The decision to head to Ann Arbor came suddenly. I had been mulling over showing up early for the late morning pre-set when I saw the social media post from a colleague who was joking about finding a “coveted parking space.”
Upon my arrival, there were throngs of police cruisers lining the street around the large park that takes up the block around the neighborhood's elementary school and senior center. Joggers were huffing past Washtenaw County's aging APC as police put the finishing touches on the outer security perimeter fencing that stretched up to the sidewalk. Little dogs worriedly scuttled past the snowplows, dump trucks and buses acting as a barricade.
Families were setting up grills and make-shift cocktail bars next to the lawn chairs in their driveways.
“We invited a couple of the neighbors over,” Anthony “Tony” Edelman, 46, told me as children stood on the lawn waving American flags. He and his wife had a perfect view of the stage, albeit past a row of fencing, bleachers, press risers, scissor lifts, and the assorted production crew members, security agents, campaign officials, and journalists zipping around.
“We could hear everything,” Edelman told me excitedly after the rally.
Being Ann Arbor, there were a lot of students from the University of Michigan waiting in line to get in. Some passed the time by playing card games, others by getting to know their new neighbors. As far as I could tell, nobody was littering on any of the finely manicured lawns — some of which were being serviced as people waited in line.
A group at the front of the line told me they began waiting in line at around 8 a.m. It didn't matter that they'd stood there until the security screening gate opened 4 p.m. Nor did it matter to the people several blocks away who'd only been waiting since 1 p.m. They wanted to show their support for Vice President Kamala Harris, and her running mate, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz.
Things didn't really commence until the perpetually on-fire Rep. Debbie Dingell came out and practically upstaged Lt. Gov. Garlin Gilchrist and singer Maggie Rogers. That's not derogatory to Rogers or the lieutenant governor, who gave powerful and engaging speeches and performances, respectively, it's that Debbie Dingell is an unwavering force of nature who will make sure you've heard every damn word she said.
By the time Walz and Harris took the stage, nobody was paying attention to how much the temperature had been dropping over the last few hours. Warmth from the thousands of elated bodies heated up the thousands packed into the highly secure bowl of on-lookers.
I myself spent their speeches wandering around from spot to spot, desperately trying to get a few decent frames that didn't feel boring.
Early in Harris’s speech, a gaggle of Abandon Harris supporters who’d snuck in started chanting rather inaudibly. There were about a dozen of them, and I just happened to be the only person standing anywhere near them.
Pro-Tip: If you're attempting to attract the attention of journalists and photographers, don't start shouting a complicated slogan from a far, darkened corner in the middle of a keynote.
I recognized a few of the faces from the last time people affiliated with the group tried to pull a stunt in Romulus a few months back. At the time, Harris had infuriated them, quashing their interruption — as she had in 2020, when Vice President Mike Pence tried to speak over her — with, “Excuse me, I'm speaking.”
“Hey, guys, I hear you,” Harris addressed them as they were escorted out. “On the subject of Gaza, we all want this war to end as soon as possible and to get the hostages out, and I will do everything in my power to make it so.”
Now in her closing message(s) of the 2024 campaign, Harris sought to draw a contrast by noting her support for the unions and middle class workers who have helped rebuild an economy decimated under the previous Trump administration. Harris noted her belief in a rules-based system of government, and noted that, unlike her opponent, she wasn’t associating with white supremacists and neo-Nazis. It’s expected that this may be Harris’s last trip to Michigan.
Towards the end of her speech, I just happened to be standing over by the cut-riser. I’d been trying to find some natural framing, or get something that could show the thickness of the ballistic glass on either side of the podium. With the head-on riser packed full of camera crews (some of whom needed a lesson in manners and professional courtesy), I was determined to work with what I had.
A campaign staffer had grabbed my shoulder from behind, asking if I was part of the travel pool or local press, and if wanted to go up on the scissor lift.
”No, I’m international,” I said, “And, I’ll take whatever you’re offering!”
A colleague who’d been promised lift access had found they would be the only person, so they insisted that the staffer quickly grab two or three other photographers to share the lift. My colleague was extending a professional courtesy, and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
“Hold on,” the lift operator said, as we were slowly thrust into the sky from behind the bleachers and lighting trusts. We were suddenly being blasted by the roar of the crowd and Beyoncé’s “Freedom” as Harris and Walz worked the rope line far below. It was a spray-and-pray situation, where you do your job as best you can. There’s little time to adjust your settings, you just kind of hope everything develops all right when the machine, swaying gently in the cold, night breeze, brings you back to earth.
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I'm really enjoying having a photographer covering these events. The pictures are both calming and uplifting.
A much needed break in the insanity.
We were somewhere on the edge of Ann Arbor when the drugs began to take hold…