An Arkansas native does the Iowa caucus

Editor’s note: Roy Hill is an Arkansas native. He’s taught college courses at four different Arkansas colleges and universities and written news, feature stories and other content for several Arkansas newspapers and websites. He now works in marketing and public relations in Iowa.
––––––––––––––

I have voted in every regular and primary election I’ve been eligible to participate in since 1988. Most of those were in Arkansas, and I still recall voting in my first presidential primary in the kitchen of the Mt. Moriah Nondemoninational Church in Haletown, Ark., east of Waldron a bit.

For me, it was an almost-sacred occasion, marking a transition into adulthood. I remember the sensation of walking up to the little desk with the three high sides that formed a small enclosure to prevent anyone else from seeing my ballot. For a few moments, it was just me, my pencil, and the American political process.

On Feb. 1, 2016, my participation continued in the great American political process, but in a rather different way. Tonight, I took part in my very first Iowa Caucus.

I moved to Iowa in January 2012, and arrived in the state just a couple weeks before the 2012 Hawkeye Cauci. Because I still had an Arkansas driver’s license, was adjusting to a new job and looking for a house, I decided to not go to a caucus and just vote in the regular election later that year.  Four years later, I’m an Iowa resident, with a permanent address and a driver’s license. So my wife Kim and I decided to caucus.

One thing markedly different in Iowa compared to Arkansas is the requirement to declare a party affiliation when registering to vote. Even though my voting has fit a rather predictable pattern for decades now, I still refused to declare an official party affiliation on my Arkansas voter registration.

In Iowa, if you want to vote in a caucus, you have to declare a party. So I reluctantly declared “Republican” when I registered. Kim, to her credit, originally insisted on declaring Independent on her registration, but changed her mind once she learned she’d have to declare Republican in order to caucus. Fortunately, voters can change their registration or even register for the first time at the caucus site.

Iowa caucuses are in some ways less formal and more social than primary election voting in Arkansas. Caucuses are held all over the place, including grain silos, bars, grocery stores, even at least one local gun shop.

We live in Grinnell, Iowa, a town of about 9,000, and our caucus location was the local high school. We arrived at the high school around 6:30 pm, and found the parking lots and side streets absolutely full of cars and pedestrians. Not even a cold foggy night with an impending snowstorm can keep Iowa caucus-goers from showing up.

Just inside the door, teenagers wearing campaign t-shirts were pointing and shouting, “Republicans to the front entrance! Democrats to the new gym!” to direct us to the proper check-in areas. The large crowd of Republican caucus-goers milling around a set of tables was rather obvious, so my son Isaac and I ducked and weaved our way through the throng, looking for the correct table and the end of a line.

Grinnell is divided into wards and we live in the 4th Ward. I had to find the check-in table for the 4th Ward, show my voter registration card, and get my official white sticker with my name hand-written on it, which was my ticket to caucus. I caught a brief glimpse of Kim in the crowd, and then saw her get directed down a hallway for the new registration table. Once checked in, we were then told to head to the Grinnell High library and media center down the hall and to the left, and gather with all the other 4th Ward Republican caucus goers. Both parties and every ward had its own designated room or area.

Compared to voting in Arkansas – in churches, in county courthouses, in community buildings – caucusing in Iowa is rather noisy. The lobby was boisterous, with hundreds of people greeting each other and loudly asking questions like, “Is this the line for the 2nd Ward?” and “Is this the Republican of the Democrat check in?” Inside the library, the 4th Ward Republican crowd was less noisy, but kept up a steady hum of low-level conversation. It may have been the largest and most-talkative group the Grinnell High Library has seen in some time.

I was surprised by the amount of on-site campaigning. Unlike Arkansas primaries, with rules about how many feet away a candidate’s signs or literature must be from a polling place, open campaigning is an expected part of the Iowa caucuses. I saw buttons for most of  the candidates on shirts, jackets and coats. Just outside the library door, a couple was handing out large Marco Rubio placards. There were also people wearing buttons and stickers identifying themselves as “Caucus Captains,” or official spokespeople for specific campaigns.

Inside the library, a Caucus Captain for Rand Paul was working the crowd a bit, asking folks who they planned to vote for  and why, and then politely persuading them to “Stand with Rand.” I watched him for a few minutes, and then dug out my phone to check Rand Paul’s latest poll numbers. I admired him for his persistence.

We were in the library by 6:45 pm, and took some of the last seats available. People continued to trickle in. One younger man with beard, black shirt and black knit cap looked down at a stack of papers on a table. Once he realized they were small Rubio signs, he looked at me and asked, “Hey, how’s this work?” I had to shrug and say it was my first time, too.

The library got so crowded that some people started carrying in folding chairs that were immediately claimed. One pair of adults followed by two young boys walked in pushing rolling chairs that might have been borrowed from a computer lab or perhaps the principal’s office.

Finally, at 7:06 p.m., a man in a blue shirt walked to the front of the room, and announced himself as Rick Jacoby and officially started the caucus. But there’s a lot more to an Iowa caucus than just voting. We had to first select a permanent chair to lead the rest of the meeting. We selected Rick Jacoby by acclamation, and then his daughter as permanent secretary, also by acclamation, because nobody else wanted to nominate themselves. And the positions were “permanent” in that they lasted for the entirety of the the evening’s caucus.

The first order of business conducted by the permanent chair was to lead us all in the Pledge of Allegiance, and Jacoby just happened to have a small American flag on hand for that purpose. The second order of business was to consult the official caucus check-in roster from the front desk, and to declare there were 77 registered Republicans in the room. Everyone wearing an official white sticker with their name on it received an orange ballot, but we were asked to wait a bit before marking the ballot.

Once everyone in the library received a ballot, the floor was open for those who wanted to give a brief speech in support of any candidate. One voter stood up to support Dr. Ben Carson. The Rand Paul Caucus Captain read from his prepared script. Another voter stood up to laud Marco Rubio, and then Jacoby himself spoke in favor of Chris Christie. Everyone in the room listened attentively, and applauded politely after each speaker finished. When nobody else chose to stand and speak for a candidate, it was time to mark the ballots.

Once they were marked, Jacoby collected them, and gave the stack to someone at the front table for counting.

While the ballots were counted, Jacoby opened the floor for more business, namely nominating and accepting delegates to attend the county Republican convention in March, and accepting ideas to present at that convention for possible inclusion in the 2016 Republican Party platform. It was all conducted under a passable version of Roberts Rules Of Order, with motions and seconds made, all in favor saying “Aye” and all opposed saying “Nay.” There were very few “Nays.” This continued for several minutes, until a motion to adjourn was made, seconded and passed at 7:51 pm.

By then, the Republican caucus votes for the 4th Ward of Grinnell had been tallied, and the results shook out as follows: Cruz – 26 votes; Trump – 20 votes; and Rubio – 15 votes. No one else got more than 4 votes, with some candidates getting none at all.

Compared to primary election voting in Arkansas, an Iowa caucus is more time-consuming, less formal, and more of a social occasion. There is no official ballot box. Candidates and campaigns are allowed to politick right up until the votes are cast.

Also, voters can register on the night of the caucus, or even change parties on the spot, if they so desire. It was interesting to see so many people gather to participate in self-government, and the whole thing had a rather down-home, festive and dare I say even wholesome feel to it.

I’m glad I got to participate in an Iowa Caucus.