Jesse Ventura

On Saturday afternoon, Klinker and I were sitting outside my house enjoying Summit IPA and Lake Superior Oatmeal Stout, talking about piercings, wetsuits, and trucks, when a purple Porsche drove by slowly, with the woman in the passenger seat staring at us.

We resumed our conversation until we saw the nose of the purple Porsche pull into view on the wrong side of the street, facing the nose of my Ford Escort. The man I saw walk into view from around the corner of my house was a man of incredible girth with black beard hair woven into braids, carrying a large well-chewed cigar.

I'm Jesse Ventura. This is my wife Terry.
I used to live here. My parents lived here from 1949 to 1969.

I invited Mr. Ventura inside to have a look around.

“It's so cute,” said Terry.
Thanks.

Jesse talked about the kitchen. His father and grandfather tore down the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Having a counter in lieu of the wall opened the house from front to back and distinguishes it from traditional craftsman bungalow homes. George Janos built all the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen. He installed a unique clock above the kitchen sink too. I showed Jesse that his dad had stenciled George Janos on the inside of one of the drawers. It was a hemotional moment.

Then Klinker led the way toward the porch, where the plaque commemorating the unofficial historic site hangs. “Childhood home of Jesse Ventura, beloved governor and kick-ass WWF wrestler.”

Jesse said his dad occasionally slept on the porch during the summer.

The intersection out front used to be dangerous, car accidents all the time. His dad was concerned that the kids might get hit with a car while they were playing in the front yard.

The Janos family had a disciplined English bulldog named Bozo. An animal control officer came by one day to take the dog away because it wasn’t on a leash. Jesse’s dad said “if you can make the dog leave the yard, you can take it away.” The animal control officer tried for 15 minutes to goad Bozo into leaving the yard, but to no avail.

The sandbar down by the river was a popular play spot.

There were a lot of families and kids in the neighborhood back in the day. Jesse had a lot of friends nearby, so nearby that he could make prank calls summoning a taxi for his friend’s dad. Jesse and his fellow conspirators would sit by the window and watch with glee as the patient taxicab driver turned disgruntled and drove off. That was in fourth grade.

Jesse recalled that the Minnehaha Academy field catercorner from the house used to host football games. The field was bordered with a big wooden fence, which Jesse and his friends had lifted just enough so that they could squeeze under and watch the games. Their secret entry to the field was directly behind the players’ sideline. One night, Jesse decided he couldn’t see well enough, and what provided a better view than endzone seating. I’m sure it was good while it lasted. The referee took his hand and escorted him away.

Jesse lived upstairs (1/2 story) with his brother. That’s hard to imagine, especially when the hulking Jesse Ventura is walking around and says “it seems so much smaller now.” His dad built the knotty pine ceiling and walls and the built-in bookshelves. Jesse pointed out where his desk used to be. He also alluded to locking his mom in the attic.

Outside, Jesse talked about his former neighbors. The Carlsons lived there… the fat kid lived three houses down.

Jesse talked about the neighborhood and how nice it was, and is. He went to Cooper elementary school one block away. Cooper is closing down because of decreased enrollment. Thirty-second street used to be the dividing line between those students who attended South high school and those who attended Roosevelt high school. “I know you probably hear this all the time,” but I walked to Roosevelt – that was a long walk.

Jesse commented about his fondness for Minneapolis. Then he went on to mention the incident on Dave (Letterman) where he lauded the logic of the Minneapolis street grid and joked about the Irish (glug, glug) designing St. Paul streets.

Overall, the experience was an emotional one between Jesse and Terry, where a nostalgic Jesse was excited to give his wife a more vivid glimpse into his childhood. Jesse was polite, personable, and gracious, and Terry was very amiable too.

Anyway, that’s basically what happened. Unfortunately, I don’t remember everything because my memory is interspersed and overwritten with this: “Holy shit, this is Jesse Ventura.”

Dr. Klinker, feel free to fill in the story.