For the very first time, convention doors were opened up to delegates other than regular party hacks. Using a laudatory set of quotas and an unprecedented democratic process of selection across the land, a vibrant and diverse gathering arrived in Miami to cheer on the Democratic ticket. Television watchers could observe that blacks, women, feminists and long hairs appeared to have the run of the convention floor. Naturally, much of the country was repulsed, or frightened out of its wits, as the case was. There was suspense, though minor suspense attached to the outcome of the delegate count, with George McGovern, the boldly anti-war candidate, and the superannuated liberal warhorse Hubert Humphrey, being not too far apart in delegates upon arrival at the convention. McGovern had been slightly ahead, and was expected to win. He did.
Also, for the first time, to those in observance, during THIS convention it looked like a lot of fucking must be going on. For those with a pulse, and without the usual prudish or conservative inhibitions, this added enormous appeal to the week’s proceedings. It was quite in contrast to the tedious collection of Republicans that would gather two weeks hence, also in Miami. There, among a mass of pasty-faced dipsy-doodles, and wax figurine reactionaries, a lubricious pussy or bolt-upright tool would have been conspicuously out of place.
Due to the lengthiness of the Democrats’ delegate count, and a refreshingly Sixtyish disorganization, McGovern’s acceptance speech was delayed till three in the morning. But the feeling of chaos and lateness of the hour rendered the occasion with a plangent nocturnal edge. Of course, the great majority of the nation was catching its forty winks, as was its wont. McGovern made an impassioned and eloquent speech. His call to unilaterally shut down the war in Vietnam still was too radical a proposition for an electorate not yet, though soon to be sickened by the nasty, immoral and futile debacle.