Gustav sweeps away months of planning
Images of storm, not delegates, fill big screen
ST. PAUL - Hurricane Gustav has turned the ultimate scripted event into a blank canvas.
Political conventions in the modern era are meticulously choreographed shows - the order of speakers laboriously mapped out, speeches endlessly revised, camera angles carefully anticipated. But yesterday, the Republican National Convention was at the mercy of a story brewing 1,000 miles away.
At the
"A lot of the steam has blown out of this," said Bruce Albrecht, a member of Floorlayers Local 596, who has been helping to build the set for the last two months. "We're ready, we're ready, we're ready - and now we don't know what's going on."
All day, all eyes were on Gustav. Outside the convention hall, Secret Service agents and reporters and workers moving equipment on dollies stopped and stared up blank-faced at a giant television screen broadcasting Fox News Channel over the network's white tent. The screen should have been filled with scenes from inside the arena - delegates in sequined Uncle Sam hats and party bigwigs weighing in on John McCain's surprise vice presidential pick. Instead, the big screen was filled with satellite images of the storm splashed in red and orange and green. Throughout the Xcel Energy Center, too, reporters and camera crews stood cross-armed in front of digital flat-screened TVs, waiting for news.
Inside the arena, an image of an American flag rippled across an enormous high-definition screen behind the podium. High above the floor, among the lights, were huge bags of balloons that were supposed to fall from the ceiling after McCain's acceptance speech. They had taken three days to inflate, said a worker on the crew, but now it was questionable whether they would fall at all.
"What they don't want to do is look like there's too much of a celebration," he said.
In the hall, as camera crews filmed news reporters against the backdrop of the Louisiana delegation sign, a group of Boy Scouts practiced presenting the colors to open the convention. The scoutmaster, Jonathan Shaver of St. Louis Park, Minn., said he was told to keep "broad windows of time" open today because the convention organizers could not be sure when things would start.
The handful of local convention guests touring the hall seemed determined to enjoy themselves, despite the weather. Mark Rugnetta, a 14-year-old from Savage, Minn., who had won credentials by being the runner-up in a local newspaper essay contest on "What the American Flag Means to You," toured the hall with his parents. His father, Joe, said the family was a little disappointed that they would probably not be able to see the president, but Mark fairly glowed with excitement about being in the brightly lit hall.
"It's still a once-in-a-lifetime experience," Mark said.
GOP delegates, too, seemed determined to put as pleasant a cast as possible on the uncertain week.
Joan Dahn, a delegate from Burien, Wash., arrived at the convention hall decked out in her "Fourth of July duds" - red pants, a red-white-and-blue jacket with stars and rhinestones on it, even a stars-and-stripes handbag.
She said that she was praying for the safety of people on the Gulf Coast and that her delegation had begun talking about taking up contributions for the storm victims.
Organizers of the hundreds of events surrounding the convention quickly tried to adjust. The Distilled Spirits Council changed the name of its swanky "Spirits of Minneapolis" party tonight to "The Spirits of the Gulf Coast" and plans to donate proceeds to the Red Cross Hurricane Relief Fund.
Susan Milligan of the Globe staff contributed to this report. Lisa Wangsness can be reached at lwangsness@globe.com. 