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She appeared before the television cameras
only four times, but for five weeks at the close of election
year 2000, Florida’s Secretary of State Katherine Harris
MPA 1997 was almost as familiar to the American public as
the candidates themselves.
The daughter of a prominent Florida political
family,Harris had already served two terms as Florida’s
state senator and was used to the rough and tumble of politics.
But presidential election 2000, by almost any measure, was
tougher than most.
Early on election night, the networks
projected Democratic candidate Al Gore the victor in Florida.
Hours later, the
projection was switched to Republican candidate George W.
Bush, and finally in the early hours of Wednesday morning,
the race was judged too close to call. With the national election
hinging on Florida and its 25 electoral votes, Harris, responsible
for administering and certifying the state’s presidential
election, was on the hot seat and was given a lot of advice.
Colleagues told her she was in a “no-win”
situation — a predicament, they said, that would more
than likely end her political career. Some urged her to avoid
the dilemma altogether and send the problem up to the Florida
Supreme Court. But it was her husband, she said, who offered
her the best advice. “When you were elected you swore
an oath that you would uphold the law. You have to act with
the most extreme integrity,” he told her.
And that, she says, is what she tried
to do. But in the chaos of the ensuing five weeks, passions
ran high, says Harris, and facts were often misconstrued —
distortions, she says, that persist today. For example, one
of her first actions when lawsuits began to proliferate, says
Harris, was to ask the Florida Supreme Court to consolidate
all of the cases in question and come up with a uniform standard
for a manual recount. Her request was denied. Had the court
accepted her request, Harris says, some of the subsequent
confusion might have been avoided. “Actually, the Bush
camp was incensed by my request,” says Harris, “but
that was never reported.”
Harris says her decision to certify the
election according to the statutory timetable was also misunderstood.
The Supreme Court demanded she certify either Sunday, if her
office was open, or Monday after the election. Harris was
eager to certify, she says, not out of concern that the election
would shift in Al Gore’s favor if she didn’t, she
says, but because, until the election was certified, an election
contest of the counts could not begin.
The contest was the only route under Florida
law that Harris could choose. “What I was doing was protecting
the
candidates’ legal rights — both candidates. I was
following the law exactly. Had Al Gore’s campaign allowed
us to
certify on time — within the week’s timeframe —
he would have had time for the courts to declare a statewide
recount. My certification in no way was meant to prevent a
manual recount.”
Harris believes Gore was reluctant to
have the election certified because he was estimating the
American public would not have the patience to endure a contest
in court. “But that proved to be false,” she says.
“The American people were extremely resilient.”
When Harris traveled outside the country during this period,
she found the international community impressed by the United
States.
“They were astonished at the exercise
of democracy. The leader of the free world was at stake, and
for 36 days, no tanks rolled in, no drop of blood was spilled,
and we didn’t have a crisis of democracy or a threat
to our constitution. We simply had a close race.”
Harris was also frustrated by reports
that she deliberately halted the counting in Palm Beach County,
when they had only two hours left to finish. “It just
wasn’t true,” says Harris. “The reporting was
so convoluted. Palm Beach was never ready,” she says.
“They wouldn’t have been ready in two hours; they
wouldn’t have been ready in two days. They were never
able to unscramble the election results, so they sent their
results in without any totals.” Since then, reporters
who’ve heard her side, she says, have asked her why she
didn’t speak out sooner. “They said ‘if only
you’d come out more often, we wouldn’t have painted
you as such a caricature.’”
But, looking back, she says, she wouldn’t
do anything differently. “There’s nothing under
the law that enabled me to do anything differently,”
she insists. She spoke in front of the cameras only when it
was extremely important for everyone to be on the same page,
she says. Flanked by counsel, Harris appeared tense and reticent
during those times. “I was only on television four times,
but those appearances were played over and over,” says
Harris. “Everyone thought I spoke so much more.”
Those few appearances, though, fueled
a media frenzy that zeroed in on every nuance of her makeup
and dress. “The personal attacks were over the top,”
she says, recalling the attention she received. Harris believes
that it was because she is a woman that the reporting fell
to that level. Women still come up to her, she says, to say
how appalled they are at how she was portrayed. “It goes
with the territory,” says Harris, “that in this
country, at this time, women are still treated this way.”
But there were funny moments too, she
says. She recalls that her own personal turning point came
in the final weeks of deliberations. During this period, she
says, she wasn’t sleeping much — just a couple of
hours a night. Awake one morning at 3 a.m., she and her secret
service agent (she had received several threats on her life)
trundled off to the only store open at that hour to do some
Christmas shopping. When she pulled out her credit card to
pay, the sales clerk looked at the card, then at her, and
asked, “Are you Katherine Harris?” With everyone
in line’s interest piqued, Harris replied, “Yes,
but I have on only one layer of makeup. I’m travelling
incognito tonight.” Everyone in line broke up, she said.
“I don’t know where it came from in me,” she
says. “It just erupted, but after that it was different.”
And for those who predicted her political
career was over, Harris has no intention to let that happen.
In November, she will run for Congress from her hometown district
on the west coast of Florida, which includes her hometown
of Sarasota County. She can hardly wait, she says, to begin
campaigning — to go to the parks, fairs, and attend town
meetings. Her platform, she says, will be based on the needs
and concerns of the people she will be listening to during
the course of her campaign. Soon she plans to return home
on weekends, go door-to-door, and work hard to gain the confidence
of the voters.
“I get to go home,” says Harris.
“That means a lot to me. No one out-campaigns me. I really
love working.”
— Sarah Abrams
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