Don't Start the Revolution Without Me! - Jesse Ventura [31]
When we left an hour later, my companions and I sat looking at each other in the car, and I said: “Now—who saw something different?” None of us could say otherwise. So, if it was a magical trick, I tip my hat because Muhammad does it exceptionally well, having fooled a governor and four state troopers.
And if it wasn’t a trick, then I really believe that Muhammad Ali is “The Greatest.”
CHAPTER 4
Thinking Politics in Bush Country
“I like to tell people, Laura and I are proud to be Texas—own a Texas ranch, and for us, every day is Earth Day.”
—President George W. Bush
Traveling across West Texas on Interstate 20, after you pass by Abilene and Big Spring, before long the big oil derricks loom on the horizon. Every direction you look, the landscape is all scrubby desert and completely flat—except for the endlessly rocking motion of the black pumps. And as you close in on Midland, the dusty air is permeated by a propane smell. There’s no escaping it, even inside the camper.
I turned to Terry and said, “I really don’t see how people can live in this. But I imagine, like anything else, you become accustomed to it.”
“They have my deepest sympathies,” Terry said.
“This is about the last place on the planet I’ve seen that I’d want to live,” I said.
I didn’t remember until later that this was Bush Country. The elder George had come to Midland for the first Permian Basin oil rush in the fifties. George W. grew up here, and later came back just in time for the second oil boom in the 1970s. Midland was his wife Laura’s hometown, and this was where they met. It’s where the younger George declared himself a candidate for Congress in 1977, when his dad was running the CIA. And Midland is where George W. has expressed a wish to someday be buried.
My first impression of him had been a positive one. After the Supreme Court awarded Bush the 2000 election, his people approached me to be part of his transition team. I sat in on three or four conference calls. I thought, this guy’s going to be all right. He was very personable, a man it seemed like you could go out and drink a few beers and go fishing with.
Not too long after his inauguration, Terry and I went to Washington for the annual National Governors Convention. On a Sunday night, there’s always a huge party in the White House. You’re dropped off at a side entrance, and your security team goes to the basement and waits down there with the Secret Service until it’s over. When it’s your time to go into the ballroom, a military man in full dress uniform greets you. Your wife takes his arm, he escorts her, and you follow right behind. You stand in a line with all the other governors and their wives, waiting to meet the president and the First Lady.
I watched as the governors’ names were announced and they shook hands, exchanged a greeting, and talked for a moment. Well, as the line progressed, President Bush glanced over and saw that Terry and I were up next. Before they could even say—“Governor and Mrs. Jesse Ventura, Minnesota”—Bush, with a big smile on his face, blurted out in front of everyone: “I have to meet the most patient woman in America.”
Apparently, George was up on all the controversy I was causing. Every time I’d open my mouth, I’d be in trouble. So I thought that was a great line. He didn’t care about me, he wanted to meet the woman who could put up with me!
It must have been about a year later that Bush came to visit Minnesota. I took my son, Tyrel, to meet him. The president looked Ty in the eye and said, “So can you kick the old man’s butt yet?”
“Oh, no!” Ty exclaimed.
And the President said, “I can’t either.” Referring, I presume, to George, Senior.
From these moments, I knew that Bush had a good sense of humor. But my first inclination