The 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention, as experienced by a 16-year-old suburban kid
About this blog
In the summer of 1968, I was 16 years old and living in a northern suburb of Chicago. On my birthday in July my father surprised me with a 35mm SLR camera, the new Minolta SRT-101.
I began to photograph everything in sight, using only black & white film: my family at home, burned-out cars, winos at the Wells Street Market, couples in Grant Park.
Then, pay dirt, and luck, intervened. The Democratic Convention came to town. Folding chairs by the thousand were being placed in the park next to the Art Institute, National Guardsmen were lolling about, the police everywhere - all in preparation for what everyone knew would be a massive series of demonstrations by anti-war politicos, students and Yippies from across the country. I was there...
