January the 20th

On January the 20th, 2009, we coordinated a massive journalistic project to document Barack Obama's inauguration. More than 100 observers from around the world sent in detailed chronicles that documented the small scenes and seeming trivialities of the day. Predictability and punditry defined most of the media coverage of Obama's inauguration. By asking observers to notice minutiae instead of the dominant storyline, we hoped to cut through the reigning culture of staid soundbites with a revealing and surprising narrative. Thanks to an unexpectedly diverse and talented group of observers—1st graders in Colorado, a U.S. Army officer near Tikrit, a Kenyan journalist in Kisumu, to name just a few—we think the project exceeded its goals.

To view all of our observations you can CHECK OUT THE COMPLETE COMPILATION below or you can search the ARCHIVES by word or region on the LEFT SIDEBAR.

We took our inspiration from the Mass Observation movement, a group of 1930s British intellectuals who believed the most revealing way to document an event was to report the peripheral activities surrounding it. You can read more about the original Mass Observers by clicking on Our Predecessors.

Wellington, New Zealand(early morning EST, evening NZDT)

We roll into Wellington in the evening, about an hour behind schedule. My friend who lives there meets me at the station, and we head directly to the San Francisco Bathhouse, a club on Cuba Street that is hosting "an evening of music, word and dance to celebrate the inauguration of Barack Obama as America's 44th president." Clearly the hip place to be.

The line is out the door, two bouncers are turning away everyone who hasn't already bought a ticket. While we wait for our friend to come down with our tickets, people jostle and complain in myriad accents.

Inside it's hot and dim. A red-haired woman on the stage is singing "Obama, Obama's in the white house," clapping her hands and getting about half the audience to clap along with her. "There's a black man in the white house, and the white man's in the out house," she continues. We squeeze through the crowd and buy beers. I can identify only about five other Americans in the crowd, which seems to represent every age and every continent. There are punks, old men with ponytails, bleach-blond lipgloss girls. I pick out a few individuals: a Maori woman with her arm in a sling, a white guy with dredlocks down to his calves, a young American with an oversized T-shirt bearing a picture of Obama on it, above the word "PIMP."

We wind up talking with three other Americans, all of whom live in Wellington now: the gray-haired Chief Economist of the Ministry of Fisheries, his wife, and an IT guy originally from Florida. Onstage, a man in full African garb takes the mic. Earlier he had told a folk story about slaves flying to freedom, but now he's riffing on the inauguration. "This is a great day for a great son of Africa," he says, and then the music and the dancing start.

Camp Speicher, near Tikrit, Iraq (full day)

The day began as many do in the Army, unfortunately early and with a heavy dose of gay, specifically a two-hour brief from JAG starting at 7 a.m. It was, as expected, long, boring, and generally uninformative. The rest of the day, however, was looking to be quite the opposite, with a project site visit and the looming inauguration that evening. The trip to the project site was as uneventful as any convoy could be, the crew played the name game to pass the time, and I watched the passing Iraqi landscape.

At the project site, I was impressed with the work that had been done. Just over a mile of wall had been erected in order to safeguard American Forces, and three other buildings, large enough to support major operations, were all but complete.

Upon completing the site visit we went came back to the vehicles. Although our trip was not long, I was eager to get back home and finish the day. The return would have been as peaceful as the departure were it not for the threat warning over the radio. IEDs were in our area and large enough to do serious damage to even our well armored vehicles. Though the possibility of real danger was slim, the atmosphere in the truck acquired a level of tension that I had yet to experience out here. Fortunately, the possibility passed quickly as a following report put the threat several hundred miles away. Still, the truck stayed quiet for the remainder of our trip.

The end of day meeting was mercifully short, in deference to the inaugural ceremony that began at 7:30 p.m. I am fortunate enough to have a TV in my office, so I retired there to watch in peace. It is an amazing and powerful thing to watch history in the making. And in this case the anticipation was almost more powerful than the event itself, perhaps because of the uncertain future that lies ahead of us. But still it was a moment to behold: the elevation of an African-American to the nation's highest office. I could not help but be moved to tears at the knowledge of how far we had come and the cost we have paid to get here.

To mark the occasion, I followed protocol for such an event. During a ceremony when a soldier is promoted to a position of greater rank and authority, all present stand at attention in recognition of the significance of the event and the pride we have in our values and traditions. And so I stood to witness this defining moment in our nation's history even as my happiness was tempered by the knowledge of the challenges that lie ahead of us.

Highway 95 North (11:59pm)

Trio of semis trucking south.

Median of cement and forest, woods glazed with snow.

Cars and trucks: BMW, Lexus, Corolla, minivan, Escalade. Bumpers and back windshields coated in grit from salted roads.

Car trailor truck carries a Porsche, one busted Explorer and a new one.

Road signs: Bel Air, Aberdeen Proving Ground, Havre de Grace, Port Deposit, Rising Sun.

The highway is dry and white like bone.

Celebratory Dinner, Tucson, Ariz.(10:23 p.m. EST, 8:23 p.m. MST)

"What are you writing a novel about? A bunch of old people who got involved in politics eight years ago, even though they didn't want to, because some boob got elected? You know, I was there in the Civil Rights days, I was a part of that. And now, you know, well, your generation saved our butts. Never forget that."

Austin, Tex. (10:15 p.m. EST, 9:15 p.m. CST)

Six blocks away from George W. Bush’s former residence, the Texas Governor’s Mansion, a large picture of George W. Bush, framed by the words “Throw Your Shoe At Bush – Free!,” is being carried down Sixth Street. Along the way, people gleefully threw their shoes.

Red Line, Washington D.C. (9 p.m.)

Two girls chat. Between them they have 3 purses and 2 flip phones.

A woman looks through photos on her camera.

A couple with baggage.

A man thumbs his beard in thought.

A woman seated beside a discarded Sour Patch bag has very saggy skin and big eyes that rarely blink.

M.I.T., Cambridge, Mass. (7:30 p.m.)

The Student Center is quiet and relaxed, some red, white and blue streamers and balloons on the third floor the only things visible to remind the mind something momentous occurred earlier on. An alumna stops to talk about how her morning started: "I woke up at 8 in the morning, which was weird, because I never get up that early, but, you know..." and her expression brings to mind that unusual urgency that drove me from my bed to watch the ceremonies.

Hyatt Hotel, Washington, D.C. (7:30 p.m.)

Kitchen staff smoking cigarettes outside.

1: Vin?
2: That's my name. (Vin is the head chef)
1: We'll I'm glad to meet you...you cook that lamb we had, like 60 to 70 lambs last night. They was red, medium-red.
2: No, it's gotta be at least well done.
1: Yeah, when you see that red, you know.

3: I'm going out tonight and I'm gonna get druuunk. I'm gonna call off tomorrow.
4: You can't call off tomorrow.
...A woman walks by in a yellow and blue muumuu. "I know it's wild," she says. 4 makes a face.
5:  Know what I'm gonna do when they call me on the phone? Say ask or ignore, I'm gonna ignore!

near The National Mall, Washngton D.C. (2:05 a.m. to 4:20 p.m.)

2:05 AM – Students board coach bus that will leave from Adelphi University and head toward Washington DC, one female student is heard saying “…so I had to choose; miss work, or miss an historical event…”

2:12 AM – Bus still parked as students continue to arrive.  “Are we leaving soon?  The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there.”

2:20 AM – Roll call starts

2:25 AM – Bus still parked, people are talking, texting and reading Cosmopolitan, Vogue, and People magazines.

2:30 AM – Driving begins

2:35 AM – Passing out metro cards and contact numbers

Throughout Drive, most are sleeping and the bus is dark and silent.  Then beeps are heard and the driver inaudibly converses with a female voice over walky-talky, this continues for most of the ride.

 7-7:30 AM – As bus nears RFK station, the 50 people aboard the bus delegate turns for the one bathroom available.  “Oh were you next?  Ok, so I’ll just wait here.  Is it okay if I just sit here while I wait?” Upon leaving bathroom, to next passenger, “Be careful, it’s a pretty rough and bumpy ride in there.”

8:42 AM – Riding free shuttle to National Mall area.  Seats are full of items left over from previous rides, including boxes of food and plastic coolers.  A number of passengers are forced to stand.  Strangers sharing benches get acquainted, and many speak of the new presidency. “Martin [Luther King Jr] spoke, Obama ran, and we won” says one male passenger in the back.

 11:15 AM – Blocked out from the mall, swarms of people try to find a spot with a view of one of the large TV screens scattered throughout the area.  People climb on top of Port-a-potties and trees trying to get a better view.  One woman asks a companion “Do you just want to go back to the metro?”

11:17 AM – Joe Biden’s voice is heard instructing all to be seated, laughter is heard through the massive crowds, as there is just barely enough room to stand, let alone sit.

11:18 AM – The closest screen is obscured by some orange piece of large equipment, the crowd insists that the army troops nearby do something to move it out of the way.  “You have the power, call someone!”  “We’re missing history!”  The soldier then says he’ll see what he can do, and the crowd cheers.  “He’s cute”  “He’s got gorgeous eyes”.

11:22 AM – Screen still out of view, crowd cheers at mention of former president Bill Clinton.

11:30 AM – An injured/sick woman is escorted away by two soldiers supporting her.

11:35 AM – View still obstructed, crowd continues to complain.  Some begin chanting “Move the sign, Move the sign” but do not gain enough of a following to continue.

11:40 AM – A man is escorted away by soldiers, again, being supported under each arm.  “They’re dropping like flies” says one woman to another.

Minutes later, a man is literally being carried by three soldiers, put down onto pavement for a moment, and is then loaded into a golf cart.  The man can’t even sit up, and seems passed out.  Then Obama enters the stage, and the crowd goes wild, forgetting about the fallen spectator.

 About every five minutes or so, another person is seen being led away by soldiers, presumably to a medical facility of some sort.

 12:15 PM – Teenage male with high nasal voice is heard on phone talking to brother, and wants to go to meet him.  He tries pushing through crowd, and people block his way and tell him to stop shoving.  The boy yells “Shut up!” and the group laughs, taunting him further.  One man videotapes the boy with a cell phone and says he’s going to upload it on Youtube.  Obama finishes speech, and the crowd starts finally moving, including the boy.

4:00 PM – As people board bus to leave, “I’m never going to another inauguration” says one adult female.

4:15 PM – “So did anybody see anything?  Or were we all too far away?”

4:20 PM – “When people at school ask, just say that we saw everything and loved it!”

Topanga, Calif. (6:55 p.m. EST, 3:55 p.m. PST)

My wife and I are sitting on the bed, transfixed by the TV images of Obama and the others during the swearing in. I’m getting emotional, particularly when we see random shots of everyday people in the vast audience with tears streaming. Our two housecleaners arrive. They only speak a little English, but we ask if they listened to the inauguration on the radio as they drove to our house. They both enthusiastically say, “Oh yes!” “It’s a great day,” we say, and these two young Mexican women wholeheartedly agree.