• January 18, 1999
• Vol. 51
• No. 2

The Body Politic

A (Relatively) Restrained Jesse Ventura Takes the Oath in Minnesota

When the time came, Jesse Ventura decided to break his campaign pledge to rappel down the capitol dome to his inauguration as governor of Minnesota. Instead the former Navy SEAL and pro wrestler strode to the dais in the rotunda in a conservative charcoal-gray suit. With his wife, Terry, son Tyrel, 19, and daughter Jade, 15, looking on, he spoke for 10 minutes (without notes), offering all the customary sentiments and expressions of thanks. "I'll make mistakes, but rest assured I will do the best job I possibly can," said Ventura, 47, who promised to "bring the people back to respecting their government." As if to remind his audience that his gubernatorial style would hardly be politics as usual, he concluded his remarks with the lusty cry "Hooya!" favored by the SEALs.

If Ventura's swearing in on Jan. 4 proved slightly less dramatic than promised, it was a warmly festive affair all the same. Of course, dignitaries turned out, including Arnold Schwarzenegger, a friend since he and Ventura made such action movies as Predator together in the 1980s. (He arrived early and presented the new governor with a sculpture of two bald eagles, apparently unaware of Ventura's reported lighthearted comment to USA Weekend that Schwarzenegger wouldn't make a good President: "Arnold's real interests are making movies and money.") But what truly impressed were the nearly 2,000 people who braved subzero temperatures to trudge up the capitol steps and cheer on their newly minted folk hero. "I'm here because I think Jesse Ventura is awesome," said Adam Havrilak, 12, a seventh-grader from Minnetonka, a Minneapolis suburb. "He's kind of my idol." To make sure that none of the 1,000 well-wishers in the receiving line were turned away, Ventura and his family stood shaking hands for nearly two hours.

In his day-to-day life, at least, Ventura seems inclined to change as little as possible. He and Terry and their children will live at the governor's mansion Monday through Thursday and return to their 32-acre ranch outside Minneapolis for long weekends. (With some regret, Terry will give up training horses and teaching riding to focus on being First Lady. The governor suggested that she be paid for that job, but Terry said the issue should be left up to the voters.) Many of Ventura's longtime friends are sure that, above all, as governor he will remain a man of his word. His childhood pal Kevin Johnson, 47, a construction equipment salesman, recalls being asked in third grade to write about what he wanted to be when he grew up. "Most of us wrote about wanting to be a fireman or policeman," says Johnson. "But he wanted to be a professional wrestler. He is probably the only one who went on to be what he had said." And more.