In the big room, a band played rock ‘n’ roll oldies as Democrats chowed down, danced, schmoozed and took turns being interviewed by television camera crews.
Republicans outnumber Democrats by a 2-1 margin in Sen. John Edwards’ hometown, but that didn’t faze any of his 200 or so supporters who came to party even as they watched disappointing news play out on a pair of television screens.
In the parking lot, media trucks and vans pointed satellite dishes up at a star-speckled sky. They started arriving and setting up at 4 in the afternoon.
They tested connections, mounted bright lights and gauze flags, set up tripods for camera support, got their white balance right, and stopped one after another as guests arrived to assemble the required sound bites in case there was room at some point for a Robbins report.
Live feeds from the mill were expected to take place from time to time during the night, as events would, or would not, dictate.
Clare Ruggles and Cynthia Reeves arrived early to meet them, then balanced party preparation with last-minute telephone calls urging fellow Democrats to get to the polls and vote.
As darkness fell, they lighted luminaria and switched on tree lights at the entrance.
A gaily decorated donkey painted with white stars on a blue field at his head with red and white stripes flagging out to his tail greeted each arrival.
Long tables were laden with food brought to share in what amounted to a political church supper. There were tasty pastries, bowls of pasta, trays of rolled beef, cheese, and chicken, homemade cakes, pies and cookies, soft drinks, cups, ice and a few bottles of wine, even in dry Robbins.
Early returns showing a solid win for incumbent Democratic Gov. Mike Easley proved encouraging, but as the evening hours wore on and numbers rolled across the screens showing the state solidly in Bush’s column, fears for other races mounted.
Much concern focused on Erskine Bowles’ run for the Senate seat being vacated by Edwards. Prospects turned from hopeful to doubtful to dismal.
By the time of his eventual concession, everybody knew.
Reeves followed local races on a notebook computer logged on through a telephone connection to the Moore County Board of Elections’ Web site.
When it was announced that most challengers in the school board race were leading incumbents by nearly two to one, the first cheer of the evening erupted.
It would prove to be the only one.
Robbins itself produced over twice as many votes for the Bush/Cheney ticket than for Kerry and apparently not-so-favorite son Edwards.
It even appeared he would garner fewer votes in his hometown than Al Gore did four years ago, until they realized that early and absentee votes had not yet been counted. This year, some 20 percent of Moore County voters cast their votes early.
So even though preliminary numbers showed Edwards’ team winning only 191 votes to 506 for President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney, most were unfazed. They knew upper Moore County has been pretty solidly Republican for years and hoped the counting of early and absentee votes would improve the numbers.
Out of 514 votes in 2000, Gore took 223. Those totals included absentee ballots, however. It is widely thought that more people voted this year.
Such support for Bush/Cheney over Kerry/Edwards, in Edwards’ hometown, the town he pays grateful homage to in nearly every stump speech, seemed shocking to some people.
One was Marsh McRae.
“I live in a little pottery town up the road here about 12 miles,” he said. “I see all those (Bush/Kerry) signs up and down here, and it’s a shame. My son has to come through here on the way up from Carthage, and he said, ‘What in the hell has happened to Robbins? Everywhere I look, in the yards and up and down every street and road, it’s Bush, Bush, Bush/Cheney.’ That’s all the sense they’ve got? Damn.”
Still, a slim but fervent hope kept eyes trained on television screens searching for signs of hope. There was much talk about the possibilities in Florida, until Florida fell to Bush.
The band packed up. Ruggles and Reeves, with help from a few volunteers, started cleaning up. Most people headed home to catch final numbers on their own sets.
Television crews stayed for final live shots, then called it a wrap.
Nobody ever got around to opening the champagne.
