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When Bush spokeswoman Karen Hughes faced reporters after the sun came up Wednesday morning, she--and they--were still dazed and confused. "I watched it this morning on television in excerpts, and I thought maybe it had all been a dream, and then I realized I was awake the whole time," she said. The entire shape and design of the past 18 months have been for the campaigns to look presidential, as if by appearing so, they were so. Their confidence raised them all that money and helped them resist all that advice from Washington. And so Bush aides carefully leaked that Dick Cheney would be heading the transition effort and would be assisted by Colin Powell. Andrew Card, the deputy chief of staff under President Bush, would now be chief of staff. Several photo ops were staged with Bush and his Cabinet-in-waiting to show that this certification was just a matter of time, so he'd better get down to business. "There was some internal debate about beginning the transition," says a Republican in touch with Austin. "Does it seem arrogant and overconfident, or does that project assurance?"
When Bush himself appeared outside the Governor's mansion, he said that "America has a long tradition of uniting once elections are over." He held out an olive branch to Gore's supporters: "I want to assure them that should the election go the way that we think it will, that I will work hard to earn their confidence."
But he wasn't taking any chances. All through his campaign Bush had been careful to keep his father's closest friends and retainers at some distance to avoid all that dynasty talk. But the moment the battle was over and the war began, it was the fabulous Bush and Baker boys all over again. Hughes described Baker as "a calming presence." His nickname in Washington is the Velvet Hammer.
And he needed to be one, since the Bushes' own party wanted to go to war. "Austin is lying back," said a party source. "They don't realize this is not about Florida. It is about the whole damn election." The resentment went back to the last days of the campaign. Bush's team had made a stop in California the week before the election that seemed truly idiotic to friends at the Republican National Committee in Washington. Republicans thought the Texan was just coasting in at the end. On the Sunday nine days before the vote, Bush was at home. Gore was out working just as hard as ever.
So the wise men in D.C. began to weigh in. "Do they know what they're up against?" asked a befuddled Bush supporter in Congress. The old and deep bitterness over alleged Democratic dirty tricks also bubbled up like a hot spring. Senators and Representatives were calling officials at the r.n.c. saying, "Don't let them get away with it."
Gore, meanwhile, called in a Secretary of State of his own, Warren Christopher, whose primary role was to stand up and look grave and reliable and say that "we are not on the edge of a constitutional crisis, and we don't intend to provoke a constitutional crisis." Gore made a statement in the afternoon--measured, careful and, to the true believers, infuriating. Gore and Christopher and Daley are all the type who take the long view. But the activists felt cheated and disfranchised and were looking for Fighting Al.