TALLAHASSEE, Fla. — It is no accident that Karl Rove, the mastermind who was the political face of the Bush campaign, has vanished. He has not dared step in front of a camera since the week of the election.
The Gore campaign, for its part, has kept Chris Lehane, its spokesman, away from the cameras in Tallahassee. Campaign officials said his verbal salvos were appropriately strident for a campaign but not for a courtroom climate. (Lehane was the one who derided Katherine Harris, the Florida secretary of state, as "a commissar" and "hack.")
In symbols and in oratory, both campaigns assert that the interminable contest for the White House has moved far beyond politics. Indeed, to the unsuspecting television viewer, who for weeks has been watching judges and courtrooms, there have been few overt signs of political jockeying.
But while no one can overstate the crucial role of Judge N. Sanders Sauls of Leon County Circuit Court here, he is not the campaigns' only target. From here to the U.S. Supreme Court, the courtroom has also served as a backdrop (albeit a high-minded one) for what operatives on both sides say, in unguarded moments, remains very much a political duel.
After running through the legal arguments, one Bush adviser summed up the environment in bellicose language that would hardly suit a courtroom, blurting, "This is war!"
This is a presidential campaign after all, so virtually every decision, every move, is infused with political calculations whether inside the courtroom or out. Besides influencing Sauls, the campaigns are trying to prod public opinion their way. They may not be as intemperate as often during the campaign, but politicians — and lawyers — on both sides are hewing to carefully choreographed talking points.
So instead of Lehane, who is working behind the scenes in Washington, David Boies, the celebrated trial lawyer, is the front man in Tallahassee. Campaign officials, mindful that his training is not in campaign lingo, have gently given Boies pointers on political-speak.
And while Rove continues to play an inside role, many political strings in Tallahassee are being pulled by Margaret Tutweiler and Dorrance Smith, media-savvy veterans of Republican administrations. They are operating from a state party headquarters here that is named after former President George Bush.
The political imperative on each side is, in fact, for the campaigns to cloak themselves in the law while they try to portray their opponents as consumed by politics. Later this week, Democratic officials plan to orchestrate a mobilization on the streets of Tallahassee that they hope will attract thousands of party loyalists. The objective is to have the crowds here and at other events in Florida cry out against Republican tactics, such as the expected move to involve the state Legislature in awarding Florida's electors. Party officials are depicting the events as up-from-the-ground display of force, not as political maneuvering.
Republicans are also guided by political impulses. Consider the decision by Sen. John Ashcroft of Missouri to fly to Tallahassee this weekend. As a former state attorney general, he said, he has monitored the proceedings closely and was eager to observe the trial for himself.
But Ashcroft is fresh from losing his campaign for re-election to a dead opponent, Gov. Mel Carnahan, whose wife, Jean, will take his place. So he was also seeking to help the Republicans build their public relations case that unlike Gore, he acted in the public interest by not contesting the result.
"We found some very serious irregularities and serious constitutional issues," Ashcroft said in an interview. "Pit bull lawyers were ready to go through with it and urged me to exhaust my rights. My decision was that would not be a good thing for Missouri."
But Republican officials said they also suspected that political self-interest was a factor. They said Ashcroft would probably covet a high-level appointment if Bush becomes president — and lending his support in Tallahassee could only help.
Both candidates have also tried to make their case with the public by proceeding with assembling their administrations. Bush has been far more aggressive about it, which Edward G. Rendell, the general chairman of the Democratic National Committee, said was entirely acceptable.
"I thought it was appropriate," Rendell said of Bush. "It's not as necessary for Al Gore. I don't think he needs as much time. And given where the vote stands, it would be presumptuous for us to do that." Gore advisers said they are eager for there to be footage on the news of votes being counted.
"It's the symbolism of motion," one Democratic official said. "We need to jump-start the PR."
In seeking a nonpolitical posture, Democratic operatives who converged in Tallahassee after the election were ordered by their superiors to purge their wardrobes and vehicles of "Gore-Lieberman" buttons and stickers.
Aside from the warmer climate, the scene in this small capital city often seems reminiscent of Concord, N.H., before that state's primary, with political combatants constantly running into each other.
Warren Christopher and William M. Daley, two of Gore's confidants, sometimes find themselves eating breakfast at the Doubletree Hotel here within earshot of their counterpart in the Bush campaign, James A. Baker III. On one occasion, according to people nearby, the Democrats offered to trade their victories in Iowa and Wisconsin. In exchange, the Republicans would have to turn over Florida. It was a rare moment when both sides shared a laugh.