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A Bitter Election Do-Over Highlights the Divisions in a Wyoming Town

By Shauna Stephenson, 11-18-10

	“I feel like there is so much anger with the public at the national level,” Elk Mountain Mayor Rick Christopherson says. “They can’t take it out at the national level. But they can take it out at the local level.” Photo by Shauna Stephenson.

Over the first week of November, the tiny mind-your-own-business-and-I’ll-mind mine town of Elk Mountain was pushed into the state spotlight after coming to a tie in the mayoral elections. The community of fewer than 200 residents became a political hotbed overnight with 51 votes for the incumbent mayor, Rick Christopherson, and 51 votes for the challenger, Morgan Irene. (Two write-in candidates also received a few votes.)

In Wyoming, the only way to settle such an outcome is to draw lots – literally, to flip a coin or pull a name out of a hat to determine the next in power.

However, upon re-examining the ballots, the county clerk found one voter did not live within the town boundaries and therefore could not vote for mayor. So the whole election was declared void, and voters are being sent back to the polls on Tuesday, Nov. 23.

The town of Elk Mountain is deeply divided and at what increasingly seems like a crossroads. In many ways, it’s a portrait of the state of modern American politics.

It’s a tiny town with big contrasts, located a few miles off of Interstate 80 at the base of a large mountain. The town has no grocery store, but it does have a gourmet chef with a Grande Diplôme in cuisine and patisserie from the l’Ecole de Cordon Bleu in Paris.

The town is a lot like its residents – practical yet unpredictable. Clouds perpetually loom on the almost-12,000-foot mountain that dominates the western horizon. Like many small western towns, it’s steeped in the history of a bunch of people you’ve never heard of (and maybe some you have) who eeked out an existence in a harsh and unforgiving place.

About 100 years later, not much has changed. Tourist season brings in some money, as does hunting season, but after that, it’s just you and the wind, which might explain why people around here are so tough, and thus tough on each other.

‘ACCOUNTABILITY STARTS RIGHT HERE’

To really get a view of the situation, perhaps the best place to stop is the Crossing Café. A small bell rings as you enter the two-room restaurant. Wooden floors run throughout the place, complementing the wall of game trophies and glass cases filled with arrowheads, pottery and stage coach models.

Behind the counter Ken Casner answers the phone, sipping the last cup of coffee from the pot before making another.

Elk Mountain mayoral challenger Morgan Irene and one of his campaign banners. Photo by Shauna Stephenson.

He sees this election as a reaction to a frustration the country feels as a collective unit – the feeling that government is running us over, a dictatorship instead of a democracy. He uses salt and paper shakers to make his point, mapping them out on an imaginary line of political aspirations, sometimes throwing in packets of Equal when the lines get complicated.

“(The American public) wants accountability, and accountability starts right here,” he says, pointing out the window to the Town Hall across the street. “We’re divided.”

Casner has a history in politics, running for both state and county offices without much success. He also has the unique distinction of being the self-proclaimed town weirdo, an outspoken fiery guy who quotes Thomas Jefferson, Henry Thoreau and Theodore Roosevelt, and yet was once told to “pull his head out of his ass” on the record at a public meeting – an incident he regards as a badge of honor.

But a race like this is too much even for someone like Casner.

“I’d rather run for governor than run for a small town,” he says.

‘GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT’

As in all small towns, many things have been said about those who have or seek power—some true, some false, some in the grey area that exists between the two.

Christopherson, the incumbent, has been in town government for about 10 years, first on the council and later as mayor. For him it was a way of giving back to a town that embraced him 20 years ago. As a side note, this embrace has not been extended to all outsiders.

Christopherson seems a pretty straightforward guy. Sitting at his desk as the shop foreman for the Wyoming Department of Transportation, he is unfazed by the commotion outside his office as snowplows are rotated through and cleared of the dirt and grime from the season’s first real snow.

On the outcome of the election, he is nonchalant, saying “what will be will be,” yet he is clearly running for political office without really running. There’s no “Vote for Rick” pin on his mustard yellow hat, no signs proclaiming him to be the right choice for Elk Mountain. But everything about him says, “I have the experience for this job. And by the way, I’d like your vote on Nov. 23.”

He seems accustomed to making decisions for a collective public and uses phrases like “the people,” as in “the people want this” or “the people don’t want that.”

“I feel like I can give the people what they want,” he says.

Christopherson says he thinks a person should work their way up through the ranks of government before they take on a position like mayor. While he doesn’t directly reference his opponent – in fact neither candidate references the other directly – it’s a fair guess who that is meant for, as Irene has no prior political experience.

There have been rumors and discontent during his time in office, and he’s well aware of it. In fact, something he addresses outright. There have been accusations about misuse of funds, budgets, lack of transparency and lack of opportunity for public participation. To those accusations, he points to the independent audit of town finances, which he says turned up nothing. He chalks the rest up to rumors and people not being informed, noting that if people would just request information respectfully, things would be a lot easier.

By some measures, he sees the discontent in a similar light as Casner.

“I feel like there is so much anger with the public at the national level,” Christopherson says. “They can’t take it out at the national level. But they can take it out at the local level.”

He says he sees the large divide in the community, but he doesn’t think it is the job of government to bring them back together. It’s up to the community to do that.

Adds Christopherson, “We’re not going to make everybody happy all of the time.”

But happiness is what Irene is trading in.

DIVINE INTERVENTION?

Across town in his butter yellow home on the river, Irene, a mechanic for Kinder Morgan, settles into a recliner, tucking one sock foot under a leg as he leans toward the yellow light of a single lamp.

“The ‘us against them’ needs to go away,” he says. “We need to be a community. There’s not that many of us.”

Irene has had his own critics in the town, remarking on his decision to send his kids out of the district for secondary school, his lack of political experience and his notions about government bringing people back together. For his part, Irene remains equally nonchalant about the outcome of the upcoming election, placing his cards in the hands of a higher power. If this were a national campaign, it could be viewed as a plug for the religious right, but in a small town like this, it seems genuine.

“I just feel like the Lord has a hand in it,” he says. “However this ends up is the way it’s supposed to be.”

In the end, this election seems not so much a division between ideas, as neither candidate has a detailed agenda. Rather, it seems a division among clans. It’s age-old questions all civilized communities have faced: Who belongs versus who doesn’t? Who has the power versus who wants it, and who wants it versus who deserves it?

Whatever the answer, everyone in this town is hoping the Nov. 23 results don’t end in another tie.

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