Donald Trump's Coronation Was Long, Angry, and Strangely Coherent

The crowning of Donald Trump as the official presidential nominee for one of America's two major political parties was locked-in Thursday night to waves of feverish applause. The real estate developer turned entertainer turned politician lives by the maxim that any publicity is good publicity, so one can only imagine what was going through the man's brain as he stood on the stage in Cleveland's Quicken Loans Arena and promised to become the most powerful person on the planet.

As Republican delegates, alternates, and their guests stood to greet their new leader, Trump's face was difficult to read—even though his emotional range, at least publicly, tends to alternate between calm braggadocio and spectacular anger. But when Trump opened his mouth Thursday, and especially when he broached what his father would say if he saw him now, it was clear the scion was elated, reveling in the absolute greatest triumph of his controversial existence.

"Friends, delegates, and fellow Americans, I humbly and gratefully accept your nomination as president of the United States," Trump bellowed at almost ear-piercing volume.

Then he began a speech that was easily his longest to date. At an hour and 15 minutes, it was almost shockingly so, considering the candidate's ghostwriter recently claimed he has almost no attention span. (Trump is reportedly threatening him with legal action.) Mostly sticking to the script on his teleprompter, the Republican nominee delivered his most coherent, manicured, jag-free public performance ever. With almost no tangents, the 70-year-old hammered home refined versions of his campaign talking points: the importance of being ruthless in trade negotiations, the need to defeat the social-justice movement and win America's relentless culture war; the necessity of rooting out ISIS; the danger of scary illegal immigrants; and the desperate state of "law and order" when cops are under attack.

Now that there was no one else left for him to bully, Trump presented himself as a political savior. He was on the stage to stare into the eyes of the American people and let them in on some uncomfortable truths about life, and it felt like being offered a high level of scientology—like getting the Trump version of the Truth Revealed.

"We cannot afford to be so politically correct anymore," he said. "So if you want to hear the corporate spin, the carefully crafted lies, and the media myths––the Democrats are holding their convention next week. But here, at our convention, there will be no lies."

Of course, the crowd included a sizable contingent of Republicans who did not vote for Trump, and an even larger group who seemed to just get onboard this week. But when the masses started yelling "USA!" in unison for several beats, the candidate knew he had quelled any lingering dissent. It was clear there would be no further disruption, and Trump repeatedly joined their chant in a strange sing along.

Despite plenty of frenzied anticipation and hordes of reporters hungry for conflict, Trump was helped along in his quest by a notable lack of drama off the stage. From the beginning, the official parade route Cleveland drew up for protestors was extremely small and out of sight of the delegates––essentially in the middle of nowhere. As national tensions grew in the weeks leading up to the convention, people started getting worried that in an open-carry state like Ohio, forcing those from opposing ideological standpoints to march together could end in violence. Meanwhile, the ACLU expressed concerns about free speech––that no one would be able to see the protests. After a lawsuit, the city extended the route a little bit, but ultimately didn't make the (weak) turnout much more visible or impactful.

If tucking the protestors away and then getting them to abandon hope about even being seen was a trick to quell unrest, it worked pretty well. It didn't hurt that security around the arena was very effective even as police were almost disarmingly friendly and calm.

There was also the the norovirus outbreak, which surely spooked some attendees. And John Penley, a prominent organizer behind some of the liberal protests who came from New York to raise hell, grew extremely sick with some unknown illness that felled him for part of the convention.

The week's biggest drama came during a flag burning, and even then, fewer than 20 people were cuffed after that (constitutionally protected) action.

Whereas speaking lineups over the first three days in Cleveland brought a melange of B-list celebrities, athletes, and entertainers, Thursday was the day Trump got serious. Toward the end of the evening, people danced goofily to country songs as they got ready for the evening's closing hitters.

Tech billionaire Peter Thiel took the stage during one of the most coveted speaking slots. But for all the media speculation over the man who dreams of sea-steading and funded the lawsuits threatening the existence of a certain gossip site, few delegates I spoke to had any clue who he was.

Thiel's presence was historic, though—the last time an openly gay person took the stage at an RNC, delegates from Texas reportedly started praying on the floor. Despite Trump's own lack of apparent antipathy toward the LGBTQ community, this year's convention endorsed an extremely anti-gay platform, agreeing that not only was the party against marriage equality, but that it basically approved of conversion therapy, a practice so medically discredited as to be illegal in some states.

So when Thiel told this unfamiliar crowd that he was a proud gay man, as well as an American and a Republican, there was a barely perceptible tremor.

The awkwardness only lasted about one second before the crowd went wild again after the tech guru seemed to buy into the PC backlash, urging Americans to stop worrying about bathroom bills and start worrying about fixing the United States.

Greg Ned, a 32-year-old delegate from Louisiana, told me he wasn't shocked by Thiel's speech. After all, Log Cabin Republicans have been around a long time, and he says the Republican Party believes in individual rights. He added it was a convention of firsts, citing the fact that on Tuesday night, a Muslim speaker prayed onstage for Trump.

"We've also never had a buffoon take the stage before," Ned, a Cruz fan, told me, referring to Trump's pending finale.

Eventually, Trump's daughter Ivanka came out to introduce her father in what might have been the convention's strongest moment. Her speech was polished, and if Thiel's address was about making gays more comfortable, as well as courting millennials and Libertarian types, Ivanka's was meant to convince women her dad isn't a sexist asshole. Citing the number of female business leaders Trump has hired, she told the crowd he really believes in gender equality and always told her to dream big.

That charm didn't carry over to Trump's own appearance, though. Rather than glee, the room suddenly seemed full of fury, and the theme of restoring law and order was paramount. When speaking about reducing the murder rate in cities like Chicago and tightening our borders, Trump almost sounded like a military general screaming at the top of his lungs.

Curiously, the nominee didn't explicitly hit any key evangelical talking points like abortion, though he did promise to try and change the law preventing political donations from churches and other charitable institutions. Trump spent more time acknowledging his deviation from Christian orthodoxy, saying he "probably didn't deserve" the backing of the that bloc but was glad to have it. And when he called those who died at the Orlando Pulse nightclub shooting "wonderful people" and slowly, deliberately spelled out LGBTQ twice, he made a joke about the applause he was getting. "I have to say that––as a Republican––it's so nice to hear you cheering for what I just said," Trump told the crowd.

He also delivered a number of populist attacks on his last foe, Hillary Clinton. Riffing on the Democrat's "I'm with Her" slogan, Trump said he would be a champion of the downtrodden and forgotten whose wealth protected him from special interest influence. "I choose to recite a different pledge," he exclaimed in what might have been the most rhetorically powerful portion of his speech. "My pledge reads: I'm with you, the American people. I am your voice."

When it was over, Sharon Hewitt, a state senator from Louisiana, began texting her mother first impressions. She said that over the course of the week, she felt like Trump's family humanized him, and although she was disappointed he didn't talk about abortion, she was finally behind the man after initially voting for Cruz. She liked the talk of jobs and safety, and thinks that if Trump accomplishes half of what he said he would, America will be much better off.

Still, she seemed a little shaken by the speech's intense style.

"I think we saw a longer version of Trump than what we've seen. To me, it was kind of overstimulating," she told me. "It was like, he was kind of yelling the whole time. I mean, the whole time. But that is Trump, and he's passionate, and I think people like that."

As the balloons fell and the Rolling Stones's "You Can't Always Get What You Want" started blaring from the speakers, an Oklahoma delegate and his wife told me they thought the speech was the best they'd ever seen––period. A 53-year-old delegate from Colorado named Brita Horn added she felt Trump finally gave her what she'd been waiting for––a sense that the party was united.

"We've heard more than we've ever heard before," she added. "Oh my good gravy, it was a long speech. But we heard actual depth, not just, 'It's gonna be huge.'"

As delegates and media began streaming out of the arena, I stumbled across two men from Ohio recapping what we'd just witnessed. One, a Republican, said it was the best he'd ever seen his guy. His friend, a Democrat, reluctantly concurred.

"He was in control and staying on message, which is shocking to me," David Henderson, a 51-year-old self-described liberal, told me. "I think he kept it under control, and when he does that, he's dangerous."

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