Premium ContentMouse over Home then click on Premium Content for information.In the curious Iowa town of Carter Lake, our curious national ritual played out once again: the Iowa caucuses. I showed up Tuesday night out of — what else? — curiosity.
Mark Hunter, the caucus chairman, reminded the 130 Republicans attending to keep things moving: "The whole country is waiting to see what happens in the Iowa caucuses."
The country waited, and the results proved little. No candidate in Iowa received more than a quarter of the vote, let alone captivated the broad Grand Old Party. At least not yet.
But it's early in the presidential election year. Brace yourself: For the next 10 months, debates, charges and accusations, within and across political party lines, will go round and round.
In round numbers, the U.S. is populated by about 300 million people, with about 3 million in Iowa and about 3,000 in Carter Lake. So why zero in on the caucus of that little town?
Well, because Carter Lake is so intriguing and unusual — an Iowa town cut off from the rest of its state. The town sits illogically on the western side of the Missouri River, which is to say the Nebraska side. Which is to say the state where it should reside.
You may know what happened. After an 1877 flood receded, the Muddy Mo found a new channel to the east, leaving an oxbow lake where the river previously flowed. Inside that horseshoe-shaped lake sits the town of Carter Lake, two miles north of downtown Omaha and adjacent to Eppley Airfield.
"It's our own little island," caucus chairman Hunter told me, though it's more like a thumb stuck sideways into the map of Omaha than a true island.
"I can't leave town without going into Nebraska," he added. "But we feel we're part of the Omaha metropolitan area. When we tell people where we're from, we say we're from the Omaha area."
Having an Iowa town on the Nebraska side of the river is confusing enough, but the State of Iowa years ago made it worse by installing "Welcome to Iowa" signs on Abbott Drive, the divided highway between the airport and downtown Omaha.
I've always thought that Iowa highway officials were just messin' with us for the fun of it. After all, if a visitor lands in Omaha, gets in a rental car and drives toward downtown, a sign saying he's in Iowa is startling. Some drivers think they must have taken a wrong turn.
At the posted speed limit of 45 mph, it takes 32 seconds to drive through that nub of Iowa back into Nebraska — but there are no signs saying, "Welcome to Nebraska, We've Missed You the Past Half-Minute."
Despite the odd geographical quirk that is the town of Carter Lake, there's no push from either state to trade allegiance, to make Huskers out of Hawkeyes. As Iowegians, for one thing, they get to take part in the quadrennial caucuses.
"It's exciting," said Rick Santorum supporter Diane Terry, a former Navy cryptologic technician who attended the caucus with husband Rex, a retired Navy intelligence officer.
"Tonight," she told the audience, "we have the special privilege of allowing our opinions to be heard nationwide. We have had the opportunity to rub elbows with these candidates, ask tough questions and look them in the eye to get a pesonal glimpse of who they are."
Yes, in presidential election years, Iowa counts. Nebraska, for the most part, does not — it is so solidly Republican that it is not in play. (Although Democrat Barack Obama did win one 2008 electoral vote in the Omaha-based 2nd Congressional District.)
In the gym at the brand-new Carter Lake Elementary School, caucusgoers pledged allegiance to the flag and heard the caucus rules: One speaker per candidate, with a two-minute limit.
When a speaker reached two minutes, Hunter cut her off in midsentence. Someone else tried to read the rest of her unfinished speech, but the chairman said no — only one speaker per candidate. Rules are rules.
Of the 130 attending, 101 registered to vote, which Hunter said was up from 65 at the 2008 caucus. Paper ballots were collected in a cardboard UPS mailing box.
The Carter Lake results: Newt Gingrich, 27; Rick Santorum, 23; Ron Paul, 19; Mitt Romney, 17; Rick Perry, 11; Michele Bachmann, 4; Jon Huntsman, 0.
"Our numbers are little, " the caucus chairman said after phoning them in to headquarters, "but we're making a difference. That's what I like about this."
Contact the writer:
402-444-1132, michael.kelly@owh.com
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