Welcome to today's Deep Dive. It is great to
have you with us. Yeah, thanks for joining us.
We have a really fascinating setup today. We
do. Today we are embarking on a mission that
might sound, well, a bit unconventional, but
the payoff for you is going to be substantial.
Very substantial. We are looking at a source
that, at first glance, appears to be completely
straightforward. We're looking at a Wikipedia
list. Right, specifically the list of United
States senators from Vermont. You might be wondering
why we are dedicating our time to a table of
names, dates, and political parties. I mean,
it sounds like a dry spreadsheet. Exactly. But
that is exactly the magic of our mission today.
While it looks like just a dry spreadsheet of
historical data, it is actually a dense, coded
map of American political history. Hiding right
in plain sight. Our goal is to extract the surprising
narratives. the procedural anomalies, and the
profound historical shifts that are buried within
these rows and columns. Because when you really
analyze the structure of this data, it becomes
clear that it is not merely a roster of politicians.
No, it's a chronicle. Yes, a chronicle of how
an entire state's identity and its political
allegiances have evolved over more than two centuries.
Okay, let's unpack this. Because to truly grasp
the weight of this timeline, we need to examine
the foundation. Right. So Vermont was admitted
to the union on March 4th, 1791. But if you look
closely at the data for that very first year,
there is an immediate glaring quirk. They didn't
have senators. Exactly. The state did not actually
have its senators in place on day one. It took
several months after statehood for Vermont to
formally elect its first two representatives
to the Senate. Right out of the gate, we have
a vacancy. From March 4th, 1791 until October
17 of that year, those Senate seats were just
sitting empty. You're looking at a brand new
state trying to find its political footing while
entirely missing its representation in the federal
government. And when they finally do hold the
election, the data shows they chose Moses Robinson
and Stephen R. Bradley. Look at the political
affiliation listed for them. They are both categorized
as belonging to the anti -administration party.
Which is an incredibly literal name for a political
faction. It really points directly to the chaotic
nature of early American politics. Right. The
label anti -administration reflects the intense
structural debates of the early republic long
before the formalized, highly organized party
systems we recognize today fully took shape.
It wasn't exactly a modern political machine.
Not at all. Yeah. It was less about a cohesive
platform and more about a shared opposition to
the executive branch's centralization of power.
It sets a baseline of instability in the data
set. But if we juxtapose those early undefined
days with the modern era, the evolution is striking.
Oh, definitely. The current roster is a perfect
hook into just how unique this state's political
landscape has become over time. Looking at the
very top of our source document, the current
delegation representing Vermont. consists of
Bernie Sanders. Who has been in office since
2007 as an independent. Right. And Peter Welch,
a Democrat who took office in 2023. There is
a highly specific shared detail in their career
paths before they reached the Senate. Yes. According
to the source, both Sanders and Welch served
in the United States House of Representatives
immediately prior to this. But because of Vermont's
population size, they did not just represent
a single district among many. They were the state's
entirely singular representative in the House.
They each represented Vermont's single at -large
congressional district before moving to the upper
chamber. What's fascinating here is how this
modern snapshot leads us right into one of the
most anomalous statistics in the entire data
set. It is a wild statistic. It requires a brief
look at the Senate's architecture. The United
States Senate is staggered into three classes.
Class 1, Class 2, and Class 3. Which ensures
that only about a third of the chamber is up
for reelection in any given cycle. Exactly, providing
a buffer against sudden sweeping turnover. Vermont's
two Senate seats fall into Class I and Class
III. And if you trace the history of that Class
I seat all the way back to Moses Robinson in
1791, you uncover a remarkable statistical reality.
There has never been a Democratic senator for
Vermont's Class I Senate seat. I had to read
the footnotes on that section multiple times
to ensure I was interpreting the table correctly.
It's hard to believe. In the entire history of
the state, dating back to 1791, the class one
seat has been occupied by anti -administration
figures, federalists, Democratic Republicans,
National Republicans, wings, a very long line
of Republicans, and an independent. But the word
Democrat never appears in that column. Which
brings us to a compelling technicality. Considering
Bernie Sanders' deep ties to modern Democratic
politics, does his current occupation of that
seat challenge this historical streak? Or does
the data view that distinction differently? Right.
The historical record views official designation
as absolute. The source explicitly notes this
nuance. Oh, so? While Sanders ran for the Democratic
presidential nomination in both 2016 and 2020,
he has purposefully not joined the Democratic
Party on his official Senate webpages. He remains
officially documented as an independent. Therefore,
because he currently occupies that class one
seat, his precise official classification single
handedly keeps that no Democrats in class one
streak intact today. The data relies on the formal
letter of the law, not informal caucusing habits.
And we should note, we are impartially reporting
these political affiliations. We aren't taking
any left wing or right wing sides here. Absolutely.
We are simply conveying the historical record
of the state as it's documented. It is a perfect
example of how the data strictly mirrors the
official record. And looking at the broader visual
layout of this timeline, the modern era featuring
an independent and a Democrat stands in stark
contrast to the historical baseline. When you
zoom out and look at the color coding of the
parties over the centuries, you see a completely
different reality for most of the state's existence.
Here's where it gets really interesting. Because
the most profound realization hidden in this
Wikipedia table is the sheer monolithic nature
of Vermont's past politics. It is a massive block
of history. Today, there is a tendency to associate
the state with its current distinct political
identity. But scrolling through this data set
reveals that from the 1850s until well into the
20th century, Vermont was an unbroken wall of
Republican representation. To appreciate the
gravity of a century -long monopoly, You really
have to look at the volatility that preceded
it. Right. If you analyze the first 60 years
of the state's history in this document, the
seats are bouncing constantly between various
short -lived factions. You see the Democratic
Republicans giving way to the Federalists and
the National Republicans and the Whigs. It is
a period of constant political recalibration.
But then, right in the middle of the 1850s, the
data set shows a sudden fracture. We see a man
named Lawrence Brainerd holding the Class III
seat from 1854 to 1855. And his party affiliation
is listed as Free Soil. Yes. The Free Soil Party.
It barely takes up any space on the timeline,
just a single year, but it acts as a massive
visual indicator of the era. It really does.
Based on the timeline, this blip in the 1850s
points directly to the escalating pre -Civil
War tensions over the expansion of slavery. It
is the bridge between the collapse of the old
political order and the rise of a new one. Precisely.
The appearance of the Free Soil Party in the
data signals the end of that early volatility,
because immediately following Brainerd's brief
term, Jacob Collimer takes the class three seat
as a Republican in 1855. And Luke P. Poland assumes
the class one seat shortly after. From that moment,
the data solidifies. You can scroll from the
late 19th century through the early 20th century
and the party column becomes completely static.
It is characterized by figures with immense tenure
establishing deep institutional power. You have
Justin S. Morrill serving from 1867 to 1898.
And George F. Edmonds serving from 1866 to 1891.
We are looking at decades of absolute unyielding
party control. The contrast is brilliant. You
have this towering century -long streak of Republican
dominance. dominating the visual space of the
timeline. But when you search the data for the
ultimate record holder? The individual who served
as a U .S. senator from Vermont longer than anyone
else in the state's history. It completely subverts
that legacy. That title belongs to Patrick Leahy.
A Democrat. And the timeline documents his service
from January 3, 1975, all the way to January
3, 2023. 48 years in a single chamber. He witnessed
nearly half a century of legislative history
from that specific desk. It illustrates a profound
point for anyone analyzing historical data. A
state that functioned as an impenetrable fortress
for one specific party for over 100 years ultimately
sees its longest -serving representative emerge
from the opposite side of the aisle. The data
proves that local political monopolies are incredibly
powerful, but they are never permanent. But as
compelling as these macro -level shifts are,
the deepest insights often hide in the smallest
text. The footnotes. Yes, the footnotes attached
to these dates are filled with procedural chaos.
This raises an important question. How are the
mechanical rules of filling these seats actually
enforced during the 19th century? We tend to
conceptualize the United States Senate as a highly
structured, infallible institution. However,
the historical footnotes reveal that the process
of maintaining representation was heavily dependent
on local logistics. And incredibly vulnerable
to procedural failure. That's exact it. I was
looking at the footnotes for the year 1853. And
there's a massive gap in the timeline for the
Class 3 seat. The dates just stop. They do. What
exactly happened with Samuel S. Phelps to cause
an entire seat to sit empty for over a year?
The Phelps vacancy is a master class in procedural
vulnerability. The source notes detail a specific
sequence of events. Walk us through it. In 1853,
the Class 3 seat became vacant. Samuel S. Phelps
was appointed by the governor of Vermont to fill
that vacancy. Which sounds standard. The critical
detail is that he was appointed during a recess
of the state legislature. The mechanical rule
at the time dictated that a governor's appointment
was strictly a temporary bridge. So when the
state legislature finally reconvened, they were
required to officially hold an election to fill
the seat permanently. Yes. The governor essentially
puts Phelps in the seat to keep the state's voting
power active in Washington with the understanding
that the local lawmakers will finalize it when
they get back to work. But according to the data,
the state legislature eventually convenes, holds
their session, and then simply adjourns. They
pack up and leave without ever executing a vote
to elect a senator for that vacancy. And that
local administrative failure triggers a severe
federal consequence. The U .S. Senate reviewed
the situation and delivered a strict ruling.
Because the Vermont legislature met and subsequently
adjourned without acting on the vacancy, Phelps
had officially lost his entitlement to sit in
the chamber. The Senate enforced the procedural
technicality over the state's need for representation.
They did. The outcome is staggering when you
think about the implications. From early 1853,
Until March of 1854, Vermont was effectively
operating with half its voting power in the Senate.
Not because of a principled stand or a national
crisis. But because a local legislative body
failed to execute a mandatory agenda item before
ending their session. It demonstrates the fragility
of the system. The footnotes show us that representation
wasn't just about winning an election. It was
about navigating a labyrinth of procedural requirements.
And that maneuvering isn't isolated to the 1850s.
No, the data set outlines several instances of
strategic, highly calculated transitions, particularly
regarding family legacies. The Gibson family
timeline in the 1940s is a prime example of this.
In June of 1940, the data shows Senator Ernest
W. Gibson dying in office. He was a Republican.
Yes. Within days, the governor appoints his son.
Ernest Gibson Jr. to continue the term. And Ernest
Jr. doesn't just hold the seat temporarily. He
successfully wins the subsequent election to
maintain it. Yet the timeline shows him abruptly
resigning in 1941. The footnote explains the
pivot. He vacated the Senate seat to accept an
appointment as the U .S. ambassador to the United
Nations. Which instantly creates another vacancy
and kicks off another scramble. Right. George
Aiken wins the election to finish out the remainder
of that term. But the data set captures a brilliant
strategic delay. The dates show that Aiken is
elected, but his term doesn't begin immediately.
He intentionally delayed his swearing in by a
week. The footnote explains he did this so he
could remain the governor of Vermont for just
a few days longer before transitioning to Washington.
You can practically see the political strategy
playing out in the timeline, balancing state
executive power against federal legislative power
down to the very day. The timeline captures the
exact days these individuals chose to pull the
levers of power. And perhaps the most consequential
individual choice in the entire data set occurs
much more recently. Right in the margins of the
year 2001. It centers on Senator Jim Jeffords.
Jeffords is a fascinating data point. He was
a deeply established politician who, according
to the table, had just successfully won reelection
to the Senate in the year 2000. under the Republican
banner. The data suggests total stability for
his seat. But then you look at the specific dates
attached to his final term. The data set marks
May 24th, 2001 as a fracture point. On that exact
day, Jeffords officially severed his ties with
the Republican Party. He changed his official
status to independent and opted to serve out
the remainder of his term under that new designation
before eventually retiring. In a spreadsheet
characterized by slow generational shifts and
century -long party streaks, that single date
stands out. It wasn't an election that shifted
the balance. No, it was an abrupt midterm defection.
It is a sudden anomaly that completely upended
the makeup of the delegation without a single
voter casting a new ballot. It reinforces the
reality that behind every column of dates and
party affiliations, there is human agency. The
data set meticulously logs the results of these
shifts, but it is the individual, often unpredictable
decisions that actually forge the historical
record. So what does this all mean? That's the
big question. Why does a dry, seemingly straightforward
Wikipedia list of names and dates from a single
state hold up? any relevance for you listening
to this right now. It matters. I think it is
essential because this historical timeline serves
as definitive proof that political landscapes
are never static. There is a natural human tendency
to look at the current state of affairs and assume
that the present reality is permanent. But when
you analyze a data set like Vermont's, a state
that functioned as an absolute impenetrable stronghold
for a single political party for over a century.
You see the cracks in that assumption. It appeared
invincible on paper. Yet, through a combination
of shifting ideologies, procedural quirks, and
individual defections, that exact same state
is now represented by an independent and a Democrat.
One of whom occupies a seat that has never once
been held by a Democrat in the history of the
republic. It is a powerful reminder that the
ground is always shifting beneath our feet. The
systems and structures we assume are permanent
are, in reality, constantly evolving. Exactly.
If we connect this to the bigger picture, the
data point that lingers the longest is the procedural
failure surrounding Samuel S. Phelps. The empty
seat. Yes. We dedicate so much analytical energy
to understanding grand ideological movements
and sweeping historical realignments. But the
data forces us to confront the mechanical reality
of governance. An entire state lost half of its
voice in the federal legislature for over a year
simply because of an administrative oversight.
A local body convened, executed its session.
and adjourned without fulfilling a bureaucratic
requirement. It created a massive void in national
representation. It fundamentally changes how
you view historical outcomes. It challenges you
to look past the grand narratives and consider
the hidden mechanics. Think about the sheer weight
of those procedural technicalities. How many
profound shifts in political power, how many
deeply consequential laws, or entirely different
historical trajectories were not... the result
of sweeping ideological battles, but simply the
byproduct of a procedural anomaly. A missed meeting,
a delayed swearing in, or a local council that
simply forgot to hold a vote before they adjourned.
It makes you realize that history is not always
forged by the loudest voices or the most powerful
movements. Sometimes the most consequential turning
points are buried in the footnotes, driven by
the paperwork that was left unsigned on the table.
A really fascinating perspective to end on. Thank
you for joining us on this deep dive. We hope
you walk away looking at the structures and data
around you with a sharper, more curious perspective.