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9/1/2004

Report from NYC on the RNC!!!

CLICK HERE to see the video.

As I left Columbus Friday morning on a small commuter plane I was still pleased over an early-morning e-mail. United for Peace and Justice had posted word that Super W’s sidekick, Bloomboy, had condescended to let the Uke Man & his Merry Plunkers do their thing marching down Broadway – if not within the pastoral confines of Central Park – at least we wouldn’t be heading toward the Westside asphalt Purgatorium preferred by Hiz disHonor.

On the way from LaGuardia to my friend Ron Hester’s apartment in Brooklyn, the cabby said more people were leaving town than coming, but I figured the majority of protesters probably wouldn’t be flying in (maybe “Billionaires for Bush”).

Rested a bit at Ron’s and was off to the Fez under Time Café for “Dubya’s Ukulele Farewell Party.” It was a nice place, big enough for three hundred people – small enough to be intimate.

To a packed house sixteen different ukulele acts performed - including Peter Stampfel, Songs from a Random House, Carmaig DeForest, Sonic Uke, “Ukulele” Lloyd Gold, Roger Greenawalt, Heather Lev, The Hoppin’ Haole Brothers, Patsy Monteleone, Uke Jackson, Skizz, Kirk Kelly, the Whiskey Rebellion, and Michael Leviton – as well as the Ukulele Man. And we all had the pleasure of being introduced by Emcee-and star of stage and screen, Illeana Douglas.

The crowd was hostile – to Bush. They loved us and joined in throughout the night, especially at the rousing, we-are-the-world finale, “Glory, Glory Ukulele!” Recruiting calls were made from the stage by Ukuleles for Sanity and United for Peace and Justice. A man and woman sitting next to me signed up to march with the Ukulele National Guard on Sunday.

And I am proud to say that we raised $1070 to support the work of United for Peace and Justice.

The gregarious guys of Sonic Uke threw an after-show, night-long party on their 10th St. Manhattan stoop (check out their “Stoop Cam” at www.sonicuke.com). Apparently NYC is not Westerville, nor is the stoop Polaris.
Saturday found us in Brooklyn at Roger Greenawalt’s electric / eccentric / splendiferous “Shabby Road Studio” planning our part for Sunday’s march. Next morning at 9:00 A. M. we were back in Manhattan, on 12th street, two blocks south of the assembly area chowing down on FRENCH (!!!) toast at the Village Den. At 10:00 we were off to 14th St. and 7th Ave!

It took some time to even get close. People were everywhere – on the sidewalks, in the streets – assembling so as to eventually assemble in the “assembly” area. It took us hours to inch our way two long blocks and FINALLY cross the southernmost boundary of the official gathering area.

Along the way we played our ukes and sang – “Aloha George,” “Glory, Glory Ukulele,” “Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da – Bloomberg!”, and others – including spontaneous creations like “Evil Helicopter” and “It’s Hot and Humid / the President’s Stupid.” People looked at us and smiled. Many joined in the singing. We started handing out kazoos like crazy, and the ranks grew.

In the midst of the overwhelming throng, we kept together pretty well as we inched our way toward Gomorrah, and five hours after leaving the Den we reached the Garden.

It was a striking moment. Even in that heat the crowd seemed to physically thicken; and an unanticipated, cold seriousness crushed the levity that had kept us trudging through the sweat and fatigue.

All eyes turned to the left, to the Garden, casting dark curses. The eyes were angry, and mouths became angry too. Fingers joined in – dainty fingers, gnarled fingers, large and small, young and old, supple and arthritic – eloquent fingers signing the truth to power.

Later someone set our fellow marcher, the cheeky Green Dragon, on fire, but by then we were all on fire.

Hello August '03 / Hello July '03 / Hello December '03 / Hello March '04