Eye of the Storm

The Democrats couldn't have had a much more exuberant week last week: historic barriers broken, historic torches passed, historic numbers of Kleenex used for historic happy tears. Though it won't be easy for the Republicans to match that kind of epochal spectacle at their convention this week, they still have a shot at groundbreaking drama, thanks largely to the vice presidential nomination of Sarah Palin, the rootin'est, tootin'est, unvetted'est first-term governor in these United States. But not on Monday. With Hurricane Gustav roaring ashore along the Gulf Coast, the Republicans pieced together a shortened opening program. And with all notions of Change and of Reform left on hold until Tuesday, the Republicans looked and sounded, for one more afternoon, like the party we've long come to know.

The short program at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul had the charm (or, depending on your view, the stagnation) of old certainties. Even as convention chair Mike Duncan explained how to use cell-phone technology to make a donation to victims of the hurricane, the afternoon offered lots of God (in his soft drawl, Duncan offered his hope that the delegates would be generous "with both your prayers and your pocketbooks"), lots of the flag (splayed across the enormous screen that dominates the stage and on many a lapel) and lots of white people. (At 93 percent, the delegate pool isn't quite Vermont white, but must be at least as white as the crowds that queue up to see Pat Boone, longtime bearer of the party standard.)

Even on a day spent largely on procedural matters, there was still anthropology to be had. Congressman Kevin McCarthy—handsome and amiable, Romney without the gel—introduced the party's platform as "one grounded in enduring Republican principles." As he expounded on those principles, he used a vocabulary that made very clear that we're not in Denver anymore: "a firm belief that the American way of life is worth defending," "a dedication to the rule of law that protects and preserves liberty," "a belief in a positive optimistic patriotism driven by an uncompromising passion for freedom and justice." It's worth noting that the only Democrat who seemed especially comfortable using this rhetoric last week was that America-hating me-firster, Barack Obama.

McCarthy also pointed out that Republicans don't think that Washington has all the answers, unlike "some people"—a phrase that in the original draft must have read "Barack Obama and Joe Biden." For in addition to not being a festive day—there was no music in the program—it was also not a partisan day. The only slip came during a testimonial video from the governors of Gulf Coast states about their hurricane preparations. Texas Gov. Rick Perry, who was filmed (as he put it) "standing outside of a beautiful C-130 aircraft," explained that "you're seeing Republican governors in Republican states doing a fabulous job of taking care of the citizens. That's what we do." Back luck, Oklahomans: The remnants of Gustav are headed your way, with only Democrat Brad Henry to protect you.

The video was introduced by Laura Bush, who got the longest, loudest ovation of the afternoon. (Small anthropological aside: references to Sarah Palin tended to get longer, louder applause from the delegates than references to John McCain.) Behind the podium, she seems to embody the small-town virtues that conservatism declares itself intent on preserving—calmness, kindness, decency—no matter what dirty things Curtis Sittenfeld imagines about her in her new novel. In fact, if you listen closely, you'll hear that even after seven-plus years as First Lady, she still sometimes lets out a nervous little laugh after an applause line. She seems so effortless a vessel of what Obama in his first book calls "needlepoint virtues" that she only needed a pillbox hat to make this seem like archival footage of the 1972 convention, or the 1956 one.

A brief closing appearance by Cindy McCain pointed the way toward the rest of the convention and beyond. Having navigated a difficult day with ease, the convention gets down to its real business tomorrow: returning the fire that Obama sent in his speech last week, reveling in the energy that Palin has brought to the proceedings, basking in McCain doing what few do better than he does—using the traditional language of patriotism and the example of his own service to motivate the party. As the delegates filed out, C-Span—blessings upon you once again, most faithful of all television channels—offered a fleeting montage of the party he'll inherit and begin to lead. All in all, they're a more tidily dressed crowd than the Democrats. Men in business attire, women in pearls. The Texas delegation in matching blue shirts and Stetsons. An Abe Lincoln look-alike. A man in an Uncle Sam hat sporting a Goldwater button. A lady in a straw hat with an ENGLISH IS AMERICA'S LANGUAGE pin. Miss Texas herself, swathed in patriotic bunting. And there, in the red sportcoat, could it be? It could: Pat Boone himself.

© 2008