Welcome to the Teep Dive. We're so thrilled you
could join us today because we have a truly fascinating
mission ahead of us. We really do. Yeah. If you
were to just glance at today's source material,
you might actually think we're in for a, well,
a rather dry history lesson. Oh, absolutely.
It looks like just a spreadsheet at first glance.
Right. We are looking at a Wikipedia data table
titled List of United States Senators from Minnesota.
And it is just rows and columns of names, dates
and party affiliations. Just raw data. Exactly.
Starting all the way from when Minnesota was
admitted to the union on May 11th, 1858. And
according to the data, as of early 2018, exactly
44 people have served in the United States Senate
for Minnesota. But let me tell you, hidden within
these seemingly dry data points is this incredible
saga of of political musical chairs, surprising
third party anomalies. and some truly wild historical
milestones. Okay, let's unpack this. It really
is a remarkable data set. And before we get into
the specifics, I want to establish exactly how
we are approaching this. Good idea. This list
is essentially a mirror of American political
evolution. We are going to be talking about a
lot of political parties today. Democrats, Republicans,
the Farmer Labor Party, the Independence Party,
and so on. Quite a mix. Right. So we want to
be absolutely clear with you, the listener. We
are impartially reporting the historical timeline
of these seats. We are not taking sides and we
are certainly not endorsing any of the political
viewpoints held by the figures in this source
material. Just sticking to the facts. Exactly.
We're simply tracking the factual historical
record of who held power and when. And the reason
you should care about this is that by tracking
the timeline of a single state's representation,
you can actually see how individual ambitions,
sudden tragedies, and... Clever strategic loopholes
have shaped the government over the last 160
years. Yeah. And looking at the very beginning
of the data, I see a piece of baseline trivia
that seems totally counterintuitive. Not the
age thing. Yes. When we hear the terms senior
and junior senators, it is incredibly easy to
assume the senior senator is the older person.
It's what you'd naturally think. But the table
shows that Minnesota is actually one of only
15 states in the entire country to have a younger
senior senator and an older junior senator. How
does that happen? Well, that is a quirk of congressional
rules. They share this dynamic with places like
California, Hawaii and Pennsylvania. OK. It's
a great reminder that seniority in the Senate
is strictly about time served, not biological
age. A 35 year old who gets elected first will
forever outrank a 60 year old who gets elected
to the state's other seat a few years later.
Wow. Forever. Right. That distinction is crucial
to keep in mind. especially as we get into how
politicians have historically manipulated that
exact definition of seniority later on. I see.
But to truly appreciate the anomalies in this
timeline, we need a baseline of stability first.
If you look at the late 19th and early 20th centuries
on that table, you will see the name Newt Nelson.
Let me check. Yes, I see him right here. It looks
like he held his seat from 1895 all the way until
his death in 1923. Which makes him Minnesota's
longest serving senator. That is a massive chunk
of time. Nearly three decades of unbroken representation.
When you see a block of stability like that in
the data, it really highlights the utter chaos
that happens elsewhere on the list. And speaking
of chaos, here's where it gets really interesting.
If we look slightly before Newt Nelson, there
is a name on this list that just keeps appearing
and disappearing. William Wyndham. Yes, William
Wyndham. Just looking at the raw dates next to
his name, my head is spinning. What exactly is
going on with his timeline in the late 19th century?
The William Wyndham timeline is arguably one
of the most fractured, chaotic stretches in the
entire data set. Let's trace the exact dates
here. Okay, lay it out for me. In 1870, Senator
Daniel S. Norton dies in office. William Wyndham
is appointed on July 15, 1870 to continue Norton's
term. Makes sense. Then, in January 1871, Wyndham
is officially elected to finish that term. That
same year, he is elected to his own full term
and re -elected in 1877. So far, that seems like
a perfectly normal trajectory for a politician.
It is until you hit the year 1881. On March 7
of that year, Wyndham resigns from the Senate.
Just quits. He leaves the legislative branch
entirely to become the U .S. Secretary of the
Treasury under President James A. Garfield. OK,
stepping up to the cabinet. Right. So the Senate
seat goes vacant for five days. Then on March
12, a man named Alonzo J. Edgerton is appointed
to continue Wyndham's term. But Edgerton doesn't
stay long, does he? The table shows his term
ending in October of that exact same year. He
was merely a placeholder. because on November
15th, 1881, William Wyndham comes back. Wait,
what? He is elected to finish his own vacated
term. He left the Senate for the cabinet, decided
he wanted his old job back just months later,
and reclaimed it. How is that even possible?
Today, the idea of a sitting senator resigning
to join the president's cabinet, deciding a few
months later they want a do -over, and just casually
orchestrating a return to their exact same seat
seems impossible. How did he just... Take it
back. What's fascinating here is what this tells
us about the rules of the era. To understand
this, we have to talk about the 17th Amendment
to the U .S. Constitution. Which didn't happen
until later, right? Exactly. It wasn't ratified
until 1913. Before 1913, United States senators
were not elected by the general voting public.
They were chosen by the state legislatures. Ah,
so the voters of Minnesota weren't the ones putting
him back in the seat. Not directly, no. It was
a highly centralized, almost club -like system.
The politicians in the state capitol were the
ones making the deals. A lot of backroom handshakes.
Very much so. Wyndham went to the treasury. But
when President Garfield was tragically assassinated
later that year, the political landscape shifted.
Wyndham wanted his Senate seat back. And because
it was a closed -door legislative process, the
state lawmakers simply swapped him back in. The
appointed placeholder, Edgerton. quietly stepped
aside. That is wild. But looking at the next
column for the 1883 election, Wyndham's name
disappears again. He was replaced by a man named
Dwight M. Sabin. Does that mean the backroom
deals eventually ran out of steam? It strongly
suggests that even within the state legislature,
there were limits to how much revolving door
behavior they would tolerate. Wyndham lost his
renomination. They'd had enough. Yeah, the patience
for treating a United States Senate seat like
a temporary holding pen had clearly worn thin
by the time the next full term came up. That
makes a lot of sense. Moving forward into the
20th century, the colors and labels on this Wikipedia
table take a dramatic turn. They certainly do.
We're so conditioned to view historical election
tables as a simple binary, a C of D for Democrat
and R for Republican. But starting in the 1920s,
that duopoly completely fractures. I'm seeing
a massive block of something called the Farmer
Labor Party. What caused this massive third party
takeover? You have to look at the economic reality
of the upper Midwest during the interwar. period.
Following World War I, there was a severe agricultural
depression. Times were tough. Incredibly tough.
The farmers and the industrial laborers felt
entirely abandoned by the two mainstream parties.
They didn't feel the traditional Democrats or
Republicans were addressing the plunging crop
prices or the difficult labor conditions, so
they organized. And it really worked. It did.
Statistically, this wasn't just a minor bliff
or a single rogue candidate. It was a sustained,
dominant presence over nearly two decades. The
names just keep coming on the list. Henrik Shipstead
is elected in 1922 under the Farmer Labor banner,
and he holds that seat from 1923 all the way
to 1947. That's a long run. Then Magnus Johnson
wins a special election in 1923 to finish Newt
Nelson's term. Later, Elmer A. Benson is appointed
in 1935 and Ernest Lundin is elected in 1936.
They are all flying the farmer labor flag. It
completely shatters the assumption that the two
party system has always been an unbreakable rule.
That data point speaks to a deep underlying populist
and agrarian streak in the state's electorate.
They simply refuse to be absorbed by the traditional
political machines. The table forces us to recognize
a period where the political binary was completely
upended. It's right there in black and white.
And furthermore, if you trace that threat of
independence forward into the modern era, you
see it echoing in the state's political DNA.
You definitely see it echoing. Later on the list,
the label independent Republicans starts popping
up. David Durenberger served from 1978 to 1995
under that label. Rudy Boschwitz did as well.
Right. And even Rod Graham's up to 2001. And
then there's Dean Barkley. In November 2002,
he is appointed to the Senate representing the
Independence Party. The specific labels morph
over time. But the underlying willingness of
the state's political apparatus to embrace or
at least accommodate. third -party identifiers,
is a persistent pattern in the data. They don't
just default to the standard red or blue without
question. No, they clearly don't. Now, as we
transition into the mid -century, we encounter
some true giants of American politics, and the
data reveals how they engaged in some highly
strategic timeline manipulation. Let's look at
the famous Democratic Farmer Labor, or DFL, senators.
Hubert Humphrey serves a massive chunk of time
from 1949 to 1964. A very prominent figure. He
resigns because he's been elected vice president
of the United States. To fill his seat, Walter
Mondale is appointed on December 30, 1964. Mondale
is then reelected and serves all the way until
1976. Right. Tracking perfectly so far. But looking
at the end of Mondale's term, the dates are really
strange. His term was supposed to end in January
1977, but he resigns early on December 30th,
1976. Why would a sitting senator resign just
days before his term naturally expires? Was he
just trying to start his vacation early? If we
connect this to the bigger picture, this is a
masterclass in the invisible mechanics of Senate
power. As we discussed earlier with the H -Cork,
seniority in the Senate is everything. Time served.
Exactly. It dictates your committee assignments,
your physical office space, and your institutional
influence. When a new class of senators is sworn
in together in early January, they are all tied
in seniority. Okay, I'm following. But if a sitting
senator resigns just a few days early, the governor
can appoint their successor to finish those final
few days of the term. Oh. The table shows a man
named Wendell Anderson stepping into that seat
on December 30. So he gets sworn in while all
the other freshmen across the country are waiting
for January. Precisely. By the time January rolls
around, Wendell Anderson technically has more
time served, even if it's only by a single week,
than the entire incoming freshman class. That
is brilliant. He jumps to the front of the line
for committee assignments. The source explicitly
calls this preferential seniority. It's an incredibly
calculated exploitation of the rulebook, immortalized
right here in the dates on this table. Did the
voters reward that kind of rulebook exploitation?
Not in this case. The data shows that Anderson
ultimately lost the election to a full term in
1978. The electorate is often wary of obvious
backroom maneuvering, so the long -term benefit
of that specific loophole didn't pan out for
him. The Humphrey story doesn't end in 1964 either.
I see Hubert Humphrey's name reappear later on
the list. He is elected again and serves from
January 1971 until January 13th, 1978. Yes. That
specific date is marked by tragedy as he died
in office, which led to another unique appointment.
His wife, Muriel Humphrey, was appointed on January
25, 1978 to continue his term until later that
November. It is incredibly moving to see that
continuity of legacy captured in the raw data.
Unfortunately, tragedy is a recurring element
when you study a timeline of this length. The
data does not shy away from the sudden, jarring
interruptions of history. Moving into the modern
era, the table reflects another sudden loss.
Paul Wellstone was elected in 1990 and was a
fixture in the Senate until October 25, 2002.
He tragically died in an aviation accident right
before the election, cutting short his tenure.
It was a very dark time for the state. That led
to a brief vacancy, followed by the appointment
of Dean Barkley, whom we mentioned earlier. But
if you keep scrolling down past that, you hit
a completely different kind of anomaly in 2008.
The table mentions the Class 2 election between
Republican Norm Coleman and DFL challenger Al
Franken. Yes, the 2008 recount. Wait, for our
listeners who might not be familiar with Senate
mechanics, what exactly do Class 1 and Class
2 mean here? Why are they categorized like that?
That is a great question. When the founders established
the Senate, they didn't want the entire chamber
to be replaced all at once. They wanted a continuous
body. So no complete turnover. Right. So they
divided the 100 Senate seats into three classes.
Every two years, only one of those classes, about
one third of the Senate, goes up for election.
A class one senator is just on a different six
year election cycle than a class two senator.
Minnesota, like every state, has two senators
in different classes, so they never run for reelection
in the exact same year. That makes perfect sense.
So looking at this class two election in 2008,
the data for this specific seat is visually arresting.
Norm Coleman's term officially expired on January
3, 2009, but Al Franken's term doesn't begin
until July 7, 2009. The table literally just
says vacant for over six months. What happens
when a state only has one senator for half a
year? The real world stakes of that blank space
are massive. Think about the historical context
of early 2009. The country was in the depths
of a generational financial crisis. Oh, right.
The Great Recession. Exactly. The federal government
was debating massive stimulus packages, health
care reform, and crucial policies. And during
that entire period, Minnesota was flying on one
engine. They were missing half of their representation
in the upper chamber. They were missing tie -breaking
votes and committee leverage. How did it drag
on for so long? The election was historically
closed down to a margin of just a few hundred
votes out of millions cast. It triggered mandatory
recounts, which then evolved into grueling month
after month legal battles that went all the way
to the state Supreme Court. The machinery of
the election essentially jammed. We expect seamless
transitions of power, a clean handoff from one
term to the next. But this table documents the
terrifying moments when the gears lock up. A
six month vacancy in the modern era is an astonishing
historical footnote. It really is. Franken, of
course, was finally seated in July, resolving
one of the most. agonizing blank spaces on this
entire list. He went on to be reelected in 2014,
but then the table shows he resigned, effective
January 2, 2018. So what does this all mean for
us today in 2026? Let's look at the current setup.
Right now, the two senators representing Minnesota
are Amy Klobuchar, who has been in office since
2007, and Tina Smith, who was appointed in 2018
to continue Franken's term and then won her subsequent
elections. And this brings us to a major historical
milestone explicitly noted in our source material.
The appointment of Tina Smith in 2018 marked
the very first time in Minnesota's history that
the state was represented by two female U .S.
senators at the exact same time. Out of the 50
states, Minnesota became one of only four states
to achieve a simultaneously all -female delegation,
standing right alongside Nevada, New Hampshire,
and Washington. That's quite the achievement.
From statehood in 1858 all the way to 2018, it
took exactly 160 years to reach that milestone.
And looking ahead, the table gives us a preview
of what's to come. Amy Klobuchar was just reelected
in 2024, so she is set for her next term. But
for the other seat, Pena Smith has announced
she is retiring at the end of her current term,
which means that for the 2026 election, the data
table simply reads, to be determined. It's the
blank space at the end of the ledger waiting
to be written. The history is still actively
unfolding. It really puts it all into perspective.
We've just taken you on an incredible journey
spanning over 160 years, all drawn from a single
list of names and dates. We started back at statehood
in 1858. Quite a long way back. We rode the dizzying
musical chairs roller coaster of William Wyndham
leaving for the Treasury and immediately coming
back thanks to the old state legislature rules.
We explored the deep economic reasons behind
the disruption of the Farmer Labor Party in the
1920s and 30s. The rise of the third party. We
unpacked the sneaky strategy of Walter Mondale
resigning early just to cheat the seniority system
for his successor. We looked at the agonizing
high stakes six month empty seat during the 2000.
nine recount, all the way up to the historic
all -female delegation representing the state
today. This raises an important question for
you to consider. We tend to view historical data
as static and dry. But when you look closely,
a simple list of names and dates actually serves
as a ledger of democratic volatility. A ledger
of democratic volatility. I like that. It tracks
the changing rules of engagement, like the shift
brought on by the 17th Amendment. It tracks the
cultural shifts of an electorate willing to embrace
third parties during economic hardship. and it
tracks the ever -present maneuvering for institutional
advantage. It is a living document of how power
is captured, traded, and sometimes lost to unforeseen
tragedy. I really love that phrase, a ledger
of democratic volatility. And I want to leave
you with a final thought to mull over today.
Think about the incredible, invisible, strategic
games we've uncovered from the past, resigning
a few days early just to get better committee
assignments. Right. Pausing a Senate term to
run the Treasury for a few months because your
friends in the state capitol can just hand your
seat back to you. It's a simple table of historical
dates reveal so much open manipulation of the
rules in the past. What invisible strategic games
are currently playing out in the timing of today's
political retirements and appointments? It's
a great question. What subtle maneuvers are happening
right now in 2026 that we won't fully understand
until there are just dates neatly printed out
on a Wikipedia page decades from now? It's something
to think about the next time. see a politician
suddenly announce an unexpected retirement. Thank
you so much for joining us on this deep dive.