Welcome to the Deep Dive. I am really looking
forward to getting into our topic today. Yeah,
me too. Because we have a specific mission for
this one, and it is honestly one of my favorite
kinds of analytical exercises. We are taking
a source that, well... At first glance, it might
look like the driest, most straightforward document
imaginable. It really does. Right. But we are
going to extract the incredibly fascinating narratives
that are hidden right there in plain sight. Today,
we're analyzing the Wikipedia page for the list
of United States Senate elections in Colorado.
It does sound a bit like an eye test at first,
doesn't it? I mean, if you just scroll through
it, you are essentially looking at rows upon
rows of dates, candidate names, voting percentages.
So the giant spreadsheet. Exactly. Just a spreadsheet
stretching back well over a century. But when
you pause and actually analyze the trends in
front of you, the entire document transforms.
That is exactly how I felt looking at it. It's
like looking at a secret numerical map of American
history. It isn't just a table of numbers. It's
a chronicle of shifting political alliances,
massive electorate drama, and... the literal
changing of the rules of the game. Yeah. And
you, the listener, you get to ride shotgun as
we pull apart what these numbers actually mean.
To set the analytical stage for you, it helps
to kind of contextualize the specific kind of
data set we have here. We are examining over
a century of direct election data. Right. Which
provides us with a purely factual. totally objective
look at how the voters of one specific state,
in this case, Colorado, have shifted their preferences
over time. It gives us a pristine snapshot of
the electorate's behavior across completely different
eras. We're talking major wars, economic booms,
depressions, huge cultural shifts. All of it.
Exactly. And as we dive in, just a quick reminder
to you, the listener, we are strictly wearing
our data analyst hats today. We aren't here to
endorse any candidate or party on the left or
the right. We are just here to read the fascinating
story that the raw election. results tell us.
We're totally neutral observers here. Exactly.
We are looking impartially at the historical
data exactly as it is laid out. No spin, no taking
sides, just us, the numbers, and the historical
shifts right there in the margins. Precisely.
The numbers wrote the script. And our job is
simply to read it and figure out the broader
context. OK, let's unpack this. Looking at Colorado's
framework, the data splits the state's representation
into class two and class three seats, starting
right at statehood in 1876. Right. You have these
staggered six -year terms, meaning only a portion
of the chamber is up for a vote in any given
two -year cycle. It's a design built entirely
around continuity, essentially ensuring a baseline
of institutional memory. And while the data officially
kicks off in 1876, the reality of those early
years was vastly different from what voters experience
today. Oh, entirely different. Yeah. When Colorado
first entered the union, you as a citizen didn't
actually have a direct say in who went to the
Senate. Those seats were decided by the state
legislature. Which is such a wild concept to
wrap your head around today. I mean, you wouldn't
campaign to the public. You would campaign to
the legislators in back rooms. If we connect
this to the bigger picture. This is a foundational
pivot point in American political history. For
decades, the Senate was heavily insulated from
the direct popular vote. But the data in our
list... undergoes a massive structural shift
in 1913. That's the year the 17th Amendment passed.
Strooping that appointment power away from the
state legislatures. Exactly. And handing it directly
to the voters. And what makes this particular
list so valuable is that it rigorously tracks
the elections after that 1913 Amendment. We are
getting an unadulterated timeline of pure popular
voting trends. Which brings us to the wild west
of early direct elections. I was looking at the
very first popular election on this list, the
1914 race for the class three seat, and the results
completely defied my expectations. It's a really
chaotic snapshot. It is. Put yourself in the
shoes of a Colorado voter in 1914. You finally
have the power to directly elect your senator.
You step up to the ballot box and the outcome
is just wonderfully chaotic. It was a deeply
fractured electorate, without a doubt. When you
look at the margins, it doesn't look anything
like a modern political mandate. Not at all.
The winner of that first ever direct Senate election
was Democrat Charles S. Thomas. But he took the
seat with just over 40 percent of the vote. 40
.3, zero percent, to be exact. Right. He barely
edged out the Republican candidate Hubert Work,
who came in at nearly 39 percent. So the winner
is taking the prize with barely four in 10 voters
actually casting a ballot for him. What's fascinating
here is why those winning percentages were hovering
so low. If you analyze the broader field in that
1914 race, you immediately see the massive influence
of third -party candidates. This wasn't a simple
binary choice. Benjamin Griffith, running for
the Progressive Party, grabbed nearly 11 % of
the vote, 10 .69%. And then you had J .C. Griffith.
Right, running for the Socialist Party. And he
took... Roughly five and a half percent. I have
to admit, I kind of love the fact that you have
a Griffith and a Griffiths running for two completely
different third parties on the exact same ballot.
It's a great historical quirk. But think about
what those percentages represent in terms of
voter sentiment. You have an electorate deeply
divided across four distinct political ideologies.
Over 16 percent of the state. walked into a voting
booth and chose either a progressive or a socialist
candidate for the U .S. Senate. It's a phenomenal
data point. It stands in stark contrast to the
rigid two -party structures we usually analyze
today. This 1914 snapshot shows us a voting public
that was willing to explore wildly different
visions for the country's trajectory right at
the onset of direct democracy for the Senate.
They were really testing the waters. They were.
It was an era of intense ideological experimentation.
And the voters clearly weren't afraid to split
their tickets. And that third party insurgent
energy, it didn't just fade away after one election
cycle. Jump forward 10 years to the 1924 class
two election and we see it happen again. The
Farmer Labor Party. Yes. A candidate named Morton
Alexander ran under the Farmer Labor Party banner.
He didn't just pick up a few protest votes. He
pulled in over 5 percent of the total electorate.
That is a massive chunk to carve out of a race
where the Republican incumbent Lawrence C. Phipps
only secured about 50 percent of the vote. Those
early decades really emphasized the fluidity
of party loyalty at the time. Voters were highly
pragmatic. If they felt their specific agricultural
and labor interests weren't being championed
by the traditional two parties. They just went
somewhere else. Exactly. They were perfectly
willing to leverage their votes elsewhere. It
kept the major parties from taking any demographic
for granted. Here's where it gets really interesting,
though, because as we move deeper into the data,
we start to see these incredible pendulum swings
between absolute undeniable blowouts and races
that are so tight you can hardly breathe. Let's
look at the extremes, starting with the ultimate
landslide. The 1948 class two election is the
prime example of that extreme. It is a staggering
result. In 1948, Democrat Edwin C. Johnson completely
dominated the field. He took nearly 67 percent
of the vote. 66 .79 percent. Right. And the Republican
challenger, Will Nicholson, only managed about
32 percent. Johnson essentially doubled his opponent's
vote total. When you pull nearly 67 percent in
a statewide Senate race, you are looking at a
politician who has built a coalition so broad
that it essentially neutralizes the opposition.
But the data also reveals the complete opposite
end of the spectrum. For every massive blowout,
there is an incredibly tight nail biter. And
the tightest of them all on this list is the
1932 special election for the class three seat.
This is the one that really stood out to me.
The margins are almost nonexistent. It is the
absolute definition of a razor's edge. You have
Republican Carl C. Shiler facing off against
Democrat Walter Walker. When the dust settles,
Scaler receives 207 ,540 votes. Walker receives
206 ,475 votes. So we are talking about a difference
of barely over a thousand votes across the entire
state. Exactly. Look at the percentages. Schuyler
won with roughly 48 .7 percent. Walker lost with
roughly 48 .5 percent. It is a difference of
a quarter of a percent. A microscopic fraction
decided who went to Washington to represent the
state. Imagine being on the campaign team for
either of those candidates. Every single neighborhood
you canvassed, every single door you knocked
on, every voter you convinced to show up, it
all literally mattered. Every single one. And
the data shows this wasn't just a one -off historical
fluke. Colorado has a clear track record of these
heart -stotting finishes. Take the 1942 Class
II race. Edwin C. Johnson, the same guy who goes
on to win that massive 67 % landslide six years
later, had the absolute fight of his life in
42. He won by just over one point against his
Republican challenger, Carr. Which perfectly
illustrates how quickly a political mandate can
shift in a competitive state. You can win by
a single point in one cycle and then double your
opponent's total in the next. And then you have
the upset of the 1972 class two race. You have
a Republican incumbent, Gordon Allott, who had
held the seat comfortably since 1954. He had
won three previous elections without breaking
a sweat. He was a fixture in the Senate. Absolutely.
But in 72, Democrat Floyd Haskell unseats him
by the narrowest of margins, roughly 49 .4 percent
to 48 .3 percent. Just about a one point difference
ends a nearly two decade Senate career. The analytical
takeaway from these specific squeakers is profoundly
important for understanding the state's political
DNA. These razor thin margins serve as a historical
ledger, reminding us of just how intensely competitive
the environment has been over the last century.
When an electorate repeatedly produces results
decided by a percent or less, it creates a very
specific kind of political pressure cooker. Politicians
are kept constantly on their toes. There is zero
room for complacency when a shift of a few thousand
votes can send you packing. Which perfectly sets
up what is arguably the most surprising plot
twist in this entire data set. I was scrolling
through the chronologies, looking at the shifting
margins, and I literally had to stop and reread
the rows to make sure I wasn't misunderstanding
the table. We really need to talk about Ben Nighthorse
Campbell on the class three seat in the 1990s.
It is a remarkable anomaly. You rarely see this
kind of trajectory in modern electoral data.
It is total political deja vu, but with a complete
uniform change. So here's how the data lays it
out. In 1992, Ben Nighthorse Campbell wins the
class three seat. He wins it as a Democrat, pulling
in a solid mandate of nearly 52 percent against
his Republican opponent. Right. He goes to Washington,
serves his term. Six years pass. It is 1998 and
it's time for Campbell to face the voters again
for that same class three seat. He runs and he
wins again. But this time he wins as a Republican.
This raises an important question about voter
psychology and candidate loyalty. You might assume
a high profile party switch would alienate a
massive portion of his original voting base.
But the numbers here tell a completely different
story. Not only did he win as a Republican, but
look at the margin he achieved. Yes. In 1998,
running as a Republican, Campbell takes over
62 percent of the vote. He absolutely crushed
his Democratic opponent, who only managed about
35 percent. His margin of victory actually expanded
dramatically after switching parties. It is deeply
fascinating. When we analyze this data point,
we have to acknowledge how incredibly rare it
is to see a sitting U .S. senator completely
switch their party affiliation midstream and
not only survive the subsequent election, but
actually win it by a substantially larger margin.
He increased his vote share by 10 points. It
strongly implies that in this specific instance,
a huge swath of the electorate was voting for
the individual Ben Nighthorse Campbell, the person
entirely independent of the party apparatus or
the letter next to his name. It's like your star
player deciding to sign with your biggest rival
in the offseason and the home crowd cheering
for him even louder when he comes back to town.
It completely bucks the conventional wisdom of
partisan loyalty. It really does. And speaking
of bizarre 1990s data quirks, the table gives
us another incredible instance of political deja
vu right around the same time. Let's look at
the class two elections of 1996 and 2002. Ah,
the Allard and Strickland matchups. This is a
brilliant study in demographics. stillness. It
is the exact same matchup for the exact same
seat twice in a row. In 1996, you have a Republican
Wayne Allard facing off against Democrat Tom
Strickland. Allard wins. He takes the seat with
a margin of about five points, roughly 51 percent
to 46 percent. Yes. Six years of history happened.
We cross into a new millennium. And in 2002,
they do it all over again. The sequel, Allard
versus Strickland. And what makes this repeat
matchup so compelling? isn't just that the same
two candidates ran. It is the sheer, unyielding
consistency of the electorate across those two
cycles. As you noted, an entire six -year term
has passed. New issues have emerged. But the
voters delivered nearly the exact same verdict
down to the decimal point. Down to the decimal
point. In 1996, Allard won by roughly five points.
Six years later, the electorate barely budged.
He won again. by the exact same five -point spread.
The percentages practically mirrored each other.
Both candidates saw a tiny fractional drop of
about a third of a percent from their previous
totals. It is almost as if the entire state electorate
was frozen in amber for six years. It is a striking
statistical anomaly. It serves as a testament
to a deeply entrenched electorate during that
specific window of time. Neither side was able
to persuade a meaningful number of voters to
cross the aisle despite having a full Senate
term to try and shift the narrative. The lines
were drawn. And the voters did not budge. OK,
let's pull our lens back and look at the modern
era in this data set from the 2000s to today,
because looking at this recent data, we see two
totally different political personalities emerge
for these two Senate seats. It is almost like
they belong to different states. Let's start
with the class two seat. I call this one the
swing state phenomenon. Over the last couple
of decades, this seat has been an absolute political
pendulum. It has been a highly volatile seat
characterized by rapid recalibration by the voters.
Exactly. Look at the timeline. In 2008, Democrat
Mark Udall wins the seat comfortably with nearly
53 percent of the vote. He looks secure. But
six years later, in 2014, the pendulum swings
back hard. Republican Cory Gardner challenges
Udall and narrowly takes the seat from him, winning
by about two points, 48 .2 percent to 46 .26
percent. So the Republicans have reclaimed the
seat. But the pendulum wasn't finished swinging.
The electorate wasn't settled. Not at all. Fast
forward to 2020. Democrat John Hickenlooper challenges
Gardner and the electorate recalibrates yet again.
Hickenlooper swings the seat back to the Democrats,
defeating Gardner by a solid margin. That one
seat, Class 2, went from Democrat to Republican
right back to Democrat in just three election
cycles. Now contrast that extreme volatility
with the Class 3 seat during roughly the same
time period. While Class 2 has been swinging
wildly back and forth, Class 3 has acted as an
anchor. It has been remarkably steady. The data
shows that this seat has been held by a single
individual. Democrat Michael Bennett through
three consecutive election cycles, 2010, 2016
and 2022. But the data also shows it didn't start
easy for him. He really had to earn that anchor
status. He absolutely did. In his first election
in 2010, Bennett barely survived a very close
race against his Republican challenger, winning
by less than two points, 48 .08 percent to 46
.40 percent. But as we track his trajectory through
the subsequent columns, we see his grip on the
seat solidify. He builds that coalition. Exactly.
He navigates a tough. map in 2016. And by 2022,
he expands his winning margin significantly,
taking nearly 56 % of the vote. He goes from
barely surviving to commanding the field. I really
want you, the listener, to chew on what it implies
to live in an ecosystem with this specific political
dynamic. You are a voter looking at your two
Senate seats. For one seat, the class three seat,
you have deep stability, the same person representing
you building seniority for over a decade. But
for the other seat, the class two seat, you are
living in a constant state of electoral whiplash.
Completely dual experience. It is. The state
swings left, it swings right, it swings back
left. It never lets one party get entirely too
comfortable in that chair. It is endlessly fascinating
to see both the volatile pendulum and the steady
anchor existing in the exact same state voted
on by the exact same people at the exact same
time. It really highlights the sheer complexity
of statewide electorates. They are not monoliths.
We tend to paint states in broad strokes, red,
blue, purple. But the data shows that voters
react distinctly to different candidates, different
national moods, and the specific cadence of overlapping
election cycles. Which is exactly why we wanted
to take on this specific mission today. To wrap
this all up, I hope you can see now why we get
so deeply invested in what looks like a quote
unquote boring list of dates and voting. percentages,
because when you actually read the numbers and
analyze the margins, they tell a truly thrilling
story. They absolutely do. We started back in
1914 with massive third party insurgencies from
progressives and socialists that fractured the
vote. We witnessed absolute landslides where
one candidate doubled the other's vote total
and we saw victories decided by a fraction of
a single percent. We analyzed a sitting senator
who completely flipped his political party and
managed to win his next race by an even wider
margin. And we watched a modern electorate swinging
back and forth, constantly keeping the politicians
guessing. It's incredible. It is over a century
of incredible historical drama, all neatly organized
into a single table. So what does this all mean?
We saw how the 17th Amendment changed Senate
elections from a behind closed doors legislative
decision to a direct popular vote. Looking at
these razor thin margins and the occasional third
party spoiler, it makes you wonder how much of
our political history is decided not just by
who the candidates are, but by the precise rules
of how we are allowed to vote for them. That
is a brilliant point to leave things on. Thank
you so much for joining us on this deep dive.
I hope you found as much insight in this historical
map as we did. Keep looking closely at the data
around you. Keep questioning the numbers and
we will catch you next time.