Louisiana politics is a contact sport. Honestly, if you aren't ready to get a little mud on your boots, you probably shouldn't be looking into the history of the folks who have run the show in Baton Rouge. We're talking about a state that doesn't just elect leaders; it creates legends, villains, and sometimes, federal inmates. It's wild. When people talk about past governors of Louisiana, they usually start and end with Huey Long. But that’s a mistake. While the "Kingfish" looms large over the skyline—literally, he built the skyscraper capitol—the men and women who followed him carved out a legacy that is just as messy and fascinating.
You’ve got to understand the "Longism" versus "Anti-Longism" dynamic that defined the state for decades. It wasn't about Republican or Democrat. Not really. It was about whether you wanted a populist machine that built roads and gave out free textbooks or a "good government" reformer who promised to clean up the corruption. Most of the time, voters just swapped back and forth between the two depending on how tired they were of the latest scandal.
The Huey Long Shadow and the Rise of the Populists
Huey P. Long is the sun that the rest of Louisiana's political history orbits around. He wasn't just a governor; he was a force of nature. Elected in 1928, he basically dragged Louisiana out of the 19th century by its collar. Before Huey, the state’s roads were a joke. Most of them were dirt or gravel. He paved them. He built bridges. He gave children free textbooks because, at the time, if you couldn't afford a book, you didn't learn to read. Simple as that.
But there was a price. Huey was a dictator in all but name. He fired anyone who didn't swear loyalty. He had a private police force. When people look back at past governors of Louisiana, they see a man who was eventually assassinated in the very hallways of the capitol he built. His death in 1935 didn't end the Long dynasty, though. It just started the next chapter. His brother, Earl Long, took the mantle. Earl was... different.
Earl "Uncle Earl" Long was arguably more effective than Huey but way more chaotic. You might have seen the movie Blaze? That’s about him. He had a very public relationship with a stripper named Blaze Starr, and he once got committed to a mental asylum while he was still the sitting governor. He just fired the people in charge of the asylum and let himself out. You can't make this stuff up. He understood the rural voter better than anyone. He’d go out to the piney woods, sweat through his suit, and tell the farmers that the "city slickers" in New Orleans were trying to take their pensions. It worked. Every time.
The Reformers Who Tried (And Sometimes Failed) to Clean It Up
Whenever the Longs got too crazy, the state would pivot. Enter Sam Jones and Jimmie Davis.
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Sam Jones was the "clean" guy. He established the civil service system so that a governor couldn't just fire every state employee and hire his cousins the day after the election. It was a massive shift. Then there was Jimmie Davis. Most people know him for writing "You Are My Sunshine." He was a country singer who became governor. Twice. People liked him because he wasn't Huey Long, but critics said he spent too much time in California making movies and not enough time running the state. It's a recurring theme here: the "Good Government" guys often lacked the fire that the populists used to actually get things done.
Edwin Edwards: The "Silver Fox" of the Bayou
If Huey Long was the architect of modern Louisiana, Edwin Edwards was its ultimate performer. You cannot talk about past governors of Louisiana without spending a significant amount of time on E.W.E. He served four terms. Four. He was the first Roman Catholic governor in the 20th century, which was a huge deal back then because the northern part of the state was (and is) staunchly Protestant.
Edwards was charming. He was fast with a quip. He famously once said the only way he could lose an election was if he were caught in bed with "a dead girl or a live boy."
- The 1991 Election: This was the "Election from Hell." It was Edwards versus David Duke, a former KKK Grand Wizard.
- The Slogan: "Vote for the Crook. It's Important." That was a real bumper sticker.
- The Result: People who hated Edwards' corruption voted for him anyway because the alternative was unthinkable.
Edwin eventually went to federal prison for racketeering. He didn't let it dampen his spirits, though. He came out, got married to a woman much younger than him, had a baby, and even ran for Congress. He was the last of the old-school Louisiana "Great Men." When he died, it felt like the end of an era of flamboyant, larger-than-life leadership.
Changing Tides: Treen, Roemer, and the GOP
For over a century, the Republican party didn't exist in Louisiana. Then came Dave Treen in 1980. He was the first Republican governor since Reconstruction. It was a shock to the system. Treen was a serious, intellectual guy, but he struggled with the rough-and-tumble legislature.
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Then came Buddy Roemer. Buddy was a "Harvard-educated reformer" who won as a Democrat and then switched to the Republican party while in office. It was a bold move that basically backfired and cost him his re-election. But Roemer changed the game by trying to tackle the "oil and gas" influence in the state. Louisiana has always had a complicated relationship with Big Oil. The industry pays the bills, but it also wields a massive amount of power over the governor's office.
Kathleen Blanco and the Katrina Era
Kathleen Blanco was the first woman to hold the office. Her legacy is, unfortunately, forever tied to Hurricane Katrina. It’s a tragic story of a leader who was arguably overwhelmed by a disaster of biblical proportions. The finger-pointing between her office and the Bush administration's FEMA became a national spectacle.
She was a schoolteacher by trade, a grandmotherly figure who genuinely cared about the state, but the political fallout from the storm was too much to overcome. She decided not to run for a second term. It’s a stark reminder that being the governor of Louisiana isn't just about passing bills; it's about crisis management in a state that is physically disappearing into the Gulf of Mexico.
Bobby Jindal and the Modern Era
Bobby Jindal was supposed to be the future of the Republican party. He was young, brilliant, and the son of Indian immigrants. He took over after the Katrina mess and promised to privatize state services and "clean up" Louisiana's image. He did a lot of that, but by the end of his two terms, his approval ratings were in the tank.
The problem? The budget. Jindal refused to raise taxes—at all. To keep the lights on, the state started using "one-time money" to fund recurring expenses. It was like paying your mortgage by selling your furniture. Eventually, you run out of chairs. By the time John Bel Edwards (no relation to Edwin) took over, the state was facing a billion-dollar deficit.
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John Bel Edwards: The Anomaly
John Bel Edwards was a West Point grad, a pro-life, pro-gun Democrat. In any other state, he’d be a Republican. In Louisiana, he was the guy who had to fix the budget. He managed to win two terms in a deep-red state, mostly because he focused on "kitchen table" issues like Medicaid expansion. He was a steady hand after the rollercoaster years of Jindal.
The history of past governors of Louisiana shows that the state eventually tires of ideology. They just want someone who can make the roads work and keep the hospitals open. Usually.
What We Can Learn From the Bayou State's Leaders
Looking back at this roster of characters, a few things become clear. First, the "populist" vs. "reformer" cycle is real. If you study these leaders, you see a pattern of excess followed by austerity, then more excess. It’s a pendulum.
Second, the power of the governor in Louisiana is unique. Because of the Napoleonic Code (Louisiana's weird legal system), the governor has more "appointive power" than almost any other governor in the U.S. They can put their people on boards that control everything from wildlife to the New Orleans Saints' stadium.
Actionable Insights for the Politically Curious:
- Visit the Old State Capitol: If you’re in Baton Rouge, go to the "Castle on the River." It’s where the impeachment of Huey Long started. You can still see the bullet holes in the new capitol, but the old one has the soul of the state's 19th-century history.
- Read "All the King's Men": It’s fiction, but it’s based on Huey Long. It’s the best way to understand the "vibe" of Louisiana power.
- Check the "LSU Public Policy Poll": If you want to see how current leaders compare to the past, this is the gold standard for data on what Louisianans actually think about their governors.
- Watch "The Kingfish" Documentary: Ken Burns did one early in his career. It’s haunting and accurate.
The story of Louisiana's governors isn't over. As the state faces sea-level rise and an evolving energy economy, the next person to sit in that mansion will have to be part Huey Long, part Sam Jones, and probably a little bit of Edwin Edwards just to survive the ride. It’s never boring. It’s rarely clean. But it is always, undeniably, Louisiana.