Draper here... Sacramento Invaded by Musclebound Ambassadors - (Joe Weider Day.) 

How we got here is a long story, so please don't ask.

We sat in the sweeping balcony of the Capitol Building's ornate Senate Chamber, Frank and Christine Zane, Penny and Dick Tyler (West Coast Bodybuilding Scene), Ann and Peter McGough (Flex and Muscle & Fitness senior editor) and Laree and me, peering down upon California's finest governmental figures at work, a hardhat area of another sort. It was shortly after noon and Joe Weider was being officially honored by Governor Schwarzenegger and the State of California: Today was July 9th, Joe Weider Day.

The family of Joe and Betty Weider was seated in various sections of the gallery, as were official friends of the Governor. Lunch was shortly after the ceremony in the conference room attached to the Governor's office. Security guards, officials and assistants, like worker bees, buzzed everywhere. None of us in our little muscley group expressed disappointment we had not pursued public service or government as a career choice.

Even amid the innocuous procedure of awarding an elder citizen for his outstanding contribution to society, the heehaw of politics raised its ugly voice. The Senate Pro Tem introduced the Governor with less-than-amusing acrid remarks about his presence (Arnold's) in the Chamber and the opportunity of meeting "the man responsible for bringing him (Arnold) to America." Oh, boy!

We filed out and made our way to the luncheon, our appetites in our suit coat pockets. The fellow who led us and the fellow who trailed wore shoulder holsters and ear pieces and whispered incessantly to their lapels. We decided at the last moment to abort the attack, cancel the strike and abandon the take-over. Rats! There'd be another time.

The room was alive with people of all walks of life, and included cousins, champions, cops, robbers, and Sly Stallone, governmental spokespersons, journalists and cameramen. What a feast! Observation is my forte. I observe well. I'm a better observer than I am a participant. Or, to be candid, I stare dumbly rather than mingle and socialize enthusiastically. One syllable words tumble from my mouth like water from a slow-leaking faucet: hi, yup, er, ah, huh, wha, nope, yup, nope.

Glad-handing, casual introductions and dutiful sound bites filled the animated room for 30 minutes. My deep and influential conversation with Melissa Johnson, the sprightly Executive Director of the President's Council on Physical Fitness, was interrupted at one point and I was handed a mic and positioned swiftly before the roving video

camera: "Say something to Joe Weider," was the direction given.

Spontaneously, unhesitatingly, excitedly I drew upon my insight and powers of articulation. Huh, um, yup, as we all know, Mr. Weider, The Trainer of Champions, otherwise, Joe, far be it from me, er, furthermore. My lips sizzled with inspiration and authority and newly cast words never before spoken on the planet earth: reamazible, extramarketorial, supravisionish. I was impressive, indeed. My eyes darted about like a pair of guppies looking for a secret way out of the bowl.

Everyone settled down and assumed their seats after catching up and making new acquaintances. We ate a light lunch of tasty chicken salad as the round-table socializing continued. The Terminator, seated five feet to my right between Rocky and the Master Blaster, regularly received 4x6 cards informing him of news updates and the latest events in Chambers, which he discreetly scrutinized and calmly managed. I, the Bomber, was alert and ready for any advice or assistance he might need.

Arnold spoke, Franco spoke, Melissa spoke and Joe was honored. A short film was shown depicting Joe Weider's remarkable rags-to-riches life

-- borrowed-nickels to multi-billions, major development of bodybuilding and staggering influence on the health and fitness industry. We applauded sincerely. The guy built the ship, raised the sails, manned the helm and set the course. His hands alone. He managed the winds and rough seas, endured the still air and silent waters and negotiated rocky reefs and uncharted oceans. No one showed him the way.

The luncheon wound down in a timely fashion and the guests were offered a private tour of the Capitol Building. Laree and I opted to locate our nearby hotel, the Hyatt, and take advantage of some quiet time. The heat of Sacramento laid its heavy hand on our brow and the uncommon activities pulled at our ear, while the attire -- sport jacket for me and dress for Laree -- caused tugging, itching and hives. How does Arnie do it?

Did you know Governor Schwarzenegger and his wife, Maria, chose the Hyatt penthouse as their residence during Arnold's tenure? I'll bet if Laree or I stuck our heads out our 10th floor hotel window far enough, we could see the corner of their 15th floor living room window and the verdant hedges trimming their sky-high patio. I'm just sayin'...

maybe...

Evening came right on time and Team Draper made its way to Lucca, the favorite eating place of the local political emissaries. We walked the six blocks with Frank and Christine Zane, and Bill Chatfield, the energetic Director of the Selective Service System. After one block I began to fall behind, which is deadly to the ego of winged warriors. I managed each step carefully and seriously to accommodate my less-than-quick-and-sturdy, post-op gait.

Confessing my mortality and apologizing for my temporarily weakened state, the subject of heart surgery became the center of conversation for Bill and me. He was, it unfolds, the former spokesperson for a leading foundation for medical chelation therapy. Chelation is a bonding process in supplement manufacturing that engages nutrients in a super-efficient manner. The application of advanced treatments of EDTA chelation promises to promote health and healing to bodies stressed by today's toxic absorption and overload.

Arterial health -- not my strongpoint -- is one of the troubled areas primarily improved by chelation therapy. I am bound and determined to research the subject further. Some doctors, it appears, disregard the treatment, bogus, they say. Many have joined in the advancement of chelation to relieve patients of horrible conditions or to prevent them from occurring.

Our very own Dick Tyler, a 30-year-veteran of chiropractic medicine and the renowned author of "West Coast Bodybuilding Scene" and "Alternative Chiropractic," hooked up with Bill Chatfield at Lucca and entered a passionate hour-long conversation applauding the extraordinary merits of EDTA chelation and the sick body. More later, kids, on this probing subject.

The guests at Lucca, a new restaurant with lots of atmosphere and wood and open street-front windows, congregated in a private garden patio.

Drinks were served and we proceeded to further our friendships -- the same faces minus the diplomatic types and fewer whispering men-in-black. Name cards placed judiciously on the single long table designated the seating arrangement.

The lights were dimmed as one by one people gave up intermingling and chose the cushioned seats bearing their names. Ah, to sit: Joe Weider at the center of the table with Arnold and Betty to his left (much to everyone's disappointment, Maria was in Washington, DC); Laree and I sat to Joe's right, and the Zanes and Tylers across from the man of the day. What a crew.

Joe's 87 and as in love with bodybuilding as he was 70 years ago when he cranked out his very first muscle publication in his family's front room in Montreal.

Today and tomorrow, the weather and taxes, were discussed, evaluated and argued among the Golden Age contemporaries. Mostly the memories were deep and wide and stirring. We were nice folks, good, grateful and kind. The food was exceptional, a menu offering variety and the best money could buy. Thanks, Joe. Thanks, Arnold.

Intermittent silences indicated the company's undivided attention to eating, savoring and appreciating. I had baked salmon; Laree had a steak fit for a queen. Time continued its march unencumbered and the early departures began.

"Thanks for everything, so good to meet you, you have my number, it was our pleasure, please call, see you again soon and bye-bye."

Frank eased to the front of the table now scattered with half-full glasses of wine and iced tea; his signature harmonica-and-poetry tribute was about to unfold. All eyes and ears and rhythmically clapping hands were directed to Mr. Olympia as he celebrated "Weider, Our Leader" one more time. His rich, bluesy harmonica stole the show and his sing-song words, though not Robert Frostesque (nor meant to be), accented his love for Joe Weider. Faces beamed.

Laughter and grins and draining upend glasses... Time to go, guys and girls and you muscle worshippers. The walk back to the hotel was hopeful, visions of soft mattresses and pillows and quietude drifting in our heads.

Home is anywhere you hang your wings.

Tomorrow promises clear skies and zero turbulence.

Go... God's might... DD

Laree Draper's report from her IronOnline news.

We spent Monday, Joe Weider Day, tromping around the California State Capitol Building in Sacramento in our Sunday best, adding our presence to the honoring of Joe Weider’s contributions to world-wide physical fitness. There’s no doubt that because of his passion for bodybuilding and his publishing talents, weight training gained popularity and grew from a basement sub-culture to its current standing running the gauntlet from medical re-hab to athletic pursuits, elder longevity to supermodel weight loss. We may have gotten here, eventually, or truthfully we may not have; there’s no way to measure the results of his life’s work.

Now that Dave’s given you the fodder of his reminisces, you can count on me for a blow-by-blow report.

We spent the prior day at Dick and Penny Tyler’s, where the good doc you know as the author of West Coast Bodybuilding Scene and the medical text Alternative Chiropractic did live blood cell analysis on both of us — fascinating to see both of our blood looking entirely different, not even the color of the cell groupings were the same — and ran a phonocardiograph on Dave to get a reading on his heart health.

Phonocardiography is similar to the electrocardiograph you’ve probably heard of from your cardiologist (or your dad’s), only this machine measures sound instead of electrical pulses. So here’s Dave holding his breath for what felt like minutes, while an ancient and perfectly preserved dust-free machine scratched out its markings and Dick muttered his interest in the squiggled peaks of ink.

Dick’s a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to his doctoring tools. I say that with a grin thinking of his telling the story of gluing his important trinkets into their positions, and then laughing with glee after realizing this was the impression he had shared with a woman sitting next to him at dinner who turned out to be the Executive Director of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness, her introduction to our pal Doc Tyler. Melissa Johnson (said Director) was just one of a number of fascinating people we were to spend the day with Monday.

Senate Pro Tem Don Perata and Joe Weider
John Corlett photo

On the Senate floor after the brief presentation to Joe by the Senator Perata, Sylvester Stallone, on a four-hour break from editing a new Rambo film, captured the attention of all, and when he departed game show host Bob Barker took center stage. Considering the Weider group’s friends and family and the summer tourists in attendance, the legislative hall was quite empty; I’m uncertain how many bodies it takes to constitute a quorum, but as a voting Californian, I hope there was no pressing business that day.

Oh, right. The budget’s two weeks past due. I suppose the lawmakers were on holiday.

Well, we *were* on holiday, so after the presentation, our party of about 40 shifted off to the Council Room adjacent to the Governor’s Office, where subsequent presentations were made, including a 10-minute video compilation documenting Joe’s notable history.

Arnold spoke, of course, as did Franco Columbu, Sly and Melissa, followed by a family member and a family doctor. The speeches were nice, and Arnold’s especially so, but I remember thinking how delightful would have been the addition of an Artie Zeller story about Joe – any Weider/Zeller drama would have done — hilarious in the telling. Alas, Artie died in 1999; his characterizations perished with him, but happily we’ll always have his priceless black & white photos of Golden Era bodybuilding.

Dave Draper, Serge Jacobs, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Frank Zane
Artie Zeller photo courtesy Dave Draper's Newsletter

Golden Era bodybuilding was the time that many consider pivotal to today’s fitness atmosphere, and the heroes of those days were well represented this week in Sacramento. Led by — who else? — the Governor, included in the group were Frank Zane, Franco Columbu, my personal fav Dave Draper, Dave’s model-partner, Joe’s wife Betty Weider (still unbelievably beautiful, I’ll just toss that in there before you get a chance to ask), and flanked by Dick Tyler, the writer who made them famous in Joe’s Muscle Builder magazine.

Joe and Betty’s families filled out the crowd, wherein we were introduced to Joe’s sister, Freda — you knew about Ben, but did you know he had a sister? Quite a jewel, that woman. I liked her very much, as did the others at our end of the table later that night at dinner.

Friends and business partners over the years stood the test of time — even Betty’s oldest friend, Janet, friends since age 14, was there to tease Dave about his beach photo shoots with Betty at his side, Janet there to keep her company amid the 1960s Venice Beach bodybuilders. Weider Publications was well represented by Editor in Chief Peter McGough, quick to put a smile on my face, who was there with his terrific wife, Ann. Kris Lannin Liang, Arnold’s long-time executive secretary, and Charlotte Parker, the Weiders’ publicist, were credited with pulling the event together efficiently and effectively.

The biggest surprise and a great pleasure of the day was spending time with Bill Chatfield, an energetic and knowledge-filled ex-Marine (actually, I’m told there’s no such thing as an ex-Marine; at any rate, he’s no longer on active duty), whom we later discovered to be the Director of the Selective Service System.

At one point, an assistant to the Governor moved about the room dispensing commemorative Arnold Schwarzenegger cigars. When Dick and Penny discovered our souvenirs were heading to Baghdad to reward an IronOnline pal after a training session in the 140-degree heat of Camp Victory, they, of course, contributed theirs. If either the Governor or the Selective Service Director Chatfield had known of our plans, I’m certain there would have been a greater cigar subsidy. Laree Draper

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