Bringing in the Vote in New York City

Before the sun, they arrive. The poll inspectors, door clerks and interpreters preparing for that unique American rite of passage, the selection of our nation's leaders. We are among the very few upon this earth whose leaders are chosen not by tank, or well-honed shiv or vial of poison or bomb, but by the will of a sometimes misguided, but still hopeful people.

In the early days of our republic only the well-born, educated man of affairs dared enter the polls. Woman were banished to their Proper Sphere--the home--from which they were never to raise their voices in public. Raise the children who would go off to fight our nation's wars? Yes. Raise an opinion about those wars? Never.

The tenant farmer and the man making silverware in his shop were equally silenced. After all, the man of property was his customer, and what he decided was decided for all.

Likewise the man or woman of color, brought to this country in chains. Should he want a piece of the wealth that he created or claim a voice in the community in which he lived, he could expect only the lashing of a whip or the fastening of a punishing collar around his neck so that he could not hold his head high or look the worthies in the eye.

Even as late as the 1960's when I was born, literacy tests and poll taxes were still found in some of the rural precincts of the old South were a man whose skin passed the paper bag test might be asked to spell "cat" while another of darker hue was asked to spell, "anti-disestablishmentarianism." The poor man might prefer his pennies to buy some food or a glass of beer rather than to pay for a vote for those who would turn a deaf ear to his voice.

Before first light in the darkening hours of the Fall, they come. The inspectors, coordinators, all the well-oiled machinery have assembled no later than 5:30 am to begin the meticulous process. First will come the signs, announcing the presence of the sacred polls and warning all partisans to keep their menacing opinions, looks, signs and pamphlets away from the vote. Not even a flyer announcing a Night out Against Crime, or community meeting, is to appear on any table, wall or floor within sight of the polls.

So different from the days when Taminent Hall hired prominent gang members to stomp the heads of the opposition, to pass out drinks for the party regulars and "vote early, and often." Banishing those repeaters and keeping them gone is the job of the poll inspectors who have come together armed with the signatures in the registration books, the meticulous street finders to direct the confused to the correct voting location, and their knowledge of the local area.

Perhaps my neighbor, who I know of personal knowledge does not live in the now-abandoned building he swears is his current address will come. For him, a challenge oath: an affidavit that warns of the penalties of swearing to a lie. Our garlic to keep away not vampires, but repeaters.

But for now, the polls have not yet opened. The half-hour between the time that the polls open for the inspectors and the first arrival of the public is a beehive of activity. Within that short time frame, the tables with the neat voter's rights pamphlets, court order forms and registration records must be set up.

The supplies will have to be checked. Do we have emergency ballots in the event that the decades old, mechanical booths jam? Check. Have all the records needed to confirm our presence and issue our checks been properly filled out? Check. Do we have the court orders for the very rare case of suspected malfeasance? The sheets on which we will record the vote at poll closing, the envelopes to seal them all in, the keys to unlock and re-lock the equipment? Check to all.

Most important, do we have a pair of sharp scissors? All experienced poll workers pack one of their own personal pairs in the event that the official scissors walk away. After all, it is with this most humble of school supplies that we will cut the plastic snaps that have sealed closed the machines since their last use.

These ancient gray machines, with their locking keys and plastic strips provide a low-tech reproach to the marvels of a computer age. Yes, we were supposed to get zippy new computers year's ago, but who would trust them? Anyone could change votes at will with little or no trace of the alteration. For now, New Yorkers would once more cast a jaundiced eye on progress and nurse our aging counters through another year.

For this latest round of elections, an ultra-modern Ballot Marking Device has joined the clunky old machines. Equipped with paddles for the fingerless, hand-less, even armless, the voter can express his opinion by using feet or elbows if necessary. For the unfortunate not even equipped with feet or whose muscles have been wasted, the option of using a "sip and puff" device to register a vote using his lungs has been provided.

Spanish language forms have been provided. In many cases, supplementary materials in Korean and Chinese as well. Interpreters are on hand, and in the event that the voter speaks one of the 225 or so languages found in Western Queens alone that the election board has not been able to provide for, the option of having two inspectors, one of each party enter the booth with the voter so that he or she can register the vote has been provided. A scrap of paper with the candidate's name produced from the voter's pocket, a point to the candidate's name and a pantomime of Xing the ballot and pulling the red lever when finished and it is done.

The Statue of Liberty at the foot of Manhattan Harbor proudly proclaims:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

Now it is only for us, the electorate, to bring what we must: our wisdom and best wishes for the future of our great city, state and nation. God bless us all, and a special welcome to that hopeful soul who will be the first at my table on election day. Only in America, indeed.

The September 11th attacks took place on primary day in New York City. My first hand account of the events and a tribute to those who fought to save our lives and freedom:
www.associatedcontent.com/article/2097315/september_11_2001.html

The sacrifices made by the "Greatest Generation"
www.associatedcontent.com/article/2059917/remember_vj_day_aug_1415.html

The kinds of leaders we get when "our betters" make all the decisions:
www.associatedcontent.com/article/2067387/new_york_citys_first_transvestite_governor.html

A link to all of my articles:
www.associatedcontent.com/user/583548/mary_finn.html

Sources:
Poll Worker's Manual
Election Day Operations, 2009