For Iowa Party Boss, a Time of Little Rest and Much to Do
By RICK LYMAN NEW YORK TIMES
DES MOINES — Gordon R. Fischer, the Iowa Democratic Party chairman, hunched into the wind as he weaved through traffic on Fourth Street in early November, late for the first of two meetings he had scheduled at Java Joe's, a funky downtown coffeehouse that has become one of his offices-on-the-run.
"What up, dawgs?" he shouted, spotting two staff members who were returning from lunch.
"Gordon knows everybody," sighed State Representative Janet A. Petersen, one of Mr. Fischer's oldest Des Moines friends and a longtime ally. She had been patiently waiting at a table for a meeting that was supposed to have begun nearly a half-hour earlier.
Things have grown pretty hectic for Mr. Gordon.
The annual Jefferson-Jackson Day Dinner on Nov. 15 was days away, bursting at the seams with politicos, campaign workers and the news media, and never enough seats to satisfy the well-connected. Soon after, the Democratic contenders will have a debate — yes, another debate — here on Nov. 24, which happens to be Mr. Fischer's 39th birthday. And in slightly more than two months, of course, Iowans will gather at 1,994 caucuses around the state to cast the first binding votes of the 2004 presidential race, all under the unforgiving gazes of campaign staffs and thousands of journalists.
"It's like being a wedding planner who has to plan 2,000 weddings for the same day," said Mr. Fischer, an employment lawyer who is halfway through his unpaid two-year term as chairman. "And we're doing good. We're way ahead of the pace."
Through it all, Mr. Fischer said, he has to remain "scrupulously neutral," favoring none of the candidates. When conflicts arise, he has to resolve them, and he is both the state party's public face and a cheerleader for the young overworked troops. He attributes his signature, "What up, dawg?" greeting to watching too much MTV and hanging around with so many of the college students who make up political staffs.
At the same time, he must be "eternally vigilant" to protect Iowa's first-in-the-nation position from relentless efforts to supersede the caucuses, dilute their importance or belittle them as the insignificant product of a rural backwater.
"I think we've done pretty well," he said. "Which is not to say there haven't been some perceived deviations here and there."
The biggest dust-up was in October, when former Gov. Howard Dean's campaign said aides for his leading rival in the Iowa polls, Representative Richard A. Gephardt of Missouri, had assaulted a staff member for Dr. Dean who was monitoring a rally for Mr. Gephardt. Mr. Fischer said he decided to hang back a little, saying nothing for fear of favoring one side's version, until quietly, a few days later, he called both campaigns and told them to please play nice.
"Actually," he said, "I had expected more heat and criticism when I took the job. For the most part, that hasn't happened."
He took to the airwaves last month when two candidates, Gen. Wesley K. Clark and Senator Joseph I. Lieberman of Connecticut, announced that they would not compete in the Iowa caucuses, preferring to focus on later primaries.
"It's hard to say you're a national candidate if you're not taking part in the first-in-the-nation caucuses," Mr. Fischer said on CNN.
Mr. Lieberman called to explain his decision.
Mr. Fischer said, "I thought it was very classy."
And the general?
"He didn't call," Mr. Fischer said.
With his salt-and-pepper hair cut short and spiky, a dark goatee and a tweed jacket over a knit sweater, Mr. Fischer looks more like a coffeehouse poet than a partner in a big downtown law firm.
Born outside Chicago, Mr. Fischer has been politically active since his undergraduate years at the University of Iowa, where he was a student government leader. Monica Fischer, who met her future husband when she interviewed him for The Daily Iowan, is now press secretary to Gov. Tom Vilsack.
He attended law school at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale and returned to Iowa in 1994 to be a clerk for a judge in Des Moines. The Fischers have been here since.
"He was my campaign manager when I first ran for office," Ms. Petersen said at Java Joe's. "He made me take 10 weeks off just to knock on doors."
Mr. Fischer said: "You have to do that in Iowa. People expect it."
Ms. Petersen said: "When I complained once, Gordon asked me if I had my primary opponent's phone number. I asked him why, and he said: `I'll bet he's not a whiner. I think I'll call him.' "
Mr. Fischer laughed and said, "You won, didn't you?"
Mr. Fischer's day began with breakfast at the Drake Diner, working the room on the way in and out. After that, it was off to the ramshackle party headquarters for his weekly staff meeting.
"How are we doing?" he asked.
About 87 percent of the caucuses had been scheduled, with locations and chairmen, and Mr. Fisher was told that it should be 100 percent by the end of November.
"Good, good," he said. "How's J-J coming?"
Mark Daley, the party's communications director, replied, "It's still sold out."
J-J is shorthand for the Jefferson-Jackson Dinner, the party's biggest annual event, which was even bigger this year with 9,000 tickets sold compared with 5,000 or so in previous years, largely because of the number of candidates and the eagerness to hear the main speaker, Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton of New York.
After the staff meeting, Mr. Fischer attended morning Mass at a church near his office. Although raised as a Lutheran, he started attending Mass when he married a Roman Catholic and says he now tries to go every day.
Then it was on to lunch with local party officials at the Embassy Club, a private restaurant in the skyscraper where he has his law office. After lunch, Mr. Fischer hustled again to Java Joe's. After his business with Ms. Petersen ended, Mr. Fischer moved to another table where Lt. Gov. Sally Pederson appeared. She listened to him describe progress on a program to draw more women into the party.
"Good, good," Ms. Pederson said. "Gordon, we're going to have to double your pay."
nytimes.com |
