Panic at the New Jersey Primary - a Tale of the Pre-Set Voting Booth

I had applied for a position as a 'Local/Neighborhood' editor with Associated Content, having written for them for several years. Unfortunately, I didn't have that many articles specifically written ABOUT local activities: I live in southern New Jersey, the state's red-headed stepsister, where not many of the state's headline-gathering events take place. But I received an email asking if I would be interested in covering the New Jersey primary elections in June of this year. I figured this assignment might have an impact on my relatively flimsy 'local neighborhood' articles archive, so I accepted the assignment literally the day before the primaries were to be held.

We live in Moorestown, a charming, historic and rather sedate town in Burlington County. The last 'big' thing that had happened here was when Blair Hornstine, a home-schooled, brilliant high school senior sued the school district with the claim that she had achieved Valedictorian honors. (That story got really ugly, as investigative journalists and district faculty members found that Hornstine had 'lifted' significant portions of her term papers verbatim from published, well-known authors, and her acceptance to Harvard was ultimately rescinded.) That took place years ago; Hornstine attended school in Scotland and went on to graduate from William & Mary, and is now enrolled in law school.

That having been said, how exciting could a primary election in this small town be, I wondered - and frankly, worried.

I set out the day of the primary at lunch time, camera and notebook in hand, to cast my vote and scoop my story.

Alas, I was literally the only voter there. My district has its polling place at the local high school's sports center. There was a total of seven people there at 1:00 PM, including myself: four folks working the sign-in books, two manning the pair of voting booths. I signed in with a woman in charge of my district's alphabetically-listed voter book, who literally barely glanced up at me. Diane F. appeared so bored that she seemed literally on the verge of falling asleep while seated. After having been told by her in uncertain terms that I was not allowed to use my camera inside the voting area, I clutched my voter's slip and turned it in to the sweet-natured African American woman in charge of the closest booth, and pushed open the booth's curtains.

You may or may not be able to imagine my surprise when I looked at the electronic key board in the booth, which had the buttons for ALL of the Democratic candidates punched in, glowing brightly back at me. Either this was a nefarious plan on the part of those present to ensure votes for all Democrats running, or...the previous voter had indeed cast their vote for these candidates, BUT forgot to hit the 'Vote' button after making their selection.

A not so small hubbub ensued. I asked the most senior member of the polling contingent to take a look. Eventually, all seven of us (well, except for Diane, who continued nodding off) crowded around the brightly lit board, just waiting for someone to hit that 'Vote' button and punch up those intrepid Democrats. I'd never, in all my years of voting, had this happen before - but the polling workers thankfully had.

After a lot of handwritten notes and a telephone call or two, it was decided that this "incident" be thoroughly documented (I had to swear that the board was like this when I entered). I was given back my voter's slip and directed to the OTHER voting machine, which was, thankfully, as blank as the mind of a teenager. I cast my votes, merrily lighting up the board, and making certain to take that final step and hit the 'Vote' button when I was done.

In speaking with the senior polling worker, whom I've known for years, I learned that primary voting in Moorestown that day had been "extremely light". (Diane F. was still on the verge of tipping over in her chair, so this was obviously true.) "There aren't many choices in the primary; everyone waits until the November elections to come out and cast their votes", she continued. By 1:45 PM - and I was STILL the only voter there during all of this - a grand total of 43 fellow Moorestonians had cast their primary ballots.

I never did turn in my "assigned" article because of "the incident". (The fact that hardly anyone bothered to come out and vote didn't exactly help pad my article, either. When a poll worker tells you that 'no one votes in the primaries', the story pretty much writes itself.) But somewhere within my Moorestown voting district, a dedicated Democrat made the effort to come out and cast his/her vote, only to have it float away, uncounted, because that 'Vote' button hadn't been punched at the end. And that, my friends, is how we vote in southern New Jersey's primaries: very, very few, with 'not a lot of choices', and the best of intentions sometimes NOT making a difference...