Don't Start the Revolution Without Me! - Jesse Ventura [108]
“Well, there’s always 2004,” I said, and then stood up tall for dramatic effect and leaned over Victor’s desk. “Why don’t you run with me? We’d be a dream ticket!”
“That’s an interesting possibility, except . . .”
“What’s that?”
“Who would take the top spot?” Victor went on.
“That would be a problem,” I agreed. “If our two egos were to clash, I don’t think the country could survive it!”
Well, I admitted to the media afterward that I’d had some butterflies beforehand, but calmed down once the taping started—and I didn’t blow any of my lines! When I got back to Minnesota, I threatened to declare the show’s air date, July 10, a state holiday.
When I was out in Hollywood a year or so later, I had dinner with the Young and the Restless producer and Eric Braeden (also known as Victor Newman). Since I had nothing to do the next day until 2:00 p.m., I asked Eric whether he’d mind if I came down and watched. They generally shoot three weeks ahead of the air date, so this way I could get a leg up on what was going to happen.
When I arrived at the studio, they’d written me into the script again. This time I played a security guard and knocked on Victor’s door to tell him I’d be his security for the rest of the day. He said thank you and then, shutting the door, gave a funny look to the camera—“Is that who I thought it was?”—and went on with the scene.
I didn’t get any billing. But, no matter, as a member of the Screen Actors Guild, three weeks later I received a check in the mail.
Life is truly about failures, and how you respond to them. You can’t succeed without also failing. Still, you’d like to fail on your own. When I got censored and taken off the air by MSNBC, despite still being paid handsomely, from a psychological viewpoint it was a nightmare. I think I would have gone into a deep depression—if Harvard hadn’t come along.
It turned out that a student, who was also in the military reserves, had petitioned the Institute of Politics at the John F. Kennedy School of Government, saying that I ought to be teaching there. He said, don’t you think that what Jesse Ventura achieved in getting elected governor has a place at arguably the greatest institution of learning in the world? The Kennedy School’s dean at that time was Dan Glickman, whom Terry had met when he was secretary of agriculture under Clinton. And Glickman went for the idea. Along came a letter asking if I’d like to become a visiting fellow at Harvard. They offered me as little as a week, or as much as the entire semester. I was dumbstruck. I said to Terry, “Do you believe this, honey? I never even went to college!” I mean, Harvard had produced five American presidents and forty-three Nobel Prize winners. And they wanted me?!
I’d started growing a beard when my TV show ended that same month. I’d also started letting whatever hair I had left grow back, which I thought I’d never do. Perfect timing for going back to school, I guess. I thought, Wow, I missed that part of life. Here I am now at fifty-two, and not only would I have a two-hourlong seminar class to teach for eight consecutive weeks, but as a visiting fellow, you can audit any classes you desire. Which means getting a free semester of Harvard education. I was even to be given a stipend, and they’d provide living quarters. Amazing!
Terry and I agreed that I should do the whole semester. So she stayed home, and I went off to college, in January 2004. I parallel this to only a few other times in my life. Becoming a Navy frogman. Driving off from Minneapolis to become a pro wrestler. Getting cast to do Predator with Schwarzenegger. And winning the governorship.
I’d been to Harvard once before, more than four years earlier. After getting elected governor, the Kennedy School had invited me to speak at a “Pizza and Politics” evening. I’d expected Harvard to be a stuffy, arrogant place. But when I got there that day and saw how bright everyone was—what could be better? I loved it.
Even though it was kind