25 March 2003
Chuck RichardsonPublic rally, private property—and please buy something on your way out
It seemed like an inside job from the very start, but its popularity soon caused the crowd of supporters to spill into the parking lot outside.
I'm not talking about the war, exactly, but the "I Love America Rally," or show, which was put on by Freedom Village USA at the Buffalo-Niagara Marriott on Millersport Highway in Amherst Sunday evening.
I say it seemed like an inside job because attendees had been told on a local AM radio station all week that they would be rallying support for the troops in the ballroom, which holds about 1,000 people. Rather than publicly braving the elements, the not-for-profit Freedom Village USA rented a ballroom with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a room that was equipped to handle a multimedia extravaganza.
The popularity part was obvious from the start. When I arrived at 6 p.m.— at the time the rally was scheduled to begin — the ballroom was already full and in lockdown, leaving those who arrived on time or a little early to gather by the hotel's employee entrance in the back. The parking lot was full and people were walking toward the Marriott from all directions. I finally found a legal parking spot at the curb right next to the hotel, having pulled up behind an elderly gentleman as he was turning off his engine.
"I don't think they'll bother us here," he said, as we got out of our cars. I presumed he was talking about the cops, not the criminal element. We were, after all, in the safest town in America.
We walked together around the hotel where the crowd was gathering.
"What I can't understand is all these people protesting. The war's started, for crying out loud. You've got to support the troops," he said. "Why do you think they're doing it?"
I suggested that there really weren't that many people for peace, that there were far more people here than at any of the local peace rallies I'd seen on TV or read about in the newspapers, and that the media covered them so much because the squeaky wheel always gets the grease.
"But there were 200,000 of them on Broadway yesterday," he said. "There all a bunch of liberals down there anyway."
I said nothing, but shook my head, as if sharing his puzzlement that so many people were duped into supporting Saddam. He then suggested that the real Americans were here today. I smiled, and then he saw the people he was meeting and bid me a fond farewell.
The crowd by the employees' entrance was large, maybe 200 people. A projection of the indoor rally was displayed on the side of a white motor home — it wasn't dark yet so the image wasn't clear — and the sound trucks from all the local news stations were parked along the curb, blocking the view to the live feed for most of those present. To "really" see what happened, these real Americans, who were stuck outside, would have to watch channel 2, 4 or 7, or read about it in The Buffalo News.
Not being able to fully participate, however, did not daunt them from waving their flags and holding their homemade signs supporting the troops. They, like the demonstrators at the peace rallies, were of all ages.
Not being able to see what was happening, I went around to the front of the hotel to the main entrance. As I tried to enter, two young men told me the indoor rally was closed and that I couldn't go in and that I should go back to the employees' entrance.
"I'm from the press," I said, and one of the kids responded with great enthusiasm.
"You're the man," he said, and he let me through.
I didn't get very far before reaching another checkpoint. The hallway leading to the ballroom was cordoned off. Again, I said I was from the press and again they let me through. I got to the ballroom and the doors were locked, but I could hear the crowd loudly singing "God Bless America."
Luckily, the doors had peepholes in them. It looked like a Republican convention conjugating with a fundamentalist revival, with some folks waving flags and others swaying to and fro with their hands in the air, back and forth as if they were fainting during a holdup.
I looked away for a minute, to see how I might get inside, and the kid who told me I was the man motioned and led me to a side entrance. Teenage boys from Freedom Village were providing the security with some assistance from hotel management.
Inside the ballroom, young men formed a ring around the proceedings, serving like ushers in a church service. As I entered, the Victory Singers — who were selling their patriotic-gospel CDs in the lobby after the show and at www.freedomvillageusa.com — were finishing a song I didn't know (though many in the crowd were singing along) as images of 9/11, soldiers in battle, President Bush and military hardware flashed across the large projection screen at stage left.
As the last note died away, the white-haired Dr. Fletcher A. Brothers, a popular radio preacher for TNT ministries, appeared on stage in a crisp dark suit, white shirt and American flag tie.
"I'm proud to be American," he said, to hoots and hollers from the crowd. The people outside rattled the walls of the ballroom with their approval. When Dr. Brothers acknowledged them, they cheered even louder.
Dr. Brothers then said many things, including: "We should have one country for eggheads [liberal intellectuals who oppose the war and the Bush administration's policies] and another for us" and "What about our freedom? It's time to put prayer back into the lives of our children. What's wrong with praying in school?"
He spoke of the America of his childhood, "when we were all Baptists, Methodists, Pentecostalists, when our children could walk or take the bus to public schools that were centers of learning and not war zones," with various shouts of affirmation from the audience.
After a couple pithy remarks about certain Hollywood stars who should become human shields if they opposed the war so much, Dr. Brothers led the assembly in the first of many patriotic prayers, thanking God for sending America President Bush, "a man who personally knows you."
Dr. Brothers then spoke of how he attended Bush's inauguration and said his wife was so proud that she cried the entire day.
"We sat right up there with him. Only a glass partition separated us," he said, adding, "I love that man." The crowd roared its approval, many shouting "We do too!"
After a few more songs, several more patriotic prayers and testimonials of how God's hand is guiding America, the anthem of the day, "Proud to Be An American," was performed by one of the members of New Life Singers, another patriotic-gospel group selling CDs in the lobby and on the ministry's website.
When the song finished, Dr. Brothers said a collection plate would not be passed. "This isn't about raising money today," he said. "But this rally is being videotaped, and once it's edited it will be available for $25."
I don't know what could be edited because it was a perfectly choreographed show.
Dr. Brothers' son, Jeremy, then performed a portion of his musical ministry to the accompaniment of a religious, patriotic and militaristic video playing on the big screen.
"We know that Christ's return is not far off," he said, adding that copies of his CDs were on sale in the lobby.
I left a little early. I was tired of the unspoken pressure to bow my head during the many prayers and applaud at the right times. There were no counter-protestors present, as there are at peace rallies. I doubt they would have been allowed. This was on private property, after all. The right to free speech didn't fully extend to everyone here, and that, I'm sure, was part of the plan. Had people tried to dissent, someone would have informed them that Freedom Village was "paying for this rally" and would then have had them escorted from the premises, where they might very well have been arrested for trespassing.
As I approached my car under the night sky, I heard the crowd singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." The old man who had parked in front of me had already left. An Amherst police officer drove by, keeping close watch on the parking lot. He didn't notice the cars illegally parked along the painted red curb behind me. Perhaps he didn't care. He was the only law enforcement officer, on duty, I saw during the hour of power.
Thank God there wasn't a fire or some other emergency, because I doubt the trucks would have been able to get close enough to do their thing. Terrorists could have had a field day.
No arrests were reported.
As I said, it seemed like an inside job from the start.
The funding for these events seems to be provided by a very right wing Bush supporter, the owner of Clear Channel Communications. See Paul Krugman, "Channels of Influence," New York Times, 25 March 2003.