Looking
around at all the yard signs and hearing politicians tell us on
television what a lying crook their competition is, I have to admit
I miss Guv Reeve.
Guv had a real first name, but I sure don’t recall it now, because
this was back in the 1960s and 1970s in the high desert of
California. He had his first name legally changed to Guv so everyone
would know what he was all about. Every four years, he ran for
governor. I worked for the Victor Valley Daily Press in Victorville,
which is just 30 miles from Barstow, where everyone’s car breaks
down on the way to Vegas.
The other folks in the newsroom knew me as the “weirdo reporter”
because if someone needed some serious couch time, they were pointed
toward my desk.
Guv was maybe in his early 50s when I met him. He came into the
newsroom one morning surrounded by four attractive middle-aged
women, and all of them were smiling and handing out free cookies.
Guv and I closeted ourselves for the story while everyone else
munched cookies, and I learned the Guv Reeve story.
He was a self-proclaimed preacher and lived in a large cabin about
30 miles away in the desert mountains. Yes … with the sunshine
girls. [to top of second
column]
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His mission, he explained, was
to gather food and clothing, and when they had enough for a large
cardboard box, they would pack it up, find the name of a village in
Mexico that he thought might be poor, and mailed it to them. Every
time one of those boxes “ripened” and was ready for taping, they’d
find a different village on the map.
His election platform was fairly simple: no taxes, more jobs,
constant access to free cookies, and the love of God spreading
throughout every person in California. You’d think a message that
powerful would make his election a slam dunk. But the folks in
California elected Ronald Reagan governor, instead. I met him, too,
but he didn’t have cookies.
Sometimes I really miss ol’ Guv.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
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