About a decade ago, then-U.S. Rep. Tim Walz showed up for an interview at a Minnesota newspaper touting the benefits of physical fitness.
He’d lost more than 80 pounds while in Congress, transforming his body in ways that made his life in Washington seem like a midlife fitness retreat. It was a whole new look for a politician whose greatest skill may be adaptability.
Ten years and two successful gubernatorial campaigns later, Democrats are embracing Walz as if he were a character in one of those don’t-become-your-parents insurance commercials. “Tim Walz is going to teach America how to save big money at Menards,” an X poster joked last week.
Funny, for sure, but not the whole story. Sometimes in politics, the search for the extraordinary candidate dead-ends with the unremarkable. In this case, a seemingly ordinary man from the Midwest who should not be underestimated might actually be the perfect choice.
The unlikely ascension of the running mate Vice President Kamala Harris now calls “Coach Walz” is a study in effective strategic positioning. Like Minnesota native Bob Dylan, Walz doesn’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.
In 2006, he won a rural, previously red congressional district on his first try by sensing that a teacher, football coach and National Guard veteran with Nebraska farm roots might just appeal to southern Minnesota voters in a rough election cycle for Republicans.
My former newspaper’s editorial board said in endorsing Walz that he “radiates energy, optimism and critical thinking — qualities that Washington could use right now.”
He went to work for veterans, farmers and consumers — not making headlines beyond Minnesota but solidifying his support at home. He ran for governor in 2018, using the slogan “One Minnesota” while touting his bipartisan efforts in Congress.
It sounded good, but Walz would have needed wizardry to close the widening gulf between the right and left in the state as Donald Trump took control of the GOP and many Democrats responded by shunning moderate messengers in their ranks.
So Walz changed, too. Look no further than his transformation on gun rights issues. A hunter who had previously carried an A rating from the National Rifle Association, Walz donated his NRA contributions after the 2017 Las Vegas mass shooting and, following the 2018 massacre in Parkland, Florida, wrote an opinion piece calling for gun control reforms.
He managed to survive the Democratic gubernatorial primary and used the “One Minnesota” message to defeat an uninspiring GOP candidate. But the big conversion was still to come.
After winning a second term in 2022, Walz seized the rare opportunity presented by slim one-party control of the state to pass legislation that Republicans are now using to define him as a radical liberal.
But for many Americans, things such as child tax credits, free food for school kids, reproductive rights protections, help with medical debt and, yes, stiffer penalties for straw gun buyers aren’t going to sound all that “radical.”
It’s accurate to say Walz was too slow to respond to the George Floyd riots and that some of the departments under his control as governor have been vulnerable to fraud. And despite its high taxes and inexorably growing spending, Minnesota is home to some of the nation’s most disturbing gaps in income and educational achievement between white residents and people of color.
Yet Walz will be difficult to label in fewer than 100 days on the national stage because he’s worn a lot of ball caps during his remarkable political career. He’s also likable, witty and comfortable discussing topics ranging from foreign affairs to Bruce Springsteen.
If you’re in the mood to chat, Walz is the kind of guy you’d like to be stuck sitting next to on a crowded flight. He’d want to hear your life story, and he’d help the elderly passengers across the aisle with their overhead luggage.
Scott Gillespie retired from the Star Tribune in Minneapolis in May after 32 years in news and opinion.
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