Andrew Johnson reflects on lows, highs of decade on Minneapolis City Council

Before he left City Council chambers inside Minneapolis City Hall on Tuesday, Andrew Johnson slid his nameplate out of the placard holder on the rostrum where he had sat for nearly a decade, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Well, I'm not a council member any more," he noted as he left the chamber.

Minutes earlier, Aurin Chowdhury, who won this month's election for Ward 12 representing the southeast portions of the city, had taken the oath of office to succeed Johnson.

It was a premature transition of power that Johnson chose. The former systems analyst for Target Corp. announced more than a year ago that he wouldn't seek re-election. In September he said he planned to step down early to focus on his new career, working for a a renewable energy investment firm.

Throwing a slight wrench in the works shouldn't surprise those who have followed the tenure of Johnson, whose 6-foot-5 stature makes him hard to miss in any setting. His successful 2013 campaign — his first for elected office — gained attention for taking pot shots at arcane city codes, such as one that regulated the typeface for labeling a loaf of bread, which was required to weigh "one pound avoirdupois." (Two years later, the council repealed that and other antiquated requirements.)

By last year, Johnson had secured a role as key swing vote on some issues, occasionally even changing his position over the course of a meeting — as he said he did in his final vote last week, when he voted against a package of incentives intended to recruit and retain police officers. It's a trait that has drawn both respect and frustration, as he has refused to plant a flag in either of the two main camps on the council.

When he was elected, he was 29 — the youngest member and first millennial to serve on the council. The next council will have seven members his current age or younger, and he's become seasoned enough for some current and former colleagues, such as his former council aide — and now member of Congress — U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar, to call him a "mentor."

"As his campaign manager and later policy aide, I learned how to assess a policy problem from every angle, seek counsel from your constituents and make a decision on your values and the values of the people you represent, not what the status quo wants," Omar said in a statement to the Star Tribune. "No problem was too small or too large for Andrew — from concerns about snow plows and trash collection, to how to address the climate crisis. He affected my life for the better and I know he did the same for the lives of countless constituents."

Johnson didn't pause when asked about his proudest accomplishments on the council.

"There's no question, it's these three," he said. They are:

Paid sick leave: Johnson was a lead sponsor of what became the first local ordinance requiring paid sick leave in Minnesota. It covered some 100,000 workers and their families and proved especially important during the coronavirus pandemic. "We might have actually saved lives," he said.

Small-business help: In same spirit with which he eliminated outmoded city codes, Johnson helped create a team that sought to help small business and entrepreneurs navigate the city's notorious red tape. It eventually led to a web portal.

911 changes: Johnson led an effort credited with changing how the city responds to emergency calls, such as allowing more civilian workers to respond, and other changes that would become significant in the outcry for reform after George Floyd's murder. "That directly led to the first behavioral crisis response team," he said.

Johnson's professional background might appear to have little to do with city government, but he saw it as integral to his approach.

"I thought, 'Hey I could really bring this systems engineer perspective to city government,'" he said. "It's how you look at an issue, use data and try to solve the issue. Taking a dispassionate approach. The hard part for a lot of folks is not jumping to the solution but actually studying the issue and figuring out what can help."

Prime example: More than five years ago, Johnson was the original council member to push for the city to look into taking over sidewalk snow shoveling.

"I was very much open to it because I thought there's a bunch of cities doing it," he said. "But once we understood it, I realized it didn't make any sense."

"It's funny to see how it's come back around," he adds, noting that some progressives on the council now are pushing for the idea.

Johnson's tenure was indelibly marked by Floyd's murder and the unrest that followed. Like other council members, he was threatened with violence — a danger more heightened because he now had a wife and a child.

"The worst parts? The threats that we received. That's almost become normal now. That's awful. The acute moment was the murder of George Floyd and the unrest. That was the first time I worked more than 120 hours in a single week. That moment was just soul-crushing and heart-wrenching and infuriating. It's still a trauma that we all hold."

He says his primary frustration is the polarization — between left and further-left — that has often characterized the council on issues ranging from rent control to protecting rideshare drivers.

"There were opportunities for compromise and to pass legislation, but people didn't take them," he said. "I definitely think both sides are responsible for not working as collaboratively and coming together in the ways that they could."

But Johnson emphasized that broad policy issues are only part of the job, which he was drawn to after discovering the impact he could have on small day-to-day issues while serving on the Longfellow Community Council.

He related the story of a constituent with a loose manhole cover on the street in front of their house, which would cause their house to rattle every time a truck passed. They called Johnson, he got it fixed, and the resident reported getting their first good night of sleep in years.

"Every day you get up and are able to help people in their everyday lives, and that's really meaningful work," Johnson said.