This move of the 2008 Democratic Convention to an outdoor venue for the Nominee’s acceptance speech isn’t the first time it has occurred.

I know; listening to old people ramble on about the olden times isn't nearly as kewl as making snide remarks about how shady all the politicians are, but there was a time once when hope wasn't such a joke and being audacious was viewed as a positive. As it happens, I remember it well.

The 1960 Democratic convention was in Los Angeles, and at the time it was the biggest deal you could imagine. Change was the thing, a pushing aside of the older generation in favor of younger people with high ideals and bold intentions. The country was under threat not from people with Kalashnikovs living in caves but from nuclear annihilation, the very real all-pervasive fear that at any moment death could rain down from the skies and we would all be turned to cinders. Easy now to look back and see that fear as exaggerated, but at the time it could not have been more real.

The country was coming apart internally as well, with civil unrest from black men who had served in World War II and Korea and put their lives on the line for this country and for freedom, who thanks to the insistence of the Delegates to the 1948 Democratic Convention and under the sometimes uncertain but eventually determined leadership of another Southern Democrat had gotten for the first time a real taste of freedom and equality and were damn sure not willing to go back to the old days of Jim Crow and segregation, men who were angry and knew all about how to organize and how to shoot and kill.

From women too, who had stepped up and done as well as any human being could in the factories and mills of America during the war years were now being told by those in power that they didn’t have what it takes to move into the offices and boardrooms, that they should go back to their little houses and cook and clean and birth babies and be grateful they had a big strong man to take care of them; they weren’t having any of that either.

The country had a choice to make, to stay with the old ways and foot-drag along, clinging bitterly to the way things had been for as long as anyone alive could remember, or to step into the future and embrace the changes that many of us saw as inevitable, changes that would be devastating if they were not managed but uplifting and ennobling if they were seized and directed.

Richard Nixon was the known quantity, stay-the-course-all-will-be-well, status quo, the “safe” alternative. The other fellow, a little-known, inexperienced Catholic (and you know how “they” are), was the risky choice, and with his talk about hope on the one hand and duty and responsibility and sacrifice on the other seemed to be asking Americans to give more than they might immediately get, to invest in a new way of thinking, a new way of communicating, and to set aside established practice and a backwards focus to share the risks of an uncertain future.

I listened to the roll call of the states the night Kennedy was nominated, on a homebuilt transistor radio while sitting in the Vistadome of an east-bound passenger train. When it was over and I came back downstairs to tell my parents, all of the adults in the car gathered round and listened to every word I had to say, asking questions about how it sounded and how loud the applause was.

By the next day I was at an Uncle’s house in Wisconsin, doing chores and, as they said, “being useful.” But work was suspended when it came time for Kennedy’s acceptance speech, and to suspend work on a dairy farm is a very big deal indeed.

We all gathered in the living room, my uncles and grandfather in chairs with their big calloused and cracked hands held together as if in prayer, the women together in the kitchen and in the doorway, the static reception turned up loudly enough for all to hear and the children seated on the floor and no-questions-about-it firmly shushed.

These hard-working, sweat-of-their-brow, no-nonsense hard-headed Scandinavians hung on every word, an occasional grunt, a nod of the head, a leaning forward when he spoke of what he was asking of us all, and as soon as it was over there was a shuffling and a rising and with little fanfare we all went back outside to pick up the evening chores.

Other than work, nothing was spoken of that night and the next day but discussion of what Kennedy had said and what it might all mean. There was a sense of hope, recognition that there would be a lot of work involved to make things right, and not one complaint about the needfulness of either of those. But then, being farmers, they knew all about the necessity of hope and hard work.

Kennedy was nominated in the LA Convention Center, a closed arena. But he saw as his challenge the rousing of an entire nation and chose to move the acceptance speech outdoors to the Los Angeles Coliseum. Seating then just over 100,000, the delegates adjourned from the hall and moved outside to sit with 75,000 everyday citizens who for the first time ever could see and be physically present for an event that would change the destiny of the country and the world, in ways that as it turned out were both good and bad.

He was criticized for that decision, some called it grandstanding, some imperial, and some raise the Nuremberg images but most were entranced at the idea that someone on the verge of personal greatness cared enough about the “symbolism” of the moment to open it up and embrace the citizenry. It was, I suppose, because we had hope, and because we admired his audaciousness.

Kennedy gave a hell of a good speech that day. His inaugural gets high praise, and deservedly so, but this short exposition is one that should be widely listened to as well. He hits every note pitch-perfect, his cadences those of a preacher more than a politician. Take a moment if you will and listen; anyone who aspires public speaking or indeed any form of communication can learn something from Jack Kennedy.

The audio quality is poor, so read the text first and you won’t miss anything. Then listen to the rhythm, the nuance, the strength and the focus that he brings. The message that he delivers was not a welcome one, no one wants to be told they will have to work harder and sacrifice, but phrased the way he does it, with an appeal to – rather a sure confidence of – our better selves and our nobler intentions, not even the most cynical among you can fail to be uplifted.

Here.

[Before anyone pops off with “But Obama is no Jack Kennedy” that line has already been used in a much more devastating setting; you can’t use it again here and even come close so don’t try.

This is now, not then, and Obama is who he is and not someone else, for certain, but Jack Kennedy too was primarily a centrist with conservative leanings and a liberal mind and also a flawed human being. Overall his administration got off to a shaky start and he made nearly as many mistakes as good judgments, but he got the big issues mostly correct and tried to do right for the American people.

Symbolism is not always bad, nor is every public display of commitment on the national stage a precursor to totalitarianism. Who ever the nominee may be, I hope the Convention goes off smoothly and the acceptance ceremony is spectacular and then the Democrats kick the Republicans the hell out of office everywhere. Damn every “R” there is to hell and gone.]