The Republican National Convention to nominate Donald Trump for president had the usual hoopla. But it also was shrouded in questions concerning the very viability and future of the party itself.
The efforts of anti-Trump delegates to release pledged delegates to vote their "conscience" was crushed by pro-Trump strategists who one way or another got some of the antis to withdraw their support from a petition for a roll-call vote on the proposal. It threw the opening session into chaos, and much bad feeling.
Paul Manafort, the Trump campaign chief strategist, brushed off the complaint and said the convention remained on track for his man's overwhelming nomination. But the way it was achieved seemed to smash much chance for widespread party unity behind Mr. Trump, with one delegation, from Colorado, walking off the convention floor.
Dissidents argued thereafter that the wiser course might have been to allow that rules vote and then soundly defeat it, leaving the anti-Trump forces without much basis for claiming foul.
Unity efforts by the party hierarchy led by conciliatory National Committee Chairman Reince Priebus originally promised a veneer of normalcy to the opening. Yet the absence of so many old establishment leaders in open rejection of Mr. Trump hung a cloud of uncertainty over the party's future.
The long list of no-shows, including the two former President George Bushes, defeated former Florida of Gov. Jeb Bush, and past presidential nominees John McCain and Mitt Romney, deprived the occasion of much of the usual nostalgia that accompanies such party celebrations. Former presidential nominee Bob Dole appeared almost as a relic of the old party.
Mr. Trump's candidacy has captured the party from the old guard that he has painted as tired and worn out, and their absence andMr. Dole's presence reinforced Mr. Trump's contention that he represents a fresh and bold start. He has brought new faces and enthusiasm from both old and new generations fed up with the GOP status quo.
Yet the outbreak of domestic violence seen in the serial shootings of white police officers by black assailants provides a nerve-wracking distraction that dovetails with Mr. Trump's renewed campaign refrain of law-and-order. As the convention started, protesters were already in the streets outside the arena carrying "Dump Trump" and similar signs and shouting their opposition.
His earlier defense of law-enforcement officers in dealing with Black Lives Matter protests against the shootings in Louisiana, Minnesota and Texas is reminiscent of the law-and-order theme that fueled the 1968 election of Richard Nixon and running mate Spiro Agnew.
The strong-arm methods to scuttle a roll call vote on the proposed rules change ripped the scab off what some hoped would be a healing accommodation, as the assemblage had three more days ahead in full view of the television-viewing universe. It was hardly an ideal kickoff of an undertaking to bring the splintered party together.
The most wrenching moment of the night was an accusation by the mother of a victim of the Benghazi terrorism attack that Hillary Clinton as secretary of state was personally responsible for his death and should be imprisoned. It flew in the face of several congressional investigations that found Ms. Clinton not to be culpable. It was a raw injection of emotionalism that went over the top into politicizing the controversial tragedy.
In all, it was quite an unexpected first day of a convention that called for healing rhetoric to healing wounds within a party supposedly striving for unity. The jarring speech ending in the charge of murder against the presumptive Democratic nominee cast at least a momentary pall over the hall, before Mr. Trump introduced his wife, Melania, in an obvious bid to soften his own harsh image and rhetoric.
The mother's harsh accusation raised a question about the good taste of the Trump organizers of the convention bent on putting Mr. Trump's best foot forward, and that of a campaign already suspect over its political sensitivity.
The night's theme was "making America safe again" in terms of national security. It was a legitimate one, but as with most things Trump it crossed the line of decency, even for the rough and tumble of our politics.
Jules Witcover is a syndicated columnist and former long-time writer for The Baltimore Sun. His latest book is "The American Vice Presidency: From Irrelevance to Power" (Smithsonian Books). His email is juleswitcover@comcast.net.