Hippies at Home Near Bush’s Ranch

CRAWFORD, Texas —  You have to drive up the gullet of Texas on the Brazos Trail, past road-kill armadillos and the Worm Lady’s bait shop, through mosquitoes so thick the thwacks on your windshield sound like a summer storm. Only then do you pass a sign declaring this town a most unlikely tourist trap: “Home of President George W. Bush.”

Residents here knew life would change when Bush bought his ranch four years ago. Still, they shrugged and had a good laugh when somebody hung up a banner, in Russian, to welcome that country’s leader, Vladimir V. Putin. They were wary of the Secret Service, but it turns out they’re nice as can be. They figured visitors would show up, so they opened gift shops where you can buy Old Glory in all sizes and Barbara Bush bobblehead dolls.

But they didn’t think the hippies would come.

This spring, a ponytailed, woolly-sock-wearing Muslim-Quaker peace activist -- not a local, in other words -- took out an $800-a-month mortgage on a $54,000 colonial home. The activist, Johnny Wolf, and a group of supporters who oppose Bush’s foreign policy have dubbed it the “Crawford Peace House.”

They hope to offer visitors a “center for spiritual growth and intellectual understanding,” an interfaith house of worship and a place where journalists can go to find a viewpoint different than what they say is a “cult of war” at the ranch.

“One of the neighbors told me, ‘Well, you’re just a bunch of old hippies.’ Well ... yeah,” Wolf said. “And for $800 a month, we get to challenge the leader of a superpower. It’s great. Every fourth or fifth car that passes waves at us. And some people tell us we’re No. 1 -- they flip us off.”

From the Florida Keys, where Harry S. Truman wore loud shirts and played poker, to San Clemente, where Richard Nixon wore dress shoes while strolling the beach, a handful of communities have become unofficial presidential getaways.

Here, residents who gamely tried to absorb Bush’s arrival say they never thought they’d see the day when the smell of vegan curry stir-fry -- a meal prepared for antiwar protesters -- would emanate from a blue house on Fifth Street.

Crawford has about 705 residents, many of whom view the Peace House initiative with a wary and weary eye, said Teresa Bowdoin, 42, an employee of the Yellow Rose gift shop who has lived in Crawford most of her life.

“Maybe we were naive. But we didn’t see this coming,” she said. “You’re in a small community where everybody thinks alike, where everybody is very supportive of the president.”

Bush purchased the 1,600-acre ranch, which is actually seven miles outside of Crawford, in 1999. His arrival heralded a revival of a decrepit downtown. When he came, there was a former gas station that made a mean chicken-fried steak and a handful of other businesses. Most of the area was boarded up. Today there are gift shops catering to tourists, and a new bank is ready to open.

“Things have changed,” said Jamie Burgess, a local schoolteacher and a manager at the Red Bull, one of the new gift shops. “A lot of it is good.”

When it comes to the Peace House, Burgess said, some of the changes are “not so good. But we live in a democracy.”

Wolf, like the new businesses, is taking advantage of Bush’s presence: He wants to get a message across. In Wolf’s mind, the war in Iraq marks the beginning of a new era of U.S. aggression, and he has grown frustrated with what he says is the Democratic Party’s failure to stand up to the Bush administration.

“I guess it’s up to regular people,” he said. “So here we are.”

Asked to respond to the establishment of the Peace House, White House spokesman Ken Lisaius said, “People in the United States are free to peacefully protest or make their cases, their opinions, known. That is a time-honored part of the American tradition. The president understands that.”

Wolf, the youngest of four children and born in Dallas, was a child of left-leaning politics. When he was 8 years old, on a family road trip, his mother forced his father to pull over and give away all of their groceries to people who were marching for farm workers’ rights. By the time he was 12, he was a self-declared pacifist.

Wolf is now the president of a 60-year-old family business that builds stage sets and movie props. His clients include the production team behind “Barney.”

He raised the money for the house’s down payment largely by selling $1 antiwar buttons at peace rallies.

Wolf has opened a meditation garden to people who want to pray or just sit and think. He is hoping to add high-speed Internet lines that members of the media can use to file their stories when they are in town.

He has organized dinners for people who want to discuss world affairs, such as a recent event for activists concerned about Latin American economic conditions.

So far, the biggest stir Wolf caused wasn’t even his doing. In April, 150 activists drove in from Austin to protest Bush’s war plans. Five were arrested, said Crawford Police Chief Donnie Tidmore, for allegedly protesting without a permit.

Residents quickly attributed the brouhaha to the Peace House, but Tidmore was quick to point out that Wolf had tried to dissuade the protesters, knowing they didn’t have a permit to march and that townsfolk would link them to his cause. When it was over, Wolf invited everybody back to the house -- protesters and police alike -- for dinner.

Wolf and his supporters “have been very cooperative,” Tidmore said. “We will do everything we can to make sure they have their 1st Amendment rights.”

Wolf insists he fits in better than local residents seem to think.

“I’ve always worked,” he said. “I love my children. I have a beer every now and then, but I don’t do drugs and I have a commitment to being honest. My politics might be different. But I don’t think my values are much different than anybody else’s around here.”

Wolf and his neighbors hope he won’t stay long.

“If nobody pays any attention to them,” Bowdoin asked, “then why would they stay?”

Wolf owns a 25-acre farm near Dallas and says he would prefer to stay there on the weekends instead of driving back and forth between the farm and Crawford.

“The goal here is to be relevant for another year and a half,” Wolf said, referring to the next presidential election. “I would love for this to be a very bad investment.”