Bush's Triumph: 2004 Election: In Victory's Glow

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The emotional route of Kerry's day passed Bush's somewhere halfway, traveling from wild hope to stunned despair. After one last dawn campaign visit, a triple-witching photo op on the Iowa-Wisconsin-Minnesota border, Kerry flew back to Boston for his ritual Election Day lunch at the Union Oyster House. Superstitious, he wore his lucky Red Sox cap, carried an Ohio buckeye in one pocket and a clover in the other and refused to let his speechwriters work on election-night speeches of any flavor. But he wasn't relying entirely on voodoo. He spent the afternoon doing satellite interviews in key markets, 38 interviews over four hours.

All along, the Republicans predicted they would beat the Democrats in the final 72 hours because the Dems were relying on hired help whereas the G.O.P. was running its ground game with volunteers. At Bush campaign rallies throughout the year, anyone who came through security was asked to register. If they were already registered, they were asked to volunteer. Those who had already volunteered were scheduled to go on buses after the President left so that they could walk precincts and knock on doors. The chance to get close enough to shake the President's hand was not reserved for big donors, as in the past. The ones who got the lucky bracelet that allowed them into that proximity were the ones who promised to work in the phone bank after the event.

The G.O.P. knew that every last disciple would be needed because the Democrats had so much money to spend this time. The liberal 527 America Coming Together (ACT), which overall spent $125 million registering voters and turning them out, had 30,000 paid foot soldiers in Ohio alone, making ACT, for a day, the state's biggest employer. And alongside ACT was an army of free-lancers and first-timers and recruits from every Democratic activist group, matching the Republican faithful step for step.

For all the warnings of turmoil on Election Day, most people were on their best behavior. Even at war, there was civility. In New Mexico a law student policing the polls for the Democrats lent her cell phone to her Republican counterpart. In Merrimack, N.H., volunteers from MoveOn.org passed out hot cocoa to activists holding signs outside the polling place--Republicans and Democrats alike. "We might be a battleground state," said voter-protection volunteer Chris L'Estrange in Des Moines, Iowa, "but there's not much of a battle." Florida state troopers suspended safety checkpoints for the day to avoid any accusations of trying to suppress turnout.