Ames, Iowa
What is a Republican caucus in Iowa really like? On February 1, I went to Ames to find out.
One hundred eighty-nine Republicans filed into the sanctuary at St. Andrew’s Lutheran Church, just a few blocks from the Iowa State campus, to consider each candidate a final time before casting their votes. Like those across the state, the caucus started promptly at 7:00 p.m.—well, maybe a minute or two after. Jeff Ortiz, co-chairman of the Story County GOP and chairman of the precinct’s caucus, gave a little leeway to the last few voters signing in. Every caucusgoer must be registered as a Republican in Iowa, which a participant can do up until the caucus begins.
Turnout here reflected the trend throughout Iowa, with more Republicans voting than in 2012. Then, 143 people caucused, with Ron Paul winning the precinct and Mitt Romney the county overall. “The liberty movement was big here,” said Rick Sanders, the lone GOP member of the Story County board of supervisors, when I asked him what kind of Republicans live in Ames. Sanders, who supported Marco Rubio, added that the big turnout might bode well for Donald Trump.
Indeed, the first people I spoke with, the Gerritsons, are exactly the type of voter Trump was courting. Brody and Candi, 45 and 44, had never caucused before, though they both voted for Mitt Romney in the 2012 general election. Brody is an electrician and Candi is a stay-at-home mom. They brought their 20-year-old son Ben, who works in construction. All three decided a month earlier they would caucus for Trump—he’s the only candidate they even considered caucusing for. The Gerritsons found out where they could vote from Trump’s Facebook page.
“I want a nonpolitician,” said Brody. “He’ll follow through on shaking things up.”
Josh Rolles and Lucas Walsh were also caucusing for the first time, but that’s because they’re first-time voters, too. Both are engineering students at Iowa State who never considered voting for Trump. Rolles, who supported Rubio, said any students thinking about supporting the New York businessman were turned off in September when Trump tweeted he was attending a football game at “Jack Truce Stadium.” (The Iowa State Cyclones play in Jack Trice Stadium.) Walsh was also considering Rubio, as well as Rand Paul, but ultimately decided on Jeb Bush for being the “most consistent” of the candidates.
Joe and Amanda Losee, 39 and 37, have each caucused once before: Joe for Alan Keyes in 2000 and Amanda for Barack Obama in 2008. A teacher, Amanda says her political views have matured since then, and she’d decided to caucus for Christie. “I hate political ads,” she said. “But I haven’t seen any from Christie.” She also liked his decision to veto funding for Planned Parenthood. Her husband Joe said before voting began he was choosing among Christie, Trump, and Rubio. After the caucus, Joe said he ended up with Christie, who seemed like “Trump-lite.”
Ortiz called the meeting to order and led a recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. “Iowa is on the minds of the whole country and the whole world right now,” he said. It wasn’t a boast but more an acknowledgment of the solemn duty these Iowans shared. Several people nodded their heads.
Next, each Republican candidate was given the opportunity to make one last pitch to the caucus through a surrogate. Some candidates had no one stand up for them at all. When Ortiz asked if anyone would like to speak on behalf of former Virginia governor Jim Gilmore, people looked at each other, as if to say, “Who is that?” When Ortiz asked the same question for Donald Trump, the room stayed silent. When it was clear Trump had no surrogate, most of the caucusgoers applauded. The Gerritsons, I noticed, did not. Can’t blame them.
Other candidates had local supporters give planned speeches on their behalf. Each surrogate touted his candidate’s merits—Ted Cruz’s for his opposition to Obamacare, Rand Paul’s for his reluctance to send troops into armed conflict—while also calling for Republican unity. “If we stand together we can win in November,” said Tim Lubinus, the Cruz surrogate.
One campaign, Jeb Bush’s, sent a volunteer from Florida to make the case for her former governor. LeAnna Cumber went over her allotted three minutes to tout Bush’s record responding to eight major hurricanes when he ran the state. A few people started checking their watches and phones, while the rest just stared ahead blankly. It’s hard to say if the pitch worked—Bush got 10 measly votes here, but that was 5 percent of the caucus, better than his performance statewide.
When Ortiz asked if anyone would speak on Ben Carson’s behalf, there was a long silence before a man in the middle of a pew stood up and gave a slight shrug. He hadn’t planned on speaking, he said. He was just a local voter, but he wanted to say why he was supporting the retired neurosurgeon. “Dr. Carson’s a very intelligent man,” he said. “He has a lot of good ideas.” The man shrugged his shoulders again. “I didn’t see anyone talking on his behalf, so I wanted to say a few words for him,” he repeated. The audience gave him a hearty round of applause. Carson, too, outperformed his statewide numbers in this precinct, earning 18 votes, or just under 10 percent.
The actual voting was straightforward. Every participant was given a colored slip of paper to cast a vote. After the speeches, the votes were gathered and counted by two volunteers. If their counts agreed, Ortiz recorded the candidate’s tally into a PIN-protected app on his cell phone. Within minutes of the vote, the results were sent off to the state GOP and announced to the group.
Rubio earned the most votes, 51, with Cruz coming in closely behind at 46. The remnants of his father’s movement in Ames gave Paul a decent 20 votes, putting the Kentucky senator ahead of Trump at 19. There were no objections or calls for a recount. The gathered Republicans filed back out, returning to their homes and their lives, having performed their civic duty with, as Ortiz said, “the world” watching.
It’s fashionable in some circles—those that include journalists, retired political hacks, and the technocratic explainers over at Vox.com—to denounce the Iowa caucuses as an outdated, irrational relic. The caucuses are unrepresentative, both of Iowa voters and of Americans overall. They are prone to misreporting results. The premium they place on organization benefits and empowers interest groups, like the ethanol lobby, homeschoolers, and unions.
All that is undoubtedly true. It also misses the point. I was surprised by how moving it was to witness such a simple exercise in republican self-government by a small community of citizens. The electoral systems in most states, with early voting and mail-in ballots, seem to prioritize convenience. These Iowans knew why they were participating and cared enough to make the effort to hear and be heard. That makes the caucuses feel like a throwback to when democratic participation was seen less as a right to which we Americans are entitled but instead as a privilege to be respected and cherished.
Michael Warren is a staff writer at The Weekly Standard.
