Republicans gather in Cleveland with a high potential for chaos

Annie Yu is one of my talented young colleagues who is a social media producer for the Los Angeles Times. Her desk is right across from mine in the newsroom. I suppose I should have been surprised Tuesday afternoon when I saw her trying on a flak vest and helmet, but I wasn’t.

I had no trouble guessing what was going on. She was being fitted with combat gear because she is going to be reporting from the streets during the Republican National Convention next week in Cleveland. After I made some jokes to Annie about how I expected her to shield me in case of trouble, I turned to my editor and asked, “Where’s mine?”

I’ve been to most of the presidential nominating conventions since 1980. Generally, the biggest risk is eating too many hot dogs. This year might be different — perhaps it won’t be as bad as some people fear, but, then again, recent events in Dallas have proved that the worst is all too possible.

All modern conventions have attracted protesters. Security procedures, at least since 1968, have successfully kept the conventioneers sealed off from the folks in the streets.

In Cleveland, there will be a large contained area designated for protests. What is unusual this time is that the left-leaning activists who always are attracted to these events will be sharing the space with militants of a very different political persuasion. Black Lives Matter marchers and New Black Panther Party members will be bumping up against white nationalists, skinheads and people touting anti-abortion and anti-immigration causes. The combination of hot rhetoric, hot tempers and the hot summer heat might easily cause things to boil over.

Oh, and there is this: While squirt guns are banned from the protest area, real guns are not because Ohio is an “open carry” state. How’s that for insane?

Inside the convention hall, there is also potential for conflict if the large portion of delegates who are appalled by their presumptive nominee gather enough gumption to attempt a revolt. Supporters of Donald Trump would not take this sitting down. Chairs and bunting and banners could fly, along with fists.

One way or another, this Republican convention promises to be like no other. It already is notable for who will not be there. Ohio’s Republican governor, John Kasich, is not planning to show up, even though the shindig is taking place in his state. Numerous Republican leaders, including the last two Republican presidents and the last two GOP presidential nominees, are not attending. Key conservative political players are avoiding the event in droves.

Few in the GOP establishment are eager to celebrate Trump’s elevation to standard-bearer of their party. Veteran party strategist Jason Roe told Politico, “I don’t want anything close to the appearance of supporting Trump. This ship can sink without me as a passenger.”

Recent conventions have been little more than tightly scripted television shows — four-night infomercials for the year’s brand — with delegates relegated to the status of studio audience. Cleveland could be very different. Perhaps the lack of pre-planning will show (although there is finally a list of speakers — Sarah Palin is not on the list, but all the Trump kids are). Perhaps the lack of enthusiasm on the part of party loyalists will become obvious (and maybe break out into a full-blown “Stop Trump” insurrection). Perhaps there will be battles in the street unlike anything we’ve seen since the police riot in Chicago in ’68. (No squirt guns allowed!)

Or perhaps it will all go smoothly, and we will all be bored. That could happen too. But I still might want a helmet and a flak jacket, just in case things get too interesting.

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