A supporter of Republican presidential candidate and former U.S. President Donald Trump looks on as demonstrators and members of the The Coalition to March on the RNC hold a rally, on the first day of the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, U.S. July 15, 2024.Shannon Stapleton/Reuters
Less than 24 hours earlier, their man on the presidential ticket had clutched his suddenly bleeding ear and hit the deck, then rose again to punch the sky while the Secret Service bundled him off the Pennsylvania stage.
Now, on Sunday afternoon, Republicans were pouring into Milwaukee, where they’d always planned to be this week for the Republican National Convention, but where everything had suddenly taken on a different cast after the assassination attempt on presumptive nominee Donald Trump.
Mitchell International Airport had been festooned for the delegates’ arrival with red, white and blue bunting, posters for the new Ronald Reagan biopic starring Dennis Quaid, and Homeland Security officers wearing guns strapped to their thighs. Downtown, whole chunks of the city were cordoned off behind cement barriers or not-screwing-around metal fencing.
Turning Point Action, the political advocacy arm of conservative campus boosters Turning Point USA, organized a “Prayer Vigil for America” in Zeidler Union Square, Milwaukee’s oldest public park. The true target of the prayers was the background image on the poster: the instantly iconic photograph of a jowly, blood-smeared Mr. Trump seconds after the shooting.
At the centre of the park, in front of a bandstand that looked like Norman Rockwell had built it with his own two hands, Turning Point had erected a tent. Enterprise director Brett Galaszewski was at the microphone, beckoning the crowd like a preacher in the making.
“If yesterday didn’t make you upset enough, check your pulse!” he said. “If you’re upset about what happened last night, good. Get involved and do something about it.”
There were maybe 200 people standing around him, many holding hand-lettered signs: “PRAY 4 TRUMP,” “GOD BLESS 45 & 47,” “PRAY FOR PEACEFUL ELECTIONS.”
Mr. Galaszewski asked them to imagine what might happen if they all went back to their churches and urged more people of faith to go the polls. Then he nearly quoted Joe Biden, or rather Joe Biden’s father, who used to say, “Don’t compare me to the Almighty. Compare me to the alternative,” which is something his son now often says on the campaign trail.
“Unless it’s Jesus Christ himself on the ballot, there will never be a perfect candidate that you vote for. Do not let that rhetoric get you down from getting them involved,” Mr. Galaszewski told the crowd, though his non-perfect candidate was the other one.
Then they opened up the microphone to anyone who wanted to pray.
Chris O’Brien from Watertown, Wis., was first at the mic, with a gentle and conciliatory message. Scripture talks a lot about praying for your enemies, he said, but we don’t talk much about how our enemies “might just be people who are broken.”
“Yes, there are some that are out there to harm us, as they just tried to harm President Trump yesterday,” he said. “And no doubt, there are people on our side that might want to harm President Biden, but we have to pray for them.”
As he fumbled with his phone looking for a scripture passage, Mr. Galaszewski made a “let’s move this along” circular motion with his hand.
When Hilario Deleon, the Republican chair for Milwaukee County, took the mic, he said Saturday had underlined the “very stark difference” between partisan camps.
“One side, when something doesn’t go their way or something goes wrong, they go out and they riot and burn down cities,” he said. “Our side, we were angry, we were frustrated, we were emotional, we could have easily went out and burnt down cities, but we didn’t, because that’s not who we are.”
It was impossible to tell if Mr. Deleon meant only that there had been no eruption of unrest following the assassination attempt, or if he did not feel the Jan. 6, 2021 attack on the U.S. capitol by a Trumpian mob qualified as rioting.
The last speaker was Matthew Rust, chair of the St. Croix County Republicans. He had taken note of Psalm 47, because the next president will be the 47th:
“Clap your hands, all you nations. Shout to God with cries of joy, for the Lord most high is awesome, a great king over all the earth,” Mr. Rust read. “He subdued nations under us, peoples under our feet.”
Mr. Rust and his wife, Sheryl, had been driving to Milwaukee from Hudson, Wis., when they started to get texts about the shooting the night before.
“I’m glad we’re with other like-minded people and we can come together,” Ms. Rust said in an interview. “Because we’re stronger together – with other Republicans, other conservatives, patriots, people that love God, and we’re here to serve our country and to make it the best country we can.”
They were horrified by the shooting, but not surprised. There has been “really inflammatory language” for a long time from the left directed at the right, Mr. Rust said. “When the temperature goes up like that, and we demonize individuals in public, in the media, what happens is that dehumanizes them, and then people feel free to do what they did yesterday, right?” he said. “That’s not really a person – that’s an evil thing.”
On the question of whether they see Mr. Trump as a godly man, or if there’s some different consideration at work, they both pause.
“It’s different,” Ms. Rust says slowly. “But God can use all people.”
On the perfect velvet grass, someone had unfurled a portrait of Mr. Trump on a piece of fabric so big a kindergarten class could have had a picnic on it. On an easel beside it was a “GET WELL SOON” canvas that had been done up like a huge greeting card, every available blank space crammed with messages.
Several echoed the “Fight, fight, fight!” exhortation Mr. Trump shouted at the rally crowd after the shooting. “You were created for a time such as this. Stay strong!” one read. A third declared, “We will MAGA even harder now!”
The vigil closed with a song. John Puchner from Waukesha, Wis. stepped to the microphone wearing a MAGA 2020 hat, a Trump mugshot t-shirt and an ankle monitor on his left leg, hoisting his acoustic guitar.
“God bless America,” he began singing, and just a few reedy voices joined him.
“So Trump can hear!” Mr. Puchner shouted, and the crowd leaned in.
“...Land that I love. Stand beside her and guide her, through the night with the light from above,” they roared together, over the whupping helicopters above.
Editor’s note: A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that Republican supporter Chris O'Brien is from Watertown, New York. He is from Watertown, Wisconsin. This version has been updated.