As I prepare to attend this year's Democratic convention in Denver, I can't help but think back to 1984, when Jesse Jackson first ran for president. I was one of the alligators, a term for the press corps that will be explained later.

I have never experienced anything like that 1984 Jackson whirlwind. At the time, I was a national correspondent for the Chicago Tribune. Even now, 24 years later, I don't quite know why Jesse Jackson ran for president. He was already president of Black America and that was a full-time job.

Covering any candidate is often a love-hate relationship. There are certain things you love about the job - traveling to different places, running across old friends and seeing how the candidate touches different crowds with the same basic speech. There are other times, like at the end of an 18-hour day, when the last thing you want to hear is another speech. When the crowd was often yelling, "Run, Jesse, run," we were muttering to ourselves, "Sleep, Jesse, sleep."

More than any other campaign in history, the Jackson candidacy provided many black journalists an opportunity to cover national politics for the first time. It also meant hearing stupid questions, such as: "Can black reporters fairly cover a black candidate?" No one asked the reverse: "Can white reporters fairly cover white candidates?" But such was life on the campaign trail.

Those questions increased after Milton Coleman of the Washington Post reported that Jackson had referred to Jews as "Hymie" and New York City as "Hymietown." Buried in the 37th paragraph of a 52-paragraph story, the disclosure at first went virtually unnoticed. But after the Post ran an editorial about it a week later, the controversy moved center stage and threatened to unravel Jackson's campaign.

In a speech at Temple Adath Yeshurun in Manchester, N.H., Jackson was forced to acknowledge he had used anti-Semitic slurs. He said, "However innocent and unintentional, [the comment] was insensitive and it was wrong . . . I categorically deny that this in any way reflects my basic attitude toward Jews or Israel."

Jackson recovered enough to finish in third place behind Walter Mondale, the party's eventual nominee, and former Sen. Gary Hart. He received more than three million votes, about 21 percent of the popular vote.

Back to the alligators moniker. It was during the "Hymietown" controversy that Jackson said he was tired of "the allegations and the allegators." So, we instantly became the alligators. I still have my prized toy alligator that was distributed to the media regulars.

Let me confess before someone tells on me. I often broke the boredom of long days by doing an imitation of Jackson on the campaign trail - usually when he wasn't around. As part of his stock speech, Jackson would compare Ronald Reagan's margin of victory with the number of unregistered black voters, making the point that if African Americans had turned out in proportion to their numbers, Reagan could have been defeated in 1980.

He would say something to the effect of:

In Mississippi, Reagan won by 25,000 votes, 80,000 blacks unregistered to vote,

R-o-c-k-s, just lying around.

In Georgia, Reagan won by 18,000 votes, 75,000 blacks unregistered to vote,

R-o-c-k-s, just lying around.

After naming a few more states, Jackson would bring the crowd to its feet with a strong end: But little David can beat Goliath.

Oh, yes he can.

All you have to do little David is pick up your rocks, pick up your slingshot, and say, "Look out Goliath, here I come."

It didn't seem to bother anyone that from time to time, Jackson picked up some extra rocks along the way when referencing the number of unregistered voters.

The memories that stand out the most from that 1984 presidential crusade - it hadn't developed into a full-blown campaign - were of African American kids and old people. Tears would stream from old ladies' eyes as they hugged Jackson, saying how proud he made them feel. And some of the kids did not hesitate when asked what they wanted to become upon reaching adulthood. "President of the United States," one told a TV interviewer.

Unlike the '84 Jackson campaign, there are not many African American reporters on the campaign trail every day with Sen. Barack Obama. But there is no less pride in his accomplishments.

Like the Jackson campaign, however, many black leaders have been out of step with their constituents. Black leaders sided with Mondale over Jackson in 1984, only to have their districts vote overwhelmingly for Jackson. By 1988, the second time around, black leaders were firmly in Jackson's camp.

This year, the Congressional Black Caucus was split between endorsing Obama and Hillary Clinton. Black voters were not confused - more than 90 percent gave their votes to Obama.

In 1984, Jackson would say, "Our time has come. Our time has come. Our time has come." His time hasn't come, but perhaps Obama's will - if rocks don't just lie around.