Column: Trump’s speech was a dud. What does that mean for his campaign?
After all the buildup, you almost expected Donald Trump to walk on water to reach the stage.
But on Thursday night the Republican presidential nominee merely strode forth — before a Vegas-style backdrop of gold letters screaming TRUMP — and positioned himself in front of a colonnaded mock-up of the White House.
The Republican National Convention then sagged to a finish with a rambling, disjointed 93-minute slog of a speech that followed an evening of testimonials — about Trump’s record in office, his golf game, his taste in music, his dance moves, and a great many other Trumpian triumphs.
It not only strained credulity, but tested the physical capacity to stay awake.
Columnists Mark Z. Barabak and Anita Chabria took it all in before dashing to catch their flights home to California, that place haters depict as a stinking hellhole. They left behind these thoughts on the convention’s fourth and final night.
Barabak: This is the 20th national political convention that I’ve covered. I watched others as a kid and have gone back and viewed historical footage.
That was the strangest, most self-indulgent and worst acceptance speech I’ve ever heard. Your thoughts?
Chabria: So boring — and a wasted opportunity. Trump had such goodwill and faced an arena filled with wide-eyed worshipers. But he just couldn’t control his grievance and ego, despite throwing a dash of unity into the mix.
President Biden is ‘absolutely’ in the race for a second term, his campaign leader says amid growing speculation that he is preparing to withdraw.
By the end, I felt like even he was bored. After improvising for way too long, he ambled back to his prepared text, which inexplicably veered off into a Revolutionary War deep-dive.
But there are two big-picture takeaways for me.
First, this was a strongman performance. Trump simply repeated over and over that every problem, real or perceived, was within his power to fix (no details given). Immigration, inflation, even cancer. He promised to magically make it all disappear, while building an “iron dome” around the United States to protect it from missile attacks.
He even boasted that when he was president, “I could stop wars with just a telephone call.”
It became silly at some point.
My second takeaway is that bread and circuses — the Roman phrase for distracting the populace with spectacle — was in full force. We had Kid Rock, Dana White (head of the Ultimate Fighting Championship) and Hulk Hogan.
What did you think of that weird lineup?
Barabak: In the annals of political history, there will surely be a place for Hogan, who demonstrated — in case we needed any reminding — that the line between politics and entertainment have blurred to the point of invisibility.
That’s not new. Heck, we’ve had a reality TV star in the White House and he may be back in November for another four seasons.
The historically Black neighborhood of Lindsay Heights is only few miles away from the Republican National Convention. But the vitriol and partisan politics of the presidential race aren’t what’s on the mind of its residents.
But has anyone in the history of this great republic ever torn off his shirt at a national political convention to reveal, below his still-rippling muscles, a red tank top supporting the presidential ticket?
Nope.
“Over my career, I’ve been in the ring with some of the biggest, some of the baddest dudes on the planet,” the 70-year-old Hogan said in the growly voice he wields at stage villains. “Donald Trump is the toughest of them all. They’ve thrown everything at Donald Trump. All the investigations, the impeachments, the court cases, and he’s still standing and kicking their butts.”
But enough was enough, Hogan — whose real name is Terry Bollea — declared to the “real Americans” thrilling to his primal call. After the attempt on Trump’s life, Hogan urged them, “Run wild, brother! Let Trump-a-mania rule again!”
It was all good fun, if swagger and pro wrestling are your thing. Fiserv Forum was drenched in testosterone.
But there was a hint of menace when Hogan asked, presumably of those un-real Americans, “Whatcha gonna do when Donald Trump and all the Trump-a-maniacs run wild on you, brother?”
We saw what happened on Jan. 6.
From his box, Trump blew Hogan a kiss.
But let’s take a step back. The big question going in focused on Trump’s tone. He said he tore up his planned speech after Saturday’s assassination attempt and rewrote his remarks to deliver a less pugnacious, more harmonious and unifying message. Do you think he delivered?
Chabria: He had his moments, but they were few.
He began with an account of the assassination attempt that was subdued and genuine.
Then came the ugly.
He claimed that undocumented immigration was “killing hundreds of thousands of people a year,” though he was unclear what exactly he was referring to, and that immigrants were spreading “misery, crime, poverty, disease and destruction to communities all across our land.”
He also got one “China virus,” in there, and a few election conspiracies, including an ominous take on losing in 2020: “The election result, we are never going to let it happen again.”
At some point, with all the hate, looping and non sequiturs, it became hard to listen to.
Did you make it to the end of that speech, Mark?
Trump’s acceptance speech, making him his party’s nominee for a third time, culminates a week of worship at the Republican National Convention.
Barabak: I did, but it wasn’t easy.
The lack of substance wasn’t surprising. Trump has always been a once-over-lightly kind of guy when it comes to policy.
I mean, let’s face it. The ex-president is as much or more of an entertainer than a politician. That’s a big part of his appeal. And folks who go to his political rallies to be entertained are probably used to the kind of stream-of-conscience, discursive speech he delivered Thursday night.
Not so for most of those — probably the majority — who tuned in to hear Trump speak at length for the first time since he left the White House 3½ years ago.
He piled tangent upon tangent, and heaped ad lib atop ad lib — about Hannibal Lecter and Venezuela as a convention site and the size of crowds singer Kid Rock draws to his concerts, among other weird digressions — which pushed his remarks way past the attention spans of even some of his most loyal devotees. They could be seen streaming from the hall before he finally, mercifully, finished more than half an hour past his scheduled conclusion.
The long and flabby performance was, at the least, a squandered political opportunity. For those who hung in to the end, it was painful.
Chabria: But I also think what he didn’t say was notable.
The word “abortion” has not been uttered once this week. The Republicans literally sought to talk past one of the greatest political liabilities. We need to remember that Ohio Sen. J.D. Vance, the vice presidential nominee, has said he would like to see a national ban.
Trump has settled on the “state’s rights” response, but also appointed the conservative Supreme Court justices who undid Roe vs. Wade. He could easily create a national ban through executive action using the Comstock Act, a law from the 1800s that bans the mailing of any item that can be used for an abortion.
So not speaking about the issue was a craven play for votes. We shouldn’t forget that.
Anything else jump out at you?
Barabak: The effort to humanize Trump and smooth his jagged edges remained in full swing and at times was embarrassing to watch.
Several who’ve brushed up against Trump — business associates, people who manage his properties, one of his army of attorneys, a golf pro at a Palm Beach resort — took the stage to deliver assorted testimonials that were utterly fatuous when they didn’t fall flat.
Linda McMahon, the former pro wrestling executive who served as director of the Small Business Administration under Trump, told of a meeting where one of his grandchildren climbed onto his lap and mussed his hair.
And Trump was TOTALLY FINE with that!
Trump’s attorney in his hush money/election interference trial, Alina Habba, went on at length about the unfairness of his felony conviction before relating a moment during the trial when she was outside the courthouse, speaking to Trump on a cellphone. When a well-wisher near Habba hollered out, Trump heard the voice and asked to speak to his fan. And he did!
The wonderment in Habba’s voice suggested the loquacious ex-president had just turned water to wine right there on the streets of Manhattan.
The historically Black neighborhood of Lindsay Heights is only few miles away from the Republican National Convention. But the vitriol and partisan politics of the presidential race aren’t what’s on the mind of its residents.
John Nieporte, the head pro at Trump’s West Palm Beach, Fla., golf club, raved about Trump as a “great boss and helluva golfer,” exalting his game from tee shot to the putting green.
“Donald Trump: 21 club championships. Joe Biden, zero,” Nieporte said as though that settles the election right there.
It was about as emotionally moving as a cardboard box, as though a bunch of rent-a-pals were trotted out on stage and told if there’s something nice you’d like to say, choose the most banal thing you can.
Sad.
Chabria: It was, as you put it, like watching a Friars roast — just one obsequious testimonial after another. I have to admit, some of my favorite shots were the cutaways to Melania Trump and Usha Vance, whose body language was revealing.
Mrs. Trump’s face during the Kid Rock performance was one of pure endurance. And Mrs. Vance looked like she was questioning every life choice that led her to this moment.
Those two women, both strong and smart, were my favorite part of the convention.
Mark, what’s your political bottom line?
Barabak: I’d call it largely a success, though the event would have been a lot more successful if Trump hadn’t brought it to such a thudding close.
He had four nights — a chunk of them in television’s prime time — to put a high gloss on his presidency and disparage Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris. He launched his new running mate and mini-me, J.D. Vance. He fired up his MAGA troops. He showed that, physically at least, the attempt on his life hasn’t taken a toll.
(We’ll see how long Trump keeps wearing that super-sized bandage.)
That said, it’s unclear what kind of bounce, if any, Trump will get. Nothing seems to change the fundamentals of this dispiriting presidential contest, or move public opinion.
If Trump had stopped after the gripping account of Saturday’s events and walked off with some words of reconciliation and healing, he’d have been much better off. He might still get a big bounce. Maybe I underestimate voters’ appetite for long-winded incoherence.
But in the end, what happened this week on the shores of Lake Michigan may end up not mattering very much, given Trump’s consistent lead in polls and Biden’s dire straits.
It wasn’t necessarily a waste of time, however. The folks in Milwaukee were awfully kind and there was plenty of beer, sausage and pretzels. Thanks to you readers who joined us this week.
Now back to our Golden State.
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