Monday, Aug. 23, 1971
How Will the Young Vote?
THEY care." "They don't." "They're apathetic." "No, they're on a rampage." "They will." "They won't." "If they do, they'll go the same way as their parents." "They'll do their own thing."
"They" are the 11.4 million 18-to-20-year-olds now enfranchised, for state and local as well as national elections, by the 26th Amendment to the Constitution, ratified June 30. What "they" will or will not do is register and vote. Anti-Nixon enrollment drummers organizing rallies under such titles as "Countdown '72," "Register for a New America" and "Register for Peace" offer some interesting arithmetic. If only 50% of the young eligibles vote, and if they go 2-to-l Democratic, they could swing nine states, including vote-heavy California, New Jersey and Ohio, to give the Democratic candidate a substantial majority of 337 electoral votes. Of the under-21 voters already registered, variously estimated from 500,000 to 1,000,000, about 60% have enrolled as Democrats and 30% as Republicans.
Parents'-Home Rule. Of the 18-to-20-year-olds, no fewer than 4,000,000 constitute the "college crowd." Roughly half of these young men and women attend colleges close to their homes; the rest live away from home, almost one-half of them out of state. Where residential college students will be allowed to register and vote is the most vexing question arising under the 26th Amendment.
For about 10 million of the newly enfranchised, where to register for voting is no problem. These are the 4,100,000 in the work force, 1,600,000 housewives, students at colleges in or near their home towns, 900,000 in high school, and 800,000 men in the armed forces who are entitled to absentee ballots. So, deservedly or not, it is the 1,200,000 away-from-home students who are getting most of the attention in enrollment drives.
The key to exercising voting rights is the definition of a resident. Virtually all the states, by law or administrative ruling, deny a student the status of a resident. But is a student who spends nine months of each of four years in a community any less a resident than a faculty member? A few states allow a married student to vote in his college town, while insisting that the unmarried must register from his parents' home. The parents'-home rule requires students to try to get absentee ballots, which are not available in some states except to members of the armed forces; in other states the procedure is an obstacle course. The restrictive laws of at least 15 states are being challenged in the courts, and some cases are expected to reach the U.S. Supreme Court.
Herbert Marcuse's doctrine that the vote is meaningless seems to have relatively few adherents among the young. This month the Boston suburb of Woburn provided a nutshell refutation of Marcuse's argument. During most of July, the town had been racked by firebombings and clashes between youths and the police. Mayor Edward F. Gill rejected virtually all the youths' demands. After an angry protest meeting, more than 50 of the young suddenly stalked across to Town Hall to protest in a quieter but far more effective way. They registered to vote. Said a spokesman: "When they turned us down, they taught us a political lesson: if you don't have the vote, they can ignore you."
Some older politicians have scoffed that in an April congressional primary election in Maryland, only 6% of the young eligibles bothered to register--an admittedly appalling record. But of those who did register, two-thirds actually voted, while less than one-third of their registered elders did so. It was the same in a special state senate election in Southern California last month. Of the registered 18-to-20-year-olds polled, no less than 78% voted, against 48% of the total registered voters. Many prognosticators hold that the strength of the youth turnout in 1972 will depend largely on the candidates. If the major parties offer what the young would see as a tweedledum-tweedledee choice between Nixon and a Humphrey, they would be even more turned off than their elders. But if the Democrats put up an inspiring candidate, the young will be more likely to vote.
In interviews last week with a few dozen newly eligible voters, TIME correspondents found a full spectrum of attitudes from Woburn-type militancy to sun-drenched, poolside apathy, from an interest in the presidency to thoughtful concern about state and local issues. A sampling:
NINI ZOLOTON, 19, of Los Angeles: "I've been involved with political stuff since I was a kid--strikes, canvassing and stuff like that. I'll vote Democratic and against Nixon, but I'm not exactly sure what that will mean come November of 1972."
POLLY SPIEGEL, 20, of Cambridge, Mass., who goes to Swarthmore: "I think giving kids the vote is a step forward, but all we can do is vote in an already faulty system."
JANET KRIGBAUM, 19, of Durham, N.C., a junior at Duke University: "I'm not too hopeful about any of the present presidential candidates. I don't like the Nixon regime, and the Democratic platform is soft-socialist, and I can't see that leading anywhere."
LINDA BANUELOS, 20, a page in Chicago's First National Bank: "The slate is handed to you by the 'toppies'--Establishment people who don't give the average person a say at all. I'm just not convinced that voting will help--you're just voting for the Government's man."
TOM LOLLAR, 19, of Tuscaloosa, Ala., a junior at the University of Alabama: "I'd like to say we could really turn things around in Alabama, but the kids here and in the Southeast in general are still pretty conservative. I think they're going to vote along with their parents."
JACK TRIMM, 19, from the crossroads town of Echola, north of Tuscaloosa: "I think the younger voters will have a rather substantial effect on politics. Young people won't vote conservatively just because their parents do."
ROGER UNO, 19, of Los Angeles, who voted in the state senate election: "I hope the 18-to-20-year-olds will take advantage of their voting rights, but I have my fears. We talk a good game, but when it comes to acting, we are often as hypocritical as older people."
BRIDGET KELSEY, 18, enrolled in Edgewood College, Wis., hopes to vote there, but otherwise will register in her home town of Rockford, Ill.: "We know there will not be change right away, but you can't get anywhere by walking away from it. We must use the tools they give us."
To ensure heavy registration, with the hope that this will lead to a large young-voter turnout, both major political parties are active. The Democratic National Committee's youth drive has staged hot-dog dinners in Arkansas --free to the newly registered--and a press conference at the White House main gate. The Republican National Committee is turning out pamphlets to tutor the young in the Nixon record on the environment, draft reform, drug abuse and winding down the war. Perhaps the most effective of the enrollment drives, because it is technically nonpartisan, is the National Movement for the Student Vote, Inc., headquartered in Washington and enjoying strong support from John Gardner's Common Cause. It is organizing registrars, and its lawyers are behind many of the court fights against residency restrictions. At least some of their elders are determined that the young will not miss the chance to vote because of either apathy or legal obstacles.
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