The interview continued…
“…I’m not entirely joking when I say that,” I continued. “My ambition was boundless, and I was grooming myself for big politics someday, kind of like what Bill Clinton did, although I had no idea who he was back then.”
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“Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice. It is not something to be waited for, it is something to be achieved.”
William Jennings Bryan – used as Dickinson High School class of 1987 motto.
August 10, 1986
My father accompanied me to departure gate D5 at Sacramento International Airport. Gary Miller was working that morning, but he had a few minutes to spare before the DC-9 Super 80 left the gate. Gary had worked for the airline for just over 22 years so he wasn't rushed. He knew he would get the bird off on time, but first he had to say goodbye to me. My dad wasn't particularly good at goodbyes - they occurred much too often since the divorce - but he grew used to them. So did his three kids.
This was actually my second “goodbye” of that summer as I had taken a quick trip back to North Dakota to see Tami. She was back in Dickinson until harvest time, and she was lonely. Her last letter to me was especially downbeat and sad, questioning whether I would have time to “be there” for her as I got busier in college and beyond. It gave me the idea to make a short surprise visit back to North Dakota the next day just to see her. I wanted to show her how much she meant to me, and that I would always be there when she needed me. The surprise wasn’t kept as my mother told her and brought her with to pick me up in Bismarck. The move had the desired effect, though. Tami was both flattered and reassured.
“You didn’t have to fly all the way back just to see me for a few days,” she said humbly.
“I’m just doing what you tell me to do in all of your letters…I’m ‘stopping to smell the roses’,” I replied as I pulled her to me for a kiss.
It was a brief trip, but I also had another motive, and that was to get myself on the next school board agenda. I didn’t want to risk being put off if I tried to do everything by long distance and I had some paperwork and transcripts to gather for my presentation. I knew it was necessary for me to be there in person in order to MAKE THINGS HAPPEN. I went into my high school and talked directly with the principal about my request to be put on the Dickinson school board meeting agenda for the next meeting, on August 11. I was going to request that the school board allow me to graduate in three years instead of the normal four. The principal didn't like the idea – he thought that it would create a flood of such requests – but with a little help from a friendly Board member, he had agreed to get me a slot on the agenda.
After my business was settled, I traveled with Tami back to her family’s farm. It was the week before harvest started and that meant it was almost time for her to get back to work. After spending several wonderful days with her and further building her confidence in our relationship, I decided it was time to tell her about my juvenile crime record. Being the upright perfect citizen that she was, I knew instinctually that she would judge me as lesser for it. And I was right, her reaction was not good. I tearfully explained as much of the whole situation as I could, wearing down her attitude a bit. Her reaction told me that if she had known about my background earlier, we probably would not be together at all. I fully expected that the influence of her hyper-judgmental mother had a resounding impact upon Tami, and I was correct again. It was the right move to hold off in telling her about it until this point because by now our relationship was too far advanced and Tami’s love for me was too strong to be overcome by petty past problems. By my actions, I overcame any misgivings she had…but only after she saw how regretful and ashamed I was of that entire period of my life.
After a long weekend with Tami, I was set to fly back to Sacramento for another three weeks with my dad before coming home for the school board meeting. This time, Tami drove me to leave from Minot, North Dakota, as it was closer to their farm than Bismarck. Following a long, sad “goodbye,” I hopped on a Frontier Airlines 737 heading to Denver with a stop in Rapid City, South Dakota.
This would turn out to be my first air emergency.
As we came down in descent to Rapid City, the pilot came on the intercom to inform us that the right rear landing gear light had not come on, therefore we would have to have a visual inspection. That meant we had to have a low altitude fly-by or “buzz the tower” to verify the position of the landing gear. To most of the passengers, there was a big pucker moment as they didn’t know what was going to happen. To me, I knew I was in for a long, miserable day as I was flying standby, I had five bucks in my pocket, and we were in freaking RAPID CITY, meaning I might be stuck there for a long time before being able to get out again on a standby ticket.
On the first pass of the tower (which was pretty cool), we were told that the landing gear was stuck in its bay and that we would have to go to altitude and “do some aerobatic maneuvers to try to bring the gear down.” That was fun, too! On the second pass by the tower, still no gear, so up to altitude we went again with more aerobatics. More fun! Seriously, I enjoyed it, and it wasn’t rough enough to induce any air sickness around me, either.
On the third tower buzz, we were told the gear was down and appeared locked. Dramatic instructions from the crew were issued and we all assumed crash positions on landing (well, I didn’t – I watched out the window). My dad had spent plenty of time bragging up the wonders of modern air travel and as a result, I had great confidence in airline travel back then. I just braced myself for constant uncomfortable boredom and hunger at a shit-hole airport. It was a safe landing, and everybody except me clapped and cheered when we slowed down enough to know we were okay. Then the day turned out to be every bit as miserable as I thought it would be.
All the paying passengers were given seats on other airlines and were re-routed to their final destinations. I waited and watched them all go. Finally, on the last flight out, I got a seat and made it to Sacramento on their last arriving flight of the night.
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I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous getting back on a plane three weeks later to go back to North Dakota. Overall, my annual summer visit was only cut short by two weeks. Fun time was up and I had to get back immediately to go before the school board. But it was okay – both my dad and I realized the importance of what I was trying to accomplish.
Having a father who was a ground supervisor has its advantages, I thought. By working for Frontier, Gary and his family received the privilege of flying anywhere the airline flew for virtually no cost (it was a $5.00 service fee). Moreover, the old man was able to snag me a seat in first class because the flight wasn't fully booked. Hell of a deal. After the final boarding call was made, my father bid me farewell.
“I hope the school board gives you the go ahead. It would be a damn good accomplishment,” my dad said.
“It sure would. I'm pretty confident they'll give me the green light. I’ll go in there loaded for bear…by the time I’m done, they'll be eating out of my hands,” I asserted confidently.
“Well, take care, son. We’ll miss you.” We hugged each other briefly and he said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Take care,” I replied. I turned around and walked down the jetway and boarded the plane.
I had no way to know that would be my last flight on the old Frontier Airlines.
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The flight lasted just over two hours. I had to switch planes in Denver. The layover time was minimal, as the flight to Bismarck had just started pre-boarding when I reached the gate. Again I was lucky – the flight was only half full so I was once again put in first class. When I got to my first class seat, the man in the aisle seat packed up his briefcase and stowed it under the seat in front of him. My fortysomething-ish neighbor was dressed in tennis shorts and a polo shirt, a bit informal for first-class. I was dressed a bit more appropriately, wearing a sports jacket and slacks. But then I wasn't a paying passenger…
The tennis player/executive was a friendly talkative fellow. I soon learned that he was the president of one North Dakota's largest banks. Our conversation went smoothly throughout the flight and, of course, I told the bank president who I was and what my future plans were. The bank president was impressed, very impressed. In fact, the man was so impressed by my plans and my obvious intelligence and competence that he volunteered to help me out. It just so happened that he was good friends with North Dakota's senior United States Senator. And he would be happy to write a letter of recommendation for me for the Air Force Academy nomination.
I was inwardly beaming, impressing myself once again. Within an hour, I got a total stranger, one with a little clout, to go out of his way to help me. It also covered making inroads with the third and only remaining man (the Senator) who could help me fulfill my destiny, so I was quite pleased. If handling the school board is this easy, I’ll be skipping my junior year.
As the plane came into its final descent, the bank president even offered me a ride from Bismarck to Dickinson. He was going that way for a business meeting anyway. “No thanks,” I told him, “there should be a ride waiting for me at the airport.” I was too impressed with my glad-handing skills that it only occurred to me later that he might've been a pervert cruising for young tail. He was legit, though, and wrote a great recommendation letter a week later.
I was greeted at the airport by my mother, Diane, and the most important person in my life – beautiful, sweet Tami. I gave my mother a hug and Tami a long, deep kiss. She started to get embarrassed so she withdrew, her face somewhat reddened. I had to settle for holding her hand as we walked to the baggage claim area.
The 100-mile drive gave the three of us a chance to catch up on what had happened in my absence. Tami and I sat together in the backseat as my mom drove, which gave us a chance to sneak in a grope and a squeeze here and there. We were playful with each other a lot, happy to be together. We were in love, head over heels, deep burning young love and it showed.
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This would be my second attempt at lobbying politicians in pursuit of the Air Force Academy appointment. Earlier that March, my friend Jack and I went to Washington, D.C., for a school trip under the banner of the Future Business Leaders of America. It was a week-long visit with a schedule that allowed for plenty of free time to explore the city. Our timing was perfect, with the cherry blossoms coming into full bloom while we were there. We also had perfect weather, making Washington as beautiful as it can ever be. We got to see all the best tourist attractions except the White House, and there was still free time left over.
I put that free time to use by first visiting North Dakota’s then Congressman Byron Dorgan (real name). In the mid-1980’s, a couple of middle class kids from North Dakota with no connections could walk into a congressman’s office, or senator’s office, and actually get face time with him or her. In fact, the Congressman spent about forty-five minutes with us. A portion of that time was spent on small talk and politics, but I filled the rest with promoting my Air Force Academy dream. I laid out my vision for Congressman Dorgan, and he was very receptive to my plea.
After we rapped up with Dorgan, we paid a visit to North Dakota’s then newly elected freshman Senator Kent Conrad (real name). He was low man in the Senate in terms of seniority, so he got stuck with the shittiest office accommodations, much smaller than Congressman Dorgan’s suite (we know because he joked about it). Fortunately, Senator Conrad was every bit as affable and receptive to Jack and me as Dorgan had been, spending about an hour chatting with us just like my conversation with the Congressman. Coincidentally, we were scheduled to take a group photo with the Senator and Congressman right after our meeting with him, so he generously took the two of us with him through the underground Senate rail transport from his office building to underground at the Capitol building. He walked us through Capitol out to the front steps, where we posed for the photos. Along the way, we bumped into several well-known big shot Senators who all greeted Senator Conrad warmly, Republicans and Democrats alike.
It was all very impressive for a couple of sixteen-year-olds tag-alongs. It was the kind of experience that makes a person actually believe in their government and trust in the honorability of its servants. My spirit of patriotism and desire to serve was in full drive. I was a one-hundred percent red, white and blue true believer. I could tell that Jack was a bit star struck by the politicians, and I think I made quite an impression on him with my bold self-advocacy, too. I know the trip had a huge impact on him and helped put some motivation and direction to his future, too. But most of all, it was a good start for me on my Academy quest – these men who held my destiny at their fingertips now knew my name, face, and obvious drive. It would pay off later, I trusted.
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The School Board meeting room was plain, with bare white walls, beige carpet, and a large table surrounded by eight cushy blue chairs. The room had 20 standard brown folding chairs for the public, of which three quarters were filled by observers and interested parties. Among these people sat Tami, my mother, my stepfather, and me. We waited quietly as the five-member school board called the meeting to order, read the minutes of the last meeting, were briefed on the status of all old business, and then finally moved on to new business.
I quietly assessed the members of the board. There was a 30-ish local businessman, a 50-ish farmer who had been on the board for over 10 years; a local lawyer who had lost his last bid for reelection to the state legislature; a 40-ish professor from the nearby community college; and the Chairman of the Board was a 35-year-old woman, a former teacher who just happened to be an acquaintance of my parents. That was a bit of good luck. Also sitting with the board was the 48-year-old superintendent of the school district. He was a dire looking fellow with a reputation for being a complete prick. Ronald Wagner (as I will call him) had stepped on a few toes to get into his current position and I saw him as my most difficult opponent.
“Next on the agenda,” declared the chairperson (I’ll call) Mary Nelson, “is a request from Wesley Miller, a student at Dickinson high school, to be allowed to graduate a year early. I believe Mr. Stockert would like to say a few words before we hear from Mr. Miller.” Stockert was the vice principal, in charge of all student affairs, and he was sent to be the hatchet man for my request.
“Mdm. Chairman, thank you,” Stockert said as he sat at the end of the table, the testimony chair. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Board, tonight you are being asked to consider an early graduation for one of Dickinson High’s best students, Wesley Miller,” Stockert began. “There is no question that Wes is a model student. He is in the top of his class, he has been involved in a variety of extracurricular activities, and he is a very pleasant student to work with. The faculty and staff all have high regards for Wes and his goals are quite admirable. However, we would prefer that the board denies his request for early graduation. It is our position that a four-year program of study is essential to fully prepare students, like Wes, for college. The fourth year of high school provides greater enrichments to students and they are allowed to mature into adulthood easier, more gradually. I'm sure you all remember your senior years as a time that was fun, easy-going, a time period that builds memories that you will always be able to look back at fondly. If Wes graduates early, he'll miss out on all those times that most people cherish, and you'll probably regret it later in life,” he implored, looking at me.
“We feel that it would be in his best interest to finish his senior year,” Stockert said as he wrapped up his case. “We are aware that Wes has accelerated his class schedule and if he would like to further advance academically, we will help him arrange to take classes at Dickinson State College as a senior…”
John Larson (alias), the attorney on the board, put forth the question to Stockert, “Are there any other considerations or concerns that you feel we should hear?”
Stockert paused briefly and stated, “Well, there is a concern amongst the school administration that if you allow Mr. Miller to graduate early, we may be flooded with similar requests from students who seek an easy way out of school. You'll be opening the door for less qualified students who simply are tired of school but need the education and experience the most. We would like to avoid these potential problems with students and the possible legal difficulties that may result. We would prefer that the school board not deviate from our long-standing graduation policies.”
Standard bullshit bureaucratic response, I thought. Make yourselves look like caring thoughtful individuals while all the time trying to save yourself some paperwork. Assholes...
Stockert was finished. He got up and took the chair two away from me. The board looked convinced. Why break tradition? Who needs the hassles, right?
Fuck them. It was my turn. I got up, folder in hand, and took the chair Stockert had warmed up for me.
Showtime.
“Members of the board, good evening,” I began. “I want to first thank you for giving me the opportunity to present my request in person.” I started handing out copies of my academic record, class schedule for the upcoming year, and other supporting documents to the board. “In the next few minutes, I will first explain to you my motivations and rationale for my request, then I will explain what I have done to prepare myself for accomplishing my goals.
“For the past two years, I've been preparing myself to compete for an appointment to the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. Ever since I can remember, my two primary goals in life have been to receive the best education possible and to serve my country. In attending the Air Force Academy, I feel that both of these goals can be accomplished,” I said as I started my pitch.
“I first learned about the wonderful opportunity presented by the Academy from the former superintendent of the school district, Mr. Donovan Brady, in May of 1984. Mr. Brady knew my desire for the best education possible and he recommended that I pursue a future at the Air Force Academy. After having done extensive research on the Academy, my family and I visited the campus later that summer. I fell in love with the place. The Academy offers a competitive, high-quality education – they’ve produced 26 Rhodes Scholars to date. They also offer excellent career opportunities in service to our country. Both of these facts motivated me tremendously. When I was there, I talked to the cadets and admissions officers, and I became convinced that an Air Force Academy education would be one of the best experiences that a young man or woman could ever have. It was from that point on that I decided to do everything possible to be granted an appointment to the Academy.
“Having set that as my goal, I quickly started to set a series of sub-goals that would lead me to an appointment. I attended summer school classes to advance my schedule. I participated in every extracurricular activity that I could, and I was quite successful. I’ve been on the state championship student congress team, the student council, Future Business Leaders of America, concert band, jazz band, and I'm the features and photography editor for the school newspaper. I was on the football team until I broke my shoulder and I recently won a state speech championship. I think that I'm already a pretty well-developed, well-rounded individual,” I continued.
“In discussions with Academy admissions officers, I was told about how candidates are evaluated. Candidates are given a whole person score, which is calculated from academic qualifications, participation and excellence in extracurricular activities, and physical qualifications. In advancing my class schedule, I have increased my competitiveness in the nominations process. But I don't want to leave anything to chance. I am not satisfied with just having a shot at it. I am committed to receiving an appointment. By graduating in three years, my competitiveness for the nomination from one of our congressional delegation will be greatly increased. But that fact is not my sole justification.
“It is my intention to complete at least a double major at the Academy, which is very difficult because of the stringent constraints on the time of cadets. Doing so would be virtually impossible without prior college credits. Therefore, it is my intention, if you grant my request, to attend the University of North Dakota, in what would be my senior year, and take as many first-year courses that are transferable to the Academy as possible.” Coincidently, Tami was leaving for UND in two weeks.
“Furthermore,” I went on, “Academy officials informed me that the college students received a slightly different evaluation in the admissions process. The reviews of their files are more personal. The vast majority of candidates are high school seniors and the information used to calculate the whole person’s score is generally fed into a computer. College student applicants also receive a whole person score; however, they also have an individual review of their files by the head of the admissions office. If they did well in their college classes, they're more likely to receive the appointment because they have less of a risk of dropping out or failing. In other words, they have proven their ability to handle college-level work, and if their other qualifications are good, they have a better chance of being appointed. I want that advantage.”
The looks on the faces of the board members had changed radically. They realized that this kid was serious. But I was no kid and they knew that, too. I was going places. Should they stand in my way?
Tim Wiggins, the college professor, put forth his first question. “Wes, you sound like you know what you're doing, but I've got to ask you – isn't prelaw and astronautical engineering a strange combination?
“Well, it may appear so at first, let me explain. We’re already living in a very high-tech society and that trend will only increase. What I'd eventually like to do is earn at least a master’s degree in astronautical engineering, or physics, and earn a law degree. That still seems strange but think about it. As we further explore space and develop its potential, there will undoubtedly be complications. For example, the plans to develop a permanent space station or a manned colony on the moon, Mars, or wherever, will undoubtedly involve complicated legal work, whether it's developing contracts, negotiating international agreements, or what have you. Or what if there is some sort of accident? The potential for legal problems for any type of accident is enormous. And I don't think there are very many lawyers qualified to work on those types of questions. Beyond that, regardless of whether or not I could combine the two fields, I like the idea of obtaining a broader education. More doors would open up to me and I would have a much wider variety of career choices. I think that such a degree combination, despite its strange appearance, would make me an asset to either the Air Force or in private industry and I would have a great deal of flexibility in my career path.”
What I was not saying is that I want to be an expert on space, energy, nuclear weapons and all things related thereto AND the law, politics, and international relations. I was really trying to be ALL THAT…and then be a serious leader of our country. I had no doubt at all about doing it.
By the expression on Wigan's face, he got that I could also make a damn good living as a consultant to defense contractors too.
“Where does your motivation for these goals come from?” asked Ronald Wagner.
“My parents have always tried to instill in me the value of education, but in all honesty, my motivation has been pretty much self-generated. Frankly, I think the world is going to hell fast. I look at the world around us and where it's heading, and it scares me. I truly believe that my generation is going to be faced with more critical problems than ever before. If we do not rise to the occasion, if we do not make ourselves stronger and smart enough to solve the problems we’re going to face, I don't think there'll be much left of anything to hand down to the next generation. Personally, I believe that because I have a great deal of potential, it is my responsibility, my duty in a way, to fully develop it and put my skills to their best uses. Anything less, I feel, would be negligent, a disservice to myself and to the people around me.”
From the look on Larson's face, he thought I was a goddamn crusader. It looked like his ego was chafing. “Mr. Miller, I realize how competitive the Academy is, both physically and mentally. Don't you think you would be better prepared to compete on both levels if you finished your senior year and went in at the same age as all of the other cadets?” Larson asked.
“Mr. Larson, I’ve thought about that,” I replied. I wasn't going to be baited and hooked. “That is why I want to attend UND for a year, to better prepare myself academically and allow myself to further mature physically. I know that it would be difficult for me to compete physically if I were to enter the Academy a year early, therefore I will work out and wait. If I go to UND, I'll be more than competitive academically and I'll be on equal footing physically.”
Larson was pissed. I had caught him sleeping, made him look like he wasn't paying attention. Little jerk.
“I've got a question for your mother,” Larson spat out. “Mrs. Miller, do you really want your son to be out on his own after just turning 17?”
Diane did not like being called “Mrs. Miller.” She was still bitter from her divorce ten years earlier and she had been remarried for seven of those. It was the wrong way for the lawyer to start out.
“We have always supported Wes and everything he's done. He's had this goal for a long time, and he knows what he's doing. I think he is mature and intelligent enough to be on his own now, if he had to be, so I'm not worried how he'll do in a year from now. We’re fully supportive of him and we’re behind him and everything he wants to do,” Diane finished.
Way to go mom! I smiled inwardly. This was just about a done deal.
Larson continued questioning me about my background, my sincerity, looking for a hole someplace. There weren't any. After about 25 minutes of back-and-forth, the chairperson cut him off with her own question.
Mary Nelson asked tentatively, “Wes, are you sure you want to miss out on your senior year? Some of the most memorable experiences a lot of people have take place then. You'll be leaving all your friends behind and you'll be missing a lot of good times.”
“I’ve thought about all that and realize that I might miss out on some good times. But I have also realized a long time ago that to get to where I want to go, sacrifices have to be made. Sure, I'll miss my friends, but what lies ahead for me is too important to me to let a few good potential memories get in the way. The life I am building for myself and the benefits of graduating early far outweigh the few costs,” I said confidently. What I didn't say is that the most important person in my life would be with me in Grand Forks – Tami. “To be totally blunt, there simply won't be anything left for me at Dickinson High School after this year. I will have completed every challenging class, participated in every extracurricular activity that interests me, and accomplished every goal at DHS that I can think of setting. There won’t be any more hills to climb – no more challenges. And I certainly don't want to sit around for a year taking underwater basket weaving classes and letting myself get sloppy. I want to stay focused and keep advancing.”
What I also did not say to the board was that my entire Academy plan was merely the first major step toward grooming myself to run for President of the United States someday. Somehow, I think they got the drift anyway.
To my surprise, Ronald Wagner, the dire looking superintendent, threw up his hands as if to surrender, smiled and he said, “Let him do it. It sounds like he's got all his bases covered and ours too. I move the question.”
“Seconded,” said Mr. Wiggins.
“The question has been moved and seconded,” Mary Nelson stated with a grin. “Is there any discussion remaining? No? All in favor signify by raising your hand.” All hands rose, but Larson's was last, of course. “Very well. Motion carries. Mr. Miller, you are now a senior in high school. The board wishes you the best of luck on your plans. I'm sure you'll make us very proud.”
“Thank you all so very much,” I replied. My grin felt like it wrapped around my entire head. I walked over to my mother, stepfather, and Tami, alternating hugs and handshakes. They were all proud of me. I had just successfully bucked the local system, broken tradition, and was to become my school's first-ever three-year high school graduate.
I was going places, and now my trip had begun in earnest. No one in the room now doubted that I was destined for greatness, especially me.
Of those that felt happy for me, none were happier than Tami. She was now assured of having an entire year alone, almost, with me at UND. The year in which we both wanted to solidify our relationship to the fullest. A year of building real memories, on which we would both have to feed in order to survive the loneliness and separation that awaited us when I actually left for the Academy. I felt confident that after that year, just under two years from then, nothing would or could ever get in our way.
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