An Unprecedented Event Peaks on Waves of Emotions By N. R. KLEINFIELD
Published: November 5, 2008
You had to watch, and if you couldn’t watch you had to hear.
In this election for the ages, Albert Watson, 56, was the doorman stuck with the night shift on Tuesday evening at an apartment building on East 96th Street in Manhattan — no television, no radio, no smartphone or smart anything, a man starved of information on this night of all nights.
He had to know.
Joanna Gunderson, 76, from the 12th floor, recognized this, and she padded down and told him about Indiana. His friend from church, Faith Murray, who was home glued to the television in the Bronx, called him frequently with feeds. Here she was with news of 16 states deposited in the Obama column, his man on the way.
As the desired verdict was reached, Mr. Watson knew he was going to “be drinking all kinds of Champagne tomorrow.” He savored the moment. He said, “Today is a date to be glad and rejoice.”
At last, when the stampede of polls and blogged opinions and phone-bank calls no longer mattered and it was a done deal, supporters of Senator Barack Obama arrayed everywhere from a Las Vegas casino to an Iowa supermarket to a call center in Gurgaon, India, exulted with jubilation and abundant relief.
For Senator John McCain’s backers, it was no longer possible to bank on comebacks and upsets. Spin finally stood still. The underdog would remain just that.
In an energized election heavily draped in symbolism, response was particularly emotive at settings already permanently encased in history’s glow. At the Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, the home church of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., a “Watch Night” was accompanied by a candlelight vigil across the street at the crypt where Dr. King is buried.
“It’s just like a new world,” said Leroy Johnson, 80, a former state senator who was a year behind Dr. King at Morehouse College. “It’s a new life.”
The quadrennial institution of election-watching reached something of a frenzied pinnacle. Just about everyone felt compelled to see the concluding moments of this exhausting and exhaustive narrative unfurl — state by state, talking head by talking head.
Throngs of parties and events bubbled throughout the country, almost colliding into one another. Updates turned up everywhere.
At the Izod Center in the Meadowlands, where the New Jersey Nets were hosting the Phoenix Suns, the most raucous applause came not from dunks but from half-hourly election dispatches beamed on the Jumbotron. When Pennsylvania fell to Mr. Obama, the crowd erupted, clapping their thunder sticks together. During timeouts, even the players looked.
Parties were de rigueur at college campuses, where any election (or actually, anything) qualifies as adequate reason to party.
At the Sykes Student Union at West Chester University in West Chester, Pa., the election event was choreographed to be lively. Hence offerings like pin the tail on the donkey/elephant. Hence have a picture taken with McCain and Obama (18 Obama, 2 McCain). Students were urged to dress as their candidate for the chance at “awesome prizes.”
Once victory was projected, students mounted tables, hugged and chanted, “Obama, Obama.”
“This broke the back of racial politics,” said a tearful Marc Fauntleroy, 21.
Matt Whittall, 18, an accounting major and McCain supporter, felt that too many potential McCain voters on campus had been overwhelmed by Democratic “propaganda.”
As pursuit of the highest office tends to do, the scalding campaign had singed certain relationships. At the East Ridge Retirement Village in Cutler Bay, Fla., dinner is communal, starting at — yes — 4:15 p.m., hard on the heels of Happy Hour. In recent weeks, some Obama and McCain supporters had insulated themselves at separate tables, politics overwhelming shared interests in golf, bridge and the best foot ointments.
It was that way again on Tuesday, residents migrating to candidate-pure tables as drinks and later beef stew and maple-glazed turkey were served. At her table, Patricia Bayer, 85, announced that she had voted for Mr. McCain, prompting Frances McClure, 74, who had voted for Mr. Obama, to exclaim, “What? I’m out of here.”
And she was.
Stomachs satisfied, everyone repaired to their units to watch. The McCain voters, like Barbara Sims, 79, and her husband Robert Sims Sr., 86, knew it could be a short and sour evening. This would not be another 2000, when the sun came out, breakfast was served and the election firmly entered the Twilight Zone.
The Simses could take only so much. When Ohio was called, Mr. Sims said, “Forget it.” He went to walk the dog.
Reporting was contributed by Yolanne Almanzar, Lisa A. Bacon, Dan Bilefsky, Nick Bunkley, Ana Facio Contreras, Thayer Evans, Steve Friess, C.J. Hughes, Jon Hurdle, Hari Kumar, Christopher Maag, Rachel Pomerance, Joel D. Stonington and Jennifer Seter Wagner.
A version of this article appeared in print on November 5, 2008, on page P11 of the New York edition.
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