In the cold light of a November noon, an army for peace breached the corridors of downtown Denver - 500 boisterous, exhilarated, determined men and women marching to the beat of many different drummers.

Protesters stop a bus carrying members of the media entourage following President Bush outside the downtown Denver hotel in which the president appeared at a fund-raising event for Rep. Marilyn Musgrave, R-Colo., on Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005. A motorcycle policeman used his bike to move the protesters back from the front of the bus and allow the buses to pass. (AP Photo/David Zalubowski)

Their target was the Brown Palace Hotel, where President Bush was scheduled to appear Tuesday at a $1,000-a-plate fundraiser for U.S. Rep. Marilyn Musgrave, R-Fort Morgan. But whether the president actually heard the demonstrators seemed of less consequence to them than the fact that their voices and message were heard by someone.

As Vietnam veteran Frank Bessinger, 57, said, "Political dissent in this country is vital to our way of life."

Just before the protesters left the west steps of the state Capitol en route to Lincoln Street, Bessinger, a veteran of anti-war demonstrations since 1972, looked out at the bobbing assortment of people and added, "This is actually a pretty cool way to protest."

He was referring to the vast number of noisy instruments including cowbells, bicycle horns, tambourines, whistles, drums, maracas and sections of PVC pipe, to say nothing of every conceivable item of cookware - from wok covers to pots, pans, spatulas and meat tenderizers.

But beneath the fellowship and roiling percussion, was a somber purpose.

"This has to be one of the most brutal American presidencies we've ever had. The agenda he's pushing is one of hate and division," said Zoe Williams, 19, a college student. She hoped the day would help "build a collective spirit of resistance."

Nearby, shaking a tambourine as she toted her 16-month-old granddaughter, Erin, on her back, Way Shen, 61, sighed, "I'm tired of the way Bush and his people have lied."

So was Mary Ann Haug, 63, who was determined to protest the war despite the fact that multiple sclerosis has left her in a wheelchair and affected her speech. "We never protested anything before," said Ken Haug, her husband. "But we are now."

By 11:22 a.m., the protesters were en route to the nearby Brown Palace, brandishing their signs ("Impeach, Indict, Imprison," "Lies, Lies, Lies," "Bring Our Troops Home Where They Belong"), chanting their feelings ("One-two-three-four, we don't want your bloody war. Five-six-seven-eight, peace and justice cannot wait!").

Meanwhile, in between ear-splitting, tortured notes on her fox-hunting horn, Denise Spencer said with a smile, "Today, I'm hunting (Republican) elephant."

Somewhat less discordant was the musical handiwork of Allan Mueller, Jason Pawlina and Aron Uchitel, the self-styled "Jamestown Anti-Fascist Marching Band." When they weren't launching snappy syncopation from their trombone, snare drum and sousaphone (respectively), the members were explaining that, as Mueller said, "We're patriots," and, as Uchitel added, "I'm here to participate in a spirit of change to a peaceful, more loving country."

Less into sound and more into visual fury was a contingent of South High School students, whose feelings were as plain as the paint on their faces. "Make love not war," was the message on Jenny Fleming's 16-year-old cheeks and forehead, while Ashley Adams, 15, settled for "No More War."

Asked if she thought she would get in trouble for ditching classes, Adams replied, "Probably. But it's all about priorities, man. Ending the war is my priority."

The priority of Denver police Lt. Theodore Block and the 45 officers assigned to the event was making sure that things didn't get out of hand.

"Everything's gone pretty well," said Block, surveying the protesters, whom police tried to sequester from the Brown Palace via a maze of barricade fences. No arrests were reported.

Several Republicans infiltrated the protest, holding up signs sympathetic to Saddam Hussein and terrorists. Israel Becerra, a 25-year-old courier, stood in the middle of a phalanx of protesters holding aloft a "Viva Bush" sign.

A stream of peace activists took up the challenge of debating Becerra, among them Ernest Ortega, 60.

"Are you Hispanic?" Ortega asked Becerra, who said he was.

"Then you should be ashamed of yourself!" snarled Ortega, insisting that "Bush and his people don't give a damn about Hispanics."

"Worst president in my lifetime," added John Larson, 73, as he walked by, smiling as fellow activists flashed peace signs. But if the spirit of empowerment and hope seemed to ripple through the crowd, not everyone was lulled into a sense of security.

"I, for one, never lose sight of the fact that they're in power and we're not. We have no power - that's why we're in the street," Bessinger said, his words accompanied by the sound of a spatula striking a wok cover.

2005 © The E.W. Scripps Co.

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