The last time Chicago hosted the Democratic National Convention, delegates danced nightly to the “Macarena,” Emmylou Harris sang ”Abraham, Martin and John” as a prelude to star appearances by Patrick, Edward and Joseph Kennedy and the Broadway cast of “Rent” performed “Seasons of Love” as a heart-tugging closer.
It was, many said at the time, not unlike a prime-time variety show, replete with Bill Clinton’s goofy grin and Al “rigor mortis” Gore poking fun at his well-deserved reputation for wooden performances.
Still, we remember the 1996 shindig also primarily seen in this nervously exhaling city as a successful banishment of the ghosts of the 1968 Democratic National Convention, an event where the improvised script included the lines “The whole world is watching! The whole world is watching!,” a flustered Mayor Richard J. Daley famously declared, “The policeman isn’t there to create disorder. The policeman is there to preserve disorder,” and tear gas, police batons and chaos all made unscheduled prime-time appearances.
While the real issue was, of course, the war in Vietnam, Chicago still played host to what was called The Battle of Michigan Avenue. And there was nothing magnificent about that mile of pain.
The city’s reputation took such a hit that it took 28 years for the Democrats to return (we’re still waiting for the Republicans). No wonder the “Macarena,” the 1996 equivalent of virtue signaling when it came to cultural diversity, was so welcome.
In the last few weeks, we’ve been inundated with writers offering 1968 comparisons and remembrances, but very few have noted that more time actually has elapsed between the 1996 convention, held when the United Center was only 2 years old, and this week’s 2024 edition than the more famous prior interregnum.
And while 1968 may feel like a different world, so, dear reader, was 1996. You need only look at the archival footage to be amazed at the monochromatic simplicity of what the nation saw and how easily the legacy networks controlled its output.
Speaking of legacies, when President Joe Biden takes the stage Monday, he will, thanks to the extraordinary events of the last month, be heralded as the transitional president he never wanted to be and thanked for graciously giving up a fight he actually wanted to continue until he was backed into a final corner and offered no choice but to surrender. However, he is hardly the only party elder slated to take the stage. Bill Clinton, the epitome of triangulating youthful energy in 1996, is now 77 years old. Even Chicago’s own Barack Obama now is seen as one of the party’s éminences grises, his retro library under construction on the South Side.
We’ve been around long enough to remember the event that spawned the explosive West Loop and hustled the sex workers away from West Madison Street, but many of the delegates at the official Democratic Party events this week were not even born in 1996.
Conventions in this day and age are largely an anachronism and the residue not so different from the massive live event staged the other day by Disney to announce this and that, but mostly to promote its brand to its fans.
Among Democrats, currently enjoying the boffo success of their slick presidential switcheroo, wise heads know that Job 1 this week is for the party to do no harm.
There’s no question that those tasked with making this convention work for the Democrats hardly were anticipating any change at the top of the ticket. Even days before Biden bowed out, convention organizers were becoming red in the face as they vigorously denied even the possibility that the star of the show could be anyone other than Biden.
But to their great credit, at least as far as we can tell, they’ve gone all out to banish the hiccup of that most infamous of presidential debates and make it look like Chicago had this date with Kamala Harris right from the beginning. From a logistical point of view, the earthquake surely happened just in time. Printers have deadlines.
Going forward, the Democrats now look to make no news whatsoever for a week, unless it is a message they can control. All they need to do is build excitement and momentum and keep their principals behind a teleprompter and away from unfriendly reporters. We don’t doubt for a moment that they have the expertise to put on the show they want.
And what does Chicago hope to gain? As with the Olympics, the host city’s job is to be a supporting player to the incoming entity but, in return, it gets to showcase its offerings, assets and beauties. And since thousands of members of the media are in town, opportunities abound for feature stories and aerial shots, albeit with drones taking over from blimps. You’ll likely find Stephen Colbert filming segments at The Second City comedy theater, the Democrat-friendly, Donald Trump-baiting Wiener Circle (it’ll be a great week for Chicago dogs without legs) and the Old Town Ale House. We hear Jordan Klepper of “The Daily Show,” like many in comedy media a former Chicagoan, has already been revisiting old North Side haunts like Guthrie’s Tavern.
All good for Chicago’s business.
That said, the city needs not to let itself be snowed about the economic impact. Major political conventions are a lot like casinos; they peak in the evenings and like to keep their customers inside their own buildings.
Restaurants will have to rely on happy hour and late-night dining will make at least a temporary comeback, along with the express lanes on the Kennedy Expressway. Smart comedy shows are moving their curtains to the afternoon or 11 p.m. And let’s not forget this event hardly has Olympic duration. By Friday, the balloons will be popped, a few delegates pickled, lobbyists looped and volunteers pooped.
The barrels on the Kennedy will be back, too.
But tens of thousands of folks will have come to a still-toddlin’ town whose sectarian interests are best served by things going exactly as planned.
Quietly. Orderly. Ordinarily. Professionally. Perspicuously. Peacefully.
Above all, that last one.
Welcome to town, folks. Hope y’all venture out and see what we’ve got.
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