Florida as they come in. Suddenly that last-minute 50,000-vote bubble has popped. The lead is down to 6,000—way too close
to concede.
Whouley wants to confirm these numbers. Baldick says again that it’s too close to call. Within a thousand votes either way.
“Are you shu-ah?” he asks Baldick, in his thick Boston accent.
Baldick’s shuah.
Whouley checks the Florida secretary of state’s Web site. He asks his numbers guy, Ken Strasma, what he thinks. Strasma says
the numbers he’s been getting from Florida show that Gore could still win, and that at the very least it is too close.
“Are you shu-ah?” Whouley asks.
DNC spokeswoman Jenny Backus starts calling the networks to alert them that Florida is still too close to call. Meanwhile,
Whouley calls Monica Dixon, one of the “war room” rapid-response staffers. Her voice mail’s on; she’s already left. In a zone,
intensely concentrating on clearing it all up, Whouley and the rest in the boiler room haven’t talked to Gore and his senior
staff. They had assumed that Gore, Daley, et al. would call down before making any decisions. But that doesn’t seem to be
the case.
Whouley’s assistant, a young Harvard grad named Jeff Yarborough, has been working so closely with Whouley that he—like Radar
from
M*A*S*H
—often takes actions on his boss’s behalf just minutes before his boss thinks of them himself.
Yarborough frantically pages Gore’s traveling chief of staff, Mike Feldman.
“ CALL SWITCHBOARD. CALL HOLDING WITH MIKE WHOULEY. ASAP ,” reads the page.
“Wheah the fuck ahh these people?!” Whouley asks.
“I’m getting Feldman on through White House signal,”Yarborough says, referring to the White House paging system.
Feldman doesn’t know what to think. Whouley had been at campaign HQ on the speaker phone with the seventh floor, but after
the networks called the race for Bush, everyone kind of forgot about him. Feldman wonders if Whouley even knows that Gore
conceded. Feldman punches up the switchboard on his cell phone and is immediately connected to Whouley.
“Wheah ahh you guys?!” Whouley asks.
“About two blocks away from the memorial,” Feldman says.
“ WHY ?!” asks Whouley.
“Because Gore’s going to give a speech,” Feldman says.
“ Fuh WHAT ?!” Whouley asks. “It’s an automatic recount! This thing is only six thousand votes! Ahh you with Daley?”
“I better get him on the line right now,” Feldman says.
Daley’s in a different car, so Feldman conferences him in on the cell phone.
Whouley explains that this thing is still too close to call. Another Gore staffer, Charlie Koch, has called Florida attorney
general Bob Butterworth, the Gore campaign’s state chair, to find out the relevant law as it pertains to the Florida recount.
If the margin of victory is within one-half of 1 percent, there’s an automatic machine recount, Butterworth explains. Whouley
shares this with Daley.
“It’s too close to call,” Whouley says, giving Daley the details. “We still may win this thing. At a minimum, Billy, it’s
an automatic recount. We got TV cameras going to Bob Butterworth’s house right now! It’s an automatic recount!”
“Oh fuck,” Daley says. “Let’s go to hold when we get there. We’ll sort it out there. And we’ll call you back from a land line.”
Attie’s sitting with Daley and Eskew. He wonders why Daley’s head is down; he’s not exactly the kind of guy to get weepy.
Then he realizes Daley’s on the phone. He gets off the phone and turns to Eskew.
“With-ninety-nine-point-seven-percent-of-the-vote-counted-in-Florida-we’re-only-six-hundred-votes-behind, whadda-we-do?!!”
Daley asks.
Feldman calls David Morehouse, a Gore aide, and tells him to take Gore straight to the holding room when they arrive. Do not
let Gore hit the stage, Feldman says. They are only a block or so away from the War Memorial.
Daley phones Gore.
“Whatever you do, do
to concede.
Whouley wants to confirm these numbers. Baldick says again that it’s too close to call. Within a thousand votes either way.
“Are you shu-ah?” he asks Baldick, in his thick Boston accent.
Baldick’s shuah.
Whouley checks the Florida secretary of state’s Web site. He asks his numbers guy, Ken Strasma, what he thinks. Strasma says
the numbers he’s been getting from Florida show that Gore could still win, and that at the very least it is too close.
“Are you shu-ah?” Whouley asks.
DNC spokeswoman Jenny Backus starts calling the networks to alert them that Florida is still too close to call. Meanwhile,
Whouley calls Monica Dixon, one of the “war room” rapid-response staffers. Her voice mail’s on; she’s already left. In a zone,
intensely concentrating on clearing it all up, Whouley and the rest in the boiler room haven’t talked to Gore and his senior
staff. They had assumed that Gore, Daley, et al. would call down before making any decisions. But that doesn’t seem to be
the case.
Whouley’s assistant, a young Harvard grad named Jeff Yarborough, has been working so closely with Whouley that he—like Radar
from
M*A*S*H
—often takes actions on his boss’s behalf just minutes before his boss thinks of them himself.
Yarborough frantically pages Gore’s traveling chief of staff, Mike Feldman.
“ CALL SWITCHBOARD. CALL HOLDING WITH MIKE WHOULEY. ASAP ,” reads the page.
“Wheah the fuck ahh these people?!” Whouley asks.
“I’m getting Feldman on through White House signal,”Yarborough says, referring to the White House paging system.
Feldman doesn’t know what to think. Whouley had been at campaign HQ on the speaker phone with the seventh floor, but after
the networks called the race for Bush, everyone kind of forgot about him. Feldman wonders if Whouley even knows that Gore
conceded. Feldman punches up the switchboard on his cell phone and is immediately connected to Whouley.
“Wheah ahh you guys?!” Whouley asks.
“About two blocks away from the memorial,” Feldman says.
“ WHY ?!” asks Whouley.
“Because Gore’s going to give a speech,” Feldman says.
“ Fuh WHAT ?!” Whouley asks. “It’s an automatic recount! This thing is only six thousand votes! Ahh you with Daley?”
“I better get him on the line right now,” Feldman says.
Daley’s in a different car, so Feldman conferences him in on the cell phone.
Whouley explains that this thing is still too close to call. Another Gore staffer, Charlie Koch, has called Florida attorney
general Bob Butterworth, the Gore campaign’s state chair, to find out the relevant law as it pertains to the Florida recount.
If the margin of victory is within one-half of 1 percent, there’s an automatic machine recount, Butterworth explains. Whouley
shares this with Daley.
“It’s too close to call,” Whouley says, giving Daley the details. “We still may win this thing. At a minimum, Billy, it’s
an automatic recount. We got TV cameras going to Bob Butterworth’s house right now! It’s an automatic recount!”
“Oh fuck,” Daley says. “Let’s go to hold when we get there. We’ll sort it out there. And we’ll call you back from a land line.”
Attie’s sitting with Daley and Eskew. He wonders why Daley’s head is down; he’s not exactly the kind of guy to get weepy.
Then he realizes Daley’s on the phone. He gets off the phone and turns to Eskew.
“With-ninety-nine-point-seven-percent-of-the-vote-counted-in-Florida-we’re-only-six-hundred-votes-behind, whadda-we-do?!!”
Daley asks.
Feldman calls David Morehouse, a Gore aide, and tells him to take Gore straight to the holding room when they arrive. Do not
let Gore hit the stage, Feldman says. They are only a block or so away from the War Memorial.
Daley phones Gore.
“Whatever you do, do
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