Commentary: Sometimes there is voter fraud - even in Philly

By George Parry

As a young lawyer in 1971, I volunteered my services to the Committee of Seventy to help monitor the mayoral election between Frank Rizzo (D.) and Thacher Longstreth (R.). As a nonpartisan, independent watchdog, the committee sent volunteers to investigate reports of voting irregularities. While we had no authority to intervene or rectify a situation, if founded, we could refer a complaint to the District Attorney's Office for official action.

About 7 a.m. on Election Day, I was dispatched to a polling place in West Philadelphia to investigate a "broken" voting machine. Then, as now, the voting machines were maintained and provided by Philadelphia's City Commissioners, one of whom was Maurice Osser (D.). More about him later.

Upon arrival, I found a mechanical voting machine. As designed, the back of the machine had two overlapping panels which, when closed, covered the meters reflecting the vote totals. The panels were supposed to be wired shut and a lead seal affixed to the wire.

But this voting machine had no seal, no wire, and the panels were open. Interestingly, the meters reflected that Rizzo had already received 233 votes. In comparison, Longstreth's meter showed only 12 votes. Since the polls had opened only two hours before, this seemed unlikely. So I asked the judge of elections how many people had voted so far. "None," he replied.

As I was writing up my report, a character straight out of central casting (bent nose, husky, threatening demeanor) approached.

Him: "I would consider it a personal favor if you did not report this."

Me: "Who are you?"

Him: "That's not important. Just don't report this."

Me: "Sorry, but it will be reported."

At that point, he jammed a beefy finger in my face and growled, "Just remember to include in your report that Longstreth got 12 votes, too!"

Later I was called to another West Philadelphia polling place where I found a wheelchair-bound senior citizen shaking and crying. She had been brought on a bus along with her fellow nursing-home residents. As told to me, the owner of the nursing home was a Democratic committeeman who had escorted each of these residents into the curtained voting booth to "help" them vote.

The lady in the wheelchair had refused his assistance. So, after telling her that she could not return to his nursing home, he had left her behind.

The matter was turned over to the police. I don't know what happened to the woman, but I am sure that her abandonment was a lesson to the other nursing-home residents who might have entertained some notion of next time freely voting their consciences.

Unsurprisingly, Rizzo won by 391,239 to Longstreth's 343,204. That turned out to be the last gasp of the Republican Party in Philadelphia. As the votes were totaled on election night, Longstreth memorably conceded, "I'm too big to cry, but it hurts too much to smile."

And Commissioner Osser? The feds indicted him for rigging contracts for the purchase of city voting machines and for mail fraud in connection with the letting of city printing contracts. He beat the voting-machine charges but went to prison for mail fraud.

Now, as the pundits, pols, and talking heads insist that voter fraud is very rare, I cannot help but think back to my small part in the 1971 mayoral election and wonder.

Are they seriously expecting us to believe that human nature has been purged of venality since John Kennedy stole the 1960 presidential election? Since "Landslide Lyndon" Johnson stole his first senatorial election? And since the hundreds of other more recent cases of election fraud?

To buy what they are selling would require a national act of voluntary amnesia and willful ignorance of the mounting - but little discussed by the mainstream media - evidence of ongoing electoral fraud.

Outside the National Archives stands a sculpture entitled Future. Carved into its base are Shakespeare's immortal words "What is Past is Prologue."

Ponder that timeless phrase as we approach the upcoming Election Day and fasten your seat belts. We ain't seen nothin' yet.

George Parry is a former state and federal prosecutor practicing law in Philadelphia. LGParry@dpt-law.com