1968 May Be 50 Years Ago, but Sometimes It Feels Like the Blink of a Lifetime

By Dan Rather, Dan Rather's Facebook Page

28 August 18

ow. Where do all those decades go?

It is remarkable to note that today is the 50th anniversary of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, 1968. It was a seminal moment, the damnedest nominating convention in the nation’s history. In the words of the old Johnny Cash song “Well, I was there when it happened and so I guess I ought to know.”

I was a “Floor Correspondent” for CBS News working under Walter Cronkite, who was in the big “anchor booth” high atop the floor. The year, 1968, already had been tumultuous for the country, a nation riddled by divisions that seemed to be deepening by the month: North Vietnam’s “Tet Offensive” in January, President Lyndon Johnson announcing in March that he would not run for re-election, Dr. Martin Luther King’s assassination in April, and Bobby Kennedy’s in June, and the Soviets invasion of Czechoslovakia in mid summer, heightening the East-West “Cold War.” In between were race riots in some of our largest cities.

Against this backdrop of events, Democrats came into what developed as a cauldron for their convention. Chicago’s Mayor Richard Daley had promised his party that he would “keep the lid on” if they brought their convention to his city, that he had the will and the power to insure control inside and outside the convention hall.

The convention itself was in the International Amphitheatre, hard by the stockyards. It was an especially hot and humid summer. The smell of the stockyards permeated even in pockets inside the hall, partly because the air conditioning wasn’t working very well. A steel fence topped with barbed wire had been erected, a bullet-resistant entrance installed.

Within the Amphitheatre, there was an armed-camp mixture of body-armored, uniformed police, plain clothes detectives, privately-hired “security guards”, secret-service agents--and some shadowy “bouncer” style private operatives believed to be under the direct control of Daley (as the week progressed they were nicknamed “The Goon Squad” by some delegates.)

Outside, around the hall and beyond, police--many in riot gear--mixed with the National Guard, which had been mobilized. Guardsmen were in what appeared to be full combat gear and reportedly had shoot-to-kill, if necessary, authorizations. It seemed destined that the the drama playing out in Chicago would take place in the streets as well as the hall of delegates.

In the weekend before the convention, an army of protesters was building. They came from every section of the country, but fair to say that a majority probably were from urban areas and/or colleges and universities. They were predominately young, idealistic, and representative of various political and ideological interests. But some of the leaders were older veterans of organized protest groups. The protesters were only loosely united, with splintered leadership. But unified they were around the word “change.” As in, end the war in Vietnam, break up the long-existing power structure within the Democratic Party, and change the whole nominating and election system.

Tensions rose, violence erupted, including inside the hall, where some delegates were arrested and manhandled (and so were some reporters). But there was more, much more physical violence outside in what became known as “The Battle Of Michigan Avenue” and “The Nightmare in Grant Park.” The smell of tear gas began to mix with that of the stockyards, the sounds of shouts, cries and the thud of clubs pierced the night outside; fiery rhetoric, outright shouting matches and booing from the Daley-organized “special-support” sections of the hall’s high balconies went on inside until deep into the wee hours.

In some cases, police took off their badges as they dove into the outside crowds to bludgeon protesters; some agent provocateurs taunted and egged on both police and protesters, leaving some Americans to call it “a police riot” and others to label it a “protesters riot.” Overwhelmingly, most of the people who were physically hurt were young, often still in their teens or early twenties. And a lot of all this was on television, with not only the country but the world watching.

Many Americans were appalled, wondering to themselves and to others, “what has our country become? What’s happened to us?” And much of the world was asking, “what has happened to the America we thought we knew?” There was a sense that America had become so divided that it’s civic and even moral moorings were dissolving, and that a breakdown of law and order was becoming endemic.

The country did rather quickly steady itself and move forward. But the psychological effects and long-range political ramifications of what happened in Chicago, 1968, reverberate still: in the wake of it the Democratic Party moved further left, the Republican party moved further right; both parties moved away from what had been the political center. The whole nominating system for president changed in both parties (not necessarily for the better), the public’s faith and belief in the political system and national leaders suffered wounds, some of which are still open.

1968 may be 50 years ago, but sometimes it feels like the blink of a lifetime. But for those who were there, or remember it, or have just read about it in history books, it is a reminder that this nation has had periods of division in the past and we have endured. The hard work for justice and healing faces us anew.

(Note: I have always loved covering conventions. I attended my first national nominating convention in 1956, the Democratic Convention in Chicago that year. Since then, beginning in 1960, I have attended every Democratic and Republican National Convention. God willing, I hope to be there in 2020 as well.)