It was nothing special to travel to Manassas, Virginia on November 3, even if it was the eve of a historic presidential election. I was headed there with a TV crew to document the participation in the election of northern Virginia's fast-growing immigrant community.
Our plan was to videotape activities by local political activists in the city and surrounding Prince William County the evening before the election. And then on election day we planned to shoot footage at various polling places in these Northern Virginia suburbs.
Manassas and Prince William County which surrounds it are areas of interest to me because of the tremendous population growth they have experienced in recent years. The housing boom has meant a major influx of immigrants, both legal and illegal, most of them attracted by low-level construction jobs.
For our planned national television special on immigration entitled "Tomorrow's America," we had selected to-date a number of local communities to profile in addition to Prince William County. These included three small cities in Michigan - Holland, Dearborn and Hamtramck - and major ones in the Southwest and on the West Coast.
Previously, we had spent a week videotaping interviews and locations in Prince William County and we wanted to tape our "talent" playing a role in the election day process. It was a job to do, business as usual...get the needed visual ingredients "in the can" so we could move the project a step closer to conclusion…
Then we learned that Sen. Barack Obama was coming to town.
It would be, we were told, the charismatic candidate's last campaign stop...an 11th hour effort to get his supporters charged up in order to turn out a big vote in Prince William County and other Northern Virginia suburbs so that the state of Virginia - that had not voted Democratic since it rejected Sen. Barry Goldwater in 1964 - would go "blue."
That news changed our schedule, and, as it turned out, the schedule of some 60,000 (or more) people in the area who decided they would like to spend the chilly evening standing for hours in an open field that was part of the Manassas Fairgrounds instead of comfortably watching the pundits chatter away about the election on CNN, MSNBC, or FOX.
I got the news from my location producer as I boarded my flight in Traverse City to Washington's Reagan Airport and told him, "sure, let's try to get our credentials and get some footage there." Still, not a big deal. A quick in-and-out with some decent footage about an unusual election eve in Prince William County, I thought, and early to bed for a 4 a.m. "call" that would begin our election day activities.
Although I had watched plenty of TV news programming during the campaign, I had no idea what awaited me in Virginia on election day eve.
By the time I landed in Washington about four hours later, I had voicemails from the producer saying that it already was a madhouse at the fairgrounds - some six hours before the scheduled 9 p.m. start time for the rally. And, he had directions on how I should travel to Manassas in order to avoid a huge traffic snarl on the two-lane highway leading from the Interstate to the fairground. He also noted that the cameraman was still trapped in traffic, much of it coming from nearby Washington D.C. and Maryland. Because my wife has relatives in Manassas, I quickly came up with a plan to dump my car at their house and take a taxi to the rally site. It turned out to be a wise decision although at the time I was still in the dark regarding the size of the crowd headed to see their hero.
By the time my taxi got close to the fairgrounds, the police still controlled half of each street leading to the site…pedestrians had taken over, and firmly controlled the other half. The main entry street to the fairgrounds was barricaded and so I hit the pavement for a walk of, perhaps, a mile to the press gate.
By the time I got my credentials and passed through the Secret Service security checks, I could see that this was not to be your ordinary political rally. Five hours before the rally was to begin there were at least 20,000 people in-place as close as they could get to the stage, and people were streaming through security check points by the hundreds every minute.
The first thing I asked my producer was "where are the warm-up acts?" He shrugged his shoulders, noting there was no schedule of activities except for the candidate to show up somewhere around 9 p.m. The audience, it was clear, would get to know their neighbors very well in the hours that lay ahead.
Our cameraman had arrived ahead of me, and had shot some footage at ground level for a time until scurrying for a good spot on the fast-filling "cutaway riser" where we had been assigned to record whatever we found interesting from that one location.
There were four hours to go when the three of us set up shop on the elevated platform at the side of the main stage. The major news media had the prime location directly in front of the stage, but our vantage point gave us a clear view of the huge open field where the ground was fast disappearing from view as wave-after-wave of Obama supporters moved into the best spot they could find. In the far distance, where the field rose up at the outer limits of the fairgrounds, was a huge sign that read VOTE FOR CHANGE...soon to be illuminated as darkness set in.
Now what to do?
We did what everyone else was doing - chatted about nothing in particular. As time passed, the patience of the growing numbers in the audience and their extraordinary good behavior became a prime topic of conversation.
From the audience, we could feel the anticipation - it was palpable - for Obama's arrival, for victory to be theirs. As they talked, some of those jammed onto our riser referred - facetiously perhaps - to the "Second Coming" and the "Great Man," and such. Obviously, they had seen, or heard, or experienced things during the campaign that I had not. I thought of Sen. Obama as an inexperienced, but terribly bright and well-spoken U.S. Senator who had put together one hell of a campaign…in terms of organization and fund-raising.
As the hours dragged on, and the temperature dipped toward the freezing mark on a clear night, there was relief from time-to-time in the form of live music, and encouraging messages from intense activists about the importance of getting to the polls the next day…and making sure your friends and neighbors did, too. As the time slowly passed, I wondered how the people in front could possibly find their way to the thin line of portable toilets on the fairgrounds fringe….and how they were coping with hunger pangs.
There was not, it seemed from afar, a discouraging word uttered or nasty deed committed the whole time. The legions of cops on-hand - local, county, state, and private - clearly were having a boring night. Not a drop of booze to be seen, nor a whiff of smoke; just a massive crowd of well-behaved people standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the chilly night air.
Believers, I thought, really true believers, ready to take the plunge, or pledge, or oath, whatever. I had never seen anything like it before.
By the time top-of-the-ticket local pols took the stage around 8 p.m. to offer some old-fashioned bashing of their opponents, I found myself succumbing to the anticipation in the air. What in the world was I going to experience when the Great One arrived?
Surely, I thought, the crowd had been sprinkled with stardust, but from where, and how? My mind wandered as I kept an eye on several helicopters hovering above the fairgrounds.
With the huge portable floodlights focused on the crowd directly in front of the main stage, I could look into people's eyes; my cameraman could zoom in on them and I could see them clearly - happy, happy people by the thousands. The great majority of them young...a grand rainbow collection of races just waiting patiently for their candidate who would change everything for the better in the days ahead.
Every now and then, I would take a look behind me - and down below. Swat teams, sharpshooters, cops of every shape, size and uniform. Guys who looked like cops, but with suits on, lapel pins, ear plugs with cords. Military-uniformed cops working every square foot of land in the trees and brush that began a few yards behind the tents in back of the stage. An ugly reminder that the authorities believed not everyone in Prince William County had been sprinkled with stardust.
Nine p.m. came and went. So did 10 p.m. No outcries, no uncomfortable rustling from what one politician had declared was a crowd of 80,000 people. Another followed with news that 100,000 people were standing there in the cold night. I had never seen more than 100,000 people in one place except for two Rose Bowl games many years ago. I found it hard to compare a stadium crowd with the packed field in front of me.
Every time I looked into the face of the crowd in front of me, I saw the same smiling faces looking back at me. Stardust everywhere… as far as I could tell. And it was not wearing off as the night wore on. They would have waited, I thought, until the polls opened at 6 a.m., or beyond.
I had followed a presidential candidate once - for a day. And what I saw was tremendous excitement - not peace and tranquility - in the faces of those who had come to cheer him at a variety of locations. And chaos threatened to break out at each location when he showed up due to that excitement. I thought I had seen the Second Coming then in the person of Bobby Kennedy. When he was murdered a few weeks later, I left the country and didn't return for three months.
Tonight was different. Very different. I bet myself that this crowd would not become overly excited, chaotic, upon Obama's arrival. They acted blessed, not 'turned on," or over-caffeinated.
Finally, the lights of the cavalcade of SUVs with blackened windows were seen, at least by those of us elevated near the stage. The crowd did not go crazy, though they knew the moment they had been waiting for would soon arrive.
They cheered, they patiently waited for a few more minutes...and with little more than a phrase of introduction by the candidate for U.S. Senate...the Democratic candidate for President stepped nonchalantly onto the runway from behind the curtain that separated the rostrom from the backstage tent. Yes, there was blaring music; everything has to have the "American Idol" touch, even the Second Coming, I thought.
I asked my producer, "do you think this is all about the relief they feel at knowing George Bush's days are about over, and this guy will soon take over."
"Nah," he said, "this is all about this guy, not that guy."
As Barack Obama, slight of build, wearing grey pants and a black sweater with open dress black shirt underneath, moved slowly and smoothly toward center stage, he waved out at the crowd in a casual way. As if he were a bit shy amidst all the noise in his honor. And he smiled from time to time. But, what a smile!
I thought he looked like a guy who had shown up late for some pick-up basketball games and was the last one chosen on the last team to be assembled in the time-honored ritual at a neighborhood park. He looked smooth, though, very smooth. As I looked at him, I thought: probably plays guard, won't be able to get through for any rebounds; wonder if he is fast and has a decent jump shot? Having sized him up, I thought, he looks confident, really confident. No, I won't volunteer to guard him; he will probably make me look bad.
When he got to the rostrum, he took the arms of the two Democratic candidates waiting for him, held them up and turned to face the crowd that roared its approval. There were enough camera flashes, I thought, to light up all of Prince William County. And then the "O-Bam-A" chant was picked up by everyone out there.
But, when the candidate took to the microphone and started to speak, the chanting ended quickly…and without protest. The crowd had assembled to listen to "the word," and listen they would. Every single one of them. Not a single loud mouth was in evidence. I looked on in amazement at the scene in front of me.
Throughout the candidate's speech, at the appropriate moments, the crowd's roar resumed - only to be silenced when the candidate began to speak again. He never had to ask, only put up his hand and wiggle a few fingers. It was the regular stump speech for the most part - one you could have read on the Op-Ed page of that morning's USA TODAY, filled with promises to fix every problem that faces this country today.
The speech didn't really matter to the audience; it was their candidate's voice and the fact he was speaking to them. This would be something to remember for the rest of their lives. Those up close will have photographs to cherish and a few right on the fence at the front, might have been able to touch his hand, or his clothes as he briefly "worked the crowd" after the speech. I looked right down on the process of "pressing the flesh" and you could see in their faces that the Secret Service agents would have preferred that the candidate had stayed up on the runway. It was real work for the agents to unlock hands and arms that had managed to touch the Great One.
Sen. Obama was suddenly gone, like he came, walking casually down the runway - with an embarrassed wave (or so it seemed) - to the privacy of the tent behind the stage. He had given his audience less than an hour from the time of his arrival at the Manassas Fairgrounds, and he left the huge throng to deal with a difficult, and long, journey home, first by foot, and then in a massive traffic jam. But, as I sat in a car that could not move for an hour or more, I observed the crowd as it passed my window. Still no whining, or irritability to be detected. One man who screamed at the police to unclog a jammed intersection made it clear in his remarks that he had not attended the rally, that he only wanted to get to his home. Clearly, he had been a part of the evening's magic.
These Obama backers are saints, I thought, as night became morning. For me, the good news as the clock struck one a.m. was that the 2008 election campaign that we thought would never end finally would in a few hours.
And when I finally got to my motel room at about 2 a.m. for a brief nap before the polls opened, I was left with my memories of a most amazing event...one that I will not forget for a long, long time…an event that might be summed up for me as follows: May Barack Obama's bag of stardust never be empty, and may he be able to use it to solve this country's problems in addition to cultivating believers in his cause.
Dr.
George Colburn
Post Office Box 309, Walloon Lake, MI 49796
231-535-2440
gac@starbrightmc.com