Free coffee, ice cream and doughnuts were on offer for voters on Tuesday. But for many at the polls, the taste was for democracy.
Here are a few scenes from around Onondaga County this Election Day:
***
At Jamesville-DeWitt Middle School, a traffic lane wraps around the auditorium clearly marked, “Student Drop-off Only.” But at 6:30 Tuesday morning it was filled with parked cars.
“All right,” a man sighed, as he climbed into an SUV parked in the circle, “That’s all done.”
He wore a tracksuit to vote this morning. He still had to go back home to finish getting ready for work. Lucky for him, the line wasn’t long and he had time.
A school bus drove by, empty for now. For now it was quiet. The air was crisp and chilly, but not as chilly as you would expect for 6:30 a.m. in November. The only sounds were the rumble of cars, footsteps and the gentle ring of an American flag clanging against the flagpole.
It was quiet all morning, even though people-traffic was high. Men and women in business suits carrying thermoses of coffee walked in and out of the auditorium in just a few minutes. They were on their way to work, in a hurry, with no time to talk. They walked with a purpose, no stopping, no chit chat. One man even left his car lights on and engine running.
A family of four, one of very few families voting early in the morning at the middle school, walked slowly back to their mini-van. A father held his baby daughter, whose head rested against his shoulder as she drifted in and out of sleep. A mother held the hand of her son, urging him not to run out into the street. He jumped up and down, his tiny red and blue tie flapping. As she lifted him up into the seat in their car he gave her a confused look.
“That was it?” he asked. “It’s over? We’re done?”
***
At Bird Library on the Syracuse University campus, the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Single students with laptops and students in groups surrounded by books and notepapers were scattered in and among the tables in the first floor of the library. The place isn’t usually very quiet, but today at 4:30 p.m.it was bustling more than usual.
A host of all-business authority figures sat behind a long table with white paper and black marker signs declaring sections of the alphabet. Behind them sat large grey metal boxes that looked as if they would collapse at the touch of a feather or strong breeze. Dark blue fabric that would have looked more the part of a carpetbag hung across the entrance of each booth, strung with the same metal hooks used for shower curtains.
A barely-hushed din of conversation and the sharp metal ring of the curtains being snapped open and closed dominated the expansive room. Added to the noise are the lights of several video cameras capturing students dressed their best, describing the scene behind them for reporting classes.
The voters were mostly students, each with a wide grin, whispering to friends how excited they were. A first time for many of them, they were congratulated by the staff behind the long table. One young woman with a bottle of juice and a heavy-looking bag poked her head through the curtain of her booth and asked a voting inspector for help. The inspector refused to enter the booth, instead making flicking motions with her fingers and holding up numbers one, two and three.
But one young woman walked away from the table without voting, and without a grin on her face. The voting inspectors could not find Nikoll Velves’ name in the books, and she wasn’t allowed to vote.
“I started the registering process,” she said, blinking faster and faster and looking at the ground. “I guess I didn’t follow it up?”
Velves sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, picked up her bag to sling it onto her shoulder, and began walking toward the door. But she was dragging her feet and moving slowly.
This election wouldn’t have been the first presidential race Velves, 22, was eligible to vote in. “I was born in the Philippines, but I got my citizenship as soon as I got here,” she said. She didn’t care for the 2004 candidates, President George W. Bush or Democratic challenger John Kerry. But she had faith in Democratic contender Barack Obama.
“I’m really disappointed. This campaign is obviously very important for my generation,” said Velves. “I really wish I could participate.”
***
At Marcellus Senior High School, just 45 minutes before the polls are supposed to close, the auditorium is bright and mood jovial. There are just two voters, and five poll inspectors working — a total of seven people in an auditorium with a capacity for hundreds. A man in green fleece and with a button reading “Poll Inspector” jokes with two young women leaving the polls.
“Was it worth the admission price then, ladies?” he asks.
They laugh and answer, of course it was.
The crowds have been steady all day, the poll inspector said, but they’re winding down. It probably would have been better if the road construction outside were done on time, he said. He didn’t see as many young people as he was expecting, but he did see some. He didn’t see as many people as he was expecting, period, but he did see a lot.
“I guess the only thing to do now is go home,” he said, “and wait and see.”
(Susanna McElligott is a senior with dual majors in newspaper and art history.)
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