The sights and sounds of the electrifying night flashed through my head as I pulled a golf cart up to the dark loading dock behind the Pepsi Center. The first night of the DNC had just concluded, and I was busy shuttling convention-goers to buses to return to their hotels.
From the shadows of a large media trailer, a stranger approached my cart and asked for a ride. Being in high spirits, I agreed to give him a lift.
As I navigated the security checkpoints and Secret Service agents surrounding the Pepsi Center, my passenger told me he was a writer for a cable news channel. When I asked how his night had gone, he replied with an air of boredom that he had been unable to find any good stories.
Taken aback, I wondered if he had been in the same arena as me.
Perhaps the seasoned reporter had grown pessimistic and disinterested from being around too many political conventions and speeches. I, on the other hand, was not going to let his indifference sway me. I knew I had just been witness to a night I would never forget, and of all the memorable moments, seeing the prowess of Sen. Ted Kennedy for the first time in person had been the most remarkable.
Earlier in the evening, when it was still uncertain if Kennedy was going to make an appearance, I got an excited call from my producer, “Tell all the reporters Kennedy is in the building. I just saw him walk by downstairs.”
Sure enough, a couple of hours later Kennedy staggered out onto stage assisted by his wife to a boisterous standing ovation and a sea of “Kennedy” signs being waved throughout the hall. One could see the toll that the brain cancer he was diagnosed with three months ago and his subsequent surgery had taken. From the media suite I was standing in, which was located to the side of the stage, a stool could be spotted that had been placed behind the podium in case the senator’s strength failed.
From the start, it was clear this was going to be one for the ages, and in an extremely emotional moment, Kennedy told the crowd that nothing would have prevented him from being there. With vigor and energy that belied his medical condition, he jabbed the air with his index finger and pledged to be on the Senate floor next January when Sen. Barack Obama was sworn in as president.
Invoking the spirit of his two slain brothers, Kennedy acknowledged the youthful wave of voters who have embraced the hope Obama offers for an era of postpartisan politics, by stating, “The torch will be passed to a new generation of Americans this November!”
As Kennedy spoke and the crowd roared, goose bumps shot up and down my arms.
For all of Kennedy’s flaws, which have been well documented over and again by the press, and for all the showmanship of his speech, one could sense that Kennedy understood all too well this moment was about something far greater than himself. It was about standing up for the underdog, a cause that has been the driving force of Kennedy’s 46-year political career.
After becoming disenchanted over the previous days with what I viewed as the superfluity of the convention, I was reminded once again of the power of politics to lift up and empower the most vulnerable in our society.
As I reflected on Kennedy’s speech, I thought about the elderly black lady I had seen earlier being pushed in her wheelchair through the halls of the Pepsi Center. She was dressed in her Sunday best and had a look of serene contentment on her face. She was about to witness a major political party nominate an African-American for president, something she probably never believed possible in her lifetime. For nearly the last half century, Kennedy has been fighting for progressive policies that would help bring this moment to fruition.
I thought about the veteran Washington Post reporter T.R. Reid, who a few days earlier had told a group of students and myself that one of his favorite moments covering politics had been watching Kennedy deliver his “The Dream Will Never Die” speech at the 1980 DNC. Twenty-eight years later, here I was at a different DNC sharing Reid’s awe in the oratorical skills and passion of Kennedy.
I thought about how lucky my generation had been to have this chance to witness the greatness Kennedy offered, to be inspired by him like so many Americans of past generations have been, before he left us for good.
And finally, I thought about the stool that had been placed for Kennedy behind the podium. The ailing 76-year-old senatorial lion, in a demonstration both literal and symbolic, had showed the strength the Democratic Party is capable of by never once sitting down.
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