August 29, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
12:30 a.m.
I hope Hubert Humphrey feels awful because he won. Someone from the Wisconsin delegation tried to start a chant: "Hube the Pube!" It didn't go far. Some people were upset by the foul language. Others were afraid that security would crack heads.
It's over for tonight. The convention, that is. But no one knows what to do now. The delegates are still walking around, with lots of people muttering. I haven't seen Craig or Becca and I'm starting to get worried.
Ron has invited me to the Drake Hotel. They are having a big meeting to determine what we should do, what the next step is. But then, some of the delegates are gathering to talk about having a candlelight march to speak out about what happened outside.
I personally am scared to go outside. Some alternates report that the police violence has subsided, but I just don't know. Are they going to attack us like they did everyone else? I was stupid enough to wear heels tonight too. I don't think I can run fast in bare feet.
Right now I'm waiting for Mrs. Stoutmiller outside of the powder room. We'll figure out what to do in a few minutes.
I just feel awful... about everything.
