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.
[ 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, she was back at Howard on another mild November afternoon. Again, the lawn was filled with waiting supporters. By then she had already called Donald Trump to formally concede and offer her congratulations.
“I congratulated him on his victory. I also told him we would help him and his team with their transition,” she told the gathering. “And that we will engage in a peaceful transfer of power.”
“So let me say, my heart is full today. Full of gratitude for the trust you have placed in me. Full of love for our country and full of resolve. The outcome of this election is not what we wanted. Not what we fought for. Not what we voted for. But hear me when I say the light of America’s promise will always burn bright. As long as we never give up. And as long as we keep fighting.”
How Trump won and what it means - with Fintan O'Toole, Steven Carroll and Jennifer Bray
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