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An ardent party activist at the Demo
cratic National Convention in New
York City.
New York protestors advocate "No
body for President."
Ronald Reagan and wife Nancy ack
nowledge cheering delegates in
Detroit.
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Analysis and photos by Kathy Chenault
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CONVENTION COMMENTS
Conventions' glory lost
on disenchanted voters
Editor's note: Kathy Chenault attended
both the Republican and Democratic nat
ional conventions during the summer.
Here, she comments on her experience.
An unemployed 20-year-old man sat on
the sidewalk across from Madison Square
Garden last August sipping beer from a
bottle.
He yawned, then excused himself, say
ing he was tired from not having anything
to do.
"Having no job can really wear you out.
You know what I mean?
"But then, it's been so long since I've
worked at all, so how the hell should I
know?" He shrugged and looked at the
downtown electricity generated by the
combined high-voltage currents of the
Democratic National Convention and the
daily rustling of street life in New York.
The young man said he was pleased to
have found someone to listen to his view
point on just another August morning in
the nation's largest city.
"I JUST wanted to come down and see
what these people look like. You know,
they're the ones running the country and I
just wanted to see what they're like, you
know?"
Another slow, seemingly pleasurable
swallow of beer, and the native New
Yorker continued.
"The whole political mess is just that a
mess. I mean, it's always the same thing.
All these people wave tlags, wear funny
hats and make speeches. But nothing ever
changes.
"I still don't find work and every day
my girlfriend gets closer to having our
baby. But yet, these people go to their
parties and talk about how great we have
things in this country' ."
He paused, took a long draw from the
sweating brown bottle and smiled. It was a
slow, cynical, almost haunting grin that
creased his face.
"Of course. ! have to admit that feeling
great's the way to be. I was feeling great
this morning when I found enough change
for this beer."
HE RAISED the bottle in the air and
tilted it slightly as if offering a toast to the
myriads of people bustling on and along
Seventh Avenue. Then he quickly finished
the remaining sloshes of his breakfast beer.
"Hey, dianks for listening." With that
he stood up and padded barefoot into the
crowd. He was gone . . , just another face
less body.
Now, as the autumn colors begin to
blush the landscape signaling that the nat
ional election is approaching rapidly, the
attitudes of people across the country seem
perspectives
to parallel those feelings expressed in
August by the young man observing life on
the fringes of one of the biggest political
events of the year.
This year, however, is different from
most election years. This year, the wide
spread lack of involvement and disinterest
toward politics cannot be attributed to
that favorite cause-voter apathy. At least,
that explanation cannot accurately reflect
the sentiments of the citizenry in 1980.
THIS YEAR, people are not asking,
"Who cares?"
Instead, these people are saying they
care about the problems they see, problems
they feel.
These people are concerned about the
floundering economy, worried about the
role the United States assumes in foreign
affairs and afraid of faltering social pro
grams here at home.
A midwestern farmer scoffs when asked
who he will vote for.
"It kind of comes down to the differ
ence between bad and worse," he said.
"Reagan might do some things that will be
bad. But Carter has already shown us he
can come up with much worse."
A Detroit housewife admired the press
credentials hanging around the neck of a
reporter during the Republican National
Convention in mid -July.
"The whole thing is so exciting. But I
don't suppose it's too important to anyone
who's not from here. At least that's the
way I am not interested unless something
directly affects me."
SHE ADDED t hat she thought the most
important aspect of the convention was
what it would do for the city of Detroit.
A middle-aged woman from the Bronx
browsing in a downtown New York depart
ment store warned visitors to the city to
be careful during the convention.
"There's just so much human trash
around these days," she said, shaking the
tousled curls on her head.
"Once I get home each day I'm there to
stay. Now ain't that a fine life? Scared to
go anywhere, so I lock myself in."
What the United States needs, the wo
man said, is a leader who can turn things
around.
She said there is no question in her
mind who to support in the presidential
election.
"IF KENNEDY would have been a
candidate it would be close. But it's
Reagan all the way. He'll add some class to
the White House," she said.
"Besides, his wife's so pretty."
The number of "undecideds" in the gen
eral populace is increasing dramatically. In
fin
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fact, it seems the only people genuinely
interested in the election are active party
members and the families and campaign
camps of the candidates.
People are not just turning away. They
are turning, and turning, and turning . . .
They are thrashing-perhaps drowning-in
a' tumultuous sea of discontent, displeasure
and disgust.
Who are the .perpetrators of these
queasy, tortuous feelings rampant among
American citizens?
If that question were posed to people
across the country the answer would be a
resounding, "The candidates themselves."
People are worried.
FROM THE MAN in New York with no
job, disheartened and weary, to a 24-year-old
public utilities worker in western Ne
braska who says the diminishing influence
of the United States could translate into
full-scale war for Americans within the
next few years; they are concerned, scared.
"I care about the country and I care
about my future. That includes my safety,
which is being threatened more and more
each day," the utilities worker said.
"But I don't care one way or another
about the presidential contest . In my
opinion, there's nobody running. I'll just
vote for who's winning at the time and let
him blow it once he gets in office."
A salesman from South Dakota sub
maricd his opinion of the attitudes of the
American people toward the national
election by comparing the presidential
campaign to gambling.
"It's like they went to Vegas to select
the candidates. They put a quarter in the
slot machine, pulled the lever and they all
came up lemons." Pleased with his clever
comparison, the man continued.
"They're all gambling when they open
their mouths . . . shooting crap, that is."
THE NEW YORK woman wants to be
free to come and go from her home w ith
out fearing for her life. Detroit workers
want to increase automobile production, a
sign of a prospering economy. Farmers,
who perennially ask for assistance so they
can keep the United States the agricultural
powerhouse of the world, would like
support similar to the help given to the
Chrysler Corporation.
The young man in New York wants to
work. He wants to feel good about himself.
Unfortunately, the common thread lac
ing the opinions of American people to
gether is a fear of the chances (or lack of
chances) for fading solutions to their
problems during the next four years. In
conservative terms, the chances for a real
winner is viewed by many as a long shot.
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