“This is a hot mess!” said Moore. “They want people to get out and vote, and none of this makes any sense!”
Pauline Broyaka, a native of Ukraine, was clutching her 1991 voter registration card. “I have no idea what I’m waiting for,” said Broyaka. She had number C805.
Irwin Smith was back for a second day. He had showed up at 8 a.m. Monday, only to find out voter photos aren’t taken on Mondays. Now he was back, holding his birth certificate and his Social Security card. The fact that he had held onto both, through decades of living on the street before he moved to a housing program four years ago, he saw as a sign he was intended to “be part of society again.” He had number C814.
“This is ridiculous,” said Moore. “We are all in this world together. We are as one. We are equal.”
She looked at her watch. It was 1:10 p.m., she had been there for 90 minutes, and C773 was up. “I think I should go get a money order for $13.50,” the fee for the non-driver ID, she said. “I better have that just in case.” She went around the corner to Liberty Market, fished out $13.50 and another buck for the money order.
“Even if I don’t need it, it pays to talk to people, and be prepared,” she said.
At 1:42 p.m., Moore stepped up to one of the eight manned stations and presented her paperwork. Registered to vote? “Oh, yes,” she said. “You want a voting ID?” asked the clerk. “Then you need to fill out this instead.” Moore took another clipboard, and another two-page form. “I already answered most of this,” she said.
A second clerk phoned the Philadelphia Board of Elections, and after a wait, verified she was, indeed, registered to vote. Ten minutes later, she directed Moore to print and sign her name on a sheet of paper labeled “Examiner’s Report.” She carefully detached her pay stub from the address page and offered her proof of residency. She swore her oath of affirmation.
At 2:10 p.m., she got a new ticket — A230 — for the photo line. At 3:25 p.m., after four hours, her number was called, and she scampered over to the camera, only to have the clerk take number A231 and the man standing behind her.
“Hey!” she said, “I’m right here!”
“I already called your number three times,” he said. “Now what?” she demanded.
“Take a new number,” he said.
“This is bull----!” she said. “At the end of all this?” She bit her lip.
At that, another clerk waved Moore to another camera and told her to smile.
With that, after four hours, Cheryl Ann Moore became the proud owner of a laminated Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Department of State for Voting Purposes Only ID card.
“I feel good!” she said. She grinned, kissed the card, put it inside a compartment in her knockoff Louis Vuitton purse and zippered it shut.