Scenes from a KJ election
The walkway outside the basement of the Ezras Choilim Medical Center was thick with yeshiva boys Wednesday night, all crushing around the entrance to hear the results of an election in which they were all rooting for the same side.
"Experience and results," one boy told a reporter. That's the earnest code name for Mayor Abe Wieder and his allies, who rule the secular world in Kiryas Joel in tandem with its religious ruler, Aron Teitelbaum, chief rabbi for the Hasidic community's dominant congregation.
Inside, election officials were tallying up the machine votes. More than 5,000 had been cast by the time doors closed at 9 p.m., a record for the village. That came to 86 percent of the village's 5,800 registered voters – a staggering percentage even in a community where voting seems part of the religion.
Meanwhile, one stone-faced deputy sheriff, hands on his belt, struggled to hold back dozens of grinning teenagers with black hats and patchy beards.
"I've told you three times. There's not going to be a fourth time," he growled. "Back. Up."
One big, confident kid in front watched the mounting frustration with a smirk. He held his arms to the side and leaned backward, causing the crowd to sway. Other boys exchanged remarks in Yiddish and chuckled. They shuffled their feet and went nowhere.
Time for a softer approach.
"Look, I know you're excited, and I don't blame you," said the deputy. "But I need you to move away from the entrance."
Grins and shuffles. The crowd only seemed closer.
Getting angry again, the deputy removed his Nextel.
"If I have to make a call, you're not going to like what happens. Now back up. Everybody take two steps back."
The boys shuffled, grinned and went nowhere.
The walkway outside the basement of the Ezras Choilim Medical Center was thick with yeshiva boys Wednesday night, all crushing around the entrance to hear the results of an election in which they were all rooting for the same side.
"Experience and results," one boy told a reporter. That's the earnest code name for Mayor Abe Wieder and his allies, who rule the secular world in Kiryas Joel in tandem with its religious ruler, Aron Teitelbaum, chief rabbi for the Hasidic community's dominant congregation.
Inside, election officials were tallying up the machine votes. More than 5,000 had been cast by the time doors closed at 9 p.m., a record for the village. That came to 86 percent of the village's 5,800 registered voters – a staggering percentage even in a community where voting seems part of the religion.
Meanwhile, one stone-faced deputy sheriff, hands on his belt, struggled to hold back dozens of grinning teenagers with black hats and patchy beards.
"I've told you three times. There's not going to be a fourth time," he growled. "Back. Up."
One big, confident kid in front watched the mounting frustration with a smirk. He held his arms to the side and leaned backward, causing the crowd to sway. Other boys exchanged remarks in Yiddish and chuckled. They shuffled their feet and went nowhere.
Time for a softer approach.
"Look, I know you're excited, and I don't blame you," said the deputy. "But I need you to move away from the entrance."
Grins and shuffles. The crowd only seemed closer.
Getting angry again, the deputy removed his Nextel.
"If I have to make a call, you're not going to like what happens. Now back up. Everybody take two steps back."
The boys shuffled, grinned and went nowhere.