Arnold chose this time to compete in the prestigious Mr. World contest. Maria was surprised; after all, he’d already proven himself in the bodybuilding world and had said he now wanted to be an actor. She felt his dreams and goals were all over the map, that he should have more focus. Typical Shriver. However, she supported him anyway, even accompanying him to Europe, learning the business behind muscle competition and practically managing his career. Or, as Arnold put it, “she was an animal for me over there.”
In the early 1980s, Arnold and Maria moved in together in Los Angeles. Though Sarge and Eunice had reservations about them living together without the benefit of marriage, they actually liked Arnold from the start. He was a success in life as a result of good old-fashioned hard work, and that mattered to them. He was respectful, too; they didn’t know if Maria had told him to do so or not, but he always stood up for them whenever they walked into the room.
By 1982, Arnold’s acting career was on the rise as a result of his popular starring role in Conan the Barbarian, followed two years later by its sequel, Conan the Destroyer. Then, in 1984, he took on his biggest and maybe most familiar of his characters, the Terminator. Throughout the eighties, his star continued to rise as he became an international action star with Commando, Raw Deal, The Running Man, Predator, and Red Heat. It was quite a streak, and Maria was proud of him. “I thought he was inspiring,” she recalled. “People said he would never make it, that his body was too unusual for films, that his accent was too strong, that he couldn’t act. But he never gave up. He had a dream and he went for it. That was very Kennedy/Shriver of him, wasn’t it?”
Maria and Arnold married on April 26, 1986; Maria was thirty, Arnold, thirty-eight. Caroline Kennedy, twenty-eight, was Maria’s maid of honor, just as Maria would be hers.
Making God Laugh
Maria Shriver may not have wanted to marry a politician, but within a few years of being with Arnold it became clear that her specific vision might not have clarity. “You may not have wanted a husband who was political, but you got one,” Sargent said, patting Arnold on the shoulder during one family meal; this was about two years after the Schwarzeneggers were married. It was around this time that Arnold had accompanied then–Vice President George H. W. Bush to a campaign rally, which marked the first time he was viewed in a political light by the public. “It’s just a matter of time,” Sarge told Maria with a wink. “Over my dead body” was her response.
Though Sarge and Eunice admired Arnold’s determination to make it as an actor, they couldn’t help but see something in him they thought suggested bigger and maybe more important ambitions. They’d had an actor in the family once, Peter Lawford, who’d been married to Pat. However, Peter was doing what he loved, and he had no interest in being a public servant. Arnold was different. He cared about the world around him and enjoyed lively conversations about politics when sitting around the Shriver dining room table.
All these years after his political life had ended, Sargent was determined to see the next generation stake its own rightful place, and he had a lot of enthusiasm about Arnold in that regard. The two men would always end up locked in deep conversation under an umbrella on the beach.
“Whatever those two are cooking up can’t be good,” Maria once said to Leah Mason.
“I’m sure your father is just offering some good political advice,” Leah observed with a smile.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Maria said.
“I’ve always said this about you,” Sargent told Arnold, again according to Leah’s memory. “You have something special. Are you sure you don’t want to go into the family business? Because I think you have it in you, my boy.”
Shriver, whose hair was now white, always had a mischievous glint in his eye whenever he spoke to his son-in-law about politics. According to photographs taken on the day, he was wearing a white polo shirt and white shorts, his spindly-looking legs covered about a third of the way up in black socks, accompanied by sandals. Arnold, looking hot and uncomfortable in slacks and a long-sleeved striped shirt bursting at the seams, had to laugh. “Your daughter will kill me,” he said, motioning to Maria. Shriver nodded. “Yeah, but don’t let that hold you back,” he said with a smile. “She’ll get on board.”
That Arnold was such a staunch Republican didn’t bother Sarge or Eunice. “Even though they were Democrats in a powerful Democratic family, the Shrivers always felt like outsiders, anyway,” noted Hugh Sidey. “Maybe Bobby [Kennedy] best encapsulated this pejorative feeling when he was once asked his opinion of Sarge. ‘Yeah, well … he’s a good Shriver’ was his response. He’d completely underestimated the man, who was anything but a lightweight and certainly nobody’s poor man’s Kennedy. I’m actually not sure of the origins of this impression, because certainly Jack [JFK] loved and respected the guy.”
Leave it to Sarge, though, to take such an unkind familial appraisal of him and turn it on its ear when asked about Arnold: “He’s as much a Kennedy as any good Shriver,” he joked.
Arnold’s first political appointment was as chairman of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports, where he served from 1990 to 1993 under George H. W. Bush. He would later serve as chairman of the California Governor’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports under Governor Pete Wilson. In 1999, he stated talking publicly about politics, sounding much like a Kennedy (or maybe a Shriver) when he said he felt an urge to “do something bigger, to be of service.”
Despite his growing interest in politics, Arnold’s burgeoning film career continued unabated. He starred in Twins in 1988, followed by Total Recall, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and Batman & Robin. In 2003, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines grossed over $150 million domestically. That summer, Arnold proclaimed his candidacy in the recall election for governor of California. He would announce on August 6 on The Tonight Show. “I married into a political family,” he would explain to Jay Leno. “You get together with them and you hear about policy, about reaching out to help people. I was exposed to the idea of being a public servant and Eunice and Sargent Shriver became my heroes.”
Maria wasn’t thrilled with this new plot twist in the story of a life she thought she’d planned so carefully. Of course she wanted to support her husband, but she had to wonder what his interest in politics would mean for her and for their family. “This is so not what I had planned,” she told her mother.
“Well, many are the plans in a person’s heart,” Eunice observed, quoting Proverbs, “but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”
Identity Crisis
In 2003, Maria Shriver found herself at an important crossroads. By this time, she was a highly successful television personality, having anchored the CBS Morning News with Forrest Sawyer from August 1985 until August 1986, co-anchored NBC News’s Sunday Today from 1987 to 1990, and acted as a weekend anchor on NBC on Saturdays from 1989 to 1990 and on Sundays until 1993. Now, in 2003, she found herself working as a contributing anchor and correspondent for Dateline NBC. At forty-eight, she had a distinctive, Kennedy-esque look, one that translated well on television: an angular face, resembling her mother’s, a gleaming white smile, penetrating dark eyes, and an abundance of well-styled brown hair. Her manner was authoritative, again like Eunice’s. “Make a decision as to how you want people to perceive you,” Eunice used to tell her, “and then be that woman.”
Maria had achieved pretty much everything she set out to do—marrying a smart, handsome man who wasn’t in politics, bearing wonderful children, and working successfully in television. Though she had a good life, she was concerned about how Arnold’s interest in politics would affect her own life. “I had to figure out a way to incorporate his new dream into my old one,” she would later admit. “He had his acting career, and what a career it was. I never would have thought he would have given it up for anything in the world, he was that big a star and we had that good a life. Then, as often happens, things changed … and boy, did they ever.”
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p; Most people didn’t think Arnold was a likely candidate for any kind of political office. Few even knew his views. Once he began to speak out, though, and make his positions known, his appeal became clear. He was an outsider, a little like Ronald Reagan and, later, Donald Trump. As sometimes occurs in politics, newcomers with fresh ideas who rarely or even never held public office can appeal to the disenfranchised in search of solutions to their problems. A staunch Republican who held the party’s longstanding views, Arnold was tough on illegal immigration. He was also critical of too much government intervention in business. Some Californians began to appreciate his proposals, especially in how they might impact the state’s declining economy by providing more jobs.
When Arnold announced his candidacy for governor to replace Gray Davis in a recall election, it became a big story. Schwarzenegger had quickly amassed a base, and it was vocal and powerful. His supporters viewed him as a man who’d come from nothing to become a huge success, and they believed his personal upward trajectory meant he could also be successful in government. He would shake things up, be “different.” His strength of personality played a big part in his growing popularity. He looked like he knew what he was doing, even if, at times, maybe he didn’t have a clue. It was thought by voters that “by his very Arnoldness, his very Terminatorness, he could cut through the self-serving culture of the governing class in Sacramento,” according to former Reagan speechwriter Peggy Noonan.
Certainly, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Donald Trump had a lot in common as politicians, not the least of which was that Arnold was not very specific in describing his agenda. Voters wanted change, and as Joe Jr. had told Kerry when discussing her husband Andrew Cuomo’s chances of becoming governor, “Pretty much always in politics, it comes down to one of two things: ‘I hate that guy’ or ‘I don’t hate that guy.’” With Cuomo, Joe said he was certain it would be “I hate that guy.” He was right (at least at first; Cuomo would certainly later prove himself). With Arnold, it would turn out to be just the opposite.
Schwarzenegger’s speechwriter, Landon Parvin, also known for his longtime work as the architect of Ronald Reagan’s speeches, recalls, “It was the most amazing campaign. I had been around presidents, I was used to that kind of media chaos, but with Arnold, it was more than that. It wasn’t just the mainstream American press, it was the entertainment press and also the foreign press. It was a fascinating fusion of politics and celebrity. There was just this incredible excitement. I can remember the morning of a senior staff meeting, I think it was after his first rally in Manhattan Beach. It was outside. There was this crush of people. Downtown guys in suits, surfer dudes, young people and old … you name it. There was just this incredible movement happening.”
In October, the California recall election resulted in Governor Gray Davis being removed from office and Arnold being elected governor, defeating Democrat Cruz Bustamante. “This is a great day for California,” he declared at a press event the next day. “This state is in trouble in many ways. I will fix it. I can fix it. I just need some time. I can change our economy, I can create jobs. Obviously, people believe that to be true, and I will not let them down.” Maria sat on the sidelines as her husband spoke, along with their children, looking as if this was one of the happiest days of her life. Privately, though, she still had grave concerns. “My head did a three-sixty on my shoulders,” she would recall. She would have to now accept that a huge life change was in the offing for her and her family.
Just as she had feared, Arnold’s election would mean a redefining of Maria’s life, in particular her beloved career. She’d taken a leave of absence from her duties at Dateline when he announced, but when she returned after the election it was clear that NBC had concerns. “NBC felt there could be a perception of a conflict of interest between my news job and Arnold’s becoming governor,” Maria later explained. She added, “It was uncharted water. The producers said, ‘If we put you on the air while Arnold’s campaigning, it’ll look like we’re endorsing him.’ A lot of people were uncomfortable with that, so they took me off the air while he was running for office. I thought I’d return to reporting when the campaign was over. And then he won, and that was that.”
After twenty-seven years of doing what she loved, leaving NBC wasn’t easy. “I realized how much I had identified myself with Maria Shriver, newswoman,” she recalled. “When that was gone, I had to really sit back and go, ‘Well, actually, who am I now?’ That sent me off on a process of really, for the first time in my life, looking deep within myself and asking myself, ‘Who do I want to be?’”
Eunice sympathized with her daughter’s conundrum, referring to it as being “locked in the horns of a dilemma.” Some had assumed her position would be that Maria should do whatever she had to do to support her husband in the time-honored tradition of Kennedy women. Eunice was never a typical Kennedy woman, though. She’d always had a rewarding life separate and apart from Sarge’s and had never walked in his shadow. Therefore, she appreciated that Maria had worked hard to forge her own identity and that turning away from it for the good of Arnold’s ambition wasn’t going to be easy. Mother and daughter spent many hours trying to unpack it all.
Eunice felt strongly that Maria should adapt to this big change in her life. She also advised Maria that doing so would be instructive for her children, acting as a life lesson that even when surprising curves come one’s way, it’s important to adapt. She also reminded her that in her new role she must never think of herself as a supplicant of her husband’s. She had the opportunity to be a powerful woman in California, someone who could make valuable contributions. “In other words, it’s time for you to take your seat at the table,” Eunice told her. “Maybe it’s time for you to stop running from your destiny. Maybe it’s time for you to start embracing it.” In the end, what Maria was left with was this memorable conclusion from her mother: “This isn’t the end of your story. If anything, it’s just the beginning.”
In the years to come, Maria would work hard to find value in her work as California’s First Lady. She began by leading the California Governor and First Lady’s Conference on Women. Then she created the Minerva Awards, honoring “remarkable California women” who’d made an impact on the state with their “courage and bravery.” Landon Parvin recalls her as being “incredibly smart, eager to make an impression. We had a few moments along the way where she would want to inject something into a speech that was perhaps a more Democratic spin on a subject. I remember that when Arnold gave a speech at the Republican National Convention, she kept trying to make it nonpartisan. I told her, ‘Maria, you can’t. It’s a political party convention.’ We would go back and forth on this a lot over time, and I began to understand that she’d been influenced by her uncle Teddy, who was known and lauded for always trying to cross party lines.”
At one point, Maria Shriver called upon Nancy Reagan, a former First Lady of California, for advice. “What is it that I am supposed to do in this position?” she asked her. Nancy’s response: “Do whatever you like, Maria. Because whatever you do, you’ll be criticized.” With that in mind, Maria just dug in. Eventually she would find her way through the mountains of red tape and political partisanship to learn how to get things done on a state level. “I figured it out,” she said. “I just got in there and did what Shrivers do: we keep our heads down and we do the work.”
Growing Up Shriver
By 2004, the members of the Shriver family were all accomplished, each of Eunice and Sarge’s adult children living rewarding, noteworthy lives committed to social change. “The Robert Kennedy family and the Senator Edward Kennedy family was always running for office,” recalled Bobby Shriver. “In the Shriver house, though, most of us didn’t run for office; we started programs. That energy of running for office, the street-fighting, partisan, competitive quality that existed in the other Kennedy households didn’t exist in ours.
“Our childhood home in Maryland, which was called Timberlawn, was plenty competitive, but the co
mpetition and the questions were different: Did the Camp Shriver programs work? Did we need to get a new camp director? Where should we have more tennis or more swimming? Are the races being monitored correctly? We need some stopwatches; these stopwatches we have are no good and we can’t time the races properly! ‘What the hell? Who’s in charge of stopwatches?’ In other words, the building of ideas and programs, and the people to work in them, was a more generative and creative process for us than asking, How am I going to beat that guy in the next race?”
It’s been written in the past that the advantage the Shrivers had over most of their cousins was the solid upbringing from which they benefited as the offspring of two grounded parents, both of whom were ever present in their lives. That’s true to an extent. However, Sarge and Eunice were definitely not sitting around waiting for the kids to get home from school. “They were not around,” Bobby confirms. “They got up and went to the office in the morning, both of them.”
Still, Bobby says, the Shriver parents did have a crucial impact on their offspring. “Kids know what their parents are like, whether they’re around or not. It’s the story of your parents that has the impact on you as a kid. As you get older, you begin to see that certain elements of the story aren’t true, and you then get a more realistic view of who your parents are. It wasn’t about them being around. It was about the intensity of their work.”
It wasn’t always easy being raised by such overachieving parents. “Yes—it drives you,” Maria has said, “but if you’re moving all the time, you’re not stopping to be or think or experience nature. A couple of years ago, a friend of mine who’d worked his whole life bought a loft in New York and fixed it up. It was serene and peaceful. He said, ‘When I go there, I feel like I’m on a honeymoon with myself.’ I mentioned this to my parents, and they said, ‘What is the point of that? What are you doing to make the world a better place by going on a honeymoon with yourself?’ They didn’t get it. After I wrote my second book, I saw my father at the Cape. He said, ‘What are you doing with yourself?’ I said, ‘I just wrote a book.’ ‘But you did the book already,’ he said. ‘That’s over. You need to do a new thing.’ When you come from a family that has achieved so much, you’re left with the challenge of either making peace with that or finding some way to do what you want to do. It’s impossible to compete with that level of accomplishment.”
The Kennedy Heirs: John, Caroline, and the New Generation Page 38
