Supporters bask in Obama win

By Michael Mishak (contact)

Friday, Jan. 4, 2008 | midnight

DES MOINES, Iowa -- Clink! Clink! Clink!

Outside Theodore Roosevelt High School, Barack Obama volunteer Dan Egnor is hammering a steel rod into the frozen ground with little success. He's trying to shore up a large campaign sign to compete with Hillary Clinton's three. The ice is winning.

“You're going to need a sledgehammer!” yells his precinct captain.

He soldiers on as a television crew from German public TV documents his effort.

“Don't look into the camera,” the cameraman says in a thick accent.

It's caucus night here, and volunteers for the major Democratic contenders are seeking last-minute support outside the school, hoping to change the course of this yearlong campaign.

Inside, Clinton volunteers have commandeered a classroom and are holding a “warm-up” party with sandwiches, cookies and bottled water to not only keep their supporters in line but to snag some independents.

Democrats from three precincts are arriving on campus, splitting among the auditorium, library and cafeteria.

The Republicans, on the other hand, are using classrooms. Small classrooms. They're sitting quietly, some with their hands folded. Outside, in the hallway, shuffling feet muffle conversations as Democrats make their way to their precinct meetings.

Most of them are headed to a mobbed registration table outside the auditorium. State party volunteers are awash in maps, voter forms and caucus lists, and the questions keep coming:

Where's my precinct?

How do I register?

Didn't we caucus in the library last year?

“We've been doing this for 30 years and it still gets like this,” says Jean Hessburg, the former Iowa official hired by Nevada Democrats to run the Silver State caucus. “This means crazy turnout. These people are making history.”

Down the hall, in the cafeteria, Precinct 53 is getting started -- 30 minutes early. Jim Sutton, the meeting's “temporary chair,” is screaming about resolutions and party business. With nearly 400 people packed into the cafeteria, feet start shifting, faces flush and caucusgoer Alfredo Alvarez sighs. “I just don't care about this stuff,” he says. His mind is on Obama. After all, he and his wife, both Republicans, switched their registrations tonight to caucus for him.

But Sutton is sticking to the playbook -- party business comes first. The crowd in the back can't hear him, even after the guys from C-SPAN give him a headset. They shout: “Please speak up.” A Clinton precinct captain is more direct. “We need a new chair,” he mutters.

At 7 p.m. sharp, officials close the door and Sutton calls the meeting to order. The crowd's first order of business: Replacing Sutton. An Obama precinct captain nominates Cyndi Pederson, a Clinton supporter, and the choice is approved by a nearly unanimous show of hands. Sutton challenges the vote, but he's shouted down by an omnipresent jeer.

“OK,” Pederson says. “Let's get this party started.”

The room count, according to the registration list, is 375.

Pederson designates specific corners of the cafeteria for different candidates and tells members ofthe audience to stand with their fellow supporters. Uncommitted voters stand in the middle. The “preference groups” start to form, with supporters pushing aside chairs to reach their candidate's corner. “Where's Kucinich?” one guy shouts to no one in particular, a panicked look on his face. Each candidate needs to meet a 15 percent threshold of support to stay “viable.” In this meeting, that means 56 supporters.

From the outset the winner is clear: Obama supporters dominate half the room. Across the cafeteria, former North Carolina Sen. John Edwards is coming in second, crowded by New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson. Clinton's supporters are holding their own corner of the room. Supporters of Sens. Joe Biden and Chris Dodd are blips in the back of the room, mixing together.

As the 15 minutes of the “first alignment” near a close, the meeting's secretary starts his official counts, starting with Obama. Supporters announce themselves with a number, in a process that starts to sound a lot like an auction.

“Do I hear 150?” a precinct captain shouts. “Give me 151!”

After the first count, Obama does 10 better, and the group erupts in applause.

Meanwhile, precinct captains, or “persuaders,” for other candidates are working the four undecided voters in the middle of the room. Some undecideds peel off, but after hearing from Clinton, Obama and Biden, Adrian Stamper remains. “I'd like to hear some other candidates,” he says. “I'd like to hear from the Edwards people.”

But the Edwards camp is busy counting itself, and Pederson calls on the Biden group for a number.

“Our numbers are changing,” the precinct captain shouts back.

“What do you have now?” Pederson asks.

“Four.”

The room laughs.

And then there's Sutton again, this time challenging the addition of one caucusgoer who lost her parking spot to C-SPAN. He's shouted down, again.

After the initial tallies, the entire second tier drops off. Only the top three candidates remain. Second realignment. Precinct captains for Obama and Edwards immediately rush for the Biden team -- or, more accurately, the Biden supporter.

“Edwards is the most viable candidate in a general election,” says one persuader.

“Obama is the face of the world we want to present,” says the competing persuader.

The Biden supporter, a woman, looks away, observing the rest of the room, as the two dueling precinct captains start arguing directly with each other. She walks away.

At this point, Obama's group employs its campaign chant: “Fired up! Ready to go!”

Richardson's camp, no longer with a viable candidate, is wondering where to throw its loyalties. “I'm going to Obama,” one guy says. “Good luck to everybody.” The group immediately disperses.

As Obama and Edwards increase their ranks, the Clinton group looks on, flushed-faced and stoic. Its numbers remain virtually unchanged.

The last undecided voter goes to Obama.

Game over. The viable groups applaud themselves.

Obama: 186; Edwards: 116; Clinton: 74.

Pederson and the secretary start the “caucus math,” translating those numbers into how many of the precinct's six delegates will go to each candidate. But it hardly matters. The caucusgoers soon file out, victory or defeat in their walk and on their lips as the hall again fills with noise.

“People complain about the caucus,” says Brian Browning, a Richardson precinct captain, hanging around after most have gone home. “But it gives underdog campaigns a chance.”

So this is how it works, Nevada, where caucuses will form again on Jan. 19.

Michael Mishak can be reached at 259-2347 or at michael.mishak@lasvegassun.com.