Jon Kamman
The Arizona Republic
Jan. 17, 2004 12:00 AM

DES MOINES, Iowa - No secret ballot. No early voting. No absentee voting at all, not even for soldiers serving overseas. No state oversight of the election. No problem signing up on the spot and voting.

Welcome to the Iowa caucuses, where an old-fashioned exercise in democracy compels warm bodies to go out at night in deep-freeze weather so their cold noses can be counted on behalf of a favorite presidential candidate.

No warm body, no vote.

The worst critics of the process contend that Iowa voters' test of presidential mettle, or at least stamina, is unfair in many respects and has little relevance for the rest of the nation.

Just as ardently, defenders say Iowans are the perfect middle-American filter for weeding out contenders who don't measure up and for boosting the chances of someone who otherwise might be overlooked. Despite drawbacks, the process ensures that only a committed, informed electorate will participate, they say.

It's serious business for Iowans. Some show up at a caucus, change their party or independent registration so they can participate, then switch back later.

Take it from former Paradise Valley resident Maureen Boerner, 50, who moved to Cedar Rapids three years ago to be near her daughter and family.

"People here are very politically motivated," said Boerner, a medical transcriber. "They're fired up and more passionate.

"It's something we almost can't talk about when I go to lunch with friends at the office because we're split down the middle."

Unlike most states' conventional balloting in presidential preference elections, Iowa practices what often is portrayed as a down-home "meet your neighbor and talk it over" style of voting but in reality doesn't allow much discourse before voters must take sides.

Small caucuses can carry big clout

The caucus system, once common across the nation mostly as the purview of political bosses, now survives in only 12 states and the District of Columbia.

Two fundamentals of Iowa's process are easily overlooked in the media frenzy to count the degree of support among various candidates:

• Each precinct caucus is a world unto itself in measuring support. Votes are not pooled from across the state, so a few backers in a rural precinct can count just as much as a large turnout in an urban area.

• Choices are made in the name of presidential candidates, but the process actually elects only delegates to county conventions, which in turn choose delegates to state and national conventions.

- Jon Kamman

The Arizona Democratic Party can boast that its presidential primary four years ago was the world's first binding election in which voters could cast ballots over the Internet. But impersonal voting from home in your pajamas isn't Iowa's style.

Arizona also can boast this year that its Feb. 3 primary, coming just a week after New Hampshire's primary, gives the state the most say it has ever had in presidential politics. The state will send 55 pledged delegates to the Democratic National Convention in Boston in July, compared with Iowa's 45.

Iowa's retort: "We're first."

Should Arizona be jealous of all the attention heaped upon a state that has little more than half of its population, a rural, agricultural makeup and one of the smallest minority components in the nation?

Paul Hegarty, executive director of the Arizona Democratic Party, says no.

"Actually, I've been very impressed with all the attention the candidates have given Arizona," he said, ticking off a list of numerous visits to Phoenix, Tucson and several smaller cities by some of the eight candidates still in the race.

"Iowa and New Hampshire narrow down the field," he said. "It's old-school campaigning that shows how much a candidate can motivate voters, and it's a good indicator of who has the best organization.

Special report
• Campaign 2004

"Don't worry. After Iowa, campaign staffs will be flying and driving out from Iowa the very next day."

When Democrats reformed their nominating process after the chaos of the 1968 convention in Chicago, Iowa quickly staked out its territory to be the nation's earliest testing ground for would-be presidents. Both major parties have every intention of holding onto that starting bell.

A newfangled election is out of the question for Iowa because New Hampshire has a long-standing deal to be first in actual voting. Caucusing is different.

The caucus process can be as mystifying to voters in other states as the origin of the word itself. "Caucus" was in the American lexicon at the time of the Revolutionary War, and the best guesses are that it sprang from an Algonquian Indian word for a promoter, "cawcawwassough," or possibly a medieval Latin word for a drinking vessel.

New series

Starting today, Arizona Republic reporter Jon Kamman begins a series of reports from Iowa, where Democratic presidential contenders are vying for votes in Monday's caucuses, the first contest in the race for the White House.

At root, the caucus system is as simple as Woody Allen's line that 80 percent of life is showing up. The difference for caucusing, however, is that it requires 100 percent. Be there at the appointed hour for that one-time chance to vote or forget it.

Work a late shift? Out of town that day? Carrying a rifle in Baghdad? Can't fight the weather? Too bad. No vote.

That makes turnout small - only 61,000 showed up in the 2000 Democratic contest in a state with more than 500,000 Democrats - and caucusgoers tend to be older and comfortably middle-class, critics complain.

Regardless, promptly at 7 p.m. Monday, the hardy, politically motivated Iowa Democrats who gather at nearly 2,000 precinct meetings across the state will be instructed to go stand in one corner if they favor a certain candidate and a different corner if they like someone else.

Then some shuffling will take place if there are any groups with fewer than 15 percent of all people at the caucus. When that happens, it means their candidate isn't "viable," a nicer way of saying he just bit the dust, so backers have to join another candidate's support group or, presumably, go home sore losers.

Next comes some math. The actual number of votes isn't important, it's the number of delegates chosen on behalf of candidates. That requires caucus leaders to apply various calculations of percentages and number-rounding they've learned in complex training sessions.

Finally, when results are relayed to the state party amid enormous media hoopla at the downtown convention complex in Des Moines, voters nationwide supposedly will have greater insight into who could be the worthiest standard-bearer for the party in the fight for the White House.

Sometimes, it's true.

Iowa's caucuses began as the nation's leadoff hitters in 1972. So far, the parties are batting .500 in choosing a candidate who suits the rest of the country well enough to win the nomination.

In 1972, the Democrats' first turn at the plate produced no big surprise, with "uncommitted" winning the most support. George McGovern got some recognition, though, and the governor of Georgia noticed.

In 1976, Jimmy Carter, although placing second to "uncommitted," made his mark. The one-time peanut farmer parlayed his Iowa support into a nomination and the presidency.

Candidates now pass up Iowa at their peril. Most campaign relentlessly across the state for a year, 18 months or even more. The hardiest touch base in every one of Iowa's 99 counties.

Republican Sen. John McCain of Arizona skipped Iowa in 2000, and Democrats Joe Lieberman and Wesley Clark are doing the same this time around.