Election Day

Today is Primary Election Day in Los Angeles, and the thundering silence you hear is the sound of 80% of the electorate staying home, or at least avoiding the polling places with their tacky styrofoam voting booths and smudgy inka-vote pens. The issue this year is our mayoralty. In a city that seems to function (or dysfunction) largely on its own, the mayor has been something of an irrelevancy, so much so that the press and the populace tend to lose track of the quadrennial contest and when it last ran.

The mayoral slate hardly reflects the breadth of political ideology in the city. All five "major" candidates are Democrats; within that field three are liberal, one is moderate, and one is "conservative" (Bob Hertzberg), positioning himself wisely to attract all the Republican votes he can muster. Another way to distinguish the candidates is racial--one black, two Hispanics, a Jew and a WASP (I believe Mayor Hahn is a WASP, though he looks Irish). In any case, and rather agreeably, I don't dislike any of these guys, and although none of them excites my admiration, I will not be disappointed by any result. The top two candidates will run off in May; I'd prefer to see Villagairosa vs. Hertzberg, and would have a hard time deciding. I also like Richard Alarcon, who sems to be trailing, in part because of an inane campaign slogan: "The Senator for Mayor!" Though it refers to his post as state senator, it sounds like a comedown.

Election Day for me is usually less about poll results and more about poll work. For several yars I've performed a civic duty, serving as Inspector for my local voting district. It is involving and exhausting work, demanding a fifteen-hour time committment, but usually empowering and gratifying as well. But last year's November experience was excruciating. Our district was combined with another, forcing far more people onto our rolls. Coupled with an astounding 85% voter participation, the polling place was swamped, the lines snaking for hundreds of feet outside the building, not diminishing until lunch time. I worked diligently, though, hoping that at the end of the day my patience would be rewarded with some upbeat election news. But that was 2004, when nothing good was supposed to happen, and it didn't. So I peevishly decided not to participate in the process this year, and to vote absentee (or is that absently?).

That decision, though selfish, proved to be presciently wise, since I have an annoying cold today and would have been hard-pressed to function well, even in a laid-back election such as this. While I'd probably be efficient, I'd certainly be peevish and impatient with the stupider of voters, like the woman who last spring put her inka-dot markings on the voting machine rather than the ballot, effectively ruining it (and it was the only Republican machine we had). Yes, that was a Republican act. We also have a hefty contingent of Russians in our district, who appear in relatively high proportions, but often need instructions in their native tongue. And the city in its limited wisdom has failed to provide voter information in Russian despite mine and others' urgings, preferring to supply us with pamphlets in the ever-popular Vietnamese and Tagalog.

The highlight of my election work experience came in a 1998 primary when a news crew from KCET visited our district and decided to wire me while I was working and interview me afterwards. It was a lovely spring day and everyone was in the best of moods. The interview aired later that day on the local program "Life and Times." They even shot me at a flattering angle, and after my interview I was cited as a spokesman for the upbeat character of the current electorate. That really tickled my cynical bone. But it was the late '90s, most assuredly the Good Old Days, when Al Qaeda was only in its plotting stage and not everyone was gabbing on a cell phone in his SUV. Nowadays the best we can say about our daily life is that the sun has finally come out. It's lame, but maybe it's a start.