Like many Boomers, I came of age in a time when the political climate in America was in a state of flux. Well, I guess that’s an understatement. A couple of our best people had been gunned down in their prime and the first real president I was aware of, Richard Nixon, was a crook and resigned in disgrace.
It was a cynical time for sure, creating an equally cynical base of voters. I was to turn 18 in 1976, a major election year. I was very excited to have the privilege to cast my first vote in a presidential election. The only problem was that I didn’t really have much of a choice – Gerald Ford or Jimmy Carter.
My voting career wasn’t starting out like I thought it would. Where was a Kennedy, Lincoln or Roosevelt? I had little choice. My first presidential vote would be for Gerald Ford. I wasn’t about to toss my vote away on a Georgia farmer who looked like he’d be more at home on the set of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. No one can blame me for the Carter Administration.
From there it was a string of elections, city, county, state and national. When Carter went up for re-election, I chose Reagan. I voted for him again four years later because Mondale was a moron. Four years later, another idiot on the Democratic side, Dukakis. I went with George Senior. When he was against Bill Clinton, I voted for Ross Perot. Then it was Clinton, Gore and Kerry, largely because I didn’t like George W and his cabal of wrongdoers. Last election, I didn’t get around to voting at all because I moved and forgot to update my voter registration.
As you can see, I’m about as independent as it gets. Three Republicans, three Democrats and one Independent.
I still remember the first time I stepped into the voting booth. It was so intimidating. These were the old school machines, the big gray monstrosities with the curtain. You stepped into them and pulled the big lever in the middle with the red handle grip. The curtain would swing shut and there you were, faced with all these levers, names of candidates and lots of choices to make.
Frankly, I was overwhelmed the first time I voted. I’m not even sure I did it correctly. When I was through, I hoisted the lever back to its original position and with a flourish, the curtain opened automatically.
Eventually, the novelty of the voting machine wore off. I tired of having to go to the polling place to vote. Even when they switched to computerized voting forms, it was such a chore. Then I happened upon the concept of absentee ballots. What a godsend that was. I never looked back.
When I moved to Port Orchard, I actually got into politics for a time. I designed a couple websites for county candidates and supported them in their bid to be elected. I chose well, as every candidate whose campaign I worked on won. I certainly don’t think it was my efforts that got them elected. I just seemed to have a good eye for a winner.
In Port Orchard, the elections are very small town affairs. While the county has lots of residents, Port Orchard is very small. There are only about 7,000 people in the city’s limits. To get elected, you only need about a thousand votes, give or take a hundred, for any of the city’s position.
When I lived there, the town was so small (how small was it?) that being mayor was a part-time job that paid about $16,000. Not something that you can hang your career hat on, but still, it was an opportunity to get involved in politics.
I had never heeded the call, even though I had been asked a time or two to consider a run for a council position. It’s just not me. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t be a good public servant. I am too opinionated and while I certainly think that all public servants should listen to the will of their constituency, I’m not sure that the will of the voters is always what’s best for the rest of us. Just look at the Tea Party whackos.
One election year, the roster of candidates was hardly inspiring for mayor. It was the same old, same old of local politicians who were fossils. They were rooted in the past and the town looked it. There was no vision for the community, no energy. Downtown Port Orchard was a blight. No one could even agree on the colors to paint the buildings. Businesses would come and go weekly, unable to draw customers.
It was then that I ran for office. Yes, me. The call came unexpectedly one day from the director of the Chamber of Commerce. It seemed that the business community wanted a pro-business candidate and they thought I was the good choice.
They wanted me to run for mayor. But time was running out. Because of a low turnout of candidates, the county had extended the filing date for certain positions. The window of opportunity was to close at 5 p.m. that day.
It was 4:50 when the call came in. I said yes I would run and I did. I literally ran up the stairs from my office and out the front door. I took off in a dead run for the election office, which was just up the hill at the Givens Community Center.
As you know, I’m not exactly sporty. Running for office was a lot harder than I imagined, especially when it was uphill. I started to run out of gas about halfway to the center. I thought I was going to die.
Man, running for office is hard work, I thought. Compared to filing, the actual election should be a snap. With three minutes to go, I ran through the the door of the election office. “I’m… here… (pant! pant!), to run for… (pant!) for office.”
The supervisor looked back at me. “Looks like you already did.”
I couldn’t even muster a smile.
It turned out that the extension was only for certain positions and the mayor’s race wasn’t one of them. I had run for office, but it was too late. I would not be the mayor of Port Orchard.
I have never run for office since. In fact, I try not to run ever. But, I can honestly tell others that I did run for office once. I didn’t lose. I didn’t win. But at least I ran.
Out in the Emerald City, wishing God had given us candidates so I could vote,
– Robb