DALLAS—What impression did Republicans at the GOP midterm convention have regarding President Donald Trump’s proposal to send every American adult a $5,000 check? I set out to discover it.
I made substantial headway, yet I wound up with essentially nothing to show for it.
That’s because, when I reached the floor of the convention—where reporters typically gain access in short, fifteen-minute windows to question attendees—a couple of us were folded into the photographer escort. We didn’t know what that would involve. In practice, it meant we were hustled to the front and seated as close as possible: on the literal floor, right behind the Plexiglas for Vice President J.D. Vance and President Donald Trump as they spoke. On the surface, it represented the best access the event could offer. It also meant we could not take advantage of it, since we were instructed to remain still and silent. (“Don’t look at anyone too long, either,” someone joked as we were ushered onto the floor.)
During the lull between Donald Trump Jr. and Vance, a couple of us pressed on anyway. “I think [the $5,000 proposal] is going to mobilize a lot of people who might otherwise skip the polls and head to the voting booth for a Republican outcome,” Anya Tynio, a Vermont Republican who has run for Congress multiple times, told me. “Five thousand dollars helps a lot of people with many essentials. It buys groceries. It pays bills.” Did that imply Republicans would counter socialism—an idea that loomed large over the gathering—with a parallel tactic? “I believe socialism makes people dependent on the government constantly,” she said. “This is the government returning funds to us. So it’s a very different concept.”
A few steps away, I encountered Teresa Altemus, the first woman to serve on the Gloucester County Board of Supervisors in Virginia. “I know some folks who could probably use [$5,000],” she said. “But then again, you have some Republicans who feel it should go toward the national debt.” And where does she land on that? “I think it should go to the national debt,” she replied.
The organizers ordered us to stop engaging with people. The only other time I left my spot on the red carpet, where I was planted like a tiny ficus, was when a man sprinted down the stairs to my left, shouting and waving a Palestine-Mexico flag, a two-for-one protest in economic motion. “Well, my friend, if you love Mexico so much,” Vance retorted, “get your ass over there.” As he was pursued away, the protester tossed the flag into my hands, after which The Free Press‘ Audrey Fahlberg promptly and wisely instructed me to “DROP IT.” Is this the opposite of catching the bridal bouquet? Does this mean I’m destined for deportation?
Not yet, dear reader. Returning to my seat on the carpet, I found my access once again limited to watching the men right in front of me. Vance introduced the singer Lee Greenwood, who then introduced the president, as he had done on the first night. The rush Trump experiences from hearing “God Bless the USA” begs careful study.
Trump then rolled out his usual repertoire: Democrats bring death and misery. Pass the SAVE America Act. Vote for Ken Paxton even though I’m not fond of his appearance. This arena is the most crowded arena in history; there has never been a fuller arena. Down with the communists. Raise your right hand and pledge to vote in November. We will Make America Great Again. The operatic tenor Christopher Macchio graced the stage and closed the show in quintessentially Trumpian fashion: with powerful renditions of “God Bless America,” “Nessun Dorma,” and “All I Ask of You.” A diverse palette. The president clearly revels in a potent performance.
Macchio’s bright squillo filled the hall. Balloons cascaded as the crowd rose in applause. The mood crackled with energy. I’m still unsure how many spectators weighed the $5,000 proposal, but perhaps that wasn’t the right question to start with.
