If Only for a Day, Sense of Normalcy

The ballots are locked away now, behind the big steel doors of the state Supreme Court building. They are, like this political city itself, in a state of suspended animation. Maybe they’ll live to be counted another day. Maybe not.

After more than a month at the center of the wildest U.S. election in a century, Tallahassee entered limbo Sunday. All the players in the election drama were waiting for the decision from the U.S. Supreme Court that might end the monthlong saga. Or bring it back to life.

At the Leon County Public Library, where 24 hours earlier Al Gore was tantalizingly close to George W. Bush in a rush-to-the-finish recount, things had returned to normal.

Gone were the French and Japanese television crews and the American governors and senators who had filled the parking lot a day earlier. Gone too were the bleary-eyed lawyers and the protesters in Darth Vader costumes.

Instead, Katy Simmons, a 20-year-old music major at Florida State University, sold coffee and cookies at a booth, enjoying the relative quiet.

“I like it better like this,” she said. “Yesterday, I had this really nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

On Saturday, Simmons had served dozens of free espressos to teams of judges who had been deputized as vote counters. Now her customers were just regular people, readers carrying stacks of mystery novels.

A Strangeness in Return to Normalcy

For a month, legions of political players have gathered in Florida’s capital city, host to late-night trial sessions, recounts and legislative maneuverings. On Sunday, though, it was just another college town filled with students worried about final exams.

“The whole city’s going to be completely empty,” said Jennifer Spanich, a Florida State student, anticipating the day when the presidential election imbroglio ends.

“It’s going to be weird just getting back to the locals,” said her sister Liz as she smoked a cigarette and drank coffee outside a bookstore at a Tallahassee mall.

Although not all the players in the political drama had departed Sunday, the mood here was decidedly quieter, as if the city were catching its collective breath after living through a story with many twists and turns.

Rooms at pricey downtown hotels such as the Governor’s Inn, sold out for weeks, suddenly were available--but only for a night. The political operatives kept their reservations lest they have to return today or Tuesday.

Much of the media stayed put, however. Twenty-one television crew trucks still were parked on streets around the Florida Supreme Court building, their antennas aimed at satellites circling above. The TV reporters said they didn’t want to leave and lose coveted “stand-up” spots in front of the building. After all, the drama might start up again.

“Every day, I think I’m leaving,” one network producer said. “And every day, I’m wrong.”

Vote Counters Wait at the Ready

At the nearby Leon County Courthouse, most of the media tents were empty. All the big-shot celebrities--the senators and the governors--had skipped town.

The one event of the day here was a vigil by Democratic Party activists at the Leon County Public Library. About 100 people holding candles sat on the front steps, hoping their prayers might resurrect Vice President Gore’s presidential hopes.

“We have people standing by, ready and anxious to count those votes, as soon as the [U.S.] Supreme Court renders its decision,” said Marilyn P. Lenard, president of the Florida AFL-CIO.

Lenard and other Democratic leaders had bused in voters from throughout Florida to lobby members of the state Legislature who are contemplating a move that would award all of the state’s 25 delegates to Texas Gov. Bush, the Republican candidate.

Elsewhere in Tallahassee, the locals weren’t so sure they wanted the election fight to start again.

Like others here, David Herold was a bit taken aback by the aggressiveness and impatience of the visitors.

“Some of them have been kind of snotty--just their state of mind,” he said. Herold had gotten to know many when they filed into the office supply store where he’s an assistant manager. “They just want to get in and not wait two seconds in line. They want preferential treatment because of what they’re doing.”

Still, politics has been good business for Herold. “Bush and Cheney lawyers have been coming in here doing copy jobs nonstop,” he said. “NBC’s coming in quite a bit.”

So what happens when the demonstrations stop and the satellite trucks leave for good?

“We’re praying for that day,” he said.

Bill Lemocks, a state government office manager sporting a Hooters restaurant T-shirt and denim cutoffs as he headed to the movies at the Governor’s Square mall, said the election mess “certainly put us on the map.”

“Who would have ever thought that Tallahassee would be the epicenter of the world the last month and a half?”