As CEO of the 2004 Democratic National Convention Committee, O'Connor is as well-known behind the scenes as those with the prime-time podium slots above him. Working his way through the maze of backstage halls, nearly everyone he passes-from the head of Secret Service to the prep-room hair dresser-stops to greet him. In the midst of yet another 18-hour workday and carrying in his left hand a to-the-minute schedule of events, he responds each time with a name-recall and charisma that elude pressure and fatigue.

Moving rapidly through the convention's underbelly, his relaxed stride is equally deceiving. On Wednesday evening of the convention, however, he breaks form. A few minutes into Al Sharpton's speech, O'Connor takes off around the corner in a flash of gray suit and sprints down the backstage's main corridor. Sharpton, the rest of the political world later learned, had quit reading his prepared speech from the teleprompter.

For the Kerry campaign, which had approved every speech ahead of time in order to unify the party with a consistent message, Sharpton's unscripted oratory had the potential for political consequences. O'Connor's main concern now, however, is more immediate-if the impromptu speech exceeds the time limit, John Edward's speech won't make prime-time. (O'Connor's own podium appearance on Monday, needless to say, ran precisely to the second.)

Reminiscent of then-Gov. Bill Clinton's marathon at the 1988 convention in Atlanta, Sharpton's speech does in fact go over the limit, an entire seventeen minutes. Through a series of last-minute adjustments, the convention planners successfully manage to get the podium schedule back on track. And as far as the world could see, Sharpton gave one of the most memorable speeches of the convention, and Edwards hit the airwaves at 10 p.m. sharp.

With tragedy narrowly averted, O'Connor resumes his stride and continues his backstage rounds. At one point a concerned staffer stops him and O'Connor calmly excuses himself for an impromptu meeting in the podium room, where forthcoming speakers practice their deliveries from an exact replica of the stage's podium and teleprompter. He emerges in minutes and continues through the halls, only to be stopped again by an equally concerned staff member, who leans to him and whispers, "Guess who's here?"

Backstage at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, Rod O'Connor '92 (far right), CEO of the Convention Committee, briefs members of his small army of organizers.

"Nader," O'Connor replies. Hints of concern form on his face but disappear with the staffer's inaudible corrective. "That's all right," O'Connor reassures him, "we get tickets to theirs. I'm more worried about Ralph. If he decides to show up, we might very well have a safety concern. His safety." When he is not on the move, O'Connor is often working at his computer at the media control center, a cluster of flat screen computers about fifty yards to the back left of the podium and ten feet above the news cameras and delegates on the front row of the convention floor.

His office under the stage-the painted yellow stripe across the cinder block walls a reminder that this area is really the Bruins' locker room-is markedly less glamorous. A de facto home base for his immediate staff, the room contains little more than two TV screens and rarely O'Connor himself. Inside, amidst the italicized squawks of cell phones, two staff members frantically try to locate Gov. Howard Dean, who has managed to lose the escorts whose job it is to follow him around and take him backstage before his speech. O'Connor helps out with a quick phone call and then makes a note that the center camera wobbles and its podium will need to be rebuilt that night.

In contrast to the politicians and Secret Service members with whom they work, the staff members managerin his office are conspicuously young. Many of them are recent college graduates, and they implicitly represent O'Connor's efforts to get young people involved in the DNCC. "Youth today are dispelling the myth that they are not interested in the political process," he says.

The youngest person ever to run a convention, O'Connor himself has been dispelling that myth since he graduated from Hampden-Sydney. Right out of college he took an entry-level staff position in the office of Al Gore, junior senator from Tennessee. Three weeks later he found himself at the 1992 Democratic National Convention working for a vice-presidential candidate. And four months after that he was working in the White House.O'Connor started off as an aide to the Vice-President's chief of staff but was soon managing Gore's schedule of day-to-day activities, including his trips here and abroad. He began to gain a foothold within the DNC during the 1996 campaign, when he coordinated the veep's political activities for the Democratic party

After managing the VIP department for the 1997 presidential inaugural committee, O'Connor moved to the private sector, taking a position as vice-president for corporate affairs at CityNet Telecommunications, a fiber-optic network provider. But he maintained his involvement with the DNC, and in 1999 he was picked to run the 2000 convention in Los Angeles, making him the youngest person ever tapped for that responsibility. The convention was an organizational success; on its heels O'Connor hit the road with Gore to run his debate preparation team.

Following Gore's razor-thin defeat, O'Connor, would-be White House advisor, resumed his executive post in the telecommunications industry. But again he kept a foot in political waters, working with DNC chairman on plans for the next convention. Then in 2001 he enrolled in Harvard's Kennedy School of Government.