A Penguin in the Orchard

Personal Politics

There’s a hotly contested Congressional race in my district in Iowa. The First Congressional District was recently redrawn, leaving incumbent Jim Leach a bit in the lurch. He moved his offices to Iowa City and hit the campaign trail against Julie Thomas. It’s looking more likely each day that the incumbent will take up permanent private residence in Iowa City.

Jim Leach is, without exception, the only Republican I’ve ever voted for. I have a family history with him and know from personal contact that he’s an independent Republican, unafraid to depart from the party line where his conscience dictates.

During my four years at Aegon USA in Cedar Rapids, I closed large commercial mortgages as a paralegal. The first deal I closed was a $77M loan secured by six retail properties on the east coast. In a last-minute rush to get the deal done, I had the interesting experience of being a courier, flying to Washington, DC to hand-deliver the loan documents for the closing. Knowing that I’d be in DC, I called Leach’s office ahead of my departure to see if I could get in for a quick visit.

The closing was a huge affair in a conference room in Arlington, VA as large as my house. I was pushing papers for some incredibly high-powered DC attorneys. Everything about their attitude told me I was clearly the paralegal in the conference room. Two hours into the closing, the main admin for the firm stepped into the conference room.

“Mr. Steidler-Dennison?” I could barely hear her over the shuffle of documents and the heady discussions of the borrower’s hired guns.

I looked up from my notary stamp. “That’s me.”

“Congressman Leach’s office is on the phone for you.”

The shuffling slowed to silence and every voice trailed away to nothing. Then a very quiet sound filled the room; the whickering of eleven necks rubbing against tailored collars. I lifted my head and strode from the conference room, every eye and the silence following as I exited.

I took the call grinning like an alcoholic in a brewery. After confirming a 2:30 appointment with the Congressman, I shot my cuffs and stepped back into the conference room. Those who dared make eye contact broke it quickly. The borrower’s chief council stopped, looking up from the stack of documents in front of him. Peering over his reading glasses, he asked, “Leach. Hmmm. House Banking Committee, right?”

“Yes. We’re meeting at 2:30. We’ll be done by then, right?”

“Certainly.”

While they went back to the business of the closing, I never went back to the status of the paralegal in the conference room.

True enough - sometimes it’s who you know, not who you are.

And if Jim Leach is sent packing? He’s spent nearly 30 years working independently for the good of his district. We can’t ask much more than that. Come on home and enjoy the company of Deba and the kids.