Inside One Lawmaker’s Quest to Beat the Freshman Room Lottery

When newly elected members first come to Washington, they’re usually on a mission.

There are positions in their sights — committee chairmanships, leadership roles, maybe even the speakership or the presidency years down the road. There are bills they want to pass, legislative reasons they came to Congress. And there are, by definition, constituents to represent.

But for Rep.-elect Tom Barrett, his mission on Thursday — during one of Congress’ more lighthearted traditions, the freshman room lottery — was an unusual one: He wanted Longworth 1232.

Normally, the freshman room lottery works by members drawing a number and, one at a time, selecting their office space from what’s available. Members have individual criteria in mind: square footage, proximity to the Capitol, some members on the fifth floor of Cannon like that there are only a few elevators that go up to their floor. (And most members hate that.)

But for Barrett, Longworth 1232 held special sentimental value: It was the office of his great-grandfather Louis Rabaut.

Rabaut was first elected to Congress 90 years ago, in 1934, serving until he died in 1961. While Rabaut actually had three offices during his time in Congress — Longworth 1232, Longworth 1227 and Longworth 1221 — 1232 was the one Barrett wanted the most.

It’s the office Rabaut had when he sponsored what Barrett called “his most memorable piece of legislation,” where Congress added the phrase “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954.

“I never had the opportunity to meet him, but his story is one my family’s very proud of,” Barrett told NOTUS. “As a kid growing up you say the Pledge of Allegiance in school every day, so you kind of feel this connection.”

Barrett’s 3-year-old son, Louis, is named after his great-great-grandfather. And Barrett was determined to get one of the offices where Rabaut served. So Barrett did something unconventional: He wrote a letter explaining the situation and started handing them out to his fellow freshmen.

“I understand and respect the office lottery process, and ultimately the decision will be yours to select your office when your turn becomes available,” Barrett wrote.

“Perhaps 90 years from now one of your descendants will be asking their colleagues to hold your office available for them to occupy,” he concluded in his pitch.

Barrett’s plea might seem like an easy one. But in the cutthroat world of the office lottery, where members have to live with the luck of the draw for two years, a bad number for Barrett could mean he’s relegated to a distant wing near some omnipresent construction. (There’s always construction going on in the Capitol complex.)

The biennial, two-week-long, jam-packed freshman orientation in the House culminates in the office lottery. Members retire, move to the Senate or lose reelection, abandoning their bureaucratic office spaces. Sitting House members then have the opportunity to move to the abandoned offices, with the most senior lawmakers getting first priority, right on down the line, creating a cascade of musical office chairs.

At the end, the least-loved offices are left for the new freshmen.

“Apparently, this is the apex of everything,” one member told NOTUS before reporters were shuffled to their designated corner to watch the lottery. “It’s all downhill once you get your office.”

First, a name is called. Some, like North Carolina Republican Addison McDowell, walked up quickly and grabbed their lottery number from the box with little fanfare. (He drew 46 and had no visible disappointment.)

Others lean into the show. California Democrat Sam Liccardo led cheers and jeers from the sidelines as his colleagues drew high and low numbers.

“Oh, that hurts! Enjoy the basement,” Liccardo shouted across the room to Texas Republican Craig Goldman when he drew spot 48.

Liccardo later drew 47.

The coveted No. 1 pick went to New York Rep.-elect Laura Gillen, who high-fived her colleagues in the front row and even performed an impromptu victory dance. Meanwhile, the dreaded No. 57 spot went to Rep.-elect Eugene Vindman, who let out a huge groan and shook his head when he looked down at his dark fate.

Rep.-elect Laura Gillen celebrates choosing the number one lottery spot. Katherine Swartz/NOTUS

While most drafters didn’t seem to mind too much — they had, after all, just been elected to Congress — for Barrett, it was personal.

A number in the 40s or 50s, no matter how persuasive his story is, could have cast him to a far-flung spot in the labyrinthian House office buildings.

But luckily for Barrett, he drew number 14, a great position out of the 57 available.

He was still anxious. There were 11 office spots open in Cannon, none in Rayburn and the rest in Longworth. Everyone assumed the Cannon spots would go first, but that left a couple people ahead of Barrett who could take his great-grandfather’s office.

He had some lobbying to do — and some more letters to pass out.

About two hours into the lottery, it was Barrett’s turn to pick his spot. Pennsylvania Republican Ryan Mackenzie drew the No. 3 spot and got a prized Cannon office but decided to stick around to see if Barrett got his.

“You’ve got to have chills when you walk into that office,” Mackenzie told NOTUS.

The moment came for Barrett, the 14th spot of the 2024 draft: “I’m selecting 1232 Longworth,” he told the crowd to applause.

Barrett and a few members of his staff immediately went to 1232. They’d taken a look at the office a week ago, but now, after more than 70 years, the office would be in his family again.

Rep. Zach Nunn, the current tenant of Longworth 1232, was there to officially pass it over to Barrett.

“I feel like this is a change of command ceremony situation here, like officially passing off the baton,” Nunn told Barrett. (Nunn served in the Air Force and Barrett in the Army.)

Rep. Zach Nunn, current Longworth 1232 tenant, congratulates Rep.-elect Tom Barrett on getting the office. Barrett’s great-grandfather was once a tenant of Longworth 1232. Katherine Swartz/NOTUS

Nunn then gifted Barrett a challenge coin dating back to World War I. Two Iowans went down over enemy lines in Germany, and when they made it back to the French trenches, they were accused of being German spies, Nunn said. The two men were about to be put in front of a firing squad until a French lieutenant recognized the back of his coin — the star was the same as the star on the American biplane.

“So, as the tradition goes, it’s a handoff to another good combat guy in the line of fire, or about to be,” Nunn said.

“And more importantly,” he added, “the French officer bought them all wine. So drinks are on you, brother.”

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Katherine Swartz is a NOTUS reporter and an Allbritton Journalism Institute fellow.