It was all about the speech. Kamala Harris’s address to the Democratic National Convention in Chicago was a now-or-never moment that would either supercharge her bid to become America’s first woman president, or prove the doubters correct. Make history, or be history.
But the balloons mattered too. Convention lore has it that an unsuccessful balloon drop spells failure ahead. It’s like Groundhog Day, but with balloons.
In 1980, the balloons for Jimmy Carter got stuck in the nets. He went on to lose the election. In 2004, John Kerry’s red white and blues puttered out in dribs and drabs.
A stray microphone picked up the mayhem backstage. “Go balloons, go balloons! Why the hell is nothing falling?” screamed the convention producer. Kerry lost the election.
In the event, the convention gods smiled on Harris, giving her a dream ending to a pinch-me few weeks. Some 100,000 balloons poured from the ceiling. At one point it seemed there might have been too many and a Spinal Tap moment was on the cards, but the deluge stopped just in time.
The balloon drop, like Harris’s policy-lite and personality-heavy speech, passed the test. Harris will never forget being in that cauldron of light and sound, nor will any of the thousands of delegates and media present. I know because once upon a time I was granted access to the magic kingdom that is the party convention.
At the start of 2004, Mark Douglas-Home, then editor of The Herald, asked if I wanted to go to the conventions in .