I miss Duluth's old mechanical voting machines. Remember them? They were huge, standing a good 7 feet tall, with sliding curtains at the front to protect voters from prying eyes. The booths were big enough for Superman to change outfits in.
The machines, painted institutional gray, must have weighed a ton each. Duluth had several for every precinct. Between elections, they stored them in a warehouse in West Duluth, and a few days before Election Day movers (but no shakers) loaded them on vans and delivered them to the polling places.
The machines were fascinating for children accompanying their parents to the polls -- kind of mysterious. Upon entering, the voter would slide a vertical metal bar that operated the curtain, which would slam shut during the voting process. Then, when the votes had been cast, the voter would slide the bar again and the curtain would spring open.
It was kind of like showbiz -- curtain going back and forth between acts, and it all seemed so, I don't know, so official, so important.
Now all we do is sit down at a table and connect ink lines on paper, then stuff the paper into a slot atop a small box. It doesn't even seem like voting. How do we know the box is not a shredder? You wonder even if you know better. Maybe that's why voter turnout is down. It's not as much fun to vote.
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The best thing about the old voting machines, aside from the curtain, was the method of casting ballots. You got to push down levers corresponding to the names printed above them. It allowed you to vote decisively, by smacking down the lever of candidates you favored while ignoring candidates you didn't care for. Behind the curtain you could even thumb your nose at ballot listings of candidates you didn't like. Or stick out your tongue. Who's to see?
The levers made an audible click, louder if you really smacked them. It made you feel good. I remember voting against Richard Nixon all three times he ran for president, smacking down the levers of Kennedy, Humphrey and McGovern as hard as I could. "Take that, Tricky Dick," I'd say to myself. "Not a crook, huh?"
When you were finished you felt like Superman, and you'd proudly throw the curtain back and stalk away past mild-mannered election judges and other voters waiting in line. What? No applause? Superman turned out to be a flash in the pan?
I don't know about you, but I usually end up voting against candidates I don't favor by voting for their opponents. With the old machines, you could feel satisfied that you'd taken decisive action against candidates you dislike.
On Tuesday I expect to continue my tradition of voting against various candidates. If you could believe the major candidates' attack ads on TV, how could you ever vote for any of them?
In this bitter political climate of bipartisan hatred, I wish we had the old voting machines back so voters could step behind the curtain and really smack the levers decisively.
Maybe in lieu of that, on Tuesday I'll slam my fist on the table after I mark my ballot. That ought to wake up the election judges.
