride.

Then it was off to the "March for Women's Lives", a protest against the Bush administration's anti-abortion and often anti-female policies. It started around 11 this morning at Cadman Plaza in Brooklyn. Somehow, this was a protest I had not heard about in advance. My friend was doing legal support for much of the convention, and this protest was no exception.

The Brooklyn park was starting to fill up with people even as we arrived. The sunshine was nice, the heat and humidity less so. My first glimpse of the protest was the Radical Cheerleaders, a group of activists who dress up like cheerleaders and do humorous dance routines and chants about political issues. They performed cheers mocking pro-lifers, and just about every member of the Bush administration.

Walking farther along, we saw the stage where the opening rally would take place. Thousands were already in attendance, many with mass produced signs reading "I [heart] Pro-Choice NY." But there was plenty of message variety, possibly the funniest being the ones which argued that Bush should be "aborted before the second term."

I should take this time to mention that protest signs which make jokes about George Bush and pubic hair are not very funny.

We saw the mass of cops, out to protect the city from the dangerous pro-choice activists, as well as a contingent of undercover cops. I guess I don't know for sure that they were undercover, but at least four different people pointed them out to me. I mean, several beefy guys in crewcuts and baseball jerseys, at a pro-choice rally, not paying attention to the speeches, not holding signs, and only talking to each other. Did seem a tad suspicious. But this became a sort of theme throughout the convention: what's reasonable and what's paranoid?

The numbers grew.

Several speakers took the stage, most of them protest organizers and city politicians. Then they made ready to march across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Earlier in the day, we'd heard a rumor that some anti-abortion protesters were planning to fuck with the rally somehow, on the other side of the bridge, and that some of the pro-choicers had vowed to fight back if attacked. That's primarily why my legal support friend was there, to watch out for trouble. I followed the observers, who bypassed the bridge altogether to be ready. Actually, this was a much more difficult task than anticipated, due to rather arbitrary police blockades. But in the end, it put me in a great position to watch the procession.

The police only allowed the protests a thin strip of road to march upon, so the protesters crossed the bridge in a thin, steady stream lasting roughly 45 years. Or two hours. I forget.

I saw representatives from all sorts of groups, some well-known, some mysterious: Planned Parenthood, Med Students for Choice, Refuse & Resist, National Organization for Women, Secular and Religious Jews for Choice, Queer Fist, Move On, Asian Americans for Choice, and countless others.

The sign that best summed up the issue for me was the one that read "Keep Your Religion Out of My Health Care."

As it turned out, there was no conflict. In a rather pathetic display, the anti-choice folks could only muster up maybe 40 people to counter the thousands of pro-choice activists at the rally, and they didn't attack anybody.

The march ended in a rally that I didn't feel like watching. I was dead tired. While sitting on a bench watching the marchers go by, I think I'd fallen into brief, grumbly sleep about five times.

To be honest, I can't remember what happened the rest of the day. I think it primarily consisted of me going back to Home Base and passing out, while my friend continued to try to get people out of prison.

Jake at the RNC: Intro

Huge, huge, superbig protests were planned for the late August/early September 2004 Republican National Convention. They were to take place in Manhattan, weeks later than usual, presumably to better invoke the tragedy of 9/11.

I was reluctant to go for two main reasons.

First, I was scared.

It was common knowledge that a police presence liked we'd never seen was going to descend upon New York City. At large-scale protests, cops have a tendency to mass arrest, tear gas, pepper spray, shoot (with rubber bullets), and beat protesters without that much regard for their guilt or innocence of any particular crimes. And the idea of being arrested, gassed, sprayed, shot or beaten by cops scared me.

Second, I didn't see the point.

For an activist/protester sorta guy, I really go to very few protests. In the 60s found that marches and rallies could have a real impact on the political spectrum. At the time, such things were provocative, and could lead to conflict and change. It's my feeling that modern activists are simply repeating the same old tactic without stopping to see if it's actually effective. These days, marches and rallies do not provoke and do not lead to change. These days, your rally will get 10 seconds on the local nightly news, if you're lucky, and not do much to "raise awareness" or anything of the kind.

And if rallies and marches don't accomplish anything, why would I want to go to one?

I think that activists simply need to dump the rallies and marches and sit down and think: what do we want to happen, and what can we do to make that happen?

I didn't see how the RNC protests were going to do anything. They were unlikely to change Republican policy, and were not going to get the party to alter its choice of nominee.

But I had a nagging feeling that if I didn't go, that I would regret it. That in the future, I'd curse myself for my past cowardice, that I'd missed out on something big, that I'd miss my chance to stand near a stadium-full of evil motherfuckers scream out my contempt.

So, I went.

I've got daily reports here. They're often long, and have many image files that your computer will have to load, so it could take some time. Also, at the end of most of the reports, I have links to another webpage filled with dozens of links to further webpages with photographs of the protests (most of which are better than mine).

Enjoy, or don't.

Thanks to Tom & Serj, Kittie, Cari, Vanessa, Lili, Indira, Candice and Adam