A Day of Emotional Ups and Downs for Bush, Gore Camps

In a political campaign like no other, it was a day of wild mood swings.

At the vice president’s Victorian residence here, Al Gore was only five minutes away from making a tight-lipped statement urging his supporters not to lose heart when the news flashed across his television screen: The Florida Supreme Court had come down on his side.

In Austin, Texas, at Gov. George W. Bush’s white-pillared mansion and in his campaign headquarters near the state Capitol, the spreading grins of Friday morning melted away.

In Tallahassee, Fla., two teams of super lawyers, one in a cluttered warren of offices in the George Bush Republican Headquarters Building, the other cloistered in a powerhouse Democratic law firm, huddled over faxed copies of the court’s decision, searching for hidden meaning.

In this case, the meaning was all too clear.

“The word ‘not’ is in capital letters,” Gore’s chief lawyer, Warren Christopher, pointed out to his associates with uncharacteristic glee. The Florida Supreme Court was telling two largely Democratic counties that they were NOT to stop recounting votes--exactly what Gore and Christopher wanted.

James A. Baker III, Christopher’s Republican counterpart, knew what the word meant too. Bush was “disappointed, of course,” he told reporters.

In the Gore camp, the half-joking catch phrase of the last 10 days has been: “The worm turns.” On Friday afternoon, Gore spokesman Mark D. Fabiani said: “That worm is getting awfully dizzy.”

Bush spokesman Ari Fleischer, in Austin, agreed. “After being told by the networks that Gov. Bush was the president, after hearing him referred to as president-elect and after watching the last 10 days, we’ve gotten good at riding the roller coaster. Today we had two rides for the price of one.”

Earlier Ruling a Victory for Bush

The day began with a major legal victory for Bush. In a Tallahassee courtroom, Leon County Circuit Judge Terry P. Lewis declared that Secretary of State Katherine Harris had acted properly when she announced that she would certify the winner of the election today, without waiting for manual recounts in two Democratic counties.

There were cheers and high-fives at Bush headquarters in Austin. The governor, who had been in seclusion at his ranch near Waco, headed back to the state capital--to be ready, aides said, to accept certification as president-elect.

Republicans were buoyant. In Washington, Sen. Bill Frist (R-Tenn.), Bush’s top contact man in Congress, suggested that the public would begin thinking quickly of the Texan as president-elect. It was just “a matter of days,” he said, before Gore would concede.

Gore and his backers were grim. In a conference call between Washington and Tallahassee, they agreed on a stiff-upper-lip strategy: If they could persuade officials in Palm Beach and Broward counties to keep recounting, they could ask the nation--and the courts--to ignore any move by Harris to declare Bush the winner.

On the ground in South Florida, Gore forces were making slow headway. Broward was counting, Palm Beach ended days of indecision to begin its count and Miami-Dade County was moving toward a decision to count.

At his mansion, Gore worked on a statement he could make in front of television cameras set up on his front lawn.

He was going to ask the country to remain patient with the recounts, even if Harris certified Bush as the winner. He was going to urge respect for the rule of law and the will of the people and, in the inelegant words of one of his aides, “that nobody give the bum’s rush to the process.”

But five minutes before he was to walk out the front door, aides drew his attention to the television screen.

At first, the import of the court’s decision was not clear. Carter Eskew, one of Gore’s top campaign strategists, clicked from channel to channel, hoping for more details. Gore got on the telephone with Christopher and other members of his legal team in Tallahassee to hear their interpretation.

When Gore finally went outside to talk before the cameras, his statement had a new tone--but, in the end, most of the same words as his initial draft.

“Neither Gov. Bush, nor the Florida secretary of state nor I will be the arbiter of this election,” he said. “This election is a matter that must be decided by the will of the people as expressed under the rule of law.”

Throughout the day, one aide said, his demeanor never changed.

In Austin, there was disbelief and official silence. Aides had begun planning events for the weekend--a low-key statement today welcoming certification of the vote, followed by a possible news conference Sunday and, one aide said, a more visible transition process. But all that went on hold.

In Tampa, Fla., at a Republican governors’ conference, Pennsylvania Gov. Thomas J. Ridge was less reserved.

“I can’t stand it!” he barked at a television set that showed Gore’s statement, according to Associated Press.

On Capitol Hill, House Majority Leader Dick Armey (R-Texas) complained that the presidency of the United States was being decided by a state Supreme Court of seven Democratic appointees. “It just gets curiouser and curiouser,” Armey said.

The rapid cycle of action and reaction, from Tallahassee to Washington to Austin, was the most dizzying yet in a strange postelection campaign that has begun taking on the trappings of unwanted permanence.

“It’s just like being back in the campaign--only more lawyers and no television commercials,” said one member of the Gore camp.

Recycling Veterans of Past Political Wars

In Palm Beach, Fort Lauderdale and Miami, the ground war is being waged by reassembled veterans of Iowa and New Hampshire, rounding up local officials and loyalists to help the recount come out the way they want. In Tallahassee, two frenzied command posts deploy super lawyers, spin doctors and field organizers.

Atop it all, in Washington and Austin, the candidates and their managers set each day’s strategy with a round of conference calls.

In the spotlight for months, Gore and Bush now campaign from a kind of internal exile. Gore works his phones and his e-mail, using a small hand-held computer called a Blackberry, from the hilltop 1893 house that became the official residence of the vice president in 1974.

Bush sought calm for several days on his half-built ranch near Waco, reading, conferring with the architect of his new ranch house and enjoying “the tranquillity of the countryside,” spokeswoman Karen Hughes said. But he still made time for phone calls, e-mail and faxes, and Friday he made the 90-minute trek back to Austin, hoping for good news from Tallahassee.

In the Florida capital, the two campaigns work a few blocks from each other.

The GOP operation is headquartered in a modern, three-story brick structure just east of downtown. Baker has reassembled several of his aides from his years as U.S. secretary of State, including his former spokeswoman, Margaret D. Tutwiler. Three top Republican lawyers, Theodore B. Olson, Barry Richard and Benjamin Ginsberg, are running the legal effort. Joe Allbaugh, who managed Bush’s campaign organization in Austin, has flown in to run the overall effort.

A reporter was barred from visiting this week, but, through glass walls, staff members could be seen scrunched over computers and huddled in meetings, poring over papers in cramped offices with maps of Florida on the walls. The smell of fast food wafted out the door.

Boies, Tribe Headline Team

The Democrats are a few blocks away in two buildings. The lawyers, led by Christopher, have set up shop in the law firm of Berger, Davis & Singerman. The legal task force includes David Boies, who led the Justice Department’s case against Microsoft Corp., Harvard law school scholar Laurence Tribe and election law expert Robert Bauer.

A growing political organization is encamped at the Democratic Party’s state headquarters nearby, with Ron Klain, Gore’s former chief of staff, acting as general manager. The Democrats, like the Republicans, barred a reporter from visiting.

But one Democrat said that his side had won a key psychological victory Friday--even beyond the favorable ruling from the state Supreme Court.

Christopher, he claimed, had managed to hold on to his suite at the Governor’s Inn, Tallahassee’s most elegant hotel, despite the flood of guests coming to claim their rooms for today’s University of Florida-Florida State football game. Baker, the Democrat whispered, had been bumped--to a Holiday Inn.

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Times staff writers Nick Anderson in Washington, Megan Garvey and Maria L. La Ganga in Austin, and Mitchell Landsberg in Tallahassee contributed to this story.