Why Iowa?

J. Harley Pummill is a retired radio personality, award-winning commercial copywriter and voice actor. He considers his crowning achievement in radio to be when he hosted "Somewhere In the Middle", a weekly show where he moderated the discussion of current events between a conservative talk show host and a liberal lesbian attorney. Having survived a recent category 5 hurricane in his Northwest Florida hometown, he now putters about the house picking up chunks of roofing shingles with his wife and five rescue dogs.

J. Harley Pummill is a retired radio personality, award-winning commercial copywriter and voice actor. He considers his crowning achievement in radio to be when he hosted "Somewhere In the Middle", a weekly show where he moderated the discussion of current events between a conservative talk show host and a liberal lesbian attorney. Having survived a recent category 5 hurricane in his Northwest Florida hometown, he now putters about the house picking up chunks of roofing shingles with his wife and five rescue dogs.

When I was younger, my friends and I used to indulge in goofy “what-if” conversations.  Things like, “If you were trapped on a deserted island, what five albums would you want as the only music you would listen to for the rest of your life?” Questions like this would invariably lead to other equally goofy “what-ifs” like, “Where would you plug in the record player?”

At one of these Algonquin trapezoidal table discussions, one of my friends postulated, “There is no Iowa.”

We all took the bait. “What? Of course there’s an Iowa! It’s up there by…um…Illinois, Indiana and some other states that begin with “I.”

But he was ready for us. Employing a logic possessed only by those under the influence of cannabis or members of congress …or members of congress under the influence of cannabis… he countered our protests.

“Have you ever been to Iowa?”

No

“Ever known anyone from Iowa?”

Nope

“Ever seen an Iowa license plate?”

Not even one of us had.

“There is no Iowa.”  End of discussion.  Next topic, “If you were a pair of Guess jeans, who would you want wearing you?”

Of course, there is an Iowa. A fact that we are all made painfully aware of every four years when the Iowa caucuses roll around. Now to clarify things, “caucus” is not the stuff you use to weatherproof your windows or keep your bathtub from leaking. No, the Iowa caucuses are the first big event of the presidential primary season. 

So why isn’t it called the Iowa “primary?”  Because caucuses work just a little differently. 

First, you don’t just go to a polling station and cast your vote. In Iowa, you toddle on down to Andy MacPherson’s place, park your carcass on the sofa and listen to some earnest speechifying on behalf of the various candidates. Attendees then vote for their preferred candidate, the results are tabulated and reported to the State party. Then everyone heads to the kitchen for some coffee and Sara Lee. Rinse and repeat about 1,700 times (the number of precincts in Iowa) and you have the caucuses….almost.

Because the process doesn’t end there. Delegates from the precinct caucuses go on to the county convention (99 of those) which then chooses delegates to the district conventions…which in turn selects delegates to the Iowa State Convention. That’s where they hold the “Final Four” and the winner is ultimately determined by a round robin arm wrestling match between the largest delegates.  

And that’s just the Republican caucus. The Democratic caucus process next Monday promises to be even more convoluted (well, of course it is!).  I’d go into the Dem’s caucusing procedures more in depth, but there’s just not enough column space. Suffice to say that their process involves time limits, viability thresholds, a mid-caucus break and a game of Red Rover to break any ties. I’m not sure, but I think there’s also something in there about swinging a dead cat over your head three times.

Because Iowa is first in the Presidential electoral process, the state receives an inordinate amount of attention from the candidates. And because Iowans are notorious for casting their ballot for a candidate that they have actually met, White House hopefuls spend months touring the state, hitting each of the 99 counties and trying to appear like “just plain folks.” There’s Joe, eating a corn dog. There’s Liz, eating a corn dog. There’s Bernie, trying to get the corn dog vendor to unionize.

But the big question regarding the whole foofaraw is, why Iowa? Why do they get to be first in the process that will ultimately determine who will hold what is described as the most powerful position in the world? On that subject I have several thoughts.

Maybe it’s Iowa’s "middle-ness.”  Its total area of just over 56,000 square miles ranks it 26th of 50 states (right in the middle). Iowa’s population of three million is 30th in the U.S. (close to the middle). Geographically, they are just about dead center in the middle of the United States. Three and a half inches from the Pacific Ocean and three and a quarter from the Atlantic (according to my Google map and Stanley tape measure). 

Or maybe it has to do with Iowa’s plentiful natural resources. Precious commodities like gypsum, hogs, lead and sand. If politics were a natural resource, it would fit right in on this list. Probably somewhere between hogs and lead.

Either way, on February 3rd, the eyes of the nation will be on Iowa as Iowans will head to libraries, churches and living rooms to establish a front-runner in the race to become the most abused man (or woman) in America…for this week anyway. Then it’s on to the next political hurdle.

Proving New Hampshire actually exists.