Spanberger is in a position no Virginia governor has been in since 1918. Here’s how.

Abigail Spanberger is unlike any other governor that living Virginians have ever seen.

It’s not because she’s the first woman to serve as our chief executive, although that is a historic status, to be sure.

Instead, Spanberger holds another place in history, which might help people — particularly some Democrats who are frustrated by some of her vetoes — understand her better.

She is the first governor in more than a century who comes into office having never served in Richmond, but has to deal with a majority from her own party that’s already in place in the General Assembly.

There’s a lot of history packed into that sentence, so let’s unpack it.

Ralph Northam had a Democratic majority his last two years in office, but Northam had previously served as lieutenant governor and the state Senate. He had connections and relationships with legislators.

We’ve had governors — both Democrats and Republicans — who came from outside the legislature, sometimes outside politics altogether, but they never had a majority of their own party to work with in both houses.

Glenn Youngkin, a Republican, had a split legislature his first two years, then a fully Democratic one his last two years, so never had a Republican trifecta. Jim Gilmore had a Republican trifecta his final two years, but by virtue of being halfway through his term, and having previously served as attorney general, Gilmore fits my definition of having “served in Richmond.” Linwood Holton was new to elected office but had to deal with a Democratic legislature.

On the Democratic side, Terry McAuliffe and Mark Warner were first-time elected officials but never had a Democratic trifecta to work with. Tim Kaine had done a stint as lieutenant governor so wasn’t new to the state Capitol, but also never had a Democratic trifecta.

As hard as it is for a governor to deal with a legislature controlled by the other party, it’s also hard for a governor to deal with a legislature controlled by the same party. When your side is in the minority, those legislators tend to rally behind “their” governor despite whatever differences they have. When your side is in the majority, well, just remember that legislators always regard governors as temporary custodians who will soon pass from the scene while the legislators will still be there.

Spanberger is the first Democratic governor to come into office with a Democratic legislature since Doug Wilder (1990-1994), but Wilder had long experience in the General Assembly. Charles Robb was considered a newbie to Virginia politics when he was governor (1982-1986), but he’d also been around the legislature for four years, presiding over the state Senate as lieutenant governor.

To find a governor in the precise circumstance as Spanberger — a governor who has no experience in Richmond, but who takes office and has to deal with a legislature run by the same party — we have to go back all the way to … 1918, when Westmoreland Davis took the oath as Virginia’s 48^th governor.

I’m skipping over George Peery, who served from 1934 to 1938. Like Spanberger, he served in Congress before becoming governor, but between Congress and the governorship he spent four years on the State Corporation Commission, Virginia’s so-called “fourth branch of government.” By my reckoning that qualifies as service “in Richmond.” Peery was also aligned with Sen. Harry Byrd Sr., and was considered part of the Byrd Machine, so he wasn’t exactly an outsider. Byrd asked him to run for governor, a sign of how favored Peery was. That’s not how Virginia politics works anymore.

Davis, though, was brand new to the state Capitol, just as Spanberger is. And, like her, he often found himself in conflict with the way his fellow Democrats in the legislature wanted to do things.

The parallels between the two aren’t perfect; history often isn’t. Still, Davis was out of sync politically with the legislature just as Spanberger is, at least on some key issues. (It’s important to note that those disagreements aren’t on concepts, but on details, a point often lost in the haste of political debates.) Davis was distinctly to the left of a conservative Democratic legislature. Spanberger is closer to the center than a lot of Democratic legislators might like.

There are two points to be made here. The more relevant is that Virginia Democrats have never seen a situation where a Democratic governor is at odds with a Democratic legislature because they simply aren’t that old. Wilder was famous for his battles with the General Assembly, but those were almost four decades ago now. And none of us were around when Davis was governor. Democrats are surprised by the frequency with which Spanberger has sought to revise legislation that has come before her, but they should never have expected her to sign every bill on her desk, because that’s out of keeping with history.

The other point is a historical one: Davis is a fascinating figure. They say history is told by the winners (except in the case of the Civil War in the South, of course). Davis gets short shrift because he was, ultimately, a political loser.

Westmoreland Delaware Davis (“Morley” to his friends) was such an outsider to Virginia politics that he wasn’t even born in the United States. In fact, we’re not exactly sure where he was born. His parents were wealthy and “summered” every year in Europe. Historians believe that Davis was most likely born in Paris, but when he started having an interest in politics, Davis thought it more convenient to say that he was born on a ship in the Atlantic rather than on foreign soil.

Davis’ father ran five plantations in Mississippi. In quick succession, he lost his life to yellow fever and the family lost its fortune during the Civil War. Davis and his widowed mother wound up in Richmond, living with an uncle. He got the classic Virginia education for an upper-class male of his day: Virginia Military Institute, followed by the University of Virginia Law School. Then he left Virginia to become a corporate lawyer in New York, where he did quite well for himself. “Davis joined exclusive clubs and became a well-known member of the foxhunting set,” Encyclopedia Virginia says. He married a “New York socialite” whose family owned a brokerage firm. Their nuptials were in London. Davis’ connections to Virginia were slight.

Davis was just 45 when he decided he’d made so much money he could retire. He bought a 1,200-acre estate in Loudoun County and set himself up as what Encyclopedia Virginia calls “a gentleman planter and prominent member of the riding and foxhunting society of Virginia.” And that is where his story takes an unusual turn.

Not content to spend his days riding horses, Davis developed a passionate interest in the science of agriculture. He helped found the Virginia State Dairyman’s Association. He became president of a farmers’ group and used it to lobby the General Assembly to provide more funding for Virginia Tech. Most importantly, though, he bought the Southern Planter magazine and turned it into a platform for his views in favor of “progressive farming.” That was the early 20^th century equivalent of owning a cable news network. Davis became famous among Virginia farmers.

That proved politically advantageous in 1917. The state’s conservative Democratic establishment was split between two rival candidates for governor — this was before the days of the Byrd Machine, when Byrd would simply designate a candidate and the party would dutifully follow along. Lt. Gov. Taylor Ellyson and Attorney General John Garland Pollard both wanted the Democratic nomination for governor, which, in those days, was all that mattered. That set up the classic dynamics: two insiders battling it out while the outsider, Davis, won the primary.

Historian Virginius Dabney provides a bit more color on that election. The dominant issue was prohibition. Ellyson and Pollard were both running as “drys” — meaning, pro-prohibition. That was a natural for Pollard, a “complete abstainer,” but Dabney notes that Ellyson “had never been suspected of being a teetotaller.” Taking a position because it’s politically convenient is hardly a new phenomenon. In any case, that left all the “wets” to Davis.

Encyclopedia Virginia says key Democrats developed an “intense dislike” of Davis because they “resented his swift rise to party leadership,” which rested primarily on his celebrity status with Southern Planter. It probably did not help that Davis was “combative by nature and self-righteous.”

Davis was regarded as a businesslike governor but party leaders still didn’t like him. (Among his initiatives: He eliminated striped uniforms for prisoners and he personally negotiated an end to a coal miners’ strike in Southwest Virginia.) He tried to set up a rival, more progressive, political organization within the Democratic Party but it didn’t last. Davis’ term was an aberration; after him, the conservative establishment again took charge.

Davis spent the rest of his life challenging that establishment. He especially despised Byrd, who eventually took over the party. Davis became an ardent New Dealer while other Virginia Democrats were not. He formed a group that regularly issued reports accusing the state government of mismanagement; you can imagine how well-received those were by those who ran the state government. “He departed so far from the political orthodoxy of the party late in the decade that he had the Southern Planter begin campaigning for elimination of the poll tax because it kept many poor white men from voting for reformers and against the Byrd Organization,” Encyclopedia Virginia says.

He continued to publish Southern Planter until his death. In 1938, he put himself on the cover, in foxhunting regalia. Davis was a man ahead of his time — a wealthy man who used his celebrity to advance himself politically. He also was an outsider who saw things differently than fellow Democrats in the legislature.

Virginia would not see another governor from outside the Richmond political orbit who had to deal with a legislature run by the same party until Abigail Spanberger sat down at her desk for the first time in January.