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Smerconish: The high cost of conventions for host cities like Philly

CLEVELAND - 'It's the uncertainty," explained Moe Slyman with a shrug of his shoulders. Slyman is the friendly owner of an eponymous, 52-year-old Cleveland restaurant known for corned beef stacked so high it rivals anything even New York City has to offer.

CLEVELAND - 'It's the uncertainty," explained Moe Slyman with a shrug of his shoulders.

Slyman is the friendly owner of an eponymous, 52-year-old Cleveland restaurant known for corned beef stacked so high it rivals anything even New York City has to offer.

He was telling me why the noontime line to order his $14 famed sandwich on rye extended only to the door and not around the corner, as is normally the case. While the Republican National Convention had brought in some out-of-towners, many of his normal customers were staying away.

It was the same thing over at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, where president Greg Harris (Pennsbury High Class of 1983) said many of his typical visitors were staying away, creating a void that he was counting on conventioneers to fill. Before the convention began, his team worried it could actually lose money. When I saw him midway through the week, he said that foot traffic from the convention was barely offsetting his normal trade but that thankfully, privately booked events were making up the difference.

"On a typical day this time of year, we would probably be around 2,000 visitors, not counting private events," he told me. "On Monday, we were less than what we would typically be if you took events out of the equation. And [Tuesday's] count, I think we're a little under if you took events out of the equation."

Harris noted that Cleveland had raised millions to host the convention based on the promise that it would increase business in years to come. The Cleveland 2016 Host Committee pledged to raise $64 million for the convention, but it has raised only $58.25 million. The week before the commencement, the committee sought assistance from billionaires Sheldon and Miriam Adelson, asking them to put up the remaining $6 million. The Philadelphia 2016 Host Committee has raised a similar amount.

But it's not the funding necessary to stage these conventions that has me concerned; it's the impact on local businesses, many of which were told the visitors would be a boon to business. Sure, the Rock Hall will see a residual benefit from high-profile events held at the marquee location. (Harris noted that his PR staff was seeing more visitors with cameras, meaning professionals, than without.) But I fear that more routine merchants will end up losing money because of the "uncertainty" Slyman noted in his regulars.

At Mr. Albert's Men's World on Prospect Avenue, directly next door to the Quickens Loan Arena (the Q) and in the path of many convention visitors, a salesman told me business was exactly what he expected.

"I knew they wouldn't be banging down the door," he said.

Ten feet outside his door was a blockade and street closed to traffic, akin to what I witnessed when Pope Francis visited Philadelphia last fall, but what I hope will be confined to the South Philly sports complex during the Democratic National Convention.

I arrived in Cleveland three days before the start of the convention. It was one day after a terror truck attack in Nice killed 84, just two weeks after the killing of five cops in Dallas and two days before a gunman killed three cops in Baton Rouge. Overnight, what was an easily navigable city went into lockdown just before most of the company arrived.

Tall iron fencing soon circled the Q and nearby Huntington Convention Center. Initially, law enforcement personnel outnumbered civilians. Saturday night, my son and I had dinner outside on East Fourth Street at a restaurant just two blocks from the Q. Several times police en masse both walked and rode bikes through a street closed to traffic, each time drawing applause from patrons. But just a block or two off Fourth Street, the storefronts and restaurants I visited were empty.

And George, our UberX driver of a Kia, in the midst of an $18.05 ride, told us he was a dealer at Jack Casino, adjacent to the Q. He had worked Friday night and it was dead. This after employees were told the days of the convention would be a vacation blackout due to the expected hordes of customers. A friend told him Saturday was slow, too.

Nevertheless, Avery Friedman, a Cleveland native and nationally renowned civil rights attorney, remained optimistic while acknowledging that "the boost may not be the kind of, at the economic level, that perhaps some thought."

Before settling in for a busy week of work, I tried to do my part to help the local economy - eating flapjacks at Jack Flaps in the historic 5th Street Arcades on Saturday and renting bikes with my son to traverse the trails of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park on Sunday. And I'm going to do the same at home when we host the Democrats.

No matter what we're promised when our leaders pitch the prospect of these conventions, I question whether the financial return makes them worthwhile when security measures provide a disincentive for local residents to participate in the festivities.

Here in Philadelphia, too many friends have told me they intend to spend this coming week down the Shore. That's a mistake. If the arrival of the Democratic convention is anything like what happened when the Republicans came in 2000, I'd say it's the perfect time for local residents to be in Center City. Our town will never be cleaner, the merchants are unusually friendly, and concerns over crowd size never seem to materialize.

Michael Smerconish can be heard from 9 a.m. to noon on SiriusXM's POTUS Channel 124 and seen hosting "Smerconish" at 9 a.m. Saturdays on CNN.