Each presidential election year, Republicans eagerly await their national convention — a four-day celebration that draws thousands of GOP operatives, donors and lobbyists who are ready to party.

This year — the year of Trump — it’s anything but a party.


Many GOP regulars are skipping Cleveland entirely. (“I would rather attend the public hanging of a good friend,” says Will Ritter, an up-and-coming Republican digital strategist who worked on the three previous conventions.) And among those who are making the trek, there’s an overwhelming sense it won’t be fun at all. At a time when many Republicans are deeply dissatisfied with their nominee, pessimistic about their prospects for victory in the fall and alarmed about the direction of their party, there’s a reluctance about attending the convention more typically reserved for going to the DMV, being summoned for jury duty or undergoing a root canal.

“This is the first year in the past two decades that Republicans aren’t excited about attending the convention. Normally, we’re all jazzed up about getting together and celebrating our nominee,” said Chris Perkins, a GOP pollster who has attended every Republican convention since 1996. “There’s nothing to celebrate this cycle. I’m going because I have to, not because I want to.”

Those who are going often say they’re doing so out of a sense of obligation — to meet with clients or to hold meetings before making a beeline back to the airport. As the Republican Party prepares to nominate a figure who is registering historically high disapproval ratings, some don’t want to advertise their presence in Cleveland. “Don’t use my name,” said one senior party strategist. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m there.” (A few days after the interview, the strategist got back in touch, having decided not to go, after all.)

“I am there for one day on business,” said Danny Diaz, who served as Jeb Bush’s campaign manager and advises a number of the party’s most prominent figures. “It is business and nothing more.”

In many cases, people are bailing altogether. The idea of a blowout party, they say, just doesn’t seem appetizing at a time of such uncertainty and division within the GOP. For some, it’ll be the first time in decades they’ll be missing a national convention.

“What’s there to celebrate?” asked Jay Zeidman, a Texas health care executive whose family has been a major benefactor of the Republican Party. “The party has hit rock bottom in terms of leadership.”

“I don’t want anything close to the appearance of supporting Trump,” said Jason Roe, a veteran party strategist. “This ship can sink without me as a passenger.”

For most, the convention’s lack of appeal boils down to one thing: Trump. The New York businessman has shunned the establishment class, reaching out to few of the operatives who worked for his primary rivals and making little effort to bring them on to his team. As a result, many of the Republican ad makers, pollsters, and fundraisers who populate Washington have little desire to witness his expected nomination.

That many of those same strategists remain convinced that Trump will imperil the GOP’s down-ballot prospects makes it tougher.

“The convention is usually a four-day political party that every operative wants to go to, but it’s different this year,” said Ryan Williams, a former Mitt Romney aide who will be skipping Cleveland. “Republican political operatives are not excited about the nominee, and they don’t believe it will be a worthwhile convention to attend.”

Yet there are other reasons why Cleveland might not be the bash national party conventions typically are. Chief among them: security. At a time when the nation is reeling from a series of mass shootings, there is widespread concern about safety in Cleveland. Increasing the worry is the nature of Trump’s campaign events, which have at times resulted in racially charged violence between his supporters and critics. The convention is expected to draw scores of protesters, ranging from Black Lives Matter to white supremacist groups.

Law enforcement officials have provided relatively few details about the security measures they’re taking. The Cleveland Police Department has said that about a third of its 1,700-person force will be devoted to the convention and that it would also be relying on local, state and federal authorities for assistance.

Yet not everyone is at ease. In an email, one senior Republican National Committee official wrote that he is “concerned as heck about the potential for some homegrown violence/native ISIS type threat. If you want to make a statement in America, what better place to do it?”

While security preparations had been extensive, the official said, “protecting the entire city will be challenging.”

Convention officials insist they’re ready.

“We’re confident Cleveland will be secure and convention-goers will be able to do their business and experience Cleveland,” said Kirsten Kukowski, a convention spokeswoman.

Dampening the mood, however, will be the decided lack of star power. While conventions typically attract the party’s leaders, many of the GOP’s biggest names — from rising stars like Kelly Ayotte and Ben Sasse, to past nominees like Mitt Romney and John McCain, to ex-presidents George W. and George H.W. Bush — won’t be in attendance. And many of the party’s most prominent figures have said they won’t be a part of the speaking program. As of Monday evening, convention officials had yet to release a speaker’s program.

Plus, the parties are typically paid for by corporate sponsors, and a number of them, including Wells Fargo, Ford and Apple, have decided to pull funding for this year’s convention.

On Friday, Cleveland Scene, a local news outlet, reported that some of the city’s caterers have reduced their number of convention-related events and let go of some staff because of the lack of corporate sponsorship.

Not everyone, however, is unhappy.

If anything, some are convinced that the unusual nature of Trump’s candidacy will make the convention a spectacle unlike anything in years past.

“This campaign has been unlike any other in American history,” said Alex Conant, a former top aide to Marco Rubio, who will be heading to Cleveland. “Why wouldn’t the convention also be unlike anything we’ve ever seen?”