During the '72 political conventions in Miami Beach (both the Dems and Reps held their conventions there) I had a long and interesting conversation with Allen Ginsberg, whose "Howl" was one of my favorite poems.
Aha! I was there as well, but only for the Democratic convention. My most vivid memories of that week are of getting soaked each afternoon in the inevitable thunderstorms and sitting up all night during the platform debate, drinking whiskey and becoming increasingly droopy-eyed with a more experienced colleague who had drawn the short straw and who consequently also had to listen to the loopy-left partisans peddle their interminable platform proposals at hours when the party leadership was hoping nobody except booze-drenched reporters would be paying attention.
I missed the subsequent Republican convention because another colleague, assigned to travel with George McGovern, had a last-minute family emergency. At four o'clock in the morning following the last day of the convention, I was awakened in my hotel room by calls, first from him and then from an editor in Washington, informing me that I would be flying out to South Dakota with the candidate. As a consequence, I was there to report the Tom Eagleton story. (For those of you too young to remember, Google it.) Not a bad introduction to political reporting for a kid. I really had no idea what I was doing, but I enjoyed every minute of it.
