Primary Day in New York: Rain, Short Lines and a New Kind of Ballot

Laura Benedek, 75, has not missed an election since she cast her first vote — for Lyndon B. Johnson as president. Seated in her wheelchair on Tuesday, outside her polling place on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, she flaunted her “I Voted” sticker.

Nothing, not a pandemic, not a year of social unrest, and certainly not the city’s new system of ranked-choice voting, would break her streak, she said.

“I have a high I.Q. and an education,” Ms. Benedek said as her nurse’s aide wheeled her toward home. “So I wasn’t put off by anything.”

This primary election, held on the trailing edge of the pandemic, to choose mayoral and other candidates tasked with leading the city back from the brink of economic ruin is consequential enough. But it is also New York’s first time using ranked-choice voting — where voters rank candidates in order of preference — in a mayoral race and in an election as large as a primary.

The method, officials say, gives voice to a broader swath of voters, particularly historically disenfranchised groups like Black and Latino people. Critics contend the ranking system adds confusion.

On Tuesday, New Yorkers were feeling it out in real time. Some were bewildered, while others, like Ms. Benedek, soldiered on through rain (but short lines) to uphold their civic duty.

They forded through a sea of campaign volunteers to make it to polling places, where they spent extra time filling in ballot bubbles (and asking for fresh ballots when they flubbed, according to poll workers). In doing so, New Yorkers were taking their best stab at divining who would be best for a city slogging through multiple challenges: catastrophic job losses, rising crime, and the financial hit from the disappearance of tourists, to name a few.

This primary election was anyone’s game. There were 10 Democrats seeking to replace the city comptroller, who was one of the 13 Democrats and two Republicans seeking the mayoral nomination. All 51 City Council seats were up for re-election, with more than 30 of them being vacated, most because of term limits. Voters also chose candidates for borough president, district attorney and public advocate.

Under ranked-choice voting, New Yorkers are able to list five candidates in order of preference. If no single candidate earns more than 50 percent of first-choice votes, the candidate in last place will be eliminated and their votes will be distributed to the candidate their voters ranked next. These rounds of elimination continue until there are only two candidates left, and the one who comes out ahead is the winner.

“This is the most important election, we’ve got to bring New York City back,” said Richard Ridge, 62, a volunteer for Erik Bottcher, a candidate for City Council, as Mr. Ridge stood on a corner in Manhattan’s West Village. Mr. Ridge, who works at a website focused on the theater industry, one of the sectors hardest hit by the pandemic, said the stakes felt so high that this was the first time he had ever volunteered for a campaign.

Mr. Bottcher said if he couldn’t inspire enough voters on the street, “I will go to their apartments personally and take them to the polls.”

In the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn, Alyson Mance, 36, who works in sales, said that the twin factors of the Covid crisis and the still-roiling passions of the 2020 presidential election had brought her to her polling place at Public School 84 José de Diego that day.

“Normally I don’t really care, that’s the truth,” she said. “This time, I feel that as a country we bungled it so bad and I had to pay more attention than I usually do.”

That included doing more extensive research than she has ever done before voting in a previous primary election. The pandemic’s restrictions on her social life helped: It left her little else to do, Ms. Mance said. “2020 gave me a lot more time to research candidates,” she said.

She arrived to her polling place with organized ranked lists for each race on her phone.

On the corner of Hudson and Grove Streets, in the West Village, Warren Bruce, a campaign volunteer, engaged in a curious dance with a volunteer of a rival campaign, unthinkable in past elections where voters could choose only one person: whenever someone stopped for a leaflet, that campaign then suggested they grab their rival’s flier too.

It appeared ranked choice was having an unusual effect on some New Yorkers: They were civil. Political rancor had no place on the street corner, the two volunteers agreed — particularly when voters could select both of the candidates.

“Be rude?” Mr. Bruce said. “Who, moi?”

On the pavement outside of a polling place in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, Evelyn Yang, the wife of Andrew Yang, a candidate for mayor, was making her own ranked choice, of sorts: In chalk, she wrote her husband’s name on the concrete — just above a chalk doodle in support of Kathryn Garcia, one of his rivals. Over the weekend, the pair of opponents had formed an alliance and campaigned together.

“I love ranked-choice voting; I think it should be the future, not just here in New York City but around the country,” Mr. Yang said. “In some cases that might require a little more time to tabulate the results. But every vote should be counted, and I’m willing to be patient.”

“New Yorkers are not a very patient lot,” Mr. Yang said with a laugh.

Not everyone agrees: Eric Adams, the presumed front-runner, has criticized the ranked-choice system and said that Mr. Yang’s alliance with Ms. Garcia, though a typical tactic in such elections, was intended to dilute Black voting power.

After voting at Brooklyn Arbor Elementary School in Williamsburg, Vismar Dominguez, 40, was heading with his godsons to Zeff’s Pizzeria across the street to celebrate. He was hopeful about his preferred candidates’ chances, but said he felt like the ranked-choice voting was a waste of time.

“I think it’s useless because I only wanted to vote for the guy I wanted,” Mr. Dominguez said. “Before it would have taken me two minutes to vote. That took me 10, and it felt pointless.”

As Josh Klinski, 43, a grant writer, left P.S. 84 José de Diego in Brooklyn, he said he felt good about his choices for mayor — but utterly mystified at the actual tallying process.

“I’m not the most informed voter, I’m not the least informed voter,” Mr. Klinski said. “I still don’t really understand what my fourth choice actually means.”

Precious Fondren, Nate Schweber and Sean Piccoli contributed reporting.