Caucus-blocked.

I caucused on Saturday. I went to a caucus, proceeded to caucus, and when I was done caucusing, I went home.

I really wanted to open this blog entry with a good caucus joke. Something classic, preferably of the “So a man walks into a caucus and says…” variety. But after searching the web for caucus jokes, I have discovered that there are no caucus jokes, provided you discount the actual caucuses themselves. I did, however, accidentally stumble onto this legitimate headline: “Vegas Strippers Seek Right to Caucus in the Workplace.” I laughed for ten minutes, until I remembered that I’m not 12 anymore.

So instead, I’ll have to take comfort in the knowledge that the word “caucus” is pretty funny all by itself, and that will have to do.

(But seriously folks, if you have a caucus joke, I will be your BFF if you leave it in the comments section.)

This is the first year Nebraska has ever had a caucus. In the past, we’ve been resigned to a (mostly ineffectual) primary in May, occasionally bogarting the Iowa caucuses if we felt especially daring. This year, however, Nebraska Democrats decided that May was forever away and chose this February to implement the first caucus in the state’s history. Meanwhile, Nebraska Republicans shook their heads and turned back to the football game.

Like most Americans, I had no real idea what a caucus was. I had the vague idea that it was a bit like musical chairs, but without music. Or chairs. For those of you who are similarly confused, here are the basics:

1. Any registered member of the party (in this case, Democratic) may participate in the caucus, provided you show up on time. Once the doors are closed, you’re in or you’re out.


2. Once inside the caucus room, participants choose to stand in groups representing their favorite candidate. (In this case, Hillary supporters stand on one side of the room, Obama supporters stand on the other. Both groups refrain from snapping their fingers in rhythm and approaching each other with dance choreography.) A group may be formed for “undecided” voters.


3. The people in each group are counted.


4. If there is a group that contains less than 15% of the total number of participants, that group is considered “not viable.” This may include a group of supporters for a less-popular candidate (i.e. Ron Paul’s mother and his college roommate, if this were the Republican caucus), or more often, the group of undecided participants.


5. Any “not viable” groups MUST either choose another group to stand in, or leave. This reshuffling of groups is called “realignment.”


6. During the realignment, groups may try to persuade any now-groupless participants (or anyone else, for that matter) to join them. Groups usually select a group leader to speak on behalf of their candidate. At the end of the realignment period, all stray participants must have chosen a side (or abstained).


7. The people in each group are counted again.


8. The final number of people in each group is used to determine how many of that state’s delegates will be awarded to each candidate.

The caucus system differs from the primary election system in that there is no such thing as anonymous voting, and there is more interaction between voters as they try to align themselves with each other to support a common goal. Theoretically, it weeds out “wasted votes” and provides a stronger base for the main candidates. Ideally, it promotes a sense of community and opens a dialogue for political thinking among everyday Americans.

That’s the idea, anyway.

I researched the above caucus procedures pretty well before attending the caucus, and refreshed my already fairly well-researched opinion of the Democratic candidates before attending my caucus Saturday morning. I wondered how many people would be there, and if I would be very alone in my corner for Obama. I had no idea what to expect, since I wasn’t sure I had ever even met another Nebraskan Democrat before.

The caucus location for my district (there were 15 other caucus locations for other districts in Omaha) was an elementary school in my neighborhood. As I approached my car in the 34-degree weather on Saturday morning, I thought to myself, “Man. If it weren’t February, I could just walk to the caucus.”

I had just pulled out of the parking lot of my apartment complex when I realized that traffic from the elementary school was backed up all the way to my street, and people were parking and walking, essentially from my building. A quick spin around the block confirmed that there were insane amounts of Democrats wandering around my neighborhood, and the closest parking spot to the school was the one next to my own garage. I put my car back in my garage and walked.

The line to get into the elementary school (just to sign in!) wrapped around the block. I stood in line for 20 minutes (until I discovered that I could skip to the front since I had thought to bring my voter registration card) and even though the line was moving fast, it only got longer as more people arrived. Scrambling caucus organizers looked a bit panicked as they realized that they had only planned for the 12 known Democrats in the state.

By the time I squeezed into the school’s gymnasium, it was clear that all those people outside would never fit into one room, certainly not one designed for pint-sized basketball games and talent shows. A big pile of Hillary signs were piled in a corner by a respectable group of Hillary supporters. The other two-thirds of the room was filled with Obama supporters. They ran out of signs and stickers.

When the gymnasium had about reached capacity, a nice lady with a microphone informed us that due to the unprecedented number of participants, we would have to hold the caucus outside on the front lawn. We were ushered out through the double-doors, and we milled around until someone near the street stood on a chair and began yelling something. That microphone from the gymnasium would have been helpful.

As the crowd started to gather as close to the yelling man as possible, a necessary game of telephone ensued. Man On A Chair would yell something to the crowd. Someone near the front would turn around and relay the message back in his own yell. Someone near the middle would do the same. And so on. This was how we were instructed to separate into groups: “Obama supporters over here, Hillary supporters over there!”

A great wave of people began filing over to the Obama side, spilling across the street. It was kind of like when the gates open at Disney World, and the human sea flows into Main Street, U.S.A. while you try to keep a firm grip on your camera. And to think, I was afraid I would be conspicuous in my Obama corner.

People were excited. As much as we disliked the apparent disorganization of the caucus crew, we were pleased that the source of chaos was too many people. We felt like we were a part of something, something especially different in this part of the country. Sure, we weren’t wild about standing in the cold on the icy, snowy lawn. But the bite of the weather was mitigated by the feeling that we were standing out there together—not unlike those penguins Morgan Freeman was talking about.

When there was a clear delineation between groups, it was time to count. The process was simple: raise your right hand, and count off. Don’t lower your hand until you’ve called out your number. That, of course, is really only ideal when in groups of about 25. After that, you lose feeling in your arm and raise the other one. You lose feeling in that arm and try the right one again. Eventually, both your arms have no feeling and you feel unpleasantly like a T-Rex. I was relatively lucky: I was #154…out of 936.

Those 936 right hands were raised for Obama. Hillary had 185. 27 were undecided.

Caucus leaders did a little quick math. Hillary’s group was “just barely viable.” The undecided group was not viable. It was time to win them over. We were given three minutes.

I described the caucus process earlier to be an opportunity for interaction and debate. That was assuming there was a microphone, or even a speaker.

Imagine the largest game of Red Rover you’ve ever seen. Except, instead of saying, “Red Rover, Red Rover, let [assorted individuals in the undecided caucus group] come over!” you all just said, “WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

I have no idea where the undecideds ended up. I couldn’t see past the crowds, and I couldn’t hear anything beyond the Obama chants that surrounded me. At some point we were quieted long enough to be informed that the realignment was over, and we were going to be counted again. Having learned from the first round, they split the Obama camp into several groups this time to expedite the counting. Once we were counted and had turned in our preference cards, we were free to go. I walked home after being counted as #18 in my group. I felt good. It wasn’t remotely perfect, but it was positive.

This was just my little district. The rest of the caucuses for other districts in Douglas county (the largest county in the state, containing the entirety of Omaha) were similarly overrun, with turnout exceeding all expectations and terrifying caucus leaders everywhere. The caucus for Sarpy county (the third largest county in the state, and encompassing several towns neighboring Omaha) was even more poorly planned, providing ONE caucus location for all of the 28,000 registered Democrats it houses, plus the record number of Republicans and Independents that were re-registering as Democrats on-site. They had to shut down the Interstate due to traffic. Many voters in Sarpy county either left, were turned away, or had to vote absentee, completely missing the caucus process and turning the event into something of a mutant primary.

Still, Nebraska voters (including myself) aren’t completely committed to their annoyance. The caucus leaders were enormously unprepared, yes, and no one will argue that they completely screwed up the state’s first caucus experience. But, man. We broke the system with our enthusiasm. And that’s a good sign.

Final results:

With 1,664 caucus sites reporting [statewide], Obama had 67.5% of the vote compared to Clinton's 32.2%, with 26,126 total votes compared to Clinton's 12,445. Ninety-nine voters (0.3%) were undecided.

Nebraska was to award a total of 24 delegates in the primary, with the delegates awarded proportionally to each candidate. Obama will get 16 of the state's delegates while Clinton will get eight.

More than 38,500 voters turned out across the state, more than 10% of registered Democrats.

With 14,119 participating in the Democratic caucus in Douglas County [Douglas County is Omaha], Illinois Sen. Barack Obama received 77% of the votes to New York Sen. Hillary Clinton's 23%.

And since I just rediscovered these photos on my camera phone (apologies for the crappy quality) while fishing out the caucus photos, please enjoy the following rare moment of bipartisanship. Izzy and GenV have never before been (and will likely never again be) this close to one another without some sort of harness being involved. Ever.