by Freddie Bell
It was a cold, late afternoon as members of the media gathered for the holiday reception hosted by Governor Tim Walz and his wife, Gwen. The event, delayed about 30 minutes as final preparations were made, felt like stepping into a holiday postcard. A white picket fence adorned with sparkling red and green garlands and wreaths bordered the nearly two-acre East Cliff estate, setting the stage for an evening that was both intimate and grand.
A lone state trooper vehicle sat out front—a subtle reminder of the security necessary for a sitting governor, though it was far less imposing than the heavy Secret Service detail that surrounded the Walz family during the campaign trail. The trooper, stationed at the end of the sidewalk leading to the massive white house, checked us in as we approached. A gas-powered heater cast a warm glow over the entryway, warding off the chill of the late afternoon.
The residence is a massive white house, but certainly not the White House Walz might have envisioned during his days on the campaign trail. When the massive doors finally opened, Governor Walz and Gwen stood waiting just inside, personally welcoming each guest with wide smiles and warm handshakes.
Among the evening’s guests were colleagues and familiar faces from Minnesota’s media landscape. My wife, “Miss Hellfinger,” and I joined in the festivities, taking in the unique blend of holiday cheer and introspection that defined the night.
The reception was hosted in Walz’s temporary residence, the East Cliff house, typically reserved for the president of the University of Minnesota. With the historic Governor’s Mansion on Summit Avenue still undergoing a years-long structural renovation, East Cliff has become home for the Walz family. Its sunroom, where we sat with the governor, features a spectacular view across the river of downtown Minneapolis—not the Potomac or the Washington Monument, but beautiful in its own right. Inside, holiday music floated from a pianist seated at the baby grand piano in a nearby room, where a drawing of the late President John F. Kennedy was displayed.
Walz admitted that the sprawling, 20-room East Cliff home felt more comfortable and lived-in than the mansion. Decorated with at least as many Christmas trees as rooms, the space radiated warmth and charm. Yet, for all its grandeur, Walz remained grounded. Dressed in Air Force Ones, a pullover sweater, and a sport jacket, he moved through the reception with ease. At one point, when a guest accidentally dropped and shattered a dish, Walz himself came down the stairs with a broom, pitching in to clean up—a small but telling gesture of his humility.
While the mood was festive, there was also an unmistakable undercurrent of reflection. This is the same Tim Walz, who earlier this year, was thrust into the national spotlight when Kamala Harris asked him to be her running mate in her bid to become president of the United States. Walz accepted the historic opportunity, embarking on a grueling 100-day campaign that saw him and Harris challenging Donald Trump for the White House.
As Walz and I chatted in the sunroom, the significance of this space became evident. It was here that Walz made the historic call to Justice Natalie Hudson, informing her of his decision to appoint her as Chief Justice of the Minnesota Supreme Court. She assumed the role on October 2, 2023, following the retirement of Chief Justice Lorie Gildea. Justice Hudson, who has served on the Supreme Court since 2015, is the first Black person to lead the state’s highest court.
The room is also where Walz took the call from Vice President Kamala Harris, asking him to join the presidential ticket. That call marked a seismic shift in his life, thrusting his family into the national spotlight and subjecting them to a whirlwind of high-stakes campaigning.
Simple acts, like walking the family dog, became significant security risks during those days. His son, then a high school senior, gained national attention when he was caught on camera mouthing, “That’s my dad,” during the Democratic National Convention. Their lives were transformed, a mix of pride and pressure that few families could fully understand.
As the evening wound down, the glow of the Christmas lights and the warmth of the gathering lingered. Walking back to our car, I caught a glimpse of something familiar. Through the quiet of the night, I saw Governor Walz slip out the back door, no security detail in sight. Just a man who might have been vice president, taking his dog out to do its business.
It was a simple moment, but one that spoke volumes.