And yet. Insiders say the Gore campaign's handling of the black community during the campaign -- and especially during the post-election period -- caused a series of slights, fights and feelings of betrayal. While his campaign poured millions over the last year into trying to appeal to swing voters, some of Gore's ground troops, backed up by furious black lawmakers, complained for months that the campaign was ignoring black voters. Money and time were finally invested, but late, not until weeks before Election Day.

Blacks, in a response that had more to do with powerful get-out-the-vote efforts of traditional black organizations, like the NAACP and Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition, and under the influence of a partisan black media, turned out for Gore in numbers that were dazzling: He took over 90 percent of the black vote, a feat to surpass even his predecessor Bill Clinton, beloved among blacks but whose numbers peaked in the high 80s.

Had Gore won, this might have turned into a tale of all's well that ends well. But as the election went into the contest phase, the battle between Gore and black leaders became even more pitched. Advisors say Gore had lost ground in Florida with two important voting blocs Clinton had made inroads with: seniors (an increasing number of Reagan Democrats are now flexing among the snowbirds) and Cuban-Americans. "If it weren't for blacks, there would have been no contest," says one senior Democratic strategist, noting that black turnout spiked from 10 percent of the total Florida vote in 1996 to 15 percent in 2000.

But while Gore and his campaign talked incessantly of recounts, butterfly ballots and chads, he did not mention black voter troubles until late in the contest, on Dec. 5, in response to a direct question at a press conference. Gore's decision not to bring or join legal action on behalf of Florida blacks alleging that their rights were violated on Election Day is largely understood by his critics. Voting rights cases take months to get resolved and usually yield relief only prospectively; with time a precious commodity, it was smart for the veep to pursue the speedier issue of recounts.

But why not at least pound the table and make the case for moral outrage, particularly in a country that still remembers the civil rights struggle for the vote? Gore staffers say the vice president didn't want to muddy his message and be seen as grabbing at every available straw. "Gore decided to be targeted and have an argument," says one senior aide. "You've got to choose your fights." As well, they say, Gore feared being accused of playing the race card. "He wanted to be very careful about the demagoguery and igniting something," says another senior operative.

Still, since the day after the election, black voters had stormed over serious allegations in black precincts: intimidating police roadblocks; voters denied ballots; voters wrongfully purged from voting rolls; Haitian immigrants denied translators and voters wrongly told polls were closed. But for nearly a month, the Gore campaign offered not even a token word of concern.

"The silence is defeaning," says NAACP president Kweisi Mfume. "You can't ignore your most loyal constituency."

Gore made, at best, a veiled reference to the plight of black voters in his concession speech. "I do have one regret -- that I didn't get the chance to stay and fight ... especially for those who need burdens lifted and barriers removed, especially those who feel their voices have not been heard," he said. Black leaders were unimpressed. And if Gore wants to know about barriers and burdens, he might find out firsthand should he try to court the black vote in 2004.

According to those both inside and outside the campaign, Gore fumbled this key constituency for months before Election Day. As the primaries ended, "swing" voters -- suburban, Midwestern, more conservative whites -- became prime targets. Gore's consultants, the top command controlling the money and message, channeled resources into blitzing these voters with commercials. But the ground troops worried that traditional Democratic constituencies, like labor and blacks, were suffering from neglect. Indeed, by late summer internal poll numbers were reflecting a problem: The vice-president only had 65 percent of the black community committed to going to the polls for him, numbers that were at least 10 to 15 points behind where they should have been.

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