Democracy Works in Sister Bay, the Way It's Supposed To

Democracy works if you give it a chance. The people of Sister Bay discovered--or perhaps, rediscovered--that the other day.

It held a race for village president. The position doesn't have anywhere near the power of a mayor, for instance; a mayor can veto legislation; a village president can't though he has a vote. But someone has to be in charge of carrying out what the village board passes. Call the position that of chief administrator.

The incumbent, Rob Zoschke, ran for re-election against Nate Bell. They tied, 256-256. The winner would have to be decided "by drawing lots," or so said Wisconsin statutes.

But that phrase could be interpreted broadly. In actuality, the village gave the candidates five ways they could break the tie: by putting names into a bowl; by drawing straws; by cutting cards; by a coin flip; or by rolling dice. The article that ran in the Peninsula Pulse, one of two free newspapers in Door County, said that they both agreed to roll dice. 

No arguments. No name-calling. They just got on with it.

Did they roll two dice or one? The paper's editor told me in an e-mail: just one each. I suppose a tie would be followed by subsequent rolls.

Zoschke rolled a two. Bell a six. That was that.

Were voices raised? Were there pickets with clever put-downs? Did Sister Bay erupt in a cacophony of protest? Were vote counters threatened? Did an angry mob rush the government offices and demand justice for poor Rob? Were windows broken? Were extra police called in to stem the mob? Were any plates of spaghetti thrown against the wall?

Nope. None of that happened. Zoschke didn't even ask for a recount, which was his right. He accepted the result. In fact, he even said what an honor it had been to serve the public. The job was Bell's now, for the next two years. The article didn't say whether the two shook hands, but I'm guessing they did.

This wasn't the first time that had ever happened in any municipality, not in Wisconsin nor elsewhere. Elections, thousands of them, are held constantly, and especially in small places like Sister Bay, the odds are better that a tie will result.

The editor of the Peninsula Press, Debra Fitzgerald, said that national media had gotten hold of the story. They noted the peaceful process and conclusion for comparison with a different, far more awful day not that long ago in which emotionally stricken, severely misguided fools violated our national capitol building in a futile, murderous frenzy.

They gained only frustration because the elections, individually and collectively, that they were protesting were perhaps the most secure that we have ever had. Presidents have been elected with far less precise monitoring, such as what happened in 2000, when Miami mobs really did hold up the count and probably awarded the election to George W. Bush.

Even then, though, the loser, Al Gore, who I believe was robbed by a Republican-controlled Supreme Court, respected the Court's finding, as painful as I'm sure he found it. There were protesters on both sides in various states; I participated in one of the protests in Washington, DC, as a member of the National Education Association Board of Directors. We were depicted as sore losers, just another example of Republicans who take what they are themselves and project it on their opponents before they can print up signs.

But it was 200 years before that, in 1800, that the first, true test of democracy took place. John Adams, successor to the presidency from the late George Washington, lost in his re-election campaign to Thomas Jefferson in a bitter battle, one that changed the Constitution because of the development of political parties and the effect upon the Electoral College. Jefferson and his vice-presidential running mate, Aaron Burr, tied with the same number of electoral votes because it hadn't been foreseen that presidential and vice-presidential candidates, running on a ticket, could receive the same number of votes.

To break the tie, the Constitution, just 13 years old, prescribed a remedy. The election would have to be thrown into the House of Representatives, in which a majority of the state delegations would have to determine the winner, each state having one vote. But the House was split between Jefferson, Adams and Burr. Adams couldn't possibly win, but Burr, being on the winning side, could. Alexander Hamilton, who had been Washington's Secretary of the Treasury and who might have won the position himself if not for the revelation of a sex scandal, threw his political support to Jefferson, who he disliked, but not as much as Burr (and yes, this set the stage for the eventual duel in which Burr killed Hamilton). Hamilton's prestige carried considerable weight. When news of that hit the floor, the game shifted and Jefferson won.

The Federalist Party, then, had lost its hold on power by an eyelash. But it would have to give way willingly, or the hope of democracy in America would be doomed. The actual acquiescence of one group of policymakers actually had to take place. The passage of power had never happened before. More than one person held their breath. The Federalists and Adams conceded.

Just because things happened in a certain way doesn't mean it had to happen that way. Fortunately, there was no attempted coup d'etat. There was no resistance on or before March 4, 1801, when Jefferson took the oath of office. The issue lingered, though, because Aaron Burr, who was capable of going over the edge in his need for power, appeared to try to get some western territories to secede from the Union. Put on trial for treason in 1805, he escaped conviction.

Until January 6, 2021, regardless of the closeness and controversy of presidential elections--and there have been some doozies, 2000 being just one of them--that tradition and its guardrails held. The winners don't make the Constitution work. The losers do by keeping their powders dry and waiting for another scheduled chance.

Even though the ex-president knew he lost, he has never conceded. The transfer of power, legal and well-documented, supported by vote counts that have been repeated more than once, has never been approved by him. That's all we need to know as he gears up for another divisive, narcissistic run at the top office. He's an enemy of democracy, plain and simple. He urged the demonstrators to actually rush the Capitol, find Congressional leaders, and if they were lynched, so be it. He's more than an awful person. He's a danger to our society.

But the government and people of Sister Bay, Wisconsin, in April 2023, have gotten beyond that. They gave democracy a chance. The greater interests of stability and successful civilization won. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, they put the guardrails back up. Here's hoping that when they and the rest of us go to the polls in November, 2024, we will remember that we nearly lost it all two years ago, that we still can, and that is exactly, once again, what's at stake.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark