Towering Wyoming statesman Alan Simpson dies at 93

Yahoo

14-03-2025

Alan Simpson holds his Presidential Medal of Honor in his Cody home, August 2023. (Katie Klingsporn/WyoFile)
Alan Simpson, the towering second son of one of Wyoming's most prominent political families known for his across-the-aisle work as a Republican U.S. Senator, spunky humor and larger-than-life personality, died Friday in hospice care in Cody, a family spokesperson confirmed. Simpson was 93.
The nationally recognized figure had roots in Cody, where he grew up, got his start in politics, raised a family and lived much of his life with his wife, Ann. Together they were major supporters of Wyoming institutions such as the University of Wyoming and Buffalo Bill Center of the West. Simpson never missed an opportunity to praise his wife of 70 years.
Simpson was at turns athlete, hooligan, lawyer, father and husband, though he is best known as a storied politician who served three terms as a U.S. Senator, including as the Republican whip from 1985 to 1995. In D.C., he proved himself a canny legislator who wasn't afraid to take potshots at sacred cows like immigration policy and Social Security. Simpson laced his language with curse words, but usually with a twinkle in his eye.
His attitude was shaped in large part by his mother's adage, which he repeated often: 'Humor is the universal solvent against the abrasive elements of life.'
He gained a reputation for non-partisan cooperation and was famously friends with left-leaning individuals such as Democratic Sen. Ted Kennedy and Rep. Mo Udall. Though a staunch and lifelong Republican, he held a unique set of ideals. He was pro-choice but strident about limiting government spending.
He seemed to have a folksy bon mot for every situation and though he garnered positive press attention for his shenanigans, he also battled with reporters and got into trouble. Through it all, he had an endless fascination for the job of legislating.
At 6 foot, 7 inches tall, he was a towering figure — both physically and metaphorically.
He and Ann had an enormous network of friends that included everyone from bosom buddies George and Barbara Bush to Sandra Day and John Jay O'Connor. He toiled with indefatigable energy to represent Wyoming, won a Presidential Medal of Freedom and was known to answer every correspondence that came to him. And on a personal level, Simpson was an invaluable companion, his older brother Pete Simpson said.
'He was an uncommonly generous man,' Pete Simpson said. 'And I mean generous in an absolutely unconditional way. Giving of his time, giving of his energy — and he did it in politics and he did it in the family, forever.'
Simpson is survived by his wife Ann; brother Peter (Lynne); children William Simpson, Colin Simpson and Susan Simpson; grandchildren and many friends. He had been struggling with his health since breaking a hip in December, but spent his final days with family, according to a family spokesperson.
Wyoming, politics and law are enmeshed in the Simpson family roots, and colorful characters populate the family tree. Simpson's maternal great-grandfather, the frontiersman Finn Burnett, came to the Wyoming Territory with a trading outfit and later worked as an agricultural manager on the Wind River Indian Reservation. Finn's daughter, Maggie Burnett, taught Latin at St. Stephens Indian School on the reservation.
There, she met Simpson's grandfather, Billy, a free spirit who was called 'Broken Ass Bill' because of his limp (he suffered from polio as a child). Shortly after passing the Wyoming bar, he and Maggie married. Billy proved a handful; he was a drinker and gambler who shot the ear off a banker after the man allegedly bounced his check on purpose.
Maggie and Billy had three children, including Simpson's father, Milward, who was a lawyer and politician. Milward went on to serve as a U.S. Senator and Wyoming governor. Simpson would say he inherited his 'lyrical profanity' from his dad, along with his political courage.
Milward married Lorna Kooi, who grew up in the coal-mining town bearing her last name. Lorna's father was immensely successful in the energy trade, affording the family the opportunity for extensive international travel, a rare luxury. He also served in the Wyoming Senate.
Though Cody residents, Milward and Lorna Kooi Simpson gave birth to Alan Kooi Simpson on Sept. 2, 1931 in Denver, a precaution because his older brother, Pete, was such a large baby.
Life in Cody was heavily shaped by World War II, Simpson told WyoFile, as Cody lost many young men to fighting, spurring residents to involve themselves in the war effort. As a boy, Simpson met a young Japanese American boy named Norman Mineta, a fellow boy scout who was one of nearly 14,000 Japanese Americans interned at the Heart Mountain Relocation Center outside of town, when Simpson's troop went to the camp for a jamboree. It would prove to be an auspicious friendship.
Simpson was a hellraiser in his teenage years; he and a gang of friends burned down structures and totaled cars. One of these outings landed him on federal probation for shooting a mailbox. Despite his black marks, he made it to the University of Wyoming in 1950, where he played football. At UW, he ran for student senate and met a girl named Ann Schroll from Greybull.
He and Ann married in 1954 — but not before Simpson found himself in hot water after drunkenly punching a police officer in Laramie. Ann influenced him to cut down on his beer drinking, which was prodigious, and wed him despite his inability to dance. (She later taught him how.)
Simpson joined the U.S. Army after college and served in Germany. After that, he and Ann returned to Wyoming, where he re-enrolled at the University of Wyoming and received a law degree in 1958. Simpson joined the Cody-based law firm owned by his father and Charles G. Kepler; he practiced law in Cody until 1976.
His political career began in 1964 when he was elected to the Wyoming State Legislature as a representative of Park County. Simpson spent 13 years as a representative, serving as majority whip, majority floor leader and speaker pro tempore.
In 1978, Simpson won a U.S. Senate seat. He was re-elected twice, serving for 18 years. His role as whip — combined with powerful positions held by cohorts like Dick Cheney and Malcolm Wallop — represented an unprecedented level of prominence for Wyoming that has since waned. In his leadership role, he often met with President Ronald Reagan and enjoyed a close friendship with George H.W. Bush.
Simpson was a tireless pol who worked late into the night and traveled on a mad-dash schedule as he split time between Washington, D.C., Wyoming and many speaking engagements.
Among notable highlights of his time in federal office:
Crafting the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1985 with Rep. Romano Mazzoli, D-Kentucky, which is considered a model for bipartisan problem solving. Simpson toiled for years on the controversial legislation, which required both tenacity and skilled political maneuvering to pass. After it passed, Simpson joked that it was like 'giving dry birth to a porcupine,' according to 'Shooting from the Lip,' a biography written by Donald Loren Hardy.
Co-sponsoring, with the state's other Republican U.S. Sen. Malcolm Wallop, the Wyoming Wilderness Act of 1984.
Becoming a much-speculated-over vice presidential pick when Bush ran in 1988. (Simpson claimed he did not want the job, which went to Dan Quayle.)
Meeting with foreign leaders including former Soviet Union President Mikhail Gorbachev, then-Prince Charles of Wales and Saddam Hussein.
Though a charismatic jokester, Simpson was a canny political gamesman who honed his skills as a lawyer.
'Just because he was affable did not mean he wasn't also ruthlessly strategic,' said Nadia White, who covered Simpson as a Casper Star-Tribune reporter and editor. 'He knew exactly what he was doing in politics, especially when it came to kind of sustaining the Republican hegemony in Wyoming.'
As a legislator, Simpson understood that things get done through a process of concessions and negotiations, former press secretary Cannon said. While some lawmakers want the entire loaf of bread, or nothing at all, 'Al saw value in half of a loaf,' Cannon said.
He also proved unafraid to skewer sacred cows — he advocated for Social Security limits, fought against the establishment of a Veterans Affairs cabinet position and waded deep into immigration debates.
'It was clearly a time when I think Alan Simpson could carry the water for the nation on a variety of issues that were too hot to touch for lawmakers from other states,' White said.
Simpson would also go to battle with anyone — be it fellow senator or press corps member — but could do so in a way that wasn't personal, White said. 'He had a remarkable ability to leave the fighting words in the chamber.
'What I appreciated about Sen. Simpson was that you could go stand toe to toe with him and really disagree,' White said. 'But he would still answer the phone, he would still engage in the kind of relationship between the press, the people and the politicians.'
His approach to tough discussions, he told WyoFile, was never my-way-or-the-highway.
'You gotta talk to each other,' Simpson said. 'You got to hear each other. You can't just be a rockbound Republican, a rockbound Democrat, you should put aside that and decide that you're an American citizen for Christ's sake.'
That ability to hear the other side was one of Simpson's great assets, Cannon said. 'Al was maybe one of the greatest listeners I've ever known.'
It went beyond listening, said Andrew Melnykovych, who had regular interactions with Simpson as a reporter for the Star-Tribune from 1982-1990. Simpson showed 'a lot of empathy for a whole variety of different people,' he said. 'He was just a decent human being, which is more than you can say about a lot of characters in D.C. these days.'
In the four years Melnykovych led the newspaper's Washington bureau, he and Simpson rarely agreed, he said, and Simpson rowed often and passionately with the newspaper. But the senator, who was frank, candid and accessible, earned the reporter's respect.
'He was one of my favorite politicians I've ever dealt with,' Melnykovych said. 'He was pretty unvarnished in his opinions. If he had something to say, he didn't mind being quoted on it.'
Decades after they kindled a friendship as boy scouts in a pup tent at the internment camp jamboree outside Cody, Simpson and Mineta reunited in Washington, D.C. Mineta, a Democrat, had won a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives.
By that time, Simpson had reflected on what happened in Cody's backyard during World War II.
As a child, he said, the internment camp was a scary place. But he remembered meeting Mineta and his family and realizing they were just normal, American people. He remembered thinking: 'What are they here for?'
He told WyoFile the answer decades later: 'They are here because of a failed government, a government filled with war hysteria and racism.'
In Congress, Simpson and Mineta cooperated as they worked on controversial legislation. The Civil Liberties Act of 1988 served as the federal government's formal apology to those imprisoned during the war, paying them financial reparations.
Mineta died in 2022 at age 90. The story of his friendship with Simpson will live on at the Heart Mountain Interpretive Center; the facility recently constructed a new wing called the Mineta-Simpson Institute — meant to engender hard conversations.
Simpson retired from the Senate in 1997. He kept busy with posts such as directing the Institute of Politics at Harvard University's John F. Kennedy School of Government. He wrote a book, 'Right in the Old Gazoo: A Lifetime of Scrapping with the Press.'
He returned to Cody to continue practicing law, where he sat on the Buffalo Bill Center of the West board, worked to promote the Heart Mountain Institute and enjoyed hobnobbing around town with Ann.
He often spoke on television news programs and lectured at the University of Wyoming. President Barack Obama in 2010 named Simpson co-chairman of a commission to shrink the federal deficit — but the commission's final report failed to gain Congressional support.
In July 2022, Simpson received the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his years of public service and statesmanship from President Joe Biden, who praised Simpson for being 'one of the most decent, stand-up, genuine guys I've ever served with.'
Simpson liked to mention that while a Democratic president bestowed the medal on him, a Republican president gave it to his old friend Mineta.
The sharp tongue that earned Simpson's popularity also landed him in hot water. His aggressive badgering of Anita Hill during the Clarence Thomas hearings is one such instance. He later said he was 'a monster' in those interrogations.
'I've made mistakes, a lot of mistakes,' Simpson told WyoFile. He always strove to own up to those mistakes, he said. 'When I ran for public office … I knew that they'd find out that I was on federal probation for shooting mailboxes. And then I slugged a cop down in Laramie.'
So, he fessed up to the public.
'In my day, (Wyoming) was a place of second chances,' he said. 'Nowadays, you make a mistake, and you're crucified.'
In his later years, he often lamented the erosion of civility and the deepening chasms between parties. Trust had vanished, he said, and political priorities had shifted.
Republicans, Simpson told WyoFile, 'used to believe in less government, the right to be left alone, and the right of privacy.'
As time went on, he said, far-right politicians grew more focused on social issues like abortion and the idea of talking to the other side became more taboo.
'I'm the original RINO,' he said, chuckling.
In Park County, Simpson even got heckled at a county party meeting in 2023 'from three guys in MAGA hats.'
He snapped at them to shut them up, he said. Then after the meeting, he went to talk to the men; one refused to shake his hand.
'I told him: 'I've been in politics for a long time, and I've never had anyone fail to shake my hand,'' said Simpson, who experienced the confrontation at 92, when he'd grown quite skinny. The man, he said, responded ''Well, stick it up your ass.''
''And I said, 'well that'd be difficult to do, because I have no butt,' He paused for effect — as he had done so many times in his life — as his joke landed.
Reporter Katie Klingsporn interviewed Al and Ann Simpson at their home in August of 2023 and in follow-up phone interviews in 2024. This story also relied on 'Shooting from the Lip,' a biography written by Donald Loren Hardy, for details on Simpson's years in D.C.