A local election of 40 years ago was a classic example to show one vote truly does count.

The recent razor-thin victory of Kris Kobach over Adam Taff in the Republican primary election deservedly received much attention. The two were contending for their party’s nomination to oppose incumbent Democrat Dennis Moore for the Kansas 3rd District seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. The battle was good for the election process and generated considerable voter interest.

After canvasses and updates on the balloting, Kobach proved to be the winner by just over 200 votes. Taff has announced he will not seek a recount and will support Kobach to the fullest in the effort to unseat Moore.

Voters and media people are enthralled and intrigued by close contests like the one between Kobach and Taff, and it is always emphasized the point that one vote does count. More than 88,000 ballots were marked in this instance and at least 210 people on Taff’s side of the fence are wishing they had gone to the polls instead of bypassing the election.

But it would be difficult to find a tighter fit than Douglas County experienced 40 years ago when Reynolds Shultz of Lawrence became the GOP nominee for the 6th District seat in the Kansas Senate. A capsule containing Shultz’s name finally was drawn from a hat by state treasurer Walter Peery to determine who would advance to the November general election.

Don Hults was an attorney with a strong record as a state senator from the Douglas County area. Shultz was a farmer-businessman who long was involved in politics. Forecasters believed Hults would win because he had backed successful measures such as state support for a new Kansas River bridge at Eudora.

In the 1964 August primary election, the two contenders wound up tied with 4,404 votes apiece. There were canvasses and recounts, and every step was taken to formalize the final totals. After three weeks, the absolute deadlock remained, and the decision was made to have the state treasurer select the winner with a drawing. Friends quickly jibed the former Marine with the label of “Landslide Shultz,” and he always relished discussing this close call for his political career. He and his wife even saved the capsule drawn from the hat in Topeka.

Shultz won the Senate seat in 1964 and later was elected lieutenant governor. Hults returned to private law practice in Lawrence. In the days after the drawing, a number of citizens spoke up about how they had stayed at home during the primary election and bemoaned how their lone vote could have prevented the perplexing tie. A strong supporter of one of the candidates marked his ballot incorrectly, in ink rather than pencil. It was invalidated.

For those inclined to consider it a political cliche, one vote still can make a big difference in any election. Adam Taff wishes at least 210 more of his “supporters” had turned out and Kris Kobach is pleased that his “noble 207” cared enough to send their very best, their votes.