Tom McWhorter, of Sacramento, holds a sign supporting war efforts at a rally, Tuesday, Feb. 12, 2008. The Berkeley City Council drew a deluge of disapproval nationwide in January when it voted to advise the Marines that their downtown recruitment office was not welcome and that they would be considered "uninvited and unwelcome intruders" if they chose to stay. The Council was scheduled to consider a second resolution by two council members that would rescind the letter and draw a line between opposing the war in Iraq and "our respect and support for those serving in the armed forces." (AP Photo/Jeff Chiu)

To Roger Runnoe, a baby-boomer computer programmer and former anti-war activist who eats his sandwich every day near the anti-war mural across the street from Berkeley City Hall, it was a beautiful thing to see:

Splayed out in the park and spilling across the street, hundreds of anti-war protesters drifted through a patchouli-oil-scented time warp, praising the city council for trying to give Marine recruiters the boot, relishing heated arguments with troop supporters furious with the council, and loving every watt of the spotlight from a nation long convinced Berkeley was edgy if not completely whacked out.

"I've always felt Berkeley has been too quiet since the Vietnam War, so I'm proud to see this," said Runnoe. "Berkeley's reputation as a symbol of sanity in foreign policy is getting dusted off again. The city's finally stuck its hand out of the grave."

All day long, as hundreds of supporters and critics debated the council's proclamation that Marine recruiters are "uninvited and unwelcome intruders" in town, the scene on either side of Martin Luther King Jr. Way was part Fourth of July celebration, part uncomfortable flashback. And from both sides of the four-lane boulevard, this fast-moving bit of political theater felt like the baring of an open wound shared these days by many Americans conflicted about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Long before the council finally convened Tuesday night to consider rescinding its stand against the Marines - the debate raged after midnight with no decision - the bitterness over the war was in full bloom.  "This goes way beyond the crazy antics Berkeley has been known for," said David Krasnor, a retired trade-show installer and 30-year resident of the city who showed up to support the troops, just as his father in the old black-and-white photo in his hand would have done. "This time they went too far. These people don't believe in free speech and democracy. They believe in physically stopping people from freely signing up at the recruiting station.

"But now the national furor has scared the council," he said. "So they're backing down."

Not quite, said Medea Benjamin, the 56-year-old co-founder of the anti-war group Code Pink that has led the charge here, organizing and energizing the growing crowd of protesters - and, in turn, their opponents - in front of the old City Hall where council meetings are held.

"The city council's action has been a great gift to the peace movement," Benjamin said of the recent decision to not only show the recruiters the door, but also to give Code Pink a permit for a prime parking spot in front of the Shattuck Avenue Marine recruitment center to pitch its daily protests. "Once this pro-war crowd goes away, we'll be left with an energized base and a tighter anti-war community. We'll be out tomorrow and every day in front of that recruiting station and we'll eventually shut it down no matter what the council does."

But long before Tuesday night's debate, Berkeley's MLK Way doubled as a DMZ in a burgeoning cultural war. On one side, there were poodles in pink sweaters and old hippies wearing American flags. On the other, anti-council activists blasting patriotic ballads and rabble-rousing country music at eardrum-splitting volumes. Code Pink members complained someone across the street had pulled a knife on them and slashed their banner, though police could not confirm the incident. And Move America Forward posted sentries along the spaghetti-tangle of wires feeding their giant speakers.

"Code Pink keeps trying to cut the wires, so we've got to guard them," said Debbie Lee, a 53-year-old troop-supporter from Arizona who said her son was the first Navy Seal killed in the Iraq war. "It's all pretty sad, isn't it?" said Lee, standing beside a speaker just as "God Bless America" nearly knocked her over.

Melanie Morgan, KSFO conservative talk-show radio host and a leader of Move America Forward, the anti-pink group, promised an equal resolve to make the council pay for what she called an assault not only on the Marines but on all Americans.

"Berkeley once again has shown the rest of America exactly who they are," she said, while a Code Pink crowd chanted "Free Kevin" on the sidewalk after police hauled off a young skateboarder from the anti-war side of the debate. "They really stepped in it this time. Everyone in the Bay Area knows how out of touch with reality Berkeley is. Now the whole country knows."

Morgan wanted the council to apologize to the Marines and take away the parking permit it had awarded Code Pink. So did her 200 or so fellow supporters on the pro-troop side of the street - Vietnam veterans on Harleys, guys in black Young Republican T-shirts shouting into bullhorns, even a few Berkeley residents opposed to the Iraq war but outraged that their council members went too far by going after the recruiters.

"We'll keep up the pressure on the Internet, on talk radio," Morgan said. "If we don't plant the flag here in Berkeley, the left wing won't stop here. This is the front line; we'll make sure it stays that way."

Berkeley being the front line is fine with Runnoe, from his perch near the anti-war mosaic that included a tile asking "Wouldn't you go to jail to end a war?"

Runnoe finished his lunch and gazed out over the blur of pink T-shirts and American flags, handmade protest signs and tourists wielding cell-phone cameras. He seemed, well, tickled pink by the scene before him.

"I am so proud of Berkeley for doing this."