August 25, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
We are strongly discouraged from going to the park. The campaign has given us the strictest of orders not to go down - even for curiosity sake. But that hasn't stopped Becca from nagging me about it. Our room overlooks the park, which is filled with people just like us. It is tempting. We won't be fired from the campaign if we go, but Ron said that a bunch of weird people were there. If we do go, Ron says that we should take off our campaign buttons so we don't get harassed. Make sure that there is nothing that identifies us.
The police do look scary. Last night, we saw them gather up in a line around the perimeter of the park and announce the curfew. A man in a black sweatshirt got right into the face of one policeman and screamed at him. Then we saw the police officer take a swing at him. The man ducked and ran. Becca and I did a double-take at that. I asked her if she still wanted to go down to the park and she said that she just wanted to see what it was like.
Neither of us could believe that the cop tried to hit the man. Frightening.
Ron says that we should study a map to get acclimated to the city. Even if we've been to Chicago before, we should still know major Democratic areas. We should also know where the buses will pick up delegates to bring them to the convention.
So today, we spent most of our time on the 15th floor of the hotel, meeting other campaign workers and getting our papers in order. Ron stopped by to inform me of the schedule. He also said that both Becca and I would need to be careful at the convention. As the policemen and security were on edge.
He didn't have to tell us twice.
I haven't been to the Amphitheatre yet, and part of me is afraid to go. I've been told that there's barbed wire around the area, and that men will yell at you even if you have the right credentials.
It makes me wonder if something will happen at the convention. Maybe we won't even get to have a convention. But I don't want to think that.
