George W. Bush's limo eased to a stop outside the Texas Legislature. Car doors opened and slammed shut as Secret Service agents scurried to take up positions around him. They formed a phalanx and led the president-elect's party into the legislative chambers in the soon-to-be-familiar troop movement that will attend his every step for the next four years.
In 30 minutes he would graciously accept what he and Al Gore had scratched and clawed for right up to the very public moment when one would concede and the other accept.
Concede and accept seem such passive terms to describe the end of a process marked by such bitter divisiveness and contentiousness as this campaign and its lingering aftermath. But they played their parts like good soldiers, each too respectful of the other's efforts to gloat in victory or grouse in defeat.
In a cleaner, more decisive victory, George the younger could have afforded to bask in the vindication of his father and the loyal cadre that will be swept back into power with him. If this speech had been delivered in the intoxicating euphoria of election night, he may have sounded those themes of victory and vindication.
But he had barely survived a long, convoluted contest that seemed to diminish "the majesty of the democratic process." His job on this night was to restore the faith, bridge the gap, heal the wounds.
Bush had been trying on this cloak of conciliation for the past two weeks. As it became increasingly obvious that he would win, he toned down the rhetoric. By early last week he had distanced himself from the more-rabid voices in his campaign who had been urging Gore to concede defeat and characterizing him as a sore loser.
The George W. Bush who stepped to the lectern Wednesday night had posted two successful elections for governor. But he had tasted defeat on that November night eight years ago when he saw his father rejected by the very people he had served for four years.
The stale stench of those ashes must have mingled with the sweet savor of this belated victory Wednesday night as he stepped to the lectern amid the sustained cheers of his people.
"I understand how difficult this moment must be for the vice president," he said when the cheering subsided. "We agreed to do our best to heal this nation. I thank him for a call that I know was difficult to make."
It wasn't one of the most eloquent speeches of this long campaign. It wasn't even the most eloquent of the night. But it was on point in tone and content, delivered with conviction to an audience that he has yet to win over.
This was a speech to the 50 million Americans who didn't vote for him and to the millions who are in danger of being disillusioned by a process that ended with a tainted ruling from a U.S. Supreme Court that got itself mired in the unalloyed partisanship of an election we expected them to rise above.
He was at his best when he led us through the history of an election even more divisive and contentious than his own. He quoted the speech made by Thomas Jefferson after an election that took six days and 36 ballots to resolve.
"The steady character of our countrymen is a rock to which we can safely moor," he said, quoting Jefferson. "Two hundred years have only strengthened that steady character."
The one discordant note sounded in this speech was his insistence on remounting his campaign platform. He ran down the list of essential programs he had campaigned on, signaling his intent to fight for the agenda even in the face of an evenly divided Congress that seems unlikely to back the most ambitious of his proposals. It's going to take more than a reliance on our "shared American values" to move that agenda past a cautious, centrist House and Senate.
Aside from that one false note, he did what he came to do. He looked and sounded presidential, seemed sincere in his efforts to unite the country around common goals.
"I have a charge to keep," he concluded. "I will give it my all."
Elmer Smith is associate editor of the opinion pages at the Philadelphia Daily News, 400 N. Broad St., Philadelphia, PA 19130.