By John Lindstrom
Publisher
Posted: April 21, 2015 2:17 PM

The recent controversy over whether or not Rep. Cindy Gamrat (R-Plainwell) had leaked confidential information from the House Republican Caucus – Speaker Kevin Cotter (R-Mount Pleasant) said yes and booted her from the caucus, she says no – it rustled memories in those who can still remember when a rare animal existed in the Capitol known as an open caucus.

Oh yes, they did exist. This is not some unicorn-like mythical creature. Open caucuses once not only existed, they were ample, they were common, they got to be a bit of an annoyance.

They first evolved in the late 1970s, shortly after both the Open Meetings Act and the Freedom of Information Act were adopted. The time was one of general openness in government, a more casual sense that pretty much everything should be accessible and accessible in an easy way.

There were exceptions to the open caucus rule, of course. Leadership caucuses, or issues involving matters of discipline remained closed. Republican members and staff could not sit in Democratic caucuses and vice versa. Nor were lobbyists invited. But nothing stopped anyone from hanging around near the doors, picking up the often loud conversations, or stopping people who went in and out of the caucuses to ask what was going on.

But reporters were always allowed in, and always went. Generally, real news came out of the caucuses. Some seemed to be endless rounds of lawmakers repeating each other. But mostly enough interesting fodder was harvested to use for a story.

In one caucus at the beginning of the crushing recession of 1979-1983, then Rep. David Hollister outlined what the state would see happening to newly jobless people if the economy did not improve – how and where they would cut back spending, how they would get rid of all their assets in hopes of raising cash and hanging on until they were forced to seek state assistance – and he was absolutely correct.

Sometimes the caucuses were physically exhausting. During one intense House session, Republicans would call lightning caucuses to go through strategy, meeting on the fourth floor of the Capitol, with Democrats responding in the then Appropriations room located on the ground floor. Reporters and members were gasping after running back and forth, to and fro from the caucuses and when the final vote on whatever the issue was finally took place, it was a relief.

Open caucuses roamed the Capitol range only for a few years. They were almost endangered right from their first existence. A couple significant instances began to signal they would soon go extinct.

A Senate Democratic caucus held in a west-side hotel, featuring championship bellyaching and demands from the members, was headlined in a front-page Detroit Free Press article, “Raucous Caucus.” The embarrassment didn’t change attitudes and behavior so much as it changed the idea all caucuses should be open.

Then when the House went through a difficult and controversial series of votes on workers’ compensation changes (which was made more difficult by the fact the electric voting machine died, forcing every roll call vote to be a voice vote) a Call of the House was instituted.

Then-Rep. Morris Hood Jr. demanded a closed caucus to discuss the bills. There being a Call of the House, the only solution seemed to be to toss the reporters out of the press room’s news conference area (which was then behind the House chambers) and somehow shoehorn the Democrats into the room. While it was technically closed, anyone within 30 feet of the room could hear Mr. Hood’s rage exploding non-stop. When the doors finally opened, the members saw reporters waiting to talk to them about what the reporters had heard.

The open caucus vanished finally by 1983, as lawmakers wrestled with a controversial income tax vote and the last thing they wanted was the public to know how they were thinking.

But they were real, really real, and some of us are alive to tell the story.