As the Whole World Watched: Protest, Action, and Violence in Chicago during the 1968 Democratic National Convention

“And throughout the week, signs of the mightiest show of force for any political convention in history will be evident to Chicagoans in other parts of the city.”¹ It was 1968, and the Chicago Tribune reported on the security measures put in place for the four days that the city would host the Democratic National Convention. From August 26 through August 29, the nation’s—and the world’s—attention would focus on Chicago as the Democratic Party officially announced a presidential nominee, incumbent Vice President Hubert H. Humphrey, and his running mate, Senator Edward S. Muskie. Nationwide, the United States’ role in the Vietnam War was a critical and divisive issue. Locally, Chicago, like other cities, was still trying to contextualize the April 4 assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and a moment within the civil rights movement where, despite sweeping legal and social changes, disenfranchisement and racism was still widespread.

Fifty-six years later, the Democratic National Convention returns to Chicago from August 19 through August 22, and to a city that in many ways would have been familiar to the delegates, politicians, protesters, marchers, and media that gathered in 1968. The sites that the public would have had access to, or where significant protests occurred, have changed little since anti-Vietnam War demonstrators chanted “the whole world is watching.”

Over half a century ago, the “mightiest show of force” would center around the International Amphitheatre, the venue for the Convention. Built to house the International Livestock Exhibition in 1934, and aptly located at the northeastern edge of the Union Stock Yards at 42^nd Street and Halsted Street in Canaryville, the International Amphitheatre was designed to showcase Chicago’s might as “Hog Butcher to the World” by providing a location where the nation’s finest sheep, cows, and hogs could be showcased, in a venue that could accommodate 10,000 people. The building was expansive and modern in design, with eleven massive, pointed arch trusses of solid steel, stretching two hundred feet across the arena. The International Amphitheater featured corresponding modern amenities, including air conditioning, and designated spaces inside for press and news media. As the meat industry declined by the 1960s, the International Exhibition would be utilized for sporting events and concerts, including the first season played by the Chicago Bulls in 1966, the Beatles on their 1966 US tour and then, in 1968, the Democratic National Convention.

Canaryville and its neighbor, Bridgeport, were defined by their association with both the Union Stockyards and the Democratic Party, which would supply Chicago with mayors from the same geographic area on the South Side in an unbroken lineage from the 1930s until the 2010s. The Daley family formed a political dynasty that included Richard J. Daley, who served as the city’s mayor from 1953 until 1976, as well as his son, Richard M. Daley, who served as mayor from 1989 until 2011.

Beside the International Amphitheatre was the Stockyards Inn, a hotel and steakhouse located in a rambling Tudor building where politicians—including the Daleys and presidential nominee Herbert Humphrey—would dine on cold vichyssoise and Chateaubriand, amongst furniture made of unborn calfskin.

A security perimeter spanning more than a square mile surrounded the International Amphitheatre, with checkpoints on arterial streets, VIP parking, and a helicopter landing pad. The majority of the 2,623 delegates would be arriving in chartered buses from the 3,000-room Conrad Hilton Hotel, four miles north in the Loop, at 720 South Michigan Avenue. Built as the Stevens Hotel in 1927, the hotel opened as the largest in the world. Inside, the hotel boasted massive ballrooms, and frequently held political fundraisers and business meetings alike. Facing Michigan Avenue was the Haymarket Lounge, named after the Haymarket Affair, a confrontation that occurred in 1886 when labor protestors, advocating for an eight-hour workday, clashed with overzealous police.

Delegates, politicians, and an estimated 4,000 members of the news media would descend upon a Chicago that included a newly topped off John Hancock Center, towering at the edge of Lake Michigan, but they would also see other tall buildings, such as Stateway Gardens and the Robert Taylor Homes, high-rise public housing projects that would have been visible on their route from The Conrad Hilton to the International Amphitheatre. Downtown, visitors and locals alike would have encountered shops, theaters, cinemas, twenty-four-hour cafeterias and bookshops, with many businesses catering to the convention crowd. Miller’s Pub and Restaurant on Wabash Avenue offered Spring Lamb à la Spiro Agnew, named after the Republican vice presidential candidate, running mate to Richard Nixon.

In March 1968, just weeks before the assassination of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., Mayor Richard J. Daley was on the defensive regarding the expectation that the City of Chicago would respond to demonstrations at the Democratic National Convention from a coalition of anti-war and Black power organizations by using war-like tactics. There will be “no abuse of power if the people will respect the law,” Daley claimed.²

On the evening of Thursday, April 4, 1968, Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot and killed while standing on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee. As the news of King’s assassination spread across the country, grief turned into rage, particularly within Black communities. On Chicago’s West Side, in Garfield Park, the weekend began with school walkouts and eventual dismissals, with businesses along Madison Street and Roosevelt Avenue closing to customers on Friday morning. Vandalism began along Madison Street, during the early afternoon, spreading quickly with minimal police action as the crowds grew and began looting the stores of merchandise. “King was our voice. He was the poor voice for the nation. He was taken away and what are you going to do? And he was the best of us. So we don’t know what else to do except act out the frustration of the enormous loss,” said Randall Harris, who participated in the uprising and shared his story in a 2018 article in the Chicago Tribune.³ As the afternoon progressed, offices and other establishments citywide began to close, as the unrest on the West Side grew violent. A 2 p.m. memorial service held in Chicago City Council for Dr. King coincided with Mayor Richard J. Daley calling acting Illinois Governor Samuel Shapiro to deploy the National Guard. The civil unrest continued into Saturday as Mayor Daley imposed a curfew for all residents of the city under the age of 21. By Sunday morning, the National Guard, Chicago Police Department, and federal troops had begun to restore calm on the West Side. Acts of vandalism and theft were minimal on the North Side, and on the South Side, along 63^rd Street at Halsted Street in Englewood, limited to white-owned establishments known for racist business practices.

The unrest had destroyed 260 stores and businesses, with 116 along a 20-block stretch of Madison Street between Damen Avenue and Pulaski Road. Another 72 businesses were destroyed along a twelve-block stretch of Roosevelt Avenue. While the focus was looting and vandalism, at least nine people were killed and three hundred injured.⁴ Bulldozers worked quickly to raze the damaged buildings.

A week after the unrest subsided, Daley issued a retrospective order, that police should “shoot to kill arsonists” and “shoot to maim looters.” “Obviously it was a fascist response,” said the Reverend Jesse Jackson, an aid to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. at the time, who interpreted the order to mean that police had more regard for property and “cans of food” than human life.⁵

A report on the events following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., commissioned by Richard J. Daley and developed by the Chicago Riot Study Committee and released at the beginning of August, condemned the “disorders which followed the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,” squarely laying the blame on the behavior of Black Chicagoans. “These activities did great damage to the entire city and brought serious hardships upon the affected communities. The riots were shocking events and solved nothing. Chicago’s black citizens, whether militant or moderate, should recognize that riots are destructive for everyone, including themselves.”⁶

It was within this milieu that the City of Chicago and political action groups were determining a path forward for the Democratic National Convention. In advance of the convention, members of both the National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam (MOB) and the Youth International Party (known as “Yippies”) met with the Office of the Mayor. These groups filed applications for assemblies at Burnham Park and Washington Park on the South Side, Garfield Park on the West Side, Lincoln Park on the North Side, and Grant Park in the Loop, as well as a request that the city accommodate demonstrations at the International Amphitheatre, in addition to other marches downtown.⁷ Conceivably to prevent a repeat of the unrest on the West Side, the City refused to grant permits for assembly on the South or West Sides, but permitted protests to occur in Lincoln Park and in Grant Park, where an assembly could occur within the park’s bandshell. Requests to organize a march or action near the sightline of the International Amphitheatre were also denied. Activists, including supporters of Herbert Humphrey, asked organizers to include an anti-war plank during the convention. That request was also refused.

In the days leading up to the opening of the Democratic National Convention, Mayor Daley announced that the National Guard would be activated during the convention, with the United States Marshals Service and the Chicago Police at the ready, ensuring that security for the convention would be the most thorough in political history.⁸ The decision to call out troops prior to any disturbance at the convention was heavily criticized as a potential way to provoke demonstrators, but was also noted as a recommendation in the Chicago Riot Study Committee’s report. The report’s results emboldened Mayor Daley, as well as the Chicago Police Department, to act with impunity, if necessary.

Across the street from the three towers of the Conrad Hilton Hotel, Grant Park’s centralized location provided a natural gathering place, and with protestors unable to legally access the area around the International Amphitheatre, provided them with an opportunity to be within shouting distance of the convention attendees while they were present in the hotel. A major civic and cultural landmark, Grant Park’s classically oriented promenades and memorials, including those to Christopher Columbus and General John Logan, would provide protesters with a visual allegory as they looked to exercise their first amendment rights that would be captured on film.

Just prior to the opening of the Democratic National Convention, the Yippies unveiled their own presidential candidate. Gathering underneath the Pablo Picasso statue in Civic Center, the Yippies nominated a pig named “Pigasus” as their nominee for president. “If we can’t have him in the White House, we can have him for breakfast,” commented one organizer. The pig was confiscated by Chicago police and the Yippies were arrested for disorderly conduct.⁹

Activists began gathering in Lincoln Park the weekend before the convention, with Allen Ginsberg speaking to a rapidly growing Sunday night crowd prior to a free concert by the MC5. Protestors clashed with police after violating the 11 p.m. curfew in the park on Sunday evening. As the convention kicked off in Canaryville, tensions climbed between supporters of the presidential candidates, which had shifted dramatically in the months leading up to the convention. Incumbent Lyndon B. Johnson had decided not to run for a second term, and Senator Robert F. Kennedy, after presenting as a leading candidate for the Democratic Nomination, had been shot and killed on June 6. Senator Eugene McCarthy, who took a stronger stance on the war in Vietnam and had a more liberal policy platform than Hubert Humphrey, accused President Johnson and Mayor Daley of influencing the vote.

On Wednesday, August 28, a crowd gathered at the Grant Park bandshell to hear speakers from the National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam, the Youth International Party, and the newly formed Illinois Chapter of the Black Panther Party. At the gathering, Chicago police would hand out pamphlets stating that while the bandshell gathering was legal, protesters had no permit to march or parade. As the speakers finished, David Dellinger, Chairman of the National Mobilization Committee, informed the crowd that they would attempt to march to the Amphitheatre, beginning ad hoc negotiations with Chicago Police to do so, which were denied. Sections of the group dispersed while others continued toward the Amphitheatre, and others toward the Conrad Hilton. As a group of protesters penetrated lines of National Guardsman and Chicago Police, they were met with canisters of tear gas and shoved back with nightsticks, to which the protesters retaliated. Two hundred and sixty arrests were made on that day, with the crowd not dispersing until 4:30 a.m.

The next day, Senator McCarthy addressed a crowd in front of the Hilton. After his speech, another group attempted to march to the Amphitheatre. Negotiations were again attempted and failed. Meeting the front ranks of the National Guard, they were pepper sprayed and pushed back with rifle butts.

While protestors did not hold back in their response to the level of force, police officers acted with impunity and were captured on film by the media beating protestors with batons in an unprovoked manner. Members of the media were not exempt from police violence. Neither were delegates or civilians. The level of violence captured and broadcast on television shocked viewers. Mayor Daley praised his and the police’s response to the protesters, while public opinion was divided on the use of excessive force, and predictably rife with police propaganda. After the convention concluded, Illinois attorney Daniel Walker published “The Walker Report,” drafted to provide the National Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence. The 400-page report concluded that the events occurred were a “police riot.”¹⁰

The Democratic Party and nominee Humphrey, perhaps damaged by the events in Chicago, lost to Richard Nixon in the 1968 election. On March 20, 1969, David Dellinger, along with Rennie Davis, Tom Hayden, Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Lee Weiner, and John Froines, colloquially known as the Chicago 7, along with Black Panther Bobby Seale, were indicted on charges of conspiracy to travel in interstate commerce with the intent to incite a riot for their role in the events during the week of the Democratic National Convention. Only Seale served jail time. Richard J. Daley was reelected for a record sixth term in 1975, only to die in office a year later. The International Amphitheatre was demolished in 1999.

The 2024 Democratic National Convention will be held at the United Center, with secondary business of the convention being held at McCormick Place on the Near South Side. Built in 1992, the 21,500 capacity United Center is home to the Chicago Bulls on Chicago’s Near West Side, on West Madison Street—the far eastern boundary of the area affected by the uprisings immediately following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1968. The United Center’s precast concrete and steel exterior is illuminated with bright graphics during game nights and concerts, its sea of asphalt surface parking lots full of parked cars, but when there are no events, the area conveys over fifty years of urban disfigurement that has gone unaddressed by the public or private sector. In July 2024, the United Center ownership group announced a $7 billion, privately funded plan to redevelop the area into a mixed-use district with housing and public amenities, a significant effort towards repairing the harm that occurred a half a century before.¹¹

Like the 1968 convention, contemporary activists are looking to be as close as possible to the United Center as the main venue for the convention. While permits were approved to allow marches within “sight and sound” of the United Center, protesters, specifically those marching against Israel’s actions in the war in Gaza, have called for a longer route, a request that a federal judge has denied.¹²

On August 13, 2024, Chicago Police Superintendent Larry Snelling stepped up to a podium emblazoned with the City of Chicago seal and stated, “We are not going to allow you to riot.” He continued, “Protesting and rioting are two different things. You have the right to protest, but there will be no rioting tolerated.”¹³ The patronizing tone taken by Snelling is both alarmingly clairvoyant and deficient in the historical perspective provided to Chicago by the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Per the US Department of Justice, “Officers may use force only when no reasonably effective, safe, and feasible alternative appears to exist and may use only the level of force that a reasonable officer on the scene would use under the same or similar circumstances.”¹⁴ Yet with the expectation that those that participate in acts of civil resistance will riot, with riot mentioned prior to protest, there is an establishment of a preconceived notion by the police that violent activity or property damage is the objective.

As the 2024 Democratic National Convention begins, streets have closed, and businesses both downtown and near the United Center have announced they will shut their doors for the duration of the convention. Vehicular and public transportation will be rerouted, and a security perimeter a quarter mile wide around the United Center as well as McCormick Place will be enforced for the duration of the week.

The protection of First Amendment Rights does not occur with a “mighty show of force,” as the 1968 convention has taught Chicago, but by allowing ample room—physically and theoretically —for protesters to protest where elected officials and the public can see and hear them, and in places that hold cultural or political meaning. In 1968, the whole world watched Chicago and looked away in horror and shame. In 2024, we have an opportunity to show the world how we have learned from the past.