August 28, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
5 p.m.
Craig is gone. He yelled at Ron that he was going to burn his convention pass in the park. It's horrible. She told him that it was important not to give up, but he just kept saying over and over again that it was all a set-up. The entire convention was a big fake, phony exercise and that the whole thing was rigged.
I have to admit, it looks like he's right. It doesn't matter what the people want. We have no say in our own government. "IT'S A SHAM! THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING IS A SHAM! WE'VE WASTED OUR TIME!"
That's what he screamed before he left. Becca followed him, but then she turned back and looked to me to see if I'd come too.
But then I looked back at Ron, who looked so tired and awful. He was sitting in front of his clipboard, so hurt and wounded. I asked him if he was going to leave for the park as well. He shook his head. "It's too easy."
So I stayed. Becca was disappointed and I admit, part of me wanted to go with them. But I couldn't. So I stayed.
7 p.m.
They are getting ready for nominations. Why does everything move so slow here? It takes forever to get anything done.
I haven't been down to the floor of the convention. Ron says the place is depressed, but most people behind the scenes look angry. I told Mrs. Stoutmiller what happened to Craig and Becca. It was very upsetting. She is very worried that something is going to happen to them. It is like a war zone outside and some of the delegates are making provisions in case they can't go back to their hotel. Is there a back room where people can lay down?
I'm angry at Becca. And I'm also afraid for her. What if she gets arrested? She hit that policeman in Madison. What if she does it again?
9:30 p.m.
We're standing by a television watching what is happening outside. I can't believe it. No one can. Mrs. Stoutmiller says that some delegates are planning to protest inside the convention. I certainly don't want to be on the floor when that happens.
Ron keeps trying not to stare at the television. He's talking with people, chatting up The Senator's aides. We wonder how The Senator will get to the Amphitheatre. What kind of security precautions are there?
I just saw a cop hit a demonstrator across the legs. It was a blonde girl. He broke his baton.
Disgusting.
10 p.m.
They're going to try to move the convention. I don't know where yet, but everyone is saying that democracy can't happen under this kind of threat. You can't shut people up by force.
Ron is sitting next to me, his eyes glued to the television. "It's an historical moment, blondie. Let's get this convention moved."
10:30 p.m.
We can't get enough organized quickly enough to get it through. The Humphrey/Daley people are ramming it through.
We can't stop them.
