Former U.S. Senator Alan K. Simpson, a prominent figure in Wyoming and national politics, died on March 14, 2025, at the age of 93.  His death was announced by his family and the Buffalo Bill Center of the West, where Simpson had served on the board for more than five decades — including a long tenure as chairman. According to the announcement, Simpson had been struggling to recover from a broken hip sustained in December; complications related to prior frostbite and the consequent amputation of his lower left leg also contributed to his declining health. His passing prompted reflections on what many regard as a remarkable political life — one defined by blunt honesty, bipartisan cooperation, and a unique blend of humor and gravitas.

Simpson’s political career began in the Wyoming House of Representatives (1965–1977) and culminated in three terms as U.S. Senator from Wyoming (1979–1997). He rose to national prominence as a Senate leader and served as both Minority and Majority Whip during his tenure. Despite being a Republican during a time of rising conservative influence under President Ronald Reagan, Simpson was frequently described as a “maverick” — a moderate by today’s standards. He was known for his willingness to break with party orthodoxy on certain issues, even if that occasionally annoyed hard‑liners within his own party. Standing 6-foot-7, he was for many years the tallest senator in U.S. history — a physical stature that matched his outsized personality.

Yet Simpson’s legacy was never simply about titles or physical presence. What set him apart was his reputation for candor, wit, and generosity — both personal and political. His brother, Pete Simpson, paid tribute by calling him “an uncommonly generous man … giving of his time, giving of his energy — and he did it in politics and he did it in the family, forever.” Colleagues and constituents remembered him not only for his public service but for his ability to connect — often through humor — even across ideological divides. One of his oft‑quoted quips was: “We have two political parties in this country, the Stupid Party and the Evil Party. I belong to the Stupid Party.”  That joke, emblematic of his self‑deprecating style, underscored a political worldview that shunned pomposity, embraced realism, and insisted on transparency.

After leaving the Senate in 1997 — a decision he made partly because he grew weary of increasing partisan rancor — Simpson did not retreat from civic life. He remained active on many fronts: teaching public‑policy and media courses at the University of Wyoming and at Harvard University, advocating for fiscal responsibility and deficit reduction, and supporting causes ranging from campaign‑finance reform to immigration policy and veterans’ welfare.  His commitment to public service earned him one of the nation’s highest civilian honors — the Presidential Medal of Freedom — which he received in 2022.

The reaction to Simpson’s death has been heartfelt and widespread, especially across Wyoming. State and national figures expressed sorrow and admiration for a politician whose career spanned decades, yet remained grounded in human values. The state’s governor ordered both U.S. and Wyoming flags lowered to half-staff in his honor.  In the U.S. Senate, members passed a resolution commemorating his life and service. Friends, family members, and political peers highlighted two consistent traits: fierce dedication to his constituents — particularly Wyoming’s rural and energy communities — and an unflinching readiness to tackle hard problems with straightforward talk rather than political theater.

As Wyoming and the nation reflect on his passing, Alan Simpson’s legacy endures as a reminder that politics need not always be defined by rigid ideology or combative posturing. Instead, his career suggests another model — one rooted in principle, personal integrity, and the capacity to listen, joke, compromise, and lead. His voice — often blunt, sometimes humorous, always honest — represented a brand of public service many argue is increasingly rare. As colleagues said at the time of his death: we lost one of the last “gentle giants” of American politics.