It will go down as one of the most sorrowful parties in US election night history. Through the camera lenses, everything looked fabulous and perfectly set. The yard at Howard, the historic traditionally black university which has been a part of the Washington city landscape since 1867, is a splendour. The stage, set for the arrival, at some point in the evening, of who the gathering hoped would be the first woman president of the United States, was classy and understated.
The night was sublime: still and mellow. The outdoor bleachers and main lawn were, from teatime, filled with Kamala Harris supporters. It was a night of music. The Howard gospel choir gave a spine-tingling rendition of Oh Happy Day. Young men in fraternity jackets and slacks; young women in formal suits. There were live performances and DJ sets. It wasn’t a festival, exactly: there was no hooch, no food trucks and no overt partying. Instead, there was a formality and dignity about the event: a recognition that something historic might be about to unfold in this bastion of black American education and identity.
But even through the first hour or two, when any outcome was still possible, there was an anxiety beneath the gaiety. What had been billed for weeks as an excruciatingly tight election meant that even the most devout of Harris supporters arrived more in hope than true expectation. The projection was of a slow, exhausting count process with the likelihood of no definitive winner until the daylight hours of Wednesday.
But by 10.30pm, the dancing had stopped and, half an hour later, the big screens were showing CNN’s John King taking the national audience on his tour through the voting patterns of obscure, vital counties in the Sun Belt and the Rust Belt. All were indicating a decisive shift towards Donald Trump. The organisers returned to the music but by midnight, the mood had turned sombre. Some people left early. The majority stayed put but once the music stopped there was, hanging over the night, a funereal silence and a sense of resignation.
Harris was expected to arrive on campus some time after 11pm. By midnight, when North Carolina was called for Trump and huge cracks were appearing in the notional Blue Wall states, it was unclear as to whether she would speak at all. Just after 12.30am Cedric Richmond, the Harris campaign co-chair, announced that the candidate would not be attending the party after all. She would speak, instead, on Wednesday.
“We still have votes to count,” he insisted.
“We still have states that have not been called yet. We will continue overnight to fight to make sure every vote is counted, every voice has spoken.”
But those present could hear the only voice that mattered now. The US had chosen Trump. Within 20 minutes, the campus lawn was deserted. Outside, the bars along the U-street corridor were closed and downtown Washington was absolutely ghostly.
[ 10 takeaways from the night Donald Trump marched back to the White HouseOpens in new window ]
It was difficult to imagine what the same streets would have looked like had Harris managed to achieve what would have been a breakthrough presidency. And it was difficult, too, to gauge how deeply her supporters in the black American community permitted themselves to believe that such an outcome was possible.
True to her word, it was confirmed on Wednesday that Harris would make her way to the yard to give an afternoon address in which she would formally concede. It would take her full circle – back to the campus from which she graduated in 1982 and which, for a brief few hours, contained the element and the fast fading theme of “joy” which defined her triumphant week at the Democratic convention in Chicago.
How Trump won and what it means - with Fintan O'Toole, Steven Carroll and Jennifer Bray
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