Jesse Ventura rocks Frontenac

THE GUV COMES TO FRONTENAC

By ELMER "JOE" SPRICK

Every year, around the middle of March, the migrating bald eagles do their thing over and along the shores of Lake Pepin. We sometimes see as many as 30 or 40 during a 5-mile ride into town. But this day in 2000 was different, because in addition to bald eagles, another bald head was attracting crowds of sightseers to Minnesota's Hiawatha Valley. Our newly elected governor, Jesse Ventura, was coming to town!

"Hurry up and get dressed if you're going to the Whistle Stop with me," Mavis advised. I was not quite fully awake after a short power nap in my lounger. The morning's workout of cutting wood and a big noon meal had set me up for a needed rest.

The Whistle Stop is a small cafe in New Frontenac (also called Frontenac Station), Minn., about a mile from our home (at the time, at Ten Oaks) as the crow flies, assuming a crow can fly in a straight line. The village boasts a population of about 100 good citizens and a few rednecks. This day, the population would triple in size with locals eager to see Jesse "The Body" Ventura, now Jesse "The Guv" Ventura.

It wasn't the first visit from a governor to the Whistle Stop. Several years before, a governor who served several terms in office stopped in for a cup of coffee. But no one recognized him. He lacked Jesse's panache.

The Whistle Stop is no place for one with allergies. If the greasy odor from the deep fryer doesn't get you, the cigarette and cigar smoke from the truckers and railroad workers who eat there will. I chose to remain outside. Why "The Guv" chose to stop there is beyond me.

The parking lot was full when we arrived. Mavis went inside to reserve some seats. It was cold outside, but the air was much better, and I was appropriately dressed in my ice fishing clothes.

Shortly before "The Guv" arrived, two Goodhue County sheriff's patrol cars arrived. Although the deputies were in uniform, they carried no belts with the usual gear -- a Glock, a baton, radio, handcuffs and the like. Maybe there were just curious onlookers like me.

Then three Minnesota Highway Patrol vehicles pulled up. Four officers, three men and one woman, got out, all dressed in full battle gear. Less conspicious was an unmarked car that parked some distance away. A tall, slim, dark-skinned young lady got out dressed in man's garb and high-heeled boots. A profiler might have marked her as a terrorist, but I suspect she was a bodyguard of sorts. Only time would tell.

As Jesse's bus pulled into a reserved spot, she took out a cellular phone and gave an "all clear" to Jesse and his entourage. They emerged from the bus and walked by me on the way to the cafe. "The Guv" exchanged pleasantries with us in his unmistakable booming, loud voice.

Inside, Mavis and my sister, Alverna Sprick Miller, listened to Jesse interact with the crowd. Alverna asked him if he had seen the bald eagles along the shores of Lake Pepin. "Yeah," he replied. "I saw five of them sitting in one tree. It made me feel glad that I wasn't a rodent."

While it would not become one of Jesse's better-known quotes, it was one of his few that didn't offend anybody.

Like most politicians, Jesse's popularity was at its peak at the time of his election. Prophets supposedly in the know predicted that he would self-destruct within two years. That may have been wishful thinking, as he remained in office for a full term (1999-2003), albeit with popularity that diminished weekly.

Jesse will not go down in history as a great Minnesota governor, but he never left doubt about where he stood on an issue. Maybe that is why he got elected in the first place.

And now he is a local landowner, having purchased two prime lots adjacent to the golf course in the Mississippi Jewel development in Lake City -- a big dog in short grass. And he has a new look -- black hair and a braided beard. Sports commentators give him little recognition except to say: "Jesse is present -- but not presentable."

The bald eagles, meanwhile, endure.