Don't Start the Revolution Without Me! - Jesse Ventura [61]
While we were shooting, Arnold was scheduled to leave the set for a few days to fly to Hyannisport, Massachusetts, and get married to Maria Shriver. I thought he might need a little “coaching.” Remember to speak from the diaphragm, I told him, and say distinctly, “I do! I DO!” I’d then sit off in a corner when he was getting ready to do a take and, just as the cameras were ready to roll, I’d let out an “I DO!” And Arnold would crack up laughing. Then the director would get a little pissed off, and I’d have to keep my mouth shut.
We did talk some politics. I was very curious why he was such an ultra-Republican. He gave me what I thought was a great reason. In Austria, where he came from, the government was so socialistic that you couldn’t get rewarded for your perseverance. You’re trapped within a layered system where, no matter how hard you work, you’re only going to make so much money. It was before Reagan when he came to America, and Arnold said he always had felt strongly that the Republican philosophy of business—of being responsible for yourself in a free society—was the way to go.
I learned a lot from Arnold about the business of filmmaking. One day on the set, he said to me, “Jesse, always remember, never read a script until the money’s right.” I replied that that was pretty easy for a big star like him to say, with a dozen scripts sitting on his desk. But Arnold explained that, if you read first and like the script, you’re liable to do the movie for less. “And if you can’t get the money right, you’ve wasted your time reading the script,” he went on. Then he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Jesse, in our business, we don’t have time to waste.”
We enjoyed each other’s company so much that Arnold made sure I got a part in his next project, The Running Man. I asked for considerably more money than I had made doing Predator, and the negotiations were bogged down when Arnold called me. I told him yes, I wanted to do The Running Man with him. “But Arnold . . . I can’t read the script until the money’s right!” He burst out laughing and said, “Jesse, trust me. The script is fantastic. Just get the money right.” That same afternoon, the film company phoned back and said they’d meet my price. It could be that Arnold interceded on my behalf. This time, I played Captain Freedom, an egomaniac ex-wrestler who’s doing color commentary for a sadistic game show in an American police state in 2017. Some of that hit a little close to home.
The evening of the 1998 election, his wife, Maria, asked her producers at Dateline NBC if she could interview me before the returns came in. “We’re not spending our time on losers,” they told her. She went ahead and called me anyway, asking for an exclusive if I happened to become governor. I told her: “Sure, Maria. If I win, you can have the first interview.” But when it became a reality, NBC wanted to hand the assignment to Tom Brokaw instead. I told the network I had an agreement with Maria; I’d go on the air with her, or not at all. So they ended up splitting the time. Maria did the first interview, then they tossed me over to Brokaw. He asked, “Should we call you Governor Ventura, or Governor ‘The Body?’” Seemed like a pretty lame joke to me. So I told Brokaw the times had changed: “I’m no longer Jesse ‘The Body,’ I’m Jesse ‘The Mind’ Ventura.”
Arnold was in the middle of making a film, but he still showed up in Minnesota for my inauguration. He gave me a present that I still cherish—two massive bronze eagles from the National Historical Society. On the back is a plaque that says: “Jesse, you are a true leader. Your friend, Arnold.”
Then, when he was running for governor in the California recall election in the summer of 2003, it was my turn to offer Arnold some free advice. Time magazine