The Help America Vote Act (HAVA) Strikes New York City

I am a New York City Election Inspector of many year's standing. You know us, the smiling people checking your name in the registration book, making you sign and sending you on your way to the polls with a cheery "Do you know how to use the machines? If you need help, just ask."

Not so this year. It was attack of the HAVA (Help America Vote Act) in New York City. Mr. W. Bush, not contented with destroying his own presidential election, reached out from the dustbin of history to grasp the election in his hoary hands.

Touched in this horrific grasp were the voters and election workers of New York City. Although we had successfully dodged HAVA's grip for longer than most, the demands of law and lucre were satisfied at last as our ancient, clanking voting machines, they literally are gray, and arthritic as well, were honorably retired from the field of combat.

My first introduction to the twenty-first century machines occurred at the six-hour class that replaced our former two hour instruction period. Providentially, I spent the entire session in tears from an allergy, but it was an omen of things to come.

Our new machines looked like squat, gray plastic garbage bins. Secured with numerous red seals which we were warned never to cut, yellow seals, that had to be cut in a particular order and so forth, we were also instructed that the machines had to be opened at 6:01 am to the minute. If they were opened even one minute before the official opening of the polls, we would invalidate the results.

This proved problematic on Primary Day when each of my two spanking new machine's clocks differed by 4 minutes. So the clerks opening our tiny poll site before sunup carefully eyed the machines and each other as I muttered darkly, "Open the polls one minute before 6:01 am, and you are dead."

Why were 2 polling machines sent to this very small site, a senior citizen residence in a single election district whose voters traveled by elevator, cane and wheelchair? We found out when a man who spoke only Lithuanian and Russian jammed an empty paper ballot into the plastic covering for the instruction manual in a privacy booth and was quite satisfied with his "vote."

After retrieving and smoothing out the "vote" I attempted to feed it into the machine with the smiling Lithuanian standing by only to have it promptly jam and find out it was completely blank as well!

Eventually, with the help of the residence's office manager and her computer's translation program we translated the names of each political office and the words "Choose and darken the circle next to each name" into Lithuanian and the man was able to vote successfully.

Meanwhile, the disabled machine was beeping madly, the jam un-fixable, the seals un-cutable. I turned to the other poll inspectors and said, "Now do you see why we have two machines? The Board of Elections knows what they are doing."

We directed voters to the remaining machine, called technicians and the Queens Borough Office for assistance in making sure that none of the votes on the ailing machine would be lost. The two very tired Borough officials traveling throughout Queens to enforce professionalism and correct procedure showed up, checked the tapes, made sure that all was not lost. The technicians never came.

The voters were quite taken with the new machines (and by the extra hand-holding by anxious poll workers.) Alas, they were somewhat disappointed when told that we could show them how to use the equipment but not who to vote for. That service was laid to rest a generation or two ago--at least I hope so.

When we weary workers dragged ourselves out of the polls at a quarter to eleven, nearly two hours past the normal finish, all dreaded doing this again during the general election when the turnout would be heavy and fast.

I remembered mom's saying: "With friends like this, you don't need enemies." Mr. Bush, Congress, really, you are too kind, but America has it under control. We really don't need any more help.