Last June, when The Washington Post published an op-ed suggesting he could be a viable candidate, Johnson posted a screen grab and gave the idea a boost. On Instagram, he called the Post piece “interesting” and “fun to read,” adding that “the most important thing right now is strong honest leadership from our current and future leaders of this country.”
Since then, Johnson tells me, he's given the question more thought. “A year ago,” he says, “it started coming up more and more. There was a real sense of earnestness, which made me go home and think, ‘Let me really rethink my answer and make sure I am giving an answer that is truthful and also respectful.’ I didn't want to be flippant—‘We'll have three days off for a weekend! No taxes!’”
So, after all that consideration, Johnson doesn't hesitate when I ask him whether he honestly might one day give up his life as the highest-paid movie star on earth—which is unquestionably easier, more fun, and more lucrative than being president of the United States—in order to run for office. “I think that it's a real possibility,” he says solemnly.
When you think about the distance Johnson has already traveled, the idea doesn't sound crazy. So far, Johnson's tale of success has been your classic rags-to-stretch-fabrics-to-riches story. He was born in California, the only child of Rocky Johnson, a pioneering black Nova Scotian wrestler who performed in a tag-team duo called the Soul Patrol, and Ata Maivia, who has ties, through her father, to the Anoa'i family—a legendary clan of Samoan wrestlers. Despite the legacy, Johnson grew up poor; he speaks of his family's eviction from a one-room apartment as the formative experience of his adolescence. He racked up numerous arrests for fighting and petty theft while still a minor. In high school, he found football, which helped him find college.
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