A long, long, long day of civic duty in Two Rock

June 21, 2006

By JOHN JACKSON
ARGUS-COURIER SPORTS EDITOR

This is not exactly a sports column unless you, like many politicians, consider politics a game. It is about doing your civic duty, even if it means just staying awake.

I can't remember spending a longer day than when I recently served as a volunteer clerk during the primary election. For the record, while the position is "voluntary," I did get paid. At least I think I got paid. I am scheduled to receive a check for $75 for the day's service. Since I "worked" a 16-hour day, I estimate I earned $6 an hour.

Actually, "worked" is also inaccurate. Mostly I sat and waited. I was assigned to the precinct at Two Rock Presbyterian Church. From 7 a.m. to 8 p.m. four of us -- three clerks and an inspector/boss -- entertained 59 voters. Another 18 citizens brought in absentee ballots.

The "inspector" at my precinct had all the tough work. She had to insure that the poles opened on time and was closed properly. There are very specific rules for how to do both and our inspector was extremely diligent in the performance of her duties.

I admit I was less diligent. I was supposed to arrive at 6 a.m. to help with the set up. It was 6:30 or maybe even a little later that I pulled into the church parking lot and was immediately assigned to hang a small American Flag on the building. I flunked my first assignment. I found that the officially authorized tape didn't stick well to the stuccoed walls of the church and the inspector had to come to my rescue to help secure the flag.

Once the polls opened, the waiting began. My job was to help make certain that the voters who voted were registered to vote at "my" precinct. A fellow clerk would check the name and registration number. I would enter that number and report back to her the number of the person voting. For example, Marry Merry might be registered voter 337 and the 13th voter to visit our polling place. I had to mark 337 in the proper spot and report to my co-worker that she was the 13th voter. I am proud to report that I counted to 59 in consecutive order without a mistake.

My fellow clerk, the one checking the voters in, was a 93-year-old lady who has been working at the precinct for decades. She knew almost everyone who stepped through the door, who they were related to and where they lived. She arrived before 6 a.m. and was still smiling as she helped dismantle the polling booths at 9 p.m.

I have a new hero.

There were long stretches of boredom punctuated by occasional periods of fly stalking and elimination with a webbed weapon of mass destruction.

Things got fun when voters showed up. My 93-year-old companion immediately engaged them in conversation about the health and activities of their families and friends. The great thing about a rural precinct is that the voters are neighbors. It is a social gathering.

It appears it will be only a matter of time until we go completely to an absentee voting system. It's a shame. We will lose the social contact that is an important part of the whole process.

Casting a wary eye at the minuscule number of voters, about noon my more experienced colleagues predicted a turnout of 40 voters. Reaching into my lunch box for optimism, I confidently proclaimed that the count would reach 60.

At 7:54 p.m., we had 59 voters. My best efforts at mentally teleporting one more voter failed, but I did come close and at least some of my faith in local voters was restored.

Once the polls closed, our real work began. There is a very precise method to closing the polls and ensuring the integrity of the ballots, and each step must be taken exactly as per written instruction.

Our inspector was superb as she guided us through the maze of government verbiage. Our count of used and unused ballots tallied perfectly and, even the complication of the new mandated electronic voting machine failed to foil our checked and rechecked tabulations.

My final charge was to follow the inspector to our drop-off point at the Cotati Veterans Building, lest some disgruntled voter attempt to tamper with our 59 (plus absentee) precious ballots.

I duly trailed my inspector/boss to the Cotati Vets Building where vehicles were buzzing in every direction as votes and polling-place equipment were turned over to the proper authorities.

I finally drove home about 10 p.m. with two thoughts rewinding through my dazed mind -- our democracy really does work and it works best on the local level where people do treat its vote with reverence, and, given all the care and caution with which each vote is checked and re-checked at the local precinct level, why does it take so very long to get all the ballots counted?

We had no hanging chads, we had no disputed ballots. We did answer a few questions from voters who were confused because it was a primary election.

It was a long, long, long day, but you can bet your autographed Mickey Mantle baseball card that I'll volunteer again in November.

(Contact John Jackson at acsports@arguscourier.com)