Ben Nighthorse Campbell, a trailblazing figure in Colorado politics and a proud member of the Northern Cheyenne tribe, has left us at the age of 92, as the New York Post reports.
His passing on Tuesday, due to natural causes and surrounded by family, marks the end of a remarkable career that spanned decades in the U.S. House and Senate, defined by a fierce advocacy for Native American causes and a bold party switch that shook the political establishment.
Born in 1933 in Auburn, California, Campbell’s early life was shaped by hardship, including time in an orphanage due to family struggles, which later fueled his passion for children’s rights.
After serving in the Air Force during the Korean conflict and earning a degree from San Jose State University, Campbell’s path took him to the 1964 Olympics as captain of the U.S. judo team, where he clinched a gold medal at the Pan American Games.
His entry into politics was almost accidental. He was surrounded by bad weather in Durango, Colorado, in 1982, he spoke at a local Democratic meeting and was convinced to run for a legislative seat, defeating his GOP opponent and never losing an election thereafter.
As he once quipped, “I don’t think anybody gave me any kind of a chance … I just think I expended a whole lot of energy to prove them wrong."
Campbell’s political ascent saw him serve three terms in the U.S. House starting in 1987, followed by two Senate terms from 1993 to 2005, but it was his 1995 switch from Democrat to Republican that turned heads.
Citing frustration over the Democrats’ rejection of a balanced-budget amendment, he joined the GOP. It's a move that infuriated his former party but signaled his commitment to fiscal conservatism over partisan loyalty.
While progressives might decry such a shift as betrayal, it’s hard to ignore that Campbell stayed true to his core values. His supporting labor and minority issues even as a Republican—showing that principle can outweigh party lines.
As the only Native American in the Senate during his tenure, Campbell’s heritage drove his work, including sponsoring legislation to elevate Great Sand Dunes National Monument—where his ancestors were tragically massacred in 1864—to national park status.
He also championed water rights projects for the Southern Ute and Ute Mountain Ute tribes near Ignacio, Colorado, ensuring their voices weren’t drowned out by bureaucratic red tape.
His maverick style, complete with cowboy boots, bolo ties, and a ponytail, matched his independent streak, often clashing with environmentalists on mining and land-use policies while advocating for law enforcement from his days as a Sacramento County sheriff’s deputy.
In 2004, after a health scare he initially mistook for a heart attack, Campbell opted out of a third Senate run, reflecting, “I thought it was a heart attack … I decided then, ‘Do I really need to do this six more years after I’ve been gone so much from home?’”
Post-retirement, he turned to crafting Native American jewelry displayed at the Smithsonian, advised on federal policy through his consultancy. He even drove the Capitol Christmas Tree cross-country, proving his energy never waned.
Campbell’s legacy isn’t just in legislation but in showing that one can defy the cultural orthodoxy of party loyalty or conventional style, carving a path of authenticity in a world often obsessed with conformity— a lesson for today’s political theater.
