In this age of instant and mass opinion expression, in which the “American Idol” winner is anointed by text-message votes, it’s hard to believe that state legislatures once elected U.S. presidents. It’s also difficult for modern sensibilities to accept that women – fully half of the electorate – did not begin voting until 1920.

So the Democratic Party’s system of bestowing the status of “superdelegate” on its elite members, who this year may play a pivotal role in determining the party’s presidential nominee, does not sit well with many, who believe the more pure the democracy, the better. The idea of superdelegates, described by some as a “firewall” against an electorate that might be inclined to pick a sure loser, understandably seems like a throwback to a time when party bosses didn’t trust the masses.

In Maine, Gov. John Baldacci, a Democratic superdelegate by virtue of his elected position, stirred the pot during the Democrats’ caucuses on Feb. 10 by campaigning for Sen. Hillary Clinton, and making it clear he would vote for her at the convention. Of course, when Sen. Barack Obama won Maine’s Democratic caucuses by a wide margin, the governor’s stance seemed like a finger poked into the eye of the party’s rank-and-file members.

The other Maine superdelegates are 2nd District Rep. Mike Michaud, 1st District Rep. Tom Allen, former Gov. Ken Curtis, former Sen. George Mitchell, and national committee members John Knutson, Sam Spencer, Marianne Stevens and Rita Moran; another is elected at the state convention. These and 786 other superdelegates could be making the key decision at the national convention in Denver, Aug. 25-28. They represent almost 20 percent of the 4,049 total delegates; 2,025 are needed to secure the nomination.

The possibility of the nomination being decided at the convention on the vote of superdelegates is a doomsday scenario for party officials. Here’s why: Sen. Clinton, by virtue of her husband’s stature in the party, has the loyalty of many superdelegates. But Sen. Obama, with each caucus and primary, is drawing new and formerly inactive voters into the party’s tent. If he enters the convention with more “pledged” delegates, yet is denied the nomination, Democrats could see an internecine fight that would make the Florida 2000 debacle seem like a square dance.

And the bloodletting wouldn’t end there. If the governor and Maine’s other superdelegates vote for Sen. Clinton, rather than reflect Sen. Obama’s win here, all those who turned out to caucus could feel they’d been disenfranchised. It’s not likely they would work to elect Sen. Clinton, or do other party work.

But Arden Manning, director of Maine’s Democratic Party, notes that the party’s primary and caucus system awards delegates on a proportional basis (Republicans hold winner-take-all primaries and caucuses). So if six of Maine’s superdelegates cast ballots for Sen. Obama and four vote for Sen. Clinton, the integrity of Maine’s caucus voting is preserved.

Mr. Manning believes the nomination likely will be decided before the convention. And if it’s not, he doesn’t foresee superdelegates voting in a way that would thwart the will of Maine’s voters.

Maybe so. But superdelegates, with a status that is essentially a perk created for party luminaries, should have less sway in the nomination process.