In Conversation with Jesse Ventura

When we arrived at a nondescript warehouse in Brooklyn Center, the manufacturing site of Uniflora Holistics, the umbrella company for a whole bunch of new marijuana enterprises, including the platform for the line of cannabis products Gov. Jesse “The Body” Ventura was talking about today, we ran into another group of reporters who were just leaving. Longtime TPT journalist Mary Lahammer, outfitted in her Almanac television-reporter finest, was trailed by a photojournalist with his camera over his shoulder—they both seemed ecstatic about the content they had just captured. “That is a scene in there!” Lahammer said. She described Minnesota’s 38th governor as being in an especially discursive mood, surrounded by a retinue that included his wife Terry, their son Tyrel, and Ventura’s new business partners, with some of the hangers-on passing a j. Lahammer asked her cameraman if he got him smoking in there. He nodded back at her. 

So what were we walking into here, exactly? Was I about to finally get the opportunity to join a Minnesota legend in a dream blunt rotation? I’ve been a huge fan of Ventura since I was a pre-teen, back in 1987, when The Body was the color man for Gorilla Monsoon’s play-by-play, the two of them on the call for WrestleMania III, live on pay-per-view from Detroit’s Pontiac Silverdome. In my early twenties, I listened to Ventura’s midmorning show on KFAN, paying attention right up until his miracle run for governor in 1998, the year I graduated from college. And in 2000, my first big Q&A for Mpls.St.Paul Magazine was with his 20-year-old son, Tyrel Ventura, when the family was ensconced in the Governor’s Mansion on Summit Ave., and Tyrel was reportedly throwing parties when dad was off on trade missions. (I would’ve done the exact same!) I remember the two of us smoking Lucky Strikes in the mansion while a butler grabbed us an ashtray. 

In the years since Ventura famously “shocked the world!” his reputation has taken several weird twists and turns. Until last spring, when he showed up at Gov. Tim Walz’s signing ceremony for the passing of Minnesota's recreational marijuana law, Ventura hadn’t been seen at home all that much. He was reportedly spending most of his time living on his off-the-grid compound in Baja, Mexico, only popping up for gigs like his Conspiracy Theory With Jesse Ventura, a show which ran for three seasons on TruTV, or The World According to Jesse, a commentary show that ran on the Russian-funded RT network which ended when Russia invaded Ukraine.

But when Ventura was home for that signing ceremony last year, he was now in his early seventies, he had lost some of his intimidating bulk, and he had regrown his hair, hanging down from that famous bald pate in a lank silver fringe almost to his shoulders. Something about him had seemingly softened, allowing us to reassess his entire deal: He is still undoubtedly the most famous Minneapolis Roosevelt Teddy of all time, and a proud Navy vet who served in Vietnam, and one of the most successful professional wrestlers ever—a body-building athlete who crossed over into big Hollywood movies like Predator and The Running Man, in a way so many other men in tights never were able to replicate. But his political legacy—winning the governorship as a third-party candidate over establishment names like Hubert Humphrey’s son, Skip, and the popular Dem-turned-Republican St. Paul Mayor Norm Coleman—has been complicated by a darkness that came after him: namely, the fact that another Vince McMahon affiliate, Donald Trump, was able to use Ventura’s outsider template to win the presidency in 2016. Both Trump’s eagerness to financially leverage his office and his combative relationship with the media recalled Ventura. But on the other hand, the brash pronouncements Ventura made as Gov.—he said religion was “a crutch for weak-minded people” and he told Playboy he wanted to be reincarnated as a bra—were nowhere near as divisive as the stuff Trump was saying on the reg. In fact, most of Jesse’s outrageous gubernatorial material seems almost quaint in retrospect.  

So let’s get into it. I didn’t get to pass the dutchie with The Body, but I got him for the full hour. We were led to Uniflora’s hangar-sized back warehouse room, where Ventura was holding court, surrounded by a ragtag crew of the weed start-up’s employees, everybody hovering around a couple tables laden with a rainbow assortment of edibles. Ventura’s 6’7” son Tyrel brought me over to his father. Jesse’s scraggly silver mane was covered by a low crown white dad hat emblazoned with Uniflora’s Retro Bakery logo. He was wearing a blue denim shirt under a tweed sportscoat with gold Navy vet pins on the lapel. He had a double-wide black fanny pack fastened around his waist, and he joked that instead of a marijuana stash it’s usually packed with a Sig Sauer 9mm pistol. He was very sharp and funny, and only worked himself into a full blown big daddy bluster a couple of times, jabbing his big index finger into my chest like I was Mean Gene Okerlund. And it was good to see Tyrel again, and to meet his mom—Ventura’s wife of nearly 49 years, Terry. The Venturas sent me home with a paper bag of THC swag before they officially launch the brand with a 4/20 party at the Hook and Ladder's Zen Arcade. So to celebrate 4/20, let’s virtually puff puff pass, as you read a conversation that I’ve been preparing to have for basically my entire life.

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Did you see Mary Lahammer’s documentary that came out last year commemorating the 25th anniversary of your governorship? 

I have not. 

I thought it was brilliant. 

Everybody has raved about it. 

What I really loved was its recognition of how groundbreaking your WWF announcing was—nobody had been a heel as an announcer before. It didn’t only help you in the WWF, but it helped people trust you going forward: This guy tells it like it is—he’s calling Hulk Hogan a phony! When I was 12, that’s exactly what I thought—“Hulk Hogan is a phony.” You had me rooting for the bad guys. 

Actually I have to give credit: that was Vince McMahon’s idea. I had gotten injured and I was recovering and Vince called me at home. I had done a thing with Cyndi Lauper here, and Vince had saw what I had done. 

What did you do with Cyndi Lauper? 

I was at home trying to recover and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know if I could get back in the ring. I didn’t know what my future was going to be. And somebody said, you should be a sports announcer. So I went down to Channel 11. [Former sports anchor] Tom Ryther was there. Tom introduced me to the head of the station, and he sent me with out with an award-winning photographer. So Cyndi Lauper was coming to town, and she had the relationship with wrestling, so we got ahold of Cyndi’s manager, so when she came to town, we filmed a whole thing of Cyndi doing my hair, and at her concert that night she introduced me and brought me out with the hairdo she had done for me. It was like four different colors all through my hair. 

And you did play-by-play of the hairdo? 

Yeah, we did a human interest piece. We met Cyndi in her hotel, and John [the photographer] did a beautiful job with the cutaways and turned it into a whole sequence. And I was at home and my phone rings, and it’s Vince. He says, “Jesse, I saw that thing you did with Cyndi Lauper. Pretty good piece of work.” I said, “Thanks, Vince.” He says, “I got an idea.” He says, “You think you could do color commentating on TV wrestling?” I said, “I know I could.” “Well, something came to me, an idea: there’s never been a heel on the microphone who sided with the bad guys.” 

Yeah, you would always extol the genius of like Bobby the Brain Heenan. 

Well, I’d make it logical. So Vince says, “I think I want to try it. Are you up for it? Do you want to try to be a villain announcer?” I said, “I’d love to be, Vince.” He says, “Okay, here’s your attitude.” I say, “Okay Vince, what’s my attitude.” He goes, “If you believe it, it’s true.”

Oh wow. 

In other words, that’s carte blanche. If you believe it it’s true. I said okay. And further down the line, after it got going, we were signed for Saturday Night’s Main Event. I’m moved up to the A-team, and in came Dick Ebersol, and we’re going on Saturday night NBC now. 

You were pre-empting SNL at this point.

We were replacing them every third week. So now we have NBC and Dick Ebersol that I have to deal with. First day, it’s a nine camera shoot—whatever the hell it was. Trucks, all this. I walk up there in the afternoon, and everybody’s there, and there’s a ring notebook up there about this thick [mimes a dictionary thick book with his fingers] in my spot. So I flip it open and it’s Jesse’s Ventura’s script. So I’m flipping through it: Vince says this, and Jesse says this, and Vince says this, and Jesse says this. And I’m reading it, and I looked around, and Dick Ebersol went walking by. And I said, “Hey, Dick.” And he looked up. “Yes, Jesse.” Brought him over, and I says, “what’s this?” And he says, “That’s your script for tonight.” And I said, “Really.” And he says, “Yeah.” Here’s exactly what I said to him: “Dick, two years ago, you and your people didn’t give a rat’s ass about wrestling. I’ve been in it my entire adult career. So do you really believe you have someone who can write the words that are in Jesse Ventura’s brain?” I said “Dick I have news for you: You don’t. I require to see something and react to it. You cannot script me. I watch and react to what I see.” And Dick Ebersol looked at me, looked at the script, and he sat there for 15, 20 seconds thinking. And he goes, “You’re right. Get rid of it.”

Makes sense. 

In fact, from that point on, they would call me out of my trailer to do a promo for NBC, and I’d come on out of my trailer and we’d all be in a big circle. I’d hit the promo, one take, and turn to Ebersol, and go, “Call me when you got the next one.” And I’d walk off. Ebersol would go, “Well, looked good to me.” From that point on, Ebersol called me “One Take Jesse.”

You were always renowned for your AWA interviews. For being “good on the stick.” 

Yes. Because if you weren’t good on the stick you didn’t make money. Simple. 

Years ago, I interviewed Eddie Sharkey. He trained you on your ring technique. 

I was trained by Eddie. Eddie had just trained Bob Backlund. 

So who trained you on how to talk? 

No one. 

So being an entertainer, that’s up to you. 

Who trained me? I got trained by watching AWA Wrestling with my friend Tony at college—Tony would tape every Superstar Billy Graham interview. And I would put that cassette in my car and I would listen to Superstar Billy Graham over and over and over and over again. So if I was trained to do an interview for wrestling, I was unknowingly trained by Superstar Billy Graham, who took no knowingly active part in it. 

You loved him.

When Billy died last year, the New York Times quoted me, and they quoted me accurately, “There would be no Jesse Ventura if there hadn’t had been a Superstar Billy Graham.”

So what was it about his persona that appealed to you? 

Everything: Psychedelic. The greatest built man in wrestling. The strut. The talking. The poetry. Superstar Graham had it all. Look at the people: Hulk Hogan wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Graham. Graham had the influence on at least six to 12 very prominent stars in wrestling. 

Was Graham influenced by Muhammad Ali? Or was Graham an influence on Ali?

Ali was influenced by Gorgeous George. That’s who influenced Ali.

So where does Graham’s lineage of performance come from? 

Really from no one. No body builder had been in wrestling before that. They had good bodies, but there weren’t “21-inch pipes” and all of that stuff. Graham was an originator. He took the name Graham from Eddie and Dr. Jerry Graham—the infamous Graham Brothers. He was supposed to be the youngest brother, Superstar Billy Graham. And if another would’ve come along, they would’ve probably had Superstar Marvin Graham. I don’t know. 

So what did you add to his shtick? 

All I did was tell people how much talent it took to pull someone’s hair and get away with it. That required talent. And people sat back and said, “He’s right!” It required talent to cheat—and that’s what I exposed. These villains are not dummies. They wrestle to win, and they wrestle to deceive the referee and win at all costs.

And being honest about that was eye opening to me as a kid. 

Well, it was eye opening that there was an announcer not putting over the heroes. 

I felt like I wasn’t being bullshitted or marketed to. 

Or you didn’t think you were being marketed to. You were being marketed—you were getting a whole new level of marketing. The bad guys’ [marketing]! 

Then you brought that point of view to sports talk radio, and then to politics. But your skepticism towards the government and towards authority writ large originates from your parents, who were WWII veterans. They said you could serve your country without doing it blindly. 

And not only that, but it was also a case of learning that my country was deceptive. And it troubles me even today. The thing that bothers me the most, is that I enlisted at 18 years old and I spent an entire year being trained, and then I deployed overseas at 19 years old and spent nine months and returned at 20. And when I returned I was an adult. I was a man. And when I returned to my country I was treated as a child. I had only been back five days, and I went to my executive officer, and I said, “I want to go back to Vietnam right now.” He said, “You can’t. Navy regs say when you come out of the combat zone after a full deployment you can’t go into the combat zone for at least six months.” Then he asked me the million dollar question, “What’s the matter?” And I said, “Here’s what’s the matter, sir.” I said, “I’m a man. And I’ve come back to my country, and my country says I’m a child. I can’t go up on Orange Ave. and drink a beer. I can’t even vote for who sent me to Vietnam.” And when I look at that it tells me we send children to war—isn’t that child abuse? And if it’s not, it should be.

I read your 2017 book, Marijuana Manifesto. 

I wrote that a few years ago. 

It’s a serious policy book. You wrote about the government deception regarding the drug war. And you trace the origin of the drug war to William Randolph Hearst and his newspaper business. How he disparaged Black people and Mexicans in order to destroy hemp as competitive commodity to his vast timber holdings. 

The racism was outrageous. 

He planted stories in his papers about how Black people and Mexicans are driven to violence by smoking this stuff. 

“Black people are going to rape your mothers and daughters.” And “Mexicans are all lazy—they smoke this shit and lay around and don’t do nothing.”

And Hearst was successful in getting the 1937 Marijuana Tax Act passed which treated hemp and marijuana as the same plant. 

They are the same plant! 

Well kind of. 

I’ll say it this way, I know the top expert: Tommy Chong! Who the hell knows more about pot than Tommy Chong? If you get beyond Cheech and Chong, which I have with him, Tommy is a brilliant man. Tommy told me they made a huge mistake separating cannabis into “medicinal” and “recreational.” The reason it’s a mistake, is that those that smoke it for the euphoric feeling, are doing it for mental health; those that smoke it for the other reason are doing it for physical health. But it’s an entire medical plant, whether it’s here [points at my head] or here [points to my bicep]. Because look at the results they’ve had with post-traumatic stress. You’d rather have a guy smoking pot than taking fentanyl or opiates or all that crap they feed ‘em. 

Can I ask about your personal relationship with the plant? Did you try it for the first time in Vietnam? 

No. I tried it for the first time my senior year in high school. Hell yeah! I was done being an athlete. I was done with football. Done with swimming. It was springtime and I went to a great fun party. My buddy’s parents had left for the weekend, so we had the house for ourselves. And his brother was at the University of Minnesota, which spells trouble. And his brother had come home, and he had some pot, and rolled it into a joint, and we sat and smoked that. I took two puffs of it, and turned to my friends, and my exact quote: “To hell with liquor and alcohol—this is way better.” 

Were you a drinker? 

Sure I was. We were all drinking. You found your older brother to get you the booze. Hell, you know how we did it? When we were in junior high, you’d go down to the riverbank, and all the college kids would have big parties down there. And they’d drink and bottles would get thrown all over the place and they’d get lost. We used to go down there Saturday and Sunday mornings, and we ended up with two cases of beer, all different kinds, hid in a cave that we had down there. We’re in eighth or ninth grade and we got drunk saying we’re going fishing. And it was all beer we found on the riverbank from parties being held by the older kids. You were entrepreneurs then! Everybody did it. And all of the sudden along came pot. 

And you preferred pot. Why? 

Why? You can’t overdose it. In other words, you can smoke as much as you want. All you’re going to do is fall asleep eventually. You don’t get sick and throw up. The next day, there’s never a hangover. God I’ve had tons of hangovers, but if you’re getting a hangover from pot you’re doing something else with it. 

So those are the lack of negatives. But what are the positives? As Tommy Chong said, does it help your head or your body? 

It was just a feeling you had never had before, an unexperienced feeling. And at that point in your life, those feelings are huge. Then I went into the Navy. 

Did they smoke in the Navy? The Vietnam soldiers in Platoon were famously split between the boozers and the potheads. 

We didn’t have that divide. I smoked pot in the Navy because back then they didn’t drug test. I smoked up before Jimi Hendrix. I saw him July the 25th, 1970. 

It’s great with music. 

Yeah, and I smoked before Janis Joplin. I saw both of them. 

Where did you see Jimi? 

San Diego. His third to last concert. He went to San Diego, then back home to Seattle to play his hometown. Then he flew across the pond and did Isle of Wright. And then he died a week later. And that was the end of Jimi Hendrix, the greatest guitar player who’s ever lived. Except for maybe Robert Johnson.

So much of your career was about pain management, did you ever use it for that? 

I used it throughout my wrestling career. 

Ric Flair was famous for drinking an incredible amount, but some of his drinking had to be self-medication.

Well sure, most of it is. I will say, I used [weed], but you had to use it carefully because it was against the law everywhere. If you got caught carrying it on a plane [it was a problem]. The thing I loved about cannabis was through all these years, there’s been an underground cannabis industry that protects each other. I’ll go somewhere, and a guy will walk up to me without saying a word, and will pass me a joint. We all know each other. And that’s what I love about the world of cannabis. It has survived being illegal all these years because of the camaraderie and loyalty of the people who use it. 

And the price has been stable for like 50 years. Forty dollars for an eighth, $80 for a quarter. 

Let me tell ya, when I started smoking pot, it was $10 a lid.

Right—a lid! 

A lid was a four-fingered bag. [Ventura puts up one hand and tucks in his thumb, measuring with four fingers.] Ten bucks. 

So was that half an eighth? 

Hell no! It was an ounce.

Really, you think?

A good four-fingered lid? That’s an ounce. 

So you got in trouble as a candidate and then as governor, not even for suggesting weed should be legal, but just for voicing skepticism towards its illegality. 

I came out with many controversial positions—just simply saying what we’re doing is not working, so shouldn’t we look at alternatives? And to me, it all comes back to the same thing: The drug itself should not be illegal—it’s what you do when you’re on the drug. It’s your behavior that should be critical, not the fact that you’re using a drug. You’re a human being—you have every right to ingest whatever the hell you want. 

So your book traces the drug war back to William Randolph Hearst, and it identifies the entrenched interests within the DEA and the prison-industrial complex that have kept it going ever since. But do you think one of the reasons weed is still illegal federally is because it expands your mind, and makes you think abstractly, and this can lead to questioning authority?

Well, one of the things that I can speak directly on, comparing cannabis to alcohol: I’ve never met anyone who’s smoked (only) pot who wants a violent confrontation. People who drink look for it all the time. I think it’s kind of part of drinking: Hey! Get drunk and fight. 

So cannabis may decrease aggression. Do you think it may decrease work ethic? 

No. I think it’s more of the case that between the two, people who use marijuana are far less aggressive. And there are certain instances in our lives where people don’t want passive people, they want aggressive people. 

So maybe capitalism or militaristic culture approves of alcohol. 

In the military, I mean, drinking is like eating. 

Or speed—Adderall is prescribed pretty easily in our society.

Well I’ve never done that. So I don’t know. Put it this way, there’s far too many manufactured drugs being taken over drugs that are more natural. And to me, that’s the big hook of cannabis: It’s a plant. And marijuana is not going to make you see things. I’ve never hallucinated off it. Now, I’ve taken a few other things where I’ve seen a few things—mushrooms will do that to you. Psilocybin mushrooms, that’s a natural thing that’s been legalized in a few states. And look at the good results they’re having with post-traumatic stress [with ‘shrooms]. It’s been phenomenal there. Anything that is more organic, rather than created per se in a lab, is better. That’s just me personally. I might be wrong. 

And cannabis has helped your family? 

It’s restored our life. 

It’s prevented your wife’s seizures?

Completely. She was having two to three seizures a week. And these were down on the floor, holding her head, keeping her from swallowing her tongue seizures. And the doctors put her on four different pharmaceutical seizure medicines. That one didn’t work, another one didn’t work, fourth one didn’t work. Some of them had horrible side effects, like her hair kept falling out. Well we had friends from Mexico who live in Colorado. We contacted them and drove out there because Colorado had decriminalized, but only for Coloradoans. We were still breaking the laws, because we were Minnesotans. We didn’t have prescription. So they went in, with their prescriptions, and got their drops, brought it out, which was illegal. She had had a seizure the night before in the motel. She took three drops under the tongue, and she has not had a seizure since. So they bought us a bunch of 'em, and then started mailing them illegally through FedEx until it was legal here. And now here’s my bitch: I have health care. They’re happy to pay for what don’t work. They won’t pay a cent for cannabis, which does work. And at the time, to get it here, it was costing 600 bucks a month. 

It's still expensive isn’t it? 

No. Why? Because we’ve expanded it. The minute you expand cannabis, the prices drop. 

So why did you decide to enter the market with your own recreational products? 

Because they’re not “recreational.” I follow Tommy Chong. It’s medical. I’m just coming out with medicine for the brain. 

When did you have this idea and how did you make it happen? 

It wasn’t my idea.

Whose was it? 

My son Tyrel’s, and his business partners’. They were sitting around and thinking about what the world was doing and what would be an interesting venture. So they came here and presented their idea to me, because they needed me as this catalyst—the name—to go along with “The Ventura Farm.” So you’re interviewing me, but I’ve basically done nothing on this. And I want it that way. This is their project. I’m going to reap benefits from it, certainly—which I deserve! Because it’s my name and picture on this. 

And you’re a great spokesperson. You’re good on the stick. 

And I worked hard to establish this shit. But the business, Ventura Farms, is run by my son and his three partners. 

Do you have input on the taste of the product, the formulas, anything? 

Well we first thought about California, and then Minnesota got very progressive with the governor here, and all of a sudden Minnesota became legal. And we thought, Well, I’m much more known in Minnesota. I’m known in California, but Minnesota, my God, I’m the 38th governor! This would be the logical place to launch it. So we held off a little bit, until the ducks lined up here. And when the ducks lined up here, they started searching for a company, and along came Retro Bakery. And Retro Bakery came at us, and it was a mutual thing, and the two sides kind of locked together and the brains were all in the same place. And it was a natural good fit, I think. And I liked it because I was mayor right next to here. And it borders right on Minneapolis. We want to keep it a Minnesota company as much as possible. If some big Budweiser wants to come in and buy us out for so much, I’m sure that could end up…

[Tyrel shakes his head furiously behind him.]

Who knows! You can’t say what the hell is going to happen 20 years down the road. I love the fact of who owns it. I love the fact of where they’re located. And I love the fact that Lake Street ain’t even that far away. So it seemed like a natural fit when it all came together. And in fact, I love their idea. They want to make me like Paul Newman with the spaghetti sauce. There’s young people out there who don’t even know he was an actor. 

Well they might know him from the first Cars. 

And that’s what we want to accomplish here. We want my name synonymous with cannabis/marijuana. Where the young people will view me as, Oh yeah, he’s the guy with cannabis. Rather than, Oh yeah, the old pro wrestler. 

In regards to your legacy, we have a huge election coming up, there’s war in the Holy Land, there’s war in Europe. And God knows we need some gummies to mellow out, but what do you think about your legacy during this crazy political time? 

Well I’m thinking I’m 72 years old and I’ve lived through these scary times before. I’ve seen ‘em before. And let’s have some fun with it and tie it in with cannabis: If we could take all these people throughout the world that are fighting with each other, put them in a fricken’ room, and give 'em some of my cannabis? I think we could stop a lot of the bullshit going on, all the death and destruction. Because as I said before, anybody who smokes or uses cannabis, the last thing on their mind is violence. And I think all of these people who are committing violence throughout the world right now, the best thing in the world could be to put them on cannabis—mandatory. 

Well Donald Trump is a teetotaler, and it is remarkable how your playbook, which was to reach people who were disenchanted with politics, who weren’t likely voters, who didn’t participate in polls—Trump ran that exact playbook to win in 2016.

He ran it identically.

I don’t think that playbook exists in the same way this year, but were you horrified that he was able to replicate your success on a national scale? 

No. Because it was public and we did what we did and we didn’t hide it. I’m horrified that if I had ballot access in all 50 states right now, and if I were allowed in the debates, I would beat them both. They would be easier to beat than Humphrey and Coleman. And here’s why: Humphrey and Coleman were not disliked. There is nobody looking forward to the election. 

Everybody is dreading it. 

Exactly. If I were allowed in the debates and had ballot access in all 50 states, they would be easier to beat than Humphrey and Coleman. 

So why aren’t you running? Because you need millions of dollars to petition to get on the ballots? 

Because of ballot access. Bobby Kennedy had to take a running mate to get him ballot access—she’s loaded! He had to take money over votes. I would’ve brought him votes. But that was a decision he had to make and his alone. But my point is—and I’m going to say this on CNN this week—if I had ballot access in all 50 states right now, and they allowed me in the debates, I would beat them both. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I would. I beat Humphrey and Coleman and they weren’t disliked. There weren’t people swearing at them like there are with these two. 

The one thing I thought about watching this documentary is that even most of the wildest shit you said back then seems pretty normal today.

Well Trump saw that you can get away with being truthful, his problem is that he isn’t truthful when he tells it. When I say outlandish things, I’m being truthful with my outlandishness—he’s lying with his outlandishness. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.