Outside the "blue room," as it is called, Jerry Falwell, his face caked in makeup, tries to walk down a hallway leading to the Republican National Committee. A security guard named Jim, who has long hair that probably reminded Falwell of something a little uncomfortable, stepped in front of him. In no uncertain terms, Jim says "No." "Ok, then," says Falwell, and he leaves. The guard's partner, Greg, comes walking up. "Boy, you ain't gonna be in Jerry's prayers tonight, Jim." To which Jim replies, "Not the first time."

Falwell passes Gov. Christine Todd Whitman on his way in. I don't think he recognized her. There are about ten people in front of Whitman. They are white. Behind them, two black security guards stand chatting. Whitman ignores the white people, and walks to the black people. "I bet she's telling them that she's nicer than she was in that photograph," says someone standing next to me.

A few steps away, an affiliate television station reporter is staring at William Baldwin (who is rather tall and sort of good looking)--ignoring the pleas of a nearby state chair desperately seeking media attention. Claire Shipman of NBC News thinks about a first question to ask Baldwin. What pops out is, "Will you be staying all week?" Shipman is distracted by lots of young, female delegates who are pawing and pushing and pouting. It is sort of funny.

And now I can't get off the floor. Gerald Ford (who we would later learn had just suffered a stroke) is about to take his seat. Secret Service agents and red-shirted First Union Center security guards are blocking my way. I use to like the Secret Service, but now I am annoyed.

And I am even more annoyed by Philadelphia's finest, who are dressed in their finest, who have lapel pins and plastic ear coils and who don't hold a candle to the Secret Service when it comes to politeness, tact and physical fitness. But I love the cops. I mean, they stood their ground this week when zany and stupid protestors tried to provoke them.

As I am sorting out this digression, in the hall, the Republicans are speaking. Many of them aren't white. Most of them aren't white men. White men are tokens, tonight.

Outside the hall, thousands of demonstrators think the Republicans--not the token white males on the platform, but the 82 percent of audience which is them--don't care about them and their causes.