When Norm ran for Congress and won, Alan Simpson wasn’t far behind. The friendship formed inside the barbed wire of Heart Mountain, Wyoming, picked up where it left off. When Alan and Norm met again, they immediately started laughing, greeting each other with the hugs and kisses that come from the hearts of only the truest of friends. They couldn’t have been more opposite: Alan was cowboy stock: large, pale, and steely. Norm was the son of an immigrant, with a thick shock of black hair. He barely came to Alan’s shoulder. When you watch interviews of them together, they either spend all their
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