Denver — By the time Obama took the stage, a grandson of Mexican immigrants had found a way to make a living again — and to sneak past security to hear a story that sounded like his own.
Jesse Orozco, an out-of-work plumber, had no idea he’d end up rigging the lights for Barack Obama’s acceptance speech of the Democratic presidential nomination Thursday night. He had no idea he’d find a way to sneak in, either, to share in the making of history.
It took some hustle and ingenuity to get there.
Orozco and his buddy Kimo Yore had been up since 5 a.m. Thursday preparing for the star-studded performance of the Democratic National Convention, where Obama would make history as the party’s first African-American presidential nominee.
In a last-minute dash to the stadium grass, they found a place in a historical spotlight — and saw themselves in the black man making history up on the podium.
Working as electricians at the INVESCO Field at Mile High stadium, they had hoisted giant spotlights from Germany to pour light into the stadium for the big event. Orozco was working on about three hours’ sleep. His buddy, Yore, hadn’t had much more.
A Race To Ground Zero
At about 7 o’clock, they were seeking to get down to Level Zero of the stadium, to slip onto the grassy field where Obama was set to speak.
“That’s where we’re going,” they said, leading the way to a cargo elevator carrying boxes of lemons. It turned out the lemons were going up, not down. The elevator went up, the grate lending peeks into the inner world of the stadium — a carpeted VIP level, and a kitchen where margaritas being mixed. Finally it stopped at Level Zero. We all had credentials to get to Level Zero; we just needed to find the way.
“Let’s go,” said Orozco, leading the way down paths he’d come to recognize over the past week.
Orozco came to know those passageways through a stroke of luck. He works at a commercial plumbing company less than 20 blocks away from the site of the Barack bonanza. Just when he was recovering from a two-month layoff, he learned that he’d be out of work again — his company would have to shut down for the week of the convention, losing him a week’s pay.
He wasn’t too pleased with the Democrats. “I’m going to picket,” he told himself. Then he landed the DNC electrician’s job, which paid three times more.
At the end of the hall, the passageway opened not to the stadium floor — where the nation’s delegates sat listening to a war veteran speak — but to a wall of law enforcement officers, all holding hands in a human barricade.
“Move back,” said a security guard. “You can’t go in.” Though we had credentials to get in, guard said the floor was temporarily closed.
“What are we going to do?” Orozco asked his buddy, whom he nicknamed “Jack.” The two met a week before, at the start of their convention job. They hit it off right away.
Orozco, 53, is a drummer and devoted husband of 29 years. Toughened by a life of hard labor, he plays the calm elder. Yore, a wiry, pony-tailed man a couple decades younger, bounces around with frenetic energy. They spent the morning working, and the afternoon cruising around the premises, dishing for celebrities.
“Stay calm, Jack,” was Orozco’s refrain to his new counterpart.
As the time neared to Obama’s grand entrance Thursday night, though, even Orozco got his heart rate pumping. A night like this comes once in a lifetime, Orozco said. Born in Chicago, he was 12 when the 1968 Democratic National Convention rolled through town. He remembered it only through a child’s eye.
Ever since he heard about Obama on Oprah talking about helping the poor, he’s been inspired by the man. It would be his first and probably only convention, and first chance to hear the man speak, on a history-making night.
The pair had rehearsed the moment. After the stage was set the day before, they hopped up to the podium.
“I took a picture in the spot where he was going to be,” said Orozco. Then they switched, and Yore stood at the podium, raising his arms to an imaginary crowd.
“To us it was a special moment,” Orozco said.
Barriers Overcome
Led out of the arena by a security guard, the pair popped upstairs and tried a different tack — to enter the arena at Level One, then descend to the floor below.
“You can’t go down there,” said a security guard inside the arena.
“I’m trying to get to Ground Zero,” protested Yore. “We’re production. We’ve gotta report to work.” A woman on a walkie-talkie sent them back inside.
After taking a lap around a crowded ring of hot-dog stands and talk-show hosts, the duo found the golden door. Orozco ran, feet flying, down a flight of stairs.
“You’re holding up the line, Jack!” he cried as he disappeared below. They found a side entrance and marched out onto the floor.
“Yeah!” exclaimed Yore, embracing as we entered the grand ground floor, a grassy field full of delegates and TV cameras.
There everything felt different.
“It’s cooler down here,” noted Yore. A pleasant breeze blew. The loudspeakers echoed in surround sound. Above in the stands, 76,000 people blended into a sea of flags.
“All these lights, we installed,” said Yore, sweeping his finger around the . “Just wait ‘til they go on — it’s going to be great.”
Yore resumed what he’s been doing the past few days, with remarkable success: Hunting for celebrities to take his picture with.
“Keep your eye out, Mickey Hart is here somewhere,” he said. He’d already posed with Stevie Wonder, actress Jessica Alba, singer Michael McDonald and spoken-word performer will.i.am.
He stopped to pose with Celebrity Number 5, the Reverend Al Sharpton (pictured).
Then all fell to a hush. Obama was on the screen. In a videotaped message, he talked about growing up with a single mom, as his dad abandoned the family, separating from his mom at age two, then dying in a car crash at an early age. He talked about the struggles his mother went through, raising a family on her own.
A Thrill I’ve Never Felt Before
The speech hit home for Orozco.
“I lost my father, too,” he leaned forward and whispered. His dad used to work at a Sara Lee factory in Chicago, making bread. One day he didn’t come home. He died in a car crash, leaving behind eight kids.
Orozco was only 12. The second-oldest child, he had to start working to support the family. He cut lawns, cleaned basements, took on any work he could. After that, he never stopped working. For 25 years, he built buses as a welder in southern Colorado, pulling 14-hour days for a starting wage of $4.50 an hour.
The grandson of Mexican immigrants, Orozco said he’s devoted to steering his kids towards something he never had — a college education. He works hard to support two sons and one daughter, a white baby he adopted from a mother who was addicted to crack.
“I know what it costs to make the American dream,” he said.
As Obama told his story to a hushed crowd, Orozco listened closely.
“I never was much for paying attention in school,” said Orozco, “but there’s a thrill, an excitement in the air that I’ve never felt before.”
After telling his story, Obama swung back at his Republican opponent for calling him an arrogant celebrity.
“I don’t know what kind of lives John McCain thinks that celebrities lead, but this has been mine,” Obama said. “These are my heroes. Theirs are the stories that shaped me. And it is on their behalf that I intend to win this election and keep our promise alive as President of the United States.”
Towards the end of his speech, Obama returned to a refrain of his campaign, that he is giving voice to a sweeping movement for change that happens from the bottom up.
“This election has never been about me — it’s about you,” the Illinois senator said.
Orozco clapped, his attention rapt.
Yore let a tear well up. “I’m such a softie,” he admitted, “I really am.”
“Cool it, Jack,” said Orozco.
Obama’s acceptance speech ended in a burst of confetti, music and fireworks.
Orozco quietly took in the scene, looking aloft with wonder. “The crescendo, the music, it’s something final. I can’t find the words … to think, he will be the first black president.”
Yore threw a handful of confetti to recreate the moment and snap a photo of his friend.
The red, white and blue pieces settled back down to the ground.
“This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me,” reflected Orozco as the two walked back to work. They would be at the arena until after midnight breaking down the lights.
Orozco said he knew the candidate had said a lot of things he wanted to hear.
“I want to see him follow through with what he said he’d do, especially with the economy,” Orozco said. “I hope he is going to help the middle class.”
After the crowd left the arena and the politicians flew out of town, Orozco would have to go back to his plumbing job. “On Monday, the honeymoon is over,” he said. “It’s back to reality.”