It transformed a quarter-mile of the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, an eight-lane highway running through the center of the city, into a massive political flea market.

Several hundred police stood in long rows between the trees lining the Parkway and watched.

The more than two-hundred issues bandied about were diverse enough to create stark contrasts. Some demonstrators preached anarchy. Others simply preached, like the Critical Path group, which encouraged all who strolled by--black-masked punks, tie-dyed hippies and camera-happy delegates--to embrace a progressivism grounded in compassion and faith.

Many onlookers passed over the rows of issue tables and headed straight for the street's center, where the largest attractions held sway over the largest crowds.

They gathered around the peculiar contraptions placed at a few points along the parkway: rectangular wooden frames hung with large cans and bottles, metal bars, and anything else that could be banged on, all dappled in a dozen colors.

A handful of demonstrators circled the structure in a dance-percussion frenzy, surrounded by a mixed crowd, some dancing, some staring.

Philadelphia artist Melina Hammer was taking a break from clanging. She sat on the grass median of the Parkway, joining others in a late-afternoon languor. They had been marching and rallying for more almost six hours that balmy Sunday.

"I'm here because the Democrats and Republicans are hand in hand. They don't show different beliefs. The majority isn't being represented."