Not to Norman Mailer anybody, but I'd never been to a demonstration this big. The newspaper estimate was 10,000 -- or, to employ the formula Glenn Beck uses for groups he likes, 10 million.
So I'm gonna record it while it's fresh in memory. Can't believe I forgot my notepad and camera. Caught a few snaps with my lame phone.
I tried to find excuses not to go. But it was a nice day for it, & I really don't like it when the police stop people for driving or walking while looking Mexican -- not anywhere in the world, let alone in my home town. To say nothing of too many abuses of power to list here. So breathtakingly many.
Wow, I thought, as I parked two blocks away from the Carl Hayden High School football field where the march was gathering, that's a lot of people. The march was orderly. I would say the mood was optimistic and determined. I saw a lot of printed signs: We Are Human, and Obama: Where Is the Reform? (Possibly suggesting that the President's middling poll numbers are not entirely the work of right-wing propagandists working overtime)
I liked some of the handmade ones, too. My favorite: Worst. Sheriff. Evah.
Saw a lot of V for Vendetta masks. A guy handing them out said they were for photo radar on the highway.
There were chants of Si, se puede and Hey, Ho, No Joe (sing it to the Ramones' "Blitzkrieg Bop"). Lots of ice-cream trucks and carts. Snapped a pic of a young lady whose t-shirt said Stop Bitching and Start a Revolution. Which pretty much says it all to me. And I am so tweeting this.
I even saw a couple of people I knew.
There were the usual raft of signs with Hitler comparisons (Sheriff Joe with a toothbrush 'stache and pink underwear). I used to think they were over the top, but now maybe not so much. They're probably more likely to alienate onlookers who are potential converts, though. Ditto shouting "Fuck the police!" I did see a scuffle between a few black-clad anarchists (Anglos, if anybody's keeping score) and the Phoenix police. It lasted about 10 seconds.
It didn't make sense to taunt the Phoenix cops, because Arpaio is the boss of the county police, not the city ones. Anyway, it probably just alienates the otherwise teachable. Mayor Phil Gordon is one of the few Arizona pols who's had the nerve to criticize Arpaio even a little bit.
The police I saw were quite neutral and professional. But: Wow, I thought, there sure are a lot of police. I wonder how many there were. At one point I turned around to take a lame picture with my lame phone, and hit my shoulder against an officer. I was not wrestled to the ground or harmed in any way.
The march organizers were also quite professional and helpful, handing out water bottles and making sure people stayed along the route. Most of them wore bright orange shirts that said Puente ("Bridge").
Here's one for Lou Dobbs: A word to strike terror into his heart: Aztlan. It was on the back of a junior-high girl's pink knapsack.
It was a walk of a mile or two to the world-famous Tent City, and that's when things started getting a mite tense. A helicopter labeled SHERIFF hovered nearby. What, we're supposed to feel bad that he has a helicopter and we didn't? I'll bet if we'd passed the hat we could have collected enough for at least a ride.
A few county cops (the Sheriff's) were looking on. And to ensure that there would be absolutely no trouble, the city police lined up to protect them. They put down the visors on their helmets, but kept their clubs in their holsters. You could say they were visible. It seemed to me that there were too many, but they weren't threatening or provocative.
About a hundred feet from me, I noticed some people starting to backtrack. I smelled something like the ozone you can smell after a thunderstorm.
The sky looked like we might get some rain, so I didn't think much of that. And it looked like some kind of scuffle was going on up ahead, between black-clad anarchists and mounted police. And I noticed people were putting handkerchiefs, bandanas, or their shirt collars around their noses. Then my amazingly sensitive nose detected the smell of pepper.
Well, ya gotta get up pretty early in the morning to put one over on Mrs. Marcinko's firstborn: Pepper-spray! I reversed course for a hundred paces or so, but never got the brunt of it.
(I'm still tasting it on my lips.)
I did see a few people getting their eyes washed out, and I overheard some of the organizers say that medics had been put to work.
(Still later I heard that "some of the anarchists" had gotten into a shoving match with some of the police. And that maybe we didn't need to be protected by police on horseback, when bicycles would have served them as well)
What bothered me about it was that there were so many police--was this necessary? (The newspapers never seem to count the police, or do I just not notice?) Plus there were children and infants aplenty.
And of course I also thought: Dammit. Now this will be the headline and lede. And so, it's, been.
But: that over, marchers were allowed to proceed. It was a short right-angle to a small space for additional speeches, and perhaps a concert by Linda Ronstadt. Socialists were selling books and papers in English and Spanish. (Or were they just redistributing them?)
At which point my feet, lower back, and bladder began to stage demonstrations of their own. I hoofed it back to where I'd parked my car.
I noticed that the driver's side window was open. Oh, no, I thought. Please tell me nobody smashed the window and broke into my car to steal my iPod adapter and my copy of A.C. Newman's Get Guilty.
Nope. I'd just rolled down the window while I was cruising for a parking spot, and I'd forgotten to roll it up.
How's that for a metaphor for not having much to worry about?