Columbus, Ohio
IF YOU LISTENED very carefully as Election Day dawned, you could hear the sound of a thousand wingtips creaking as their lawyer-occupants leaned expectantly forward, ready to hustle across the state of Ohio with their eyes peeled for "voting irregularities." Florida 2000, you got the sense, had been just a warmup.

Lawyers with varying degrees of expertise in the fine details of election law descended on Ohio (and Florida and other presumed hot spots) from across the country. Weighing in with 115 volunteers in Franklin County alone, the Election Protection coalition (a project of People for the American Way, the NAACP, the AFL-CIO, and four or five dozen other assorted pro-Kerry groups) was dominant at the polling places, with an all-day presence at the dozens of schools, churches, and rec centers where county residents voted. By 6 A.M., their teams were pouring out the back door of the AFL-CIO building in Columbus and into the suburban wilderness.

I tagged along behind one four-woman group dispatched to a suburban elementary school. They spied their first "irregularity" within moments of arriving. Two women in white windbreakers had stationed themselves well inside the 100-foot perimeter set up by Ohio law to keep potential interlopers of all kinds away from polling sites. The windbreaker women were carrying binders and verifying that the people in line were voting in the right precinct. They wouldn't say what group they were with, and a small fuss quickly became a clamor and threatened to escalate into an election-observer West Side Story when it was discovered that the windbreakers' plastic shopping bags were full of Democratic campaign literature. They were a Voting Rights Team stumping for Kerry--same church, different pew.

Cell phones sprouted from every handbag, and various headquarters were consulted. After some wary circling, excuses were proffered sotto voce ("I think my hair is gelled too tight to my head, that's why I have a headache") and asses were covered ("I'm going to fill out an incident report . . . and I would appreciate if the right person is specified. I don't want to be drawn into somebody else's drama"). Finally, TV talkshow conflict-resolution techniques were employed ("I really felt offended by that because I heard you on the phone") and peace was made.

No sooner was the Voting Rights Team safely nudged outside the perimeter than another crisis confronted the Election Protection lawyers. In a blatant attempt at electioneering, a grade-schooler displayed a sign reading "Vote NO on Issue 1" (the same-sex marriage ban) in the window of his school bus. Written on a torn-out leaf of notebook paper, the sign was just inches from the 100-foot boundary. The school bus quickly pulled away, however, and the crisis was averted.

It started to rain harder, and the wind kicked up. "If you have any problem voting, any problem at all, you just come right back out here and tell me!" one lawyer would holler as voters went by. She was roundly ignored, as each voter made a mad dash for the door. One of the lawyers turned up her collar and stepped just inside the 100-foot perimeter to take refuge under a tree.