Normality Returns, at Least on the Surface : Reaction: People are returning to their daily routines. But the war isn’t easily forgotten.

In ordinary times, Regina Stewart’s job is to keep order in the court.

But these days, Superior Court Judge Harvey Schneider has given his courtroom attendant an added task--to keep track of order in the world.

Every couple of hours, Stewart retires to the judge’s chambers to monitor radio newscasts about the Persian Gulf War and report to Schneider’s clerk on any major developments.

The Los Angeles County judge, who shut down his courtroom early on the first day of the conflict, has not yet seen fit to do so again.

“But when anything really radical happens, we do interrupt him on the bench,” court clerk Nancy Digiambattista said.

With the war in the Middle East now in its third week, life appears to be creeping back to normal--at least on the surface. Restaurateurs say that diners have quickly regained their appetites. Movie theaters reported record crowds for the month of January after having suffered brief dips in attendance. Prime-time viewership for CNN has dropped since the first three days of the war. And the major TV networks, having returned to regular broadcasting, are receiving ratings similar to the days when they devoted wall-to-wall coverage to the war.

Yet the air of normality, Los Angeles residents say, masks a deeper sense of tension and concern. Life goes on, they say. But the veneer is as thin as that on a cheap bookcase.

“The war is always on your mind,” said John Vargo, a Hollywood film grip, as he viewed the Super Bowl in the packed Alzado’s Restaurant and Bar. “There’s an underlying anxiety everywhere.”

It didn’t take long for Vargo, 32, to be proven correct. When a festive balloon above the bar burst, Vargo and others nearby flinched perceptibly.

“That,” Vargo contended, “is the effect of the war. Everybody gets more nervous than they normally do.”

At the county’s marriage office, the line for wedding licenses--which disappeared moments after word spread Jan. 16 that the war had begun--is back to normal.

“You can’t stop life,” declared Laguna Hills sales representative John Wilson, 27, who stood in a line 10 couples deep with his sweat suit-clad fiancee, Michelle Giles, 21.

Yet, Wilson added, you also can’t stop thinking about loved ones on duty in Saudi Arabia.

“Our friend Lt. Tim White is over there. He would have been at our wedding next month. Now, we’ll have to celebrate with him when he gets back.”

At Stats sports bar in Culver City, manager Bob Grinley says that “business has picked back up--but the people are more somber now.”

“It’s an escape to watch a sports event,” he said. Yet patrons no longer argue about whether the Boston Celtics could whip the Los Angeles Lakers if Larry Bird were healthy.

Rather, the debate centers on the Persian Gulf War.

“After everybody gets liquor in them, they get very opinionated,” Grinley said. “When those opinions come on too strong I’ll play the CD player at top volume to drown them out because people get so heated, so upset, about this thing.”

“Oftentimes,” he added, “I’ll have to become the mediator and tell them to knock it off.”

In some cases, the changes are visible, if muted. One just has to look closely to notice.

Yellow ribbons have blended into the landscape across Los Angeles County--from apartment doors of the impoverished Jordan Downs housing project in Watts to a churro stand in the downtown Grand Central Market to the stately trees in front of the Beth Jacob Congregation in Beverly Hills.

“The war is on everyone’s mind,” said attorney Christopher Silva, 26, after browsing through chunks of the Berlin Wall on sale for $8 at a table on the Venice boardwalk. “But people must go on living their lives as usual.”

In many restaurants and bars--where business is otherwise back to normal--there is a new wrinkle. War and politics has replaced sports on the TV screen, sometimes with surreal effect.

One recent evening in Santa Monica, the pianist at the Broadway Bar and Grill played “I’m in the Mood for Love” as the TV set broadcast eerie images of the bombing of Baghdad.

And at the Weiner Factory in Sherman Oaks, “A lot of people like to get a chili cheese dog and watch the war,” says night cashier Marc Claude.

The last thing most nightspots would normally air is the State of the Union address.

But that was not the case at Chillers in Santa Monica, where signs on the door advertised an upcoming “Hedonism Beach Blow-Out Weekend.” There, above the display case for frozen cocktails with names such as “Nitroglycerin,” “Suicide” and “Strong Buzz,” the TV set was tuned to the President.

“I’m watching this because it means more this year,” explained waiter John Mills, 25, as he sat at the bar munching on hot wings. “Some of my co-workers are in the Reserves and if it turns bloody, they might have to go.”

Down the street at Teasers, seven TV screens had been tuned to a San Antonio Spurs-Houston Rockets basketball game--until a couple of dozen patrons protested loudly.

“We usually have sports on,” said a surprised manager Greg Giummarra, 32. “But people kept saying ‘The President’s on, the President’s on.’ I do what the people say.”

Experts say the phenomenon of leading an outwardly normal life while keeping one ear tuned to the likes of CNN correspondents Wolf Blitzer and Peter Arnett is a healthy, and not altogether unexpected, strategy for coping with the impact of war.

“Ultimately, if you stay in a high state of stress and anxiety without any outlet it takes a toll on the body,” said Carol Eisman, associate director of the California Self-Help Center.

“Even after loved ones may die, we still have to live our lives--many of us know that from personal experience,” said Dr. William Arroyo, psychiatrist at County-USC Medical Center. “Our society must go on, as our lives must go on, in the face of this volatile situation.

“At the same time, everyone is staying alert,” he added. “Where there is danger, one needs to be alert.”

Some, such as rock drummer Howard Greene, acknowledge they can’t help but stay alert.

“I’ve been obsessing on (the war) since it started,” said Greene, 33, as he pored through the comedy LP bin at Rhino Records in Westwood. “But today, I kind of made up my mind that I have to get away from it.”

“I consciously didn’t listen to the radio,” the Culver City resident explained, before quickly backtracking. “I mean, I only listened to it a little bit.”

“I couldn’t imagine anything like World War II or something like that,” Greene concluded. “It went on for like, five years. I mean it must have been just intense.”