BOSTON—They came by the thousands from across the country, filing into the FleetCenter for three straight days and nights to participate in the formal nomination of a presidential candidate, hear the best rhetoric an opposition party had to offer or gawk at Beltway celebs. Often, it seemed just being in the corridors abutting the floor of the Democratic National Convention (DNC) was enough. Certainly, it was enough to spur a healthy trade in the many-colored stiff paper passes which granted varying levels of convention access to their bearers.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday had their share of distinguished speakers and high-profile attendees, to be sure. But the main event was last night, when everyone who was anyone would flock to the convention to see newly nominated Sen. John F. Kerry, D-Mass., make his first appearance of the week.

Or so they thought. In fact, as the FleetCenter filled to capacity, Boston’s fire marshal ordered its doors shut last night more than an hour before Kerry took the stage. Delegates, special guests and reporters were barred from the DNC by police officers; and though a few VIPs talked their way in to catch for the nominee’s speech, the vast majority were forced to depart and watch Kerry from a local watering hole—or, for a lucky few gathered by one of the Center’s entrances, to witness an impromptu rendition of the candidate’s remarks by a foul-mouthed canine puppet.

‘BULLSHIT’

At 9 p.m., the streets outside the FleetCenter were a bedlam, exiled pols mingling with the protesters who hadn’t made it into the free speech zones.

“No, I have the VIP pass and I can’t get in at all!” one well-dressed man indignantly spoke into a cellphone headset.

Although those bearing passes marked “Press” were allowed within the security barrier surrounding the convention center—a privilege not granted many with passes reading “Honored Guest,” “Special Guest” or even “Delegate”—by a few minutes after 9 p.m. it became clear that none were getting inside the FleetCenter itself.

One Wisconsin delegate, riding the T dejectedly after being turned away from the convention at 7:45 p.m., said she felt her contributions to the party’s work had been unappreciated.

“I’m a little pissed off,” said the delegate, who said she had been admitted to the convention for its first three days. “No, I’m totally pissed off actually. I worked my ass off to be a delegate, and now they won’t let me in to see John Kerry.”

“It’s bullshit,” she added.

University President Lawrence H. Summers, meanwhile, was luckier.

Initially confined to the first floor of the FleetCenter along with many others—in the same building as the convention, but floors away from the action—Summers was observed standing by the escalators around 8:15 p.m. for about 10 minutes before security changed its tune, admitting him and a small entourage while continuing to bar all others.

PUPPET REGIME?

As a group of 30 to 40 journalists and other guests gathered just a closed door away from the scene of Summers’ admittance, on the asphalt surrounding the FleetCenter itself, the mood was one of frustration.

Those who tried to sweet-talk the police officers guarding the doors were met with flat refusals and allusions to the fire marshal’s pronouncement. The doors opened more than once, but only to let ejected convention-goers out, not to let anyone new in. One staffer could be heard lamenting that her belongings had been left upstairs at the convention.

At about 9:30 p.m., a siren went off for a moment, quickly interrupted and replaced by the megaphoned voice of a police officer saying that the fire marshal had closed off the convention for the night. All hopes seemed to be dashed—and then a heavily accented voice rose over the hum of the crowd, and a rubber dog puppet rose over its heads.

“That’s America!” shouted Robert Smigel, the man with his hand up the rear end of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.

The character of Triumph, the profane Don Rickles of the kennel set, has long been performed by “Saturday Night Live” scribe Smigel on the late-night show of Conan O’Brien ’85. Last night, Smigel was accompanied by a man bearing a large, expensive-looking video camera as he addressed the crowd.

Alleging that only Alan Colmes, the nominally liberal half of Fox News Channel duo Hannity and Colmes, had been allowed into the center, Triumph let loose.

“Get in there and get your butt kicked by Hannity,” the Smigel-voiced puppet barked. “Thank God they just let the doormat through the door!”

The impromptu performance, it would soon be revealed, was not for Conan—it was for a potential Triumph movie, following up on the mangy mouth’s 2003 album, Come Poop With Me.

Within moments, Smigel had whipped out a pre-printed transcript of the keynote remarks Kerry would deliver in less than an hour inside the convention. He then began to read them in Triumph’s embittered voice, holding the puppet high all the while and interspersing Kerry high notes with a few Borscht Belt punchlines of his own.

“I want to address these words directly to President George W. Bush,” Triumph read from Kerry’s speech. But where the candidate went on to call for optimism in the campaign ahead, Triumph howled, “Are you out there, bitch?”

At another point, reciting Kerry’s reference to “the next great chapter” in American history, Triumph broke out his trademark line.

“A great chapter,” he repeated. “...For me to poop on!”

At times the dog appeared to mock Kerry’s speech, shouting “Boooooring!” before quickly adding that he was only trying to portray what he thought the audience’s reaction would be. But Triumph, who has based much of his act on picking fights with flesh-and-blood celebrities, said he stood by the candidate.

“Stop—these are John Kerry’s words,” the mutt said solemnly when those around him began to chant the name “Triumph.” “This is no Al Sharpton showboating.”

Triumph also made frequent reference to what he perceived as his onlookers’ inadequate show of appreciation for his jokes.

“I hope you appreciate this,” he said at one point, turning to the police who watched with bemusement. “I’m trying to disperse the crowd.”

After concluding Triumph’s version of Kerry’s speech—much of which he skipped—Smigel revealed another puppet, this one of a sternly frowning owl.

Explaining that the rubber bird represented would-be first lady Teresa Heinz Kerry, Smigel enacted a quick kiss between the puppets.

At last, Triumph led those who had been locked out in a rousing round of “God Bless America.”

And like that, with a few brief answers to questions posed by the media gathered by the FleetCenter’s entrance—including to one who asked Smigel who he was—he was gone.

UNDERCOVER

Finally, as those kept out of the convention made their way out past the black metal barriers around the FleetCenter, some were met by the oddest sight yet—a red, white and blue bandana-wearing man shouting “Win with Dean! Lose with Kerry! Draft Dean!”

“You know you want Dean,” the hand-written placard he carried read, referring to the former Vermont governor whose initially promising bid for the Democratic nomination swiftly disintegrated after the first primaries in January and February. “Kerry’s a loser.”But asked about his purpose, Bob Barrett, 36, of Lynnfield, Mass., slid the first sign away to let another show.

“W kicks terrorist ass!” the second placard screamed.

Revealing quietly that he was in fact a self-proclaimed “member of the vast right-wing conspiracy,” Barrett explained his covert op.

“What I’m trying to do is get Democrats to walk away feeling really bad about their candidate,” he said.

—Stephen M. Marks contributed to the reporting of this story.

—Staff writer Simon W. Vozick-Levinson can be reached at vozick@fas.harvard.edu.