This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2010, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

The first person I encountered when I attended the Republican State Convention at the E Center in 2000 was Elmer Fudd.

As I ran up the steps to go inside for the convention, I was met by a man wearing a flannel coat, hunting boots and a hunting cap, complete with ear flaps. He was holding a clipboard and asked me to sign a petition.

I asked what it was for and he told me it was a resolution to be sent to Congress requesting the repeal of the 17th Amendment. That is the amendment that provided for selection of U.S. senators by popular election instead of by the respective state legislatures.

I told him I was with the press and didn't sign petitions. Then, as I proceeded past him, he said derisively: "Coward."

I've been called worse, so I ignored him and continued running up the stairs. "Coward," he said again, following me up the stairs. "Coward. Coward. Coward."

I thought I was safe once I entered the convention center, but the first thing I saw in the hallway was a gorilla.

If that wasn't bizarre enough, the gorilla spotted me and yelled out, "Paul." He then ran over and gave me a hug.

It actually was Greg Beesley, a supporter of Merrill Cook for Congress and someone I considered a good guy, dressed in a gorilla costume to call attention to Cook's campaign booth.

Things went downhill from there.

I'm reminiscing here because the 2010 Republican and Democratic state conventions will convene this Saturday -- both being held at the Calvin L. Rampton Salt Palace Convention Center in downtown Salt Lake City. And if there is any annual event or tradition that has more of a propensity for oddity than a political convention in Utah, I'm not aware of it.

With the divisiveness between Democrats and Republicans about as fervent as it's been in my memory, along with the tea party excitement on the Republican side and feeling of disenfranchisement among liberals on the Democratic side, the fact they are holding their conventions just down the hall from each other at the same time should make for quite the carnival show.

Most of the guns will be on the Republican side and most of the coffee will be on the Democratic side, so they probably won't mix much.

But the history of conventions here is rich.

The 2000 Republican convention was where popular Gov. Mike Leavitt was booed by many of the delegates who seemed to be tea party folks before anyone knew what that was.

Leavitt was forced into a primary by a political unknown named Glen Davis, whose nomination was seconded by "Super Dell" Schanze, actually one of the more normal people at the convention.

The delegates also booed Sen. Orrin Hatch for being so liberal. And they booed former LDS Relief Society president and Mormon icon, Barbara Smith, for committing the unpardonable sin of seconding the nomination of Hatch.

But the Republicans, in convention lore, have nothing on the Democrats. Popular third-term Gov. Calvin Rampton was booed by delegates in 1974 when he nominated for the U.S. Senate veteran politician and respected attorney Don Holbrook. Holbrook was being challenged by young, energetic one-term Congressman Wayne Owens, who had most of the anti-Vietnam War, college-age delegates on his side.

Two years earlier, when anti-war candidate George McGovern was in a Democratic presidential primary race, two members of the McGovern camp in the Utah delegation got into a fist fight at the state convention over who would lead the McGovern troops at the national convention.

In 1984, when Owens was running for governor and was challenged for the Democratic nomination by Kem Gardner, Owens and one of Gardner's brothers got into a shoving match on the convention floor.

But the best moment of all may have been at the 1992 Republican convention at the Weber County Fairgrounds in Ogden when gubernatorial candidate Richard Eyre's campaign brought a live elephant to the event.

As if on cue, the elephant wandered over to the area where Eyre's rival, Mike Leavitt, had set up his campaign, and promptly did his business next to the Leavitt tent.