[Editor’s note: For those who couldn’t be there, Asheville Watchdog Executive Editor Peter H. Lewis recorded what it was like to attend Wednesday’s campaign appearance in Asheville by former President Donald J. Trump — up to Trump’s actual remarks, which were covered by Watchdog political reporter Tom Fiedler.]
12:30 p.m.
Hundreds of people are lined up outside the Harrah’s Cherokee Center in downtown Asheville waiting to see candidate and former President Donald J. Trump on his first campaign visit to Asheville since 2016. The doors don’t open until 1 p.m., ahead of Trump’s scheduled 4 o’clock talk, but many in the crowd cheerfully point me toward the press entrance that will give me early access.
Despite nearly a decade of “Fake news!” and “The media are the enemies of the people” talk from Trump, no one seems to hold ill will toward those of us wearing press passes. It’s a credit to the Asheville Police Department, Buncombe Sheriff’s deputies, and state troopers that everything is organized as well as it can be, keeping people safe. Even the protesters are relatively polite, exchanging “Nazi!” and “No, YOU’RE a Nazi” greetings to one another without exchanging blows. Of course, being on opposite sides of a chainlink fence helps keep the peace.
I’m here to join other Watchdog reporters in covering a major event in our town, but I’m also here to observe the crowd, many of whom bring their deeply held conservative beliefs to this overwhelmingly liberal mountain town. How is this going to go down?
Security is tight, as expected after last month’s assassination attempt that wounded Trump and left two people dead in Pennsylvania. But today, with the festive crowd, it seems more like going to a concert. Even the security people are pleasant. I’ve gone through tougher security at the Buncombe County courthouse.
12:36 p.m.
Greetings from the Press Gallery high up in the Thomas Wolfe Auditorium. Is it possible to be farther from the stage than Fiedler, Watchdog visual journalist Starr Sariego, and I have been ushered? Answer: Yes, our investigative reporter Victoria A. Ifatusin is so far from the stage she’s actually outside the building, where at least there’s no danger of being clobbered by falling ceiling tiles.
It’s still a half hour before the doors open to let the crowd in. The Trump campaign is blasting out music, probably to keep the mostly empty Wolfe from sounding like a mausoleum. Now playing: “Bad Moon Rising” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. I hope this isn’t an omen. It occurs to me, amid the boredom of an hours-long wait for the event to start, that perhaps the Trump campaign is sending coded messages to us through its song selections.
12:41 p.m.
There are some advantages to being in the very back row of the Wolfe, including a close-up, unobstructed view of the water damage to the ceiling, the peeling paint, and the mold decorating Asheville’s nearly 50-year-old performing arts venue. By the end of the day, I’m sure, the crowd will be convinced that the mold has come here illegally from South America and crossed the border along with all the rapists and murderers You Know Who is welcoming to our country.
With no one to interview yet, and time on my hands, I wonder: Of all the songs in the universe to choose from, how does the Trump campaign select the music to fire up its crowds? Will it be selections from Ted Nugent, Kid Rock, and other avowed Trump supporters? A number of artists have denied Trump permission to use their music; will he still play the “Titanic theme” by Célene Dion, even though she’s asked him to stop?
I wonder what music Trump listens to when he’s by himself. Wayne Newton? Probably not this stuff.
They are playing: “Chicken Fried,” by the Zac Brown Band. The lyrics involve cold beer, tight jeans, stars-and-stripes, a loving woman and a hearty baby — no surprise here, heteronormative American family themes.
1:00 p.m.
The doors open and people are filing in, in various fashion variations of American Flag-T-shirts-rhinestones-hats. I’m seeing more American flags draped around shoulders than there were at the Olympics in Paris. Some of these folks have camped in line since Tuesday morning. The front row, immediate to the stage, is reserved for the “Front Row Joes,” the dedicated followers of Trump who travel from rally to rally to glimpse their hero, like Deadheads, only not.
Music: “California Dreaming” by The Mamas & The Papas. What’s the message here? By the end of the day, if Trump’s recent campaign speeches are a guide, California (home to Kamala Harris and Gavin Newsom) will not be a dream but rather America’s worst nightmare, and all because of Harris.
1:40 p.m.
I see U.S. Rep. Chuck Edwards has wandered up here to the nosebleed section and he’s looking around. For what? For whom? Is he doing an interview with some other publication? I can’t tell. Is he being banished by the Trump campaign for being insufficiently loyal? (Remember, Trump endorsed his opponent in 2022.) I approach him. He looks wary. “Congressman,” I say, by way of greeting. “Hi,” he says, looking concerned. And then he’s gone.
Leading up to today, Edwards’s office had not said anything about his attendance at today’s rally, leading to speculation that, despite his and Trump’s deeply shared love of McDonald’s fast food, they might not be BFFs. But here he is, and an Edwards staffer tells me he’ll be one of the speakers.
I start looking around for Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson, who seems to be Trump’s favored North Carolina acolyte, now that Madison Cawthorn and Mark Meadows — both former congressmen representing Asheville and western North Carolina — don’t live in the state any more.
Now playing: “Oh, What a Night! (December, 1963)” by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. The lyrics include “Oh, what a lady, what a night.” Curious. I wonder if this is a wink to the fact that less than 48 hours from now, and just a few blocks away, Stormy Daniels will be in Asheville too. The pornographic film actress, whom Trump said he does not recall knowing, will be performing her comedy routine at the Diana Wortham Theatre.
Hmm. Or maybe the Four Seasons was a subtle reminder about that famous news conference Trump’s lawyers held at Four Seasons Landscaping in Philadelphia, next to a porn shop. Nah.
1:45 p.m.
And right on cue the music segues into: “Come On Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners. Of course! It’s a coded message to U.S. District Judge Aileen Cannon, a Trump appointee who last month dismissed the classified documents case against the former President.
Interesting: The lyrics of “Come On Eileen” include:
These people ’round here
Were beaten down, eyes sunk in smoke-dried face
They’re resigned to what their fate is …
That’s the common liberals’ impression of Trump voters — and it’s consistent with Trump’s own depiction of “American carnage,” where Harris has destroyed the American dream for the average family.
But this crowd, to the contrary, is fired up, happy, enthusiastic. People seem excited, nearly joyous, to be here. They delight in booing every mention of Democrats, especially Harris, who, we shall learn, was secretly running the government and responsible for everything bad that happened during the Biden administration.
Now playing: “Don’t Bring Me Down” by the Electric Light Orchestra.
While the song plays I check out the T-shirts worn by rally goers. Nearly everyone is festooned with Trump-labeled merchandise. The only people I can see who are not wearing performative Trump and MAGA gear are Secret Service agents, auditorium staffers, and my fellow creatures in the press pen.
Clearly the vendors outside, around the Grove Arcade, are doing a brisk business. Some of the favorites seem to be:
“Fight” — with an image of Trump, fist raised, his ear bloodied by a would-be assassin’s bullet.
“Jesus Is My Savior, Trump Is My President.”
“Say No to the Hoe” — with a drawing of Harris — a real knee-slapper that, in effect, calls her a whore, using urban vernacular. One of the people wearing this shirt, and there were quite a few, is a young teenager sitting with someone who looks to be his mother.
2:08 p.m.
A huge cheer erupts. At first I can’t tell whom it’s for, but then I see all eyes turn toward a massive Black man making his way to the front of the auditorium. Being Black in this crowd is noticeable. Asheville not long ago had a 20 percent Black population; it’s now under 10 percent. And this crowd is overwhelmingly white. So a Black Republican stands out.
It’s Mark Robinson, the Republican nominee for governor of North Carolina. He’s clearly a crowd favorite despite, or perhaps because of, his history of anti-gay and antisemitic remarks.
Robinson is just passing through, it turns out.
2:20 p.m.
The venue is about 80 percent full. Rather than hold the event in the larger arena at the Harrah Cherokee Center, Trump’s campaign booked the much smaller Thomas Wolfe, which we’re told has been configured to hold 2,100 people (slightly less than the maximum capacity of 2,400 and change). Trump has been quite interested in crowd size since Harris became his Democratic rival. By holding his event in a smaller venue, he can boast that he’s attracted an overflow crowd. More to the point, the TV cameras up here in the bleachers will look out over a jam-packed venue.
More T-shirts:
“Trump” in various fonts and sizes. “Women for Trump.” “Trump 2020,” showing that they’re not just arrivistes. “Trump/Vance.” “MAGA” and “Ultra MAGA” are ubiquitous.
“Missed Me” — Trump defiantly raising his middle fingers.
“Ammosexual”
“Proud Deplorable.” This one seems to be vintage 2016.
“Michele Morrow.” There are a surprising number of blue T-shirts and hand-held fans touting the Republican candidate for North Carolina Superintendent of Schools, who advocated for the public execution of Barack Obama and said Trump should have suspended the Constitution and used military power to stay in office despite losing the election.
2:24 p.m.
Okay, here we go. Excitement builds.
The Rev. Winston Parrish of Trinity Baptist Church in Asheville opens the guest speaker series with an invocation that includes “our hearts are heavy for the nation,” which he seems to be attributing to perceived social and moral deterioration under the Biden-Harris administration, and closes with “Pray for President Donald John Trump!”
2:42 p.m.
I have no idea who these other people are who are making introductory talks. But I’m learning that illegal immigrants are ruining America, and Democrats are at fault. For everything. Especially Kamala. The crowd cheers a mention of Melania Trump, and boos anything related to Democrats.
2:49 p.m.
Chuck Edwards takes the stage. “I want to go back” he says, to a better America when Trump was president and everything was better. “We want to go back.” “Let’s go back.” So many repetitions of “Go back.” Edwards makes a strong claim for being the antithesis of a progressive. The crowd is polite.
2:53 p.m.
U.S. Senator Ted Budd picks up the microphone, and the cudgel, and spends the next five minutes warning of the catastrophes America faces if Kamala Harris — at one point he slips up and pronounces her name correctly — is elected. Open borders. Drugs. Crime. The end of private health care. No more drilling for oil. Trump is Good. Democrats are Bad.
2:57 p.m.
Yuuuuge ovation for Mark Robinson — I mean, the place is ROCKING — who begins by invoking “our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” — twice — and then spends the next few minutes in grievance over the “weaponization” of government under the Democrats, including investigations into his wife’s management of a government-funded child care center. Dude is on fire, clearly the most gifted orator of the day, and the crowd loves him. He has awakened the crowd, they’re on their feet, and …
3:05 p.m.
Music: “Suspicious Minds,” by Elvis.
Having worked the crowd into a frenzy, it’s an hour’s downtime until the featured speaker arrives.
Music: “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” by Tears for Fears.
A banner unfurls down front. “Trump Not Guilty.”
3:24 p.m.
In front of the press section (we’re not allowed to stray) it’s like a fashion runway, except with mostly hairy models with bulging biceps. T-shirts:
“I’m Voting for The Felon and The Hillbilly.” This one is popular.
“The Final Variant Is Called Communism.” Whut? I had to look this one up. It appears to reference the COVID-19 virus and vaccines, ultimately resulting in the Biden administration mandating Communism.
“One Nation Under God” with skull and crossed assault rifles.
3:35 p.m.
“I can’t help myself,” sing the Four Tops in “Sugar Pie Honey Bunch.”
Cheerleaders in preppy button-down shirts emerge in front of the stage, exhorting the crowd, which starts dancing and waving banners. Photographers pop up on stage to capture the frenzy.
3:42 p.m.
“I’m Still Standing,” by Elton John. Grannies in “Women for Trump” are waving their Trump placards and butt-dancing in their seats.
3:48 p.m.
“Jump” by Van Halen. The crowd is filled with a kind of infectious happiness (notwithstanding the guy wearing a “Not Vaxxed, and Over-Taxed” T-shirt). Some dude in the upper deck, in an orange sportcoat with serious Elvis Hair, is feeling the spirit.
3:59 p.m.
The Doobie Brothers, “Let The Music Play.” Oh no! Does this mean that Trump won’t start at 4?
A small group of people wrapped in Israeli flags waves Trump placards.
4:02 p.m.
Can this be it? “Macho Man,” by the Village People starts, and the crowd goes wild.
But the music suddenly switches to “God Bless the U.S.A.” also known as “Proud to Be an American,” by Lee Greenwood. The same Lee Greenwood whose signature Bibles Trump is now reselling for $60.
Besides “Macho Man,” “God Bless The U.S.A.” is the surest fanfare for Trump’s imminent arrival. Everyone is on his, her, or their feet. Except for the toddler in the Trump T-shirt in front of us, who bounces in his mother’s lap.
And then, there he is, The Man Himself, appearing off center on stage, blue suit, red tie, familiar shock of yellow hair over orange complexion, standing and occasionally gesturing awkwardly while the music plays, and the show begins. The crowd is rapturous, adoring, and sincere in their belief that only Trump can save America.
And now, over to you, Tom Fiedler.
On the way out, people — seeing my “PRESS” badge, told me:
‘Did you see how he talked for the whole time without notes? The man’s a genius.”
“Everything he said, it’s true. I did my own research.”
(Heavy congestion as attendees leave the auditorium) “I bet the Democrats planned this.”
Asheville Watchdog is a nonprofit news team producing stories that matter to Asheville and Buncombe County. Peter H. Lewis is The Watchdog’s executive editor and a former senior writer and editor at The New York Times. Contact him at plewis@avlwatchdog.org.To show your support for this vital public service go toavlwatchdog.org/support-our-publication/.
