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Bang
the Drum, Optimistically
I
never thought I’d find myself playing music behind a giant
pig’s ass, but there I was, drum in hand, pounding out a bass
beat in the middle of Seventh Avenue in New York City.
This was no ordinary pig. It was much larger than your standard
farmyard hog, with its shoulders reaching a good 10 feet into
the air. It wore a sign draped over its back that read: “Piggy
GOP.” The pig would eventually make it to the Republican Convention
site at Madison Square Garden, but it would not be allowed
in.
It was a sunny day when my friend Mary Anne and I got to the
city via a Metro North train out of Poughkeepsie. Following
a short subway ride from Grand Central down to Union Square,
we eventually made our way to Seventh Avenue and 17th Street.
There we found a motley band of about 25 wind, brass and percussion
players outfitted with pieces of colorful fabric and fake
flowers dangling from a chaotic variety of headgear. They
were led by a guy with a colorful bass drum who sported tinted
goggles and the spirited arm movements of a conductor.
At the last moment before leaving Albany, I’d decided to bring
along one of my drums, hoping to add a little noise to the
march and demonstration against George W.’s policies. The
drum is a bit unusual in that it consists of a bass drum head
with a two-inch frame that makes it resemble the top of a
55-gallon industrial container. It’s light, doesn’t take up
much room and can be very loud. It seemed like the perfect
instrument for the occasion.
As we merged into the crowd amassing on the street, I put
my drum to quick use, joining the bass end of this wild band,
as the pig’s hind with its short curly tail swayed before
us. The band played for a good hour before we finally started
to move up the avenue toward Madison Square Garden with the
big pig lumbering along before us. We appeared to be near
the end of the hundreds of thousands who had gathered for
the march, which probably explains the long delay before the
pig began to move forward.
Our movement forward was soon stalled as the massive crowd
flooded the avenue. As the band played on, I got a better
look at the large porcine balloon. It appeared to be constructed
out of a pink plastic film that had been seamed to form a
body, head and legs. It kept its full rotund shape through
the inflating action of four small battery-operated fans,
like one might find on a desk. The fans were at the bottom
of each leg and were held in place by volunteers who also
moved the beast along.
As I was checking out the low tech involved in this creature,
an eight-foot-tall penis balloon made out of a similar material
came rushing toward the pig. It was surrounded by a phalanx
of pushy secret service characters in suits and sunglasses
who called for us to make way for the vice president. It soon
passed the pig and vanished from our view into the vast crowd
further up the avenue. Somehow I didn’t think “Dick” would
make it into the convention site either.
As we waited for the march to get moving, helicopters buzzed
by and a Fuji Film blimp hung overhead. It was low enough
to read the added acronym of the New York City Police Department,
which had apparently taken the advertising vehicle over for
other uses. As we began to move up the avenue, I realized
that the blimp and helicopters were only a small part of the
security forces marshaled against the march of humanity that
stretched out over two and a half miles in its protest against
George W.
As we passed through intersections, the police presence became
more evident on cross streets and the closer we got to Madison
Square Garden the thicker became the police deployment. Ironically,
while this massive show of force was theoretically to contend
with nonspecific terrorist threats that George W.’s administration
had been reporting for months, it was primarily used for controlling
the crowds that demonstrated. Those who came out in accord
with the best of democratic traditions to show their opposition
to George W.’s policies were subjected to the kind of force
set into place for terrorists. Madison Square Garden was cordoned
off with wire fencing, concrete barricades, huge dump trucks
carrying tons of sand and multiple rows of police. No doubt
more lethal equipment was kept conveniently out of sight.
It took us close to four hours to finally make it up the 16
blocks to Madison Square Garden as the massive march plodded
forward. Long before we got to the Garden the front of the
march had made it back to Union Square. All that time on the
street got a few thoughts going through my head.
I thought that if the administration was truly concerned about
the strong possibility of another terrorist strike in NYC
during their convention there was a fairly simple way to reduce
the threat: Move or cancel the convention. If George W. was
so concerned for the people of NYC, why hold the convention
there? It was not as if they had anything to decide, since
the candidates were running unopposed. But I guess using the
9/11 backdrop was considered worth the risk and the millions
of taxpayer dollars necessary to secure the effort. I also
thought about how the demonstrators filling the streets probably
contributed a lot more to the NYC economy than the conventioneers.
I couldn’t help but also think about all the people who had
come out to exercise their right to protest despite the terrorist
fears flamed by the government. It was this thought that gave
me a certain sense of hope that helped to fuel my drum beats.
—Tom
Nattell
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