by Catherine Hiller
Ultimately, it's all about the numbers. A demonstration can have inspiring speeches, gorgeous floats, and stirring bands, but to be successful, it has to attract many people. So I made it my mission to get the people I knew to come to the People's Climate March in New York City on September 21. I tried my best to get the numbers up.
Climate change is about the numbers, too: specifically the amount of carbon dioxide in the air, measured in parts per million (ppm). What is a safe ratio for a livable Earth? 350 ppm is an acceptable number, but it’s already 400 ppm. A big march could spread climate change awareness, prove to politicians that people care abou the issue, and possibly lead to appropriate action.
I kept posting on Facebook and Twitter. I e-mailed about 100 people with a personal plea. I knew that hearing about a specific plan can help people act, so I asked local acquaintances to join me in the first car on the 10:26 to Grand Central. I certainly hoped to recruit my best pals, but of six good friends, two were away, and the other four were mobility-impaired, with aching hip, keep, ankle, and foot. (Times like this remind me that my friends and I are well past first youth.)
I spoke to some of my neighbors. They shook their heads and explained that their children had soccer practice on Sundays. I thought it best not to share my thoughts. Let’s see: go to a possibly historic demonstration to save our planet and show your children what activism looks like versus soccer practice?
It was a perfect day for marching: cloudy and 70 degrees. My husband and I and our homemade sign waited at the Metro North station platform where the first car would stop. Not one person I knew joined us. I entered the train downcast. Once inside, though, I brightened to see other people who were going to the rally, strangers all, recognizable by their signs, comfortable shoes, and smiling faces.
A woman seated near me was there with her double stroller and blond twins. She was planning to push the stroller from Grand Central to Columbus Circle, where the march was scheduled to begin. That seemed like a long additional walk, so I told her we would help getting the stroller and the twins into the subway. I grew apprehensive when she told me another mother of twins would be meeting her at Grand Central. There would be four toddlers and two double strollers down the stairs to the shuttle, then across the longest passage in the subway system and down three long staircases to the C train. Could we really manage it? I was relieved when the mothers decided that, after all, they would walk, and I was grateful for their choice when we were on the crowded station platform at 42nd Street and could scarcely squeeze in to board the next train, where the press of people kept us upright.
We’d planned to meet the Clearwater contingent at 73rd Street: as they’d suggested, we were wearing dark blue to symbolize “a river of humanity.” At Columbus Circle, we were told the subway train was skipping alls tops until 86th Street. We realized we’d better get off the train and walk to the meeting point. When we emerged onto the street, we were dazzled by the crowds, and metal barriers made it impossible for us to go uptown. So we just joined in the throng and began walking on our own.
The crowd’s diversity was immediately apparent. This was not your average protest, with 60-year-old white people and a small percentage of college students. This was thrillingly inclusive, with people of all ages who had come from near and far. The SEIU was out in force, and indigenous people led the parade. I spoke to men and women from Buffalo and Wisconsin and California. I saw signs held by nurses and scientists, by teachers and young parents, by Teamsters and socialists, and by people primarily concerned with climate justice. I saw brown faces, black faces, white faces: happy faces, all of them. I did not see the celebrities who were present – Ban Ki-Moon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo - but a group of belly dancers with diaphanous veils shimmied alongside us.
I had the sense that this march was big, really big. To manage expectations, the organizations had predicted “tens of thousands,” but I was hoping for 100,000. That was the magic number for me. That would show people that although the age of vast demonstrations had passed, a number of people would still come out and rally for a bold governmental response to climate change.
Every so often I’d look at my phone. My cousin said he was at Columbus Circle at that moment. So was I – but it was far too crowded for us to find each other. Another cousin said hew as at 84th Street. This was especially satisfying, as for all my efforts, he was the only person who came solely because I had asked: he had been unaware of the march before my e-mail. In one single afternoon 10 days earlier, I had heard from seven organizations about the demonstration – clearly, I’m on too many lists!
We were at 48th Street and Avenue of the Americas at 1:00 for the minute of silence followed by the minute of noise: shouts and drumbeats and horns to show our resolve. People were leaning out of buildings, cheering us on. We passed two large screens showing huge crowds…in full sunlight, though the day was gray. I realized we were seeing footage of demonstrations from around the world – thousands of actions in dozens of countries.
I glanced at my phone and saw a text from my son, Jonathan Warnow, a founder of 350.org, and the executive producer of Disruption, a film made to rally activists before the march. He texted: “How’s the vibe? You with a lot of people? Tired? Hungry? I’m at 45th and 9th.” Fenton Communications had generously let the People Climate March organizers use their offices. I wrote back, “Very crowded, great vibe, but may need bathroom soon.” He texted back, “I have a bathroom,” and with that, my husband and I left the march to say hello to Jonathan.
In one room, about a dozen young people were tapping away on their laptops, and my son proudly introduced me to them: “This is my mother. She’s here to use the batheroom.”
“Thanks, Jon,” I replied. “Some day, I hope to introduce you to my friends the same way.”
Obsessed as always with the numbers, I asked Jonathan what he thought. 350.org had actually hired a crowd estimator (who knew this was a profession?), and when Jonathan told me his number I just shook my head. Fantasyland, I thought. I began trying to figure it out for myself. Fifty short blocks and seven long blocks. Call it 75 short blocks. If all the blocks were equally crowded at the height of the march, at, let’s say 1,000 people per short block (an optimistic number), that would be 75,000 people. A very nice showing, but nowhere near what 350.org’s guy had said.
We rejoined the march and lingered by the Chapin Sisters, who were singing songs I love, some by my hero Pete Seeger. Music touches the heart as few things can, and soon I was in tears of joy about this stirring and inclusive march.
But 310,000 people, as Jon’s guy had said? Nice try, but no way.
My husband woke me the next morning with the New York Times article about the rally. According to the paper of record, 311,000 of us were at the People’s Climate March. The group Environmental Action put the number at 400,000. Either way, it was the largest demonstration in New York since the 1982 anti-nuke rally in Central Park – and the largest climate rally of all time. What a way to wake up, and what a wake-up call for the leaders of the world!
Ultimately, it’s all about the numbers. The People’s Climate March was massive.
Catherine Hiller, a member of the Lower Hudson Group, is a writer and editor.