VENTURA TURNS HIS MIND TO OFFICE: 'BUSINESS-AS-USUAL IS OVER,' SAYS NEW
MINNESOTA GOVERNOR

ST. PAUL, Minn. -- The new governing Body arrives Monday, and he says
his first order of business will be to "kick up my feet on a chair and
smoke a stogie."

After that, Jesse Ventura will begin tending to the rest of his duties
as governor of the state of Minnesota.

Two months after his election stunned political pundits both locally
and nationally, Ventura, a former professional wrestler, will be sworn
in Monday as the most powerful elected official in the nation's
20th-largest state.

Whether either side is ready -- the 47-year-old political neophyte or
the state's residents -- remains to be seen. But one thing is certain:
Everyone's in for a wild ride.

"Business-as-usual is over," Ventura says, nodding his head in case
the message Minnesota's voters sent Nov. 3 wasn't clear enough.
"Things are going to be different around here."

How different will it be?

Very different, judging by the flood of applications for jobs in the
new administration that came streaming into the governor-elect's
transition office. One inmate in a Stillwater, Minn., prison asked to
be commissioner of the state's department of corrections. Another
applicant wanted to be the governor's official hot-air balloonist.

Ventura's inaugural bash, scheduled for Jan. 16 at the Target Center
in Minneapolis, won't be business as usual, either. All 13,800 seats
sold out in one afternoon, so "The People's Celebration" will be
telecast live via satellite. And the affair will be casual, says
Ventura's wife, Terry, who heads the inaugural committee.

"We want everyone to come the way they're most comfortable -- tux,
tennis shoes, biker leather," says Terry, 43, who actually met her
husband at a biker bar. "It's not a black-tie affair. But if that's
what you're comfortable in, nobody will laugh at you."

Reality sets in

No, the laughter has stopped as reality begins to set in here in
Minnesota. A celebrity in public office is nothing new -- Ronald
Reagan, the late Sonny Bono and even Clint Eastwood are just a few
examples of those who came before Ventura.

But none appeared on national TV wearing a feather boa and pink tights
as Jesse "The Body" did more than a decade ago in his World Wrestling
Federation days.

Ventura, lampooned recently in the Doonesbury comic strip, doesn't
seem to mind the ridicule -- although he bristled last fall when
Hillary Clinton dismissed his campaign as a "sideshow" during a stop
in Minnesota. Ventura sarcastically suggested the First Lady ought to
stay in Washington because "bad things seem to happen when she leaves."

It is exactly that kind of talk that led Ventura -- a Vietnam veteran
and former Navy SEAL -- from the wrestling mat to the broadcast booth,
first as a television commentator and later as a radio shock-jock. He
gave up his day job at KFAN-AM, the all-sports radio station in the
Twin Cities, to run for governor. It's not exactly the typical
breeding ground for a gubernatorial candidate.

But, then, Minnesota is far from a typical electorate, having elected
more than its share of political mavericks in the past, including
outgoing three-term Gov. Arne Carlson, who ran and won as an
independent in his last election after failing to land the Republican
nomination.

From wrestling to TV

Born James George Janos, Ventura grew up in Minneapolis and graduated
from Roosevelt High School in 1969. After his military service, he
spent a year at a local community college, then began what would be a
long and lucrative pro wrestling career.

It was for his wrestling persona -- always a "bad guy" -- that the
young Janos, scouring a map of California, assumed the name Ventura,
which is Spanish for "luck." His wrestling led him into television as
a wrestling commentator, and then into the movie business -- roles
with friend Arnold Schwarzenegger in Predator and Running Man were the
highlights.

Ventura entered the political fray in 1990, beating out 18-year
incumbent James Krautkremer to become mayor of Brooklyn Park, a
Minneapolis suburb. Spurred into activism by environmental concerns,
his campaign centered on what is now a familiar refrain: "I'm going to
give the neighborhoods back to the neighbors."

His campaign buttons read: "Had enough? Mad Enough? Vote Jesse
Ventura."

Eight years later, it was that same mentality that allowed Ventura to
defeat both Democrat Hubert "Skip" Humphrey and Republican Norm
Coleman to become governor.

Ventura, the outsider

Ventura's campaign was as vague as it was successful. Espousing his
largely Libertarian views, he smartly positioned himself as an
outsider in the campaign.

Ventura spent $500,000 compared to $3 million each by his opponents,
but while voters balked at negative campaigning by the two major-party
candidates, many embraced Ventura's no-nonsense, populist message.

Echoing his cry from 1990, he vowed to "get the government out of our
pockets." Ventura also won points as he refused to be marginalized,
challenging, as he said on NBC's Dateline recently, the notion that
the "American Dream was dead. ... Can a person who is not a career
politician and not connected to these two major parties win?"

He could, indeed. Humphrey, the Democratic nominee, enjoyed
considerable name recognition as the grandson of former vice-
president Hubert Humphrey. He also made headlines as the state's
attorney general, leading the national fight against the tobacco industry.

Coleman, an assistant attorney general for 17 years, was a strong
candidate as the successful mayor of St. Paul.

Humphrey actually fought to include Ventura in televised debates,
figuring the newcomer would steal Republican votes from Coleman. But
Ventura's appeal -- he showed up at one debate wearing black jeans and
a camouflage shirt -- reached into both parties. Republicans liked his
fiscally conservative rhetoric; Democrats liked his liberal social
ideas.

On the campaign trail, Ventura not only promised to cut taxes, he also
hinted he was in favor of legalizing both marijuana and prostitution.
He wants to make it easier for Minnesotans to carry concealed
weapons, and supports abortion and homosexual rights.

For some, the appeal wasn't his ideas, it was simply the idea of him.
In a speech to University of Minnesota students, Ventura suggested
education subsidies should be abolished.

"And the crowd cheered," says Ashley Kiran, a Minnesota senior who
says she voted for Humphrey. "I couldn't believe it. I was standing
there thinking, 'Didn't you hear what he just said?' But that's how
desperate we were to elect someone different, I guess."

Tough-guy image

Ventura played to his strengths, of course, brandishing his tough-guy
image. He championed his success in cutting crime in Brooklyn Park --
the result, he said, of a "mayor with a little bit of military
background who knew how to go out and kick some butt."

His commercials were catchy, too, if a bit corny. In one, a bare-
chested Ventura posed as Rodin's "The Thinker." In another, the
Ventura action-figure doll that quickly became a trademark battled
"Evil Special Interest Man" -- that spot featured a youngster telling
a lobbyist, "I don't want your stupid money."

The end result was cataclysmic. Minnesota had the highest voter
turnout (61 percent) of any state in November, with nearly twice the
national average of eligible voters going to the polls.

And Ventura, who won with 37 percent of the vote, is the reason why.
Exit polls showed much of Ventura's support, equally split along
gender lines, came from voters under the age of 40. And nearly 300,000
Minnesotans, most of them younger voters, took advantage of a law that
allows voters to register on election day.

In fact, 12 percent of the Minnesotans who went to the polls Nov. 3
said they would not have voted had there been no alternative to the
Republican and Democratic candidates. That said, Ventura's vote
certainly will influence future campaigns.

"If it can happen in Minnesota, it could happen anywhere," says Linda
Jenkins, a Labor Party leader in New York.

Ventura also thinks his success can be duplicated.

"I think the party needs to start building from bottom up, winning the
small elections, getting the support from the grass roots," says
Ventura, the first Reform Party candidate elected governor. "It's got
to build a base, a foundation ... rather than just being a vehicle for
a powerful person, based from the top down."

Much work to be done

Not surprisingly, there is talk of Ventura -- who insists he won't
abandon Minnesota for a run at the White House in 2000 -- making a
presidential bid in 2004 as the Reform Party nominee.

But for now, there is much work to be done. And plenty of critics who
feel strongly that Ventura isn't up to the job.

On election night, the governor-elect told NBC's Tom Brokaw: "I'm no
longer 'The Body.' I'm Jesse 'The Mind' Ventura. I make my living with my
mind now."

"That's what scares me," says Kenneth Flynn, a 41-year-old accountant
from St. Paul. "I don't understand how his mind works, or what's in
it. No one does, as far as I can tell."

Villard Books, which will publish Ventura's autobiography, already has
promised more entertainment when I Ain't Got Time to Bleed: Reworking the
Body Politic hits the shelves. It will be, the publisher says, something along
the lines of "Rocky meets Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

In the meantime, there is an entire cottage industry marketing Jesse
memorabilia. T-shirts and bumper stickers proudly proclaim, "Our
Governor Can Beat Up Your Governor." And, yes, there is a made-for-TV
movie in the works. Ready or not, here he comes.

"I'm not a rebel," Ventura says. "I'm a veteran of this country. I
support government. I support Minnesota. I'm not coming on board to
start some rebellion."Jesse 'The Body' Ventura

Born: July 15, 1951.

Family: Wife Terry, married in 1975; Children Tyrel, 19, and Jade, 15.

Education: Roosevelt High School, Minneapolis.

Military: Navy SEAL, 1969-73, Vietnam veteran.

Career: Professional wrestler and commentator, 1975-89; also worked as
movie actor and radio talk-show host.

Political background: Mayor of Brooklyn Park, Minn.,
1991-95.