PREFACE: “DON’T TAKE NO SHIT!”

“FROM THE LEFT, I’M BILL PRESS.”

For six exciting, rousing, and altogether fun years, I had the joy of saying that every night on CNN, followed by, “From the right, I’m Bob Novak”—or Pat Buchanan, or Mary Matalin, or Tucker Carlson—announcing the end of that day’s edition of Crossfire.

I had a good run on Crossfire. As I learned in a number of jobs along the way, six years is a long time for television. I think I did a solid job, judging from both the kudos I received from the left and the hate mail from the right. And no wonder. I had the world’s best coach: the president of the United States!

In February 1996, a few weeks before actually landing the job, I was in Washington for a third round of auditions for Crossfire when I got a call from my good friend Susie Tompkins Buell from Bolinas. She was in town to attend a lunch for major donors at the White House. Since I was still, at that time, chair of the California Democratic Party, I made a quick call to Deputy Chief of Staff Harold Ickes and landed myself an invitation.

After lunch in the State Dining Room, Susie and I lined up with other guests to greet President Clinton in the Blue Room. Susie and I had both met the president several times before. In fact, Susie and her husband, Mark, were among his biggest supporters and fund-raisers in California, and, as state chair, I was part of his entourage almost every time he came to the Golden State—which occurred so often, we joked with him about his being eligible to vote in California.

When our turn came, Susie and I each gave Clinton a big hug and extended very special greetings from West Marin County, where we both have homes.

Clinton was in a particularly good mood, so after a little back-and-forth banter, I said, “Mr. President, I’ll bet you don’t know why I’m in Washington today.”

He looked puzzled and said, “No, why’s that?”

I told him I was trying out for a job on Crossfire.

He asked, “You mean, you’re a guest on Crossfire tonight?”

And I explained, “Oh, no. I’m actually auditioning to be the show’s new cohost on the left.”

At which point, Clinton grabbed my arm, pulled me to the side, brought his face up close to mine, and gave me my marching orders: “Let me just tell you one thing,” he told me, wagging his finger in my face. “Don’t take no shit!”

And I didn’t. Not that day. And, once I got the job, not any day for the next six years, starting with my debut as Crossfire’s new host on the left: February 26, 1996.

My challenge that night was defending normalization of relations with Cuba. This was just two days after Cuban MiGs had shot down two civilian aircraft belonging to the Miami-based organization Brothers to the Rescue, killing all four on board. Via satellite from Miami, arguing that this was an “act of war,” which demanded a military response by the United States, was the notorious Jorge Mas Canosa. As founder of the Cuban-American National Foundation, under both Republican and Democratic presidents, he had single-handedly dictated U.S.-Cuba policy for the last thirty years. No Republican or Democratic president dared oppose him.

Especially given the timing of the incident and the death of four Brothers volunteers, it was a tough argument to make and a good introduction to the challenges Crossfire would offer for the next six years. I thought I’d held my own, but was shaken upon leaving the studio to receive a phone message from a close Los Angeles liberal friend, Hollywood producer Stephen Rivers.

“I can’t believe it,” said Rivers. “Your very first day on Crossfire—and you defend fucking Fidel Castro!” I realized right then and there that I was in for a wild ride.

Crossfire, which started with the launch of CNN in 1982, was the first and best of America’s political debate shows. And, to my mind, canceling the original Crossfire was one of the dumbest decisions ever made in cable television.

I say that not just because I was cohost on the left. I was only there for six out of the show’s twenty-two years, and I had moved on before the ax finally fell. I say that simply because it’s true. No other show could compete with Crossfire then. And no other political show today is as good or compelling, nor offers the same spontaneity and passion.

For me, Crossfire was the latest adventure in an ever-changing career, catapulting me from Switzerland to San Francisco; from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C.; from a decade in the seminary to the California governor’s office; from leading the most populous state’s Democratic Party to cohosting the most popular debate program on national television.

Some people’s professional lives may proceed in a relatively straight line from start to finish. Mine never did. Instead, I’ve zigzagged in what were often totally opposite directions: first stepping outside the world for ten years to study for the Catholic priesthood; then diving back into politics as volunteer, campaign manager, and, ultimately, statewide candidate myself; taking time out again to serve in government as legislative aide, department head, and adviser to the California governor; and, finally, jumping into the world of media, from local political commentator to host of four national TV and radio shows.

Maybe the weirdest part is that I ended up on the left at all. Yes, I proudly admit, I’m a bleeding-heart liberal: pro-choice, pro-environment, pro–gun control, pro–affirmative action, pro-immigrant, pro–gay rights, and pro-union. Also anti-war, anti–death penalty, anti-discrimination, and anti-vouchers. And yes, a card-carrying member of the ACLU.

But by birthright, I probably should have ended up on the other side of the tracks.

After all, I grew up in a Republican stronghold, south of the Mason-Dixon line. Both my parents were Republicans. In my small town, segregation was the rule. Blacks—although we routinely used the N-word instead, without acknowledging there was anything wrong with it—shopped in their own stores, worshiped in their own churches, and walked a mile outside of town to attend their own school.

As kids, we had rock fights with black kids in the streets. And as Catholics, we were vehemently anti-abortion, anti-divorce, anti-sex outside of marriage, and anti-homosexuality. We didn’t use the term gay. We, I’m ashamed to admit, called them queers and faggots and considered LGBTQ Americans mentally ill.

Let’s face it. Given where I came from and what I was taught in school, I should probably have ended up a Trump voter.

Some of my family and friends back then likely wonder: What went wrong? Where and how, along the way, did I veer off the tracks?

A better question is: What went right? Or, more to the point, what went left? How did I escape the clutches of conservatism and end up a flaming lefty, let alone the chair of the California Democratic Party, liberal cohost of CNN’s Crossfire and The Spin Room, liberal counterpuncher on MSNBC’s Buchanan & Press, and nationally syndicated liberal morning radio talk show host?

That, my friends, is what this book is all about. Of course, that transformation didn’t happen suddenly or all at once, like—to use a metaphor I learned in those olden days—Saint Paul being knocked off his horse on the road to Damascus. It happened gradually, over time, through the series of events and experiences portrayed here: the story of how one misguided young redneck saw the light and made it to the promised land of liberalism.

If there was hope for me, there’s hope for anyone! And throughout this often bumpy and unpredictable ride, there were three critical forces that propelled me.

First, from the time I was a kid, a drive to spread my wings and fly as high as I could in order to escape the poverty, hard times, and tough lives I saw family and friends experience in the small town in Delaware where I grew up. I loved them, and still do, but I knew there was a bigger world out there, and I wanted to be part of it.

Second, a determination, in whatever field, to excel. I’ve always been compelled to strive for the top. I had to be in first place. There was no second or third. It’s a conviction best expressed, I believe, by famous architect Daniel Burnham, father of the skyscraper, architect of New York’s famous Flatiron Building, and designer of the Chicago World’s Fair: “Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably will not themselves be realized.”

Strangely enough, that spirit of Burnham was captured in our time by builder Donald Trump, long before he decided to run for president. Shoot for the moon, said the Donald: “As long as you are going to be thinking anyway, think big.” He’s right. It may be the only thing Trump ever said that I agree with. What’s true for buildings is also true for lives.

Third, what some might call a recklessness, but I would call a readiness, to leap at whatever opportunities come along, no matter how new and different—and even create a few new and challenging opportunities of your own. In the end, I discovered, it’s not the plans you make, it’s the risks you take that count the most and advance your career the strongest. As management guru Tom Peters put it, “If a window of opportunity appears, don’t pull down the shade.”

That’s certainly worked for me. I didn’t plan to be a priest, but almost did. I didn’t plan to become one of Governor Jerry Brown’s inner circle, but ended up there. I didn’t plan to rescue an American prisoner of war from a Nicaraguan jail cell, but somehow, I pulled it off. I didn’t plan a career on national radio and television, but here I am. It’s that readiness to leap into the unknown that’s powered me through the different phases and surprising twists of my personal and professional life, from the church, to politics, to the media.

I’ve had a lot of fun and exciting adventures along the way, and that’s a story I want to share with you. Believe me, it’s been a long journey from the days when I walked out the railroad tracks in my hometown of Delaware City with a fishing pole and a can of worms, looking for catfish.