In March of 2016, Trump came to Kansas City for a rally. I was curious about it, so at the last minute I registered for a ticket online and made my way to the Midland Theatre where the crowd was gathering. I took my camera, of course.
Waiting for the doors to open was a long line of Trumpers, most of whom were decked out in MAGA garb, many of whom had been standing there for hours. Across the street was a huge crowd of anti-Trumpers. The police were standing in between, keeping the two groups apart.
The last time I’d been to a political rally was when Obama had come to town. That night was like a love-in. I remember feeling inspired, motivated, hopeful, happy, all warm and fuzzy. With like-minded people. Fired up, ready to go.
Positive change was so close we could all could taste it.
This couldn’t have been more different. The people on either side of the street grew more boisterous by the minute, shouting at each other, shaking their fists. Punching their signs upward into the late afternoon sky.
I walked around and took photos.
Then I managed to slip in front of people in line, entered the theatre and settled into a seat in the balcony. I had a good view of the stage and the crowd below. There were lots of families with young kids sitting all around me. The level of excitement had reached full throttle by this point. A sea of people in red were calling Trump’s name, chanting “U.S.A!” or singing along to the music that was being blasted from an impressive bank of speakers. It was deafening. I pulled out my hearing aids.
By the time Trump finally lumbered onto the stage, the crowd had been whipped into a frenzy. I remember thinking, these folks are acting as if a god has just emerged from behind the curtains.
I listened to him ramble on for a while, and then someone in the audience began heckling him. Trump launched into his GET HIM OUTTA HERE routine. People surrounding the guy started pointing at him, chanting at him, threatening his physical safety. Trump egged them on. Finally security arrived, and the crowd parted to let them through. The heckler was carted away.
I couldn’t take any more after that, so I went outside to shoot more pictures. The opposing sides had gotten louder, hurling insults and threats, and police on horseback had arrived to try to keep the peace. All it took was one person stepping into the street, the dividing line, and then all hell broke loose. Both the red team and the blue team flooded into the street and began yelling and shoving each other. The police used their horses to try to push the crowd back onto the sidewalks and then started spraying the crowd with pepper spray. The horses got spooked. They reared up, causing the people nearby to scatter.
It was a scary and unsettling experience. The rally that’d been scheduled for Chicago the previous night had been canceled due to the fear of violence. These protests and fights were nothing new.
But I’d seen enough at that point and left.
