DATE: Saturday, June 14, 1997               TAG: 9706140004

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B7   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion 

SOURCE: Kerry Dougherty

                                            LENGTH:   66 lines

TO THE HANDFUL WHO VOTED TUESDAY: REINFORCE YOUR MAILBOXES

Political pundits puzzling over this week's primary election have floated a variety of esoteric theories as to why no one voted in last Tuesday's Republican primary.

Fewer than 5 percent of registered voters - that would be just 168,456 souls - ventured to the polls. Putting that into perspective, the number of voters was roughly equal to the size of the audience at 8 1/2 Jimmy Buffett concerts.

Analysts usually like to factor in the weather when they can't figure out what in the world is going on in the brains of voters. But unless they want to theorize that Virginians are suddenly so worried about skin cancer that they wouldn't venture out in bright sunshine, there is simply no way to blame Mother Nature this time. (A scarier thought, though, is just how few would have bothered to vote had it rained.)

I have my own explanation for the precipitously low voter turnout: It's fear of the tractor trailers full of junk mail that are right now headed for the doorsteps of every unsuspecting Virginian who cast a ballot this week. It won't let up for at least a year.

I'm talking about reams of junk mail that look like they were written by the authors of Bazooka Joe comic books, piles of invitations to scary right-wing functions, solicitations from causes so bizarre that the city dump doesn't even deserve them as a resting place.

I found this out the hard way after foolishly voting in not one, but two, primary elections. It's the same if you vote in a Democratic primary.

In fact, the first time I voted in a primary election was in 1994 when I was indignant that Sen. Chuck Robb didn't have the decency to step aside to let a normal person run for office after news of his Tai Collins dalliance and his antics with the swinging Virginia Beach cocaine set became national news. Fear of being forced to chose between Robb and Ollie North overrode my embarrassment of being identified as a Democrat by one of my neighbors when I ducked into the polling place.

For the next year I was punished for that misdeed by piles of Democratic diatribes, all of which would be traced back to the primary voter lists. There was unappetizing stuff from pro-abortion groups, invitations to left-wing pig pickings and even campaign solicitation mail from Robb himself.

You'd think I would have learned. But last spring, in an admittedly weak moment, I decided to vote in the Republican primary.

Ever since that fateful day, my mailbox is fairly bursting with right-wing rubbish from groups that automatically assume that a vote in a GOP primary means I believe Bill Clinton whacked Vincent Foster (and wrapped him in a rug and stowed him in his car trunk, according to one weird mailing) that I think either Hillary Clinton or Ted Kennedy is the antichrist.

Did I mention the phone calls? For weeks before the primary this year I received calls from candidates reminding me to vote. In their dreams.

Until the identities of those voting in political primaries are somehow protected, I won't make that mistake again. At the very least, when a political party seeks the lists of those who voted they ought to be required not to trade the names around like baseball cards.

It's bad enough that our identities are hot commodities in the commercial market. That every time we use our credit cards, subscribe to a magazine or write a check it's logged in a data bank somewhere and sold to the highest bidder. But these are all optional activities that can be avoided.

Voting may be optional, but it's also a right. We ought to be able to do it without losing a big chunk of our privacy and without being hounded, harassed and hassled. MEMO: Ms. Dougherty is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot.

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