HARLESTON, W.Va. - Al Gore's voice rang across the Kanawha River yesterday, and not only did it echo back from the rusty foliage on the Appalachian Mountains, but thousands heard and cheered in reply.
George W. Bush turned into the parking lot at Lake Michigan Community College in Benton Harbor, Mich., several hours later, but his motorcade could barely penetrate the crowd gathered to see him. Inside the sweltering auditorium, even the candidate seemed taken aback by the shrieking audience that spilled out into a hallway.
''This tells me our grass roots are ready to go!'' he shouted in delight.
After more than a year of campaigning, after the most expensive primary race in history, after weeks of polls showing they may be engaged in the closest presidential election in 40 years, the Democratic and Republican nominees appear to have finally grasped voters by the lapels and shaken some life into them.
Whether it was the more than 20,000 who turned out Thursday night to see Gore in Madison, Wis., or the 7,000-plus who rallied for Bush Wednesday at the Florida State Fairgrounds in Brandon, the electorate is starting to look energized by a race that many had viewed as a disheartening mandate to choose the lesser of two evils. Energized, at least, in the states where either man still has a chance to win.
''It was exciting,'' said Melissa Merchant, a 31-year-old from Beckley, W.Va., as she walked away from the Gore rally yesterday morning. ''Hopefully this will pull some of the undecided voters off the fence.''
For some Bush supporters, the realization that the vice president may be catching Bush in the polls propelled their interest. Tammy Timmons, 44, a hairdresser in Kalamazoo, Mich., had never been to a political rally before coming to see Bush yesterday afternoon.
''I'm just ready for a change in the White House,'' she said, explaining that she likes the Texas governor's morals and religious beliefs.
For months, Gore and Bush have traveled the country, delivering virtually the same speech, the only change being a concession or two to their particular audience - whether it was Florida senior citizens, Iowa farmers, or California high-tech executives.
Yet in recent weeks, both have sharpened their rhetoric while their campaigns have heightened the stagecraft. The candidates are now likely to shout, Gore to the point that he pops lozenges all day to ward off laryngitis.
In West Virginia, it was a paean to miners, their work, and their needs that ignited an audience spreading from the steps of the state Capitol to the nearby banks of the Kanawha. Bunting hung from the building's limestone columns, the Capital High School band sat in bleachers, and mineworker-turned-musician John Sattes plucked a banjo to entertain the crowd.
Not only is the vice president more excited, his rhetoric sharper, his delivery more intense, but also his tone has carried over to the people introducing him. Yesterday, it was Cecil Roberts, president of the United Mine Workers of America, who bellowed: ''About two years ago, we built a big train and we put Newt Gingrich's big, fat ass on that train.'' His profanity about the former House speaker drew gasps, laughter, and, ultimately, cheers.
''I've got to challenge every working-class person in Appalachia: We didn't get rid of Newt Gingrich to put Newt Gingrich's policies in the White House,'' Roberts said.
The vice president bashed Bush as a front man for mining corporations, while chiding the governor's running mate, Dick Cheney, for voting in Congress against benefits for victims of black lung disease.
''I have spent many a Saturday night in a small courthouse, filling out forms related to black lung,'' said a raspy-voiced Gore, his suit coat off, his shirtsleeves rolled up. ''I've heard the stories and I've seen the faces, and I've looked in the eyes of those who have been broken down by it, abused by it, who've had their health taken from them by it, and I'm telling you, I will never rest until we have justice for those who have been denied justice.''
Gore will be going it alone for the remainder of the campaign, reported The New York Times, which said Gore aides have asked President Clinton not to campaign for the vice president in battleground states.
Like Gore, Bush has drawn sizable crowds for months, but rarely in such proportions as he did at the Florida fairgrounds. Thousands crowded into a darkened auditorium, where the atmosphere felt halfway between a championship football game and a rock concert, complete with strobe lights and cheerleaders and the constant din of screams.
The proportions were larger than life, as is increasingly the case these days - everything bigger, louder, longer than at any previous stage of the campaign. Deafening chants of ''Go, Bush, go!'' and ''No more Gore!'' competed from opposite ends of the auditorium before the governor arrived.
When Bush made his entrance, rolling into the event on his campaign bus to the sounds of Van Halen's ''Right Now,'' the combination of music and cheers shook the floor.
When it was over, following a 45-minute speech, four confetti makers spewed orange confetti in the air and hundreds of audience members stayed, it seemed, to dance as a Stevie Ray Vaughan song blared.
The campaign trail didn't used to feel like one big party; as recently as three weeks ago, it often felt as energized as a chemistry lecture. That was partly due to the format: Gore preferred intimate town meeting events where he could take questions for hours and showcase his command of policy. Bush, under pressure to do the same, also spent months in school libraries and hospital conference rooms discussing education and health care with a chosen few.
But the sudden shift has as much to do with the audiences as with the structure of the events. Aware that time is running out, perhaps sensing that the tightness of the election might make it historic, many of the people who attend the events say they feel more drawn to the campaign now that the results seem so immediate.
Bush aides say it is the enthusiasm of the crowds, not their size, that is meaningful, given that most people who attend the rallies are Republicans who have planned to vote for Bush all along. But the candidate has taken notice and feels increasingly encouraged by the atmosphere.
''He often asks while we're landing, `How many people?''' said Bush policy director Josh Bolten. ''And these days, he's often pleasantly surprised.''
Johnson, traveling with Gore, reported from West Virginia; Kornblut, traveling with Bush, reported from Michigan.
