Site Presented By
Saturday, Nov 28, 2009
The cast of characters in the Florida saga rivals the O.J. trial, but the stars are the members of this wealthy county's elections board.
Nov 16, 2000 | The Florida electoral mess has transformed this tranquil oasis for the white and wealthy into the temporary capital of the state of confusion. And, like O.J. and impeachment before it, the saga has introduced a new cast of characters, maybe most notably Katherine Harris, the Florida secretary of state and co-chairwoman of the Bush campaign, whom enemies caricature as a hybrid of Cruella De Vil and Morticia Addams and admirers describe as a latter-day Joan of Arc.
But none of the characters have been as wild, tragic or entertaining as the three-member canvassing board from Palm Beach County.
Every time the commission meets, at least twice a day, CNN and company cut live to the scene for the latest drama. The emergency operations center in West Palm Beach is becoming as familiar to U.S. television sets as "The Brady Bunch" or "Seinfeld."
Maybe the board's best moment was its middle-of-the-night meeting to vote on conducting a countywide manual recount. They emerged from getting news of the sample hand count, sweaty and glassy-eyed, and after dramatic debate voted 2-1 to recount their controversial butterfly ballot manually. They assumed their now-familiar roles: Board chairman Charles Burton called for restraint and voted against the proposal; Democrat Carol Roberts grabbed the spotlight and pushed the recount through; while poor Theresa LePore sat like a glacier, seemingly on the verge of collapse.
Thursday's canvassing board meeting was another emotional apex, when the board announced it would continue its manual recount after getting the OK from the Florida Supreme Court, even though the state's election results have been certified. But by Thursday night, the familiar scenes of county employees holding ballots to the light and looking for hanging chads were again being broadcast to the world.
Now the Palm Beach emergency operations center has become the world's largest stakeout. All of us -- reporters, protesters and county employees alike -- spend our time milling around the parking lot, waiting for news like obedient puppies waiting for their masters to walk through the door. There doesn't seem to be a local in the group -- we've got Democratic and Republican Party operatives from Tennessee, South Carolina, Texas, Ohio, Washington; reporters from England, Japan, China, South Africa. And while the news is bigger in Tallahassee -- Supreme Court rulings, daily press conferences by Bush and Gore apparatchiks -- the crowd in Palm Beach is of a comparable size and frenzy.
The three-member canvassing commission now holds all its meetings on a podium in the parking lot to accommodate the hundreds of reporters permanently parked in West Palm Beach. Daily, they take their places at the long table on the riser, with dozens of microphones shooting up like tulips from a Tiffany vase among the backdrop of windblown palm trees. And in the center, the three unwitting commissioners suddenly cast into the global spotlight are handling the newfound fame with varying degrees of composure and measure.
It is important to keep some perspective. To give an indication of the kinds of problems local government in Palm Beach normally deals with, just take a look at its Web site. There, as the page's lead item, are important rules about "landscape irrigation restrictions" -- rules about when you can and cannot water your lawn.
Now these three board members find themselves in the center of the battle for the presidency, something that could well hinge on the county's manual recount -- which has stopped and started more than Richard Farnsworth's lawn mower.
