Yet for those in Miami Beach who could not penetrate the Republican's security canopy, the city was a succession of locked doors and edgy security agents. The Republican platform was refined behind closed doors under the auspices of White House directives; the hotels where the Republican National Committee and the President's staff were housed were sealed off, preventing any and all persons superfluous to the business being conducted therein from entering; every public reception and welcome for Party dignitaries was peopled by carefully screened youths and Party regulars, leaving no chance for antiwar protesters to man the proceedings.
Indeed, those who controlled the Republican Convention spared no effort to present a unified front. But while they succeeded to that end, Republican leaders left unanswered for the American public the question of how representative their convention actually was. They discarded the sole challenge to their master scheme in a resounding defeat, voting down by a 910 to 434 margin the Steiger Amendment for reapportioning delegate distribution at the 1976 Convention. They vowed not to succumb to quota representation: at auspicious moments, they passed before the cameras a sampling of youth, women and minorities to prove their "Open Door" policy, but they failed to provide for enlargement of those groups four years hence. In doing so, the Republicans seemed to say that in 1976, and for the forseeable future, their party will be one whose trademarks are black limousines, Pucci ties, and 45-foot yachts lined up 85 in a row to "honor" the Party's Presidential candidate.
The contrast between the Republican Convention and that of the Democrats in July transcends political beliefs--it goes beyond a platform for or against forced busing, beyond immediate withdrawal from Indochina, beyond tax structures--even though those beliefs are the foundation of November's choice. The contrast lies too in the Democrats' open platform hearings; in the uncordoned lobby of the Doral Hotel; and, in the movement of candidates and their staffs hustling for delegate votes and bargaining power. Most clearly, it lies in the composition and altitude of delegations.
The Doral Hotel, guarded like a fortress by Secret Servicemen last month, was McGovern headquarters in July. For the presence of the White House staff in August--not the President, the Vice President, nor their families--Doral guests and employees were required to wear identification badges at all times, even when sunning beside the hotel's private pool. For Bob Haideman and Herb Klein and Clark MacGregor, paper shredders were installed at the Doral, and the hotel lobby was closed to conventioneers. It was the same lobby where in July, anyone could come and go, anyone could hitch a ride to Convention Hall, anyone could mingle with McGovern staff members or catch a glimpse of the candidate, and where 400 SDS members could sit in protest for six hours until McGovern himself came down to meet with them.
It was just this kind of protest which the Republicans avoided and, when necessary, counteracted like a malignant tumor. Their trump card was the 3000 Young Voters for the President (YVPs), who were invited to Miami Beach at their own expense to provide a roving cheering section for the Republican cause. These "representative youths" dressed right, smiled a lot, concocted homemade campaign placards, spoke to the media whenever possible, and practiced cuing in Convention Hall. A mimeographed directive instructed the YVPs to cheer whenever youth was mentioned, whenever victory in November was mentioned, whenever victory in November was mentioned, whenever the President or the First Family was mentioned, and on and on. They were bused to the airport to greet the President, while a group of Vietnam Veterans Against the War was halted at the entrance to the field. They rallied 8000 strong on the night President Nixon was renominated so that they could hear Sammy Davis Jr., a Democrat, and then the President tell America, as they applauded wildly, that "you have made us realize that this is a year when we can prove the experts' predictions wrong because we can set as our goal winning a majority of the new voters for our ticket in November."
Nixon laid out the bogus comparison himself: "I express the appreciation of all of the delegates and of all America for letting us see young America at its best at our convention." The implication was that while the youth on the streets outside Convention Hall were young America at its worst, the McGovern forces were not far behind.
It was a classic misconception for the President to foist, but a misconception it was. For the young peoplv at the Democratic Convention, working not just for McGovern but for Humphrey and Jackson and Muskie, displayed seriousness of purpose which outreaches imagination. They concentrated imagination. They concentrated political thought, they seemed to know every twist and turn of the platform and of impending floor fights over rules and credentials. They were delegates and staff members, not cheerleaders. They didn't prim and prance for television, preferring instead to strategize about the business before the Convention. And they spent four long nights trying to put those strategies to practice.
By comparison, the YVPs were mindless hordes. While some expressed disappointment that they did not assume parts more closely tied to the work of the Convention--parts which seemed implicit in their invitations from the Republican National Committee--most accepted the cheerleader's role and were content to emulate the ways of their wealthy elders. Few could detail the platform or explain the intricacies of the Steiger Amendment.
This same mindlessness extended to Republican delegations. They voted as they were instructed to vote. No one dared to bolt from the fold--indeed they would not have been in Miami Beach in the first place if they did dare--and their week was one of idle frustration. Everything was settled before they arrived. Their role was predetermined and precisely scheduled. They fit neatly into the scenario, but beyond a certain point they became unneeded. For a small delegation there were no parties at luxurious Miami Beach homes, no visits with Party bigwigs. There was only a mid-priced hotel and five perfunctory sessions at Convention Hall.
It is impossible, really, to fault delegates in this predicament for not boning up on the political significance of the platform. But it is ludicrous to presume, as the Republican Party would have America presume, that these delegates were more than fixtures. The comparison between the Republican and Democratic Conventions was so stark that the Republican theme of an "Open Door" convention dissolves into fantasy at the most cursory examination. Only tangential events like the aimless violence in Miami Beach's streets and bodily assaults on delegates could give credence to this theme by providing reason for a multitude of closed doors.
So it was that the outworn tactics of a violent fringe made the Republicans' doors appear open to the American public. And through those doors they viewed the first vestiges of Richard Nixon's reelection campaign. Just as in 1968, he has gone on the offensive, pandering to carefully chosen audiences, manipulating the media, revitalizing his image, and perhaps, winning over the American people.