t was cold in the gym, cold enough to evoke memories of Richard Nixon's sweaty lip, cold enough for women to wrap their shoulders in shawls the way their mothers would have used furs.
It was cold enough for a beefy union guy in a T-shirt, alone in a sea of suits and dresses, to rub his arms, cold enough for goosebumps on the way to the White House.
It was clammy too, so clammy that the red carpet that blanketed the basketball floor at Clark Athletic Center buckled in places, tripping some of the who's who and the who's that on their way to seats on loan from Peterson Party Rental.
The clamminess was unplanned but the cold was as scripted as almost everything else that went on before the chosen 900 who got to see the debate live; it was an agreed-upon 65 degrees - one UMass official said they took no chances and really set the thermostat to 60 - and no one in the crowd got to see George W. Bush or Al Gore perspire.
Whether numbed by the cold or by host Jim Lehrer's stern admonitions against noise or applause or, worst of all, cell phone chimes, the crowd most nearly resembled a painted backdrop during the 90 minutes of animation by the candidates.
The scene inside, then, was what went on in the hours before the vice president and the Texas governor first shook hands and came out talking.
Here are some snapshots of that scene:
Assembly time
Unseen by the audience at home, a basketball hoop hung above the candidates' heads.
That, plus the scoreboard draped in black with a UMass logo, made the room look like a high school election in Anywhere, USA, where the candidates for student council president stand and deliver before their assembled peers.
Adding to the high school atmosphere, both candidates stepped up the practice of tearing pieces of note paper as the debate wore on.
The timing was exquisite: The loudest tears came just as the other guy was making his point.
Money to be made
Just outside the hall, there stood Anna Palmisano, known to UMass-Boston students as ''Bookstore Anna,'' selling souvenirs to the ticket holders and reporters outside.
T-shirts were the big seller, she said, bought by everyone from a mother from Texas to a teacher from Wellesley.
The best sale of the night, though, was a UMass coffee mug sold to one of Lehrer's assistants. Seems he was wandering around, looking for something to hold the host's water. Bookstore Anna chimed in: ''Well, we can't give you anything, but these are for sale.'' Sold.
Awaiting a hit
Lots of attendees compared it to being at a sporting event, but none could do the analogy justice like Red Sox owner John Harrington, who got his ticket by being a cosponsor of the event.
''Watching a ballgame at home is vastly different from being in the ballpark on a beautiful, moonlit, warm June night. You can't replicate that feeling at home. This should be just like that. It's like they're up in the last of the ninth, knowing that they have to deliver a big hit.''
Another team owner on hand was Bob Kraft of the Patriots, with his son, David. Asked how he got his tickets, Kraft smiled, shrugged and turned on his heel. No analogies when your team is 1-4.
They stood out
The crowd parted for few of the notables, but they made a path for Caroline Kennedy and her husband, Ed Schlossberg.
The former president's daughter said in a brief interview that she had no memory of her father's momentous 1960 debate, in which his dark suit and tan stood in stark contrast to the gray suit that sent Nixon blending into the background. Of course, she said, she has seen it on film ''like everyone else.''
Mostly, though, she was focused on the candidates. ''It's great to be here tonight, and I'm so glad the debate is here in Boston. I'm happy for UMass and for the library.'' It was a reference to the soaring presidential library, a stone's throw from the debate hall.
Just the ticket
Former Governor Michael S. Dukakis, a former presidential debater himself, seemed befuddled by the layers of security blocking his entry, especially since he didn't have an actual ticket, just a faxed invitation.
''Getting in here was difficult,'' he said, crediting a state trooper for cutting through the problem. ''Where's my wife?''
Kitty Dukakis happened to be steps away, chatting with state Senate Ways and Means chairman Mark D. Montigny. She laughed when a reporter suggested they had crashed the party.
And where'd Montigny get a ticket?
''A friend,'' he said, offering nothing further.
All eyes on her
Of all the glittering faces in the crowd, none turned more heads than supermodel Christie Brinkley, who also served as a delegate to the Democratic National Convention from New York.
And a host of others
Other faces in the crowd: US Senator John Kerry and his daughter, Vanessa; Governor Paul Cellucci and his wife, Jan; Mayor Thomas M. Menino and his wife, Angela; Fleet chairman Terry Murray; Big Dig chief Andrew Natsios; Democratic gubernatorial candidate Warren Tolman; millionaire investor Chris Gabrieli; state Senator Dianne Wilkerson; US Representatives Ed Markey and Martin Meehan; William Kennedy Smith; former Kennedy aide Richard Goodwin; lifetime politico John Sasso; auditor Joe DeNucci.
And then there were some of the 49 winners of the UMass Boston ticket lottery, including Satoko Tsukano, a 27-year-old graduate student from Japan who cannot even vote here.
''I'm just entertaining myself,'' she said.
