In Denver, opposition to Iraq war binds demonstrators

Diverse group takes its agenda to convention site

DENVER - Democrats like to say that theirs is a "big-tent" party, welcome to members of all stripes. The same description, it seems, applies to their protesters.

As delegates began flooding into Denver yesterday for the start of today's Democratic National Convention, hundreds of antiwar demonstrators marched from the state capitol to the Pepsi Center, the convention headquarters. But just about all they shared was a march route and an opposition to the war in Iraq.

The demonstrators were an extraordinarily varied lot, promoting a mishmash of conflicting agendas and opinions. Many were sympathetic to Obama and the Democratic platform; others advocated an overthrow of the two-party system. They ranged from soft-spoken, 1960s-vintage antiwar activists to younger radicals, bandanas covering their faces, voicing objection to the very existence of the United States.

"It's a protest against [President] Bush and [Vice President Dick] Cheney. It is in support of Obama," said Karen Hriso, a retirement plan administrator from Denver in her late 50s.

The demonstration, which began with a morning rally at the capitol featuring prominent antiwar activist Cindy Sheehan, was far smaller than anticipated - organizers had a permit for 25,000 people, according to Denver police, but only about 1,500 showed up. Another protest rally and march was planned for later yesterday afternoon.

As of mid-afternoon yesterday, police reported few problems and no major arrests.

The protests added to a day of preparation and anticipation for the Democrats' big week, which will build to a crescendo on Thursday night, when Obama formally accepts his party's nomination for president. Members of the media, expected to number 15,000, swarmed the area, and police held a firm grip on the city, cordoning off the entire area around the Pepsi Center.

At a separate outdoor fair nearby, an earnest folk singer crooned on a stage of sunflowers, as environmentalists pitched solar-heated water and organic baked goods.

At the protest rally, familiar chants filled the air: "Whose streets? Our streets!" Another went, "Stop the torture, stop the war, this is what we're fighting for."

Some demonstrators were dressed up as Bush, Cheney, and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice in shackles; others wore a giant polar bear costume, meant as a reminder of global warming.

But some of the usual antiwar tropes included biting indictments of Obama and his policies.

Antonio Moreno, a 27-year-old graduate student from Denver, was deeply critical of Obama's plan to expand the American military operation in Afghanistan, a country Obama says needs more US forces to help quell a resurgent Taliban.

"The Democrats are an imperialist party, too," Moreno said. "The war in Iraq and the war in Afghanistan are both the wrong wars."

Asked whether he was concerned that terrorists would fill the vacuum in Afghanistan if the country descended into chaos, he said, "If the US wants to stop terrorism, they should stop participating in it."

Bob Van Wyk, a 58-year-old medical device developer up from St. Petersburg, Fla., also rejected Obama's position on Afghanistan.

"[John] McCain and Obama are both saying Afghanistan's the right war," he said. "That isn't the right war."

"Are they speaking for us?" one demonstrator yelled through a megaphone about the Democrats. "No!"

But many seemed motivated more by opposition to the Iraq war than to any beef with Obama. Edward Carrasco, a 58-year-old from Denver who helps run a local veterans' program, said he was marching to "raise awareness about, you know, what are we doing" in Iraq.

Even those who say they support Obama said they wanted to put him on notice: Do not back down from your pledge to end the war in Iraq.

"You said you were going to get us out of Iraq - so do it," said Walt James, a Vietnam veteran who carried a POW/MIA flag and an American flag with a peace symbol where the stars should be.

A multiblock perimeter around the convention site is under heavy blanket of security, with police on foot, on bikes, in armored trucks, in unmarked cruisers, and even driving a souped-up golf cart borrowed from the Los Angeles police.

Jersey barriers and metal gates are everywhere. Major streets are closed. Helicopters buzz constantly overhead. Major stations in the city's light-rail system are scheduled to be closed through the end of the convention.

One officer said there were reports that self-described anarchists are intent on causing trouble, perhaps even planning to physically prevent delegates from entering the hall.

Anticonvention activists have loosely organized events planned all week.

Van Wyk had his own concerns yesterday. After hours of protesting and marching, he yearned for something more tangible: a frosty beer.

"I don't even care what kind at this point - just cold," he said. "I'm so thirsty out here, man."

Scott Helman can be reached at shelman@globe.com.