“Dominic,” I said, “she’s naked.”
He shrugged as if to say, “and your problem is?”
“I need a bikini top.”
“We don’t have any bikini tops here.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with this; it’s not okay; I need to be covered.”
Dominic thought a minute, fished around, and came up with a little cotton vest for me to wear. I asked him what I would wear underneath. The short answer was nothing. So I wore a bikini bottom and a vest.
And so off we went to a nearby beach. Dominic led me to a place where rocky boulders ended at a cliff. The cold winter wind cut right through me. It was so cold, in fact, that every five minutes or so I had to a take a break just to huddle in a towel we’d brought with us. I was worried about twisting an ankle on the rocks, or even worse—it would be entirely possible where I was standing to fall over the cliff and into the sea. Throughout the whole shoot, I struggled against the sea breeze to keep my footing while maintaining some semblance of modesty. Of course, in retrospect, I should not have allowed myself to be there at all.
But I did. And that mistake gave my detractors the ammunition they needed to launch a fresh round of attacks.
Out of the many pictures Dominic took of me, there is one from the contact sheets in which you can see most of my left nipple. Out of dozens of pictures he took, he chose to release that very one only after I had become embroiled in controversy. You can see why he did not pick this picture for Blisss. In it, the wind is blowing in my face. My face is half-obscured by my right hand as I try to rake my hair off my face. My eyes are squinting in the sun. But who cares if it’s a bad picture. It shows part of a nipple, right?
I remember that after he took it, being a naïve new model, I said, “Oh my gosh, did you just get that shot?” He laughed at my reaction and said, “Carrie, I’m going to throw out dozens of these.” I’m told Dominic might have been paid as much as $10,000 for releasing that picture.
When the press asked about the photo, I pointed out that the image was snapped at a vulnerable moment as I was standing on a rocky ledge above the Pacific Ocean in a high wind. I didn’t know that I had been quite so exposed. This was portrayed as “Carrie blaming it all on the wind.” No, actually, I blame it all on Carrie Prejean. No one put a gun to my head and made me do the photo shoot. But the truth is, I did not mean to show so much of myself. I was not taking nude photos. I was taken advantage of by a shameless photographer out to make an extra buck.
This was enough ammunition to spur a fresh round of attacks from Keith and Shanna. After all, I should have disclosed the infamous vest picture when I signed up for Miss California. They were shocked— shocked!—by the photo. But they shouldn’t have been. I had nothing to hide about this photo shoot—in fact, the actual Blisss magazine shot (not the wind-blown one I had been assured would be thrown away) was my main photo in my modeling portfolio. And it was funny watching Shanna, of whom every square inch can be seen with a click on any computer in the world, suddenly get a case of the vapors.
After all, if I wanted to take naked photos, I would have followed her example and posed for Playboy. Not only could I have done this, that’s just what Keith suggested I do.
A few weeks after the pageant, Keith had called me and said that he had an offer for me.
One was for a reality TV show, “I’m a Celebrity . . . Get Me out of Here.” It specializes in putting people in situations in which they cry, vomit, beg, and scream. I said, “No thanks, I’m not interested in reality TV right now.” That certainly wasn’t on my mind at this point.
Then he sent me an email with an offer to pose for Playboy. This was just after I had been burned for the vest photo. At the same time, Keith was declining, sometimes without my knowledge, offers to book me on Christian radio stations. He had no time for Christian radio. But he had plenty of time to forward on to me an offer to do a spread in Playboy.
He didn’t directly advocate that I do it. But if I did do it, Keith let me know, there would be $120,000 in it for me, the shots would be limited to partial nudity, and I’d get to pick the photos.
When confronted by FOX News, Keith said that he did not ask me pose for Playboy, but was simply following my explicit request to be notified of all offers. He then released an email from me to the press, in which I requested him to forward all interview requests to me. I’d like to set the record straight here. He emailed me about the Playboy photoshoot on May 15 (two days after the press conference). I did not ask him to forward all requests to me until May 29—two weeks later.
“I know how you are and it’s not right if you are selecting things for me,” I said in the message to Keith. Perhaps he thought he was being clever. Perhaps he thought I’d jump at the chance for $120,000. Then he could be rid of me for good. Either that or the cultural gulf between us was so great that he saw nothing offensive about Playboy but plenty that was offensive about Christian radio.
I tried to contact Keith and Shanna to discuss the two modeling photos, but they would not return my calls. When asked on my pageant application if I had been photographed nude or in inappropriate publications, I had disclosed to the pageant officials that there was only one professional photo session I had been a part of, and that a variety of shots had been taken. No one blinked; it was absolutely true; and I had no reason to assume that an “I’m going to throw out dozens of these” photo, done by a prominent, legitimate, professional photographer (recommended by Keith) would suddenly become public, or even that it still existed. Considering that the co-director of the pageant had allowed her every asset to be photographed by Playboy and then posted on the internet, I found it hard to believe that anything I had done, even, as in the one shot, inadvertently, was over the line.
As if on cue, Keith Olbermann chimed in for his “WTF” moment to denounce my “amazing, holier-than-thou, know-it-all-ism” and hypocrisy.
“God and Satan, battling it out for the future of freedom of speech inside the head of St. Carrie of La Jolla,” he said. “Where exactly were God and Satan when the Miss California people came to you and offered to pay for you to alter your God-given body with breast implants?”
Later, Olbermann said of the photos that it must have been “some kind of wind” that momentarily exposed me—“Satan’s wind.” Then he twisted the knife: “Your grandfather fought against that kind of wind at the Battle of the Bulge.”
Throughout this controversy, I tried to accept comments like this as challenges to my Christian spirit, as invitations for me to live up to my principles, and in each and every instance I tried to love and forgive. But for the life of me, it is hard to overlook the viciousness of a 50-year-old with his own national television show attacking a college student who, by the way, is personally paying off her own student loans, and who has financial struggles like everyone else.
During one conference call, Keith Lewis apparently forgot that some of the people working with me had been invited to participate. He referenced the Playboy request and said, “For everyone’s information, I would never let her do Playboy, but I have to offer it so when they take her title away she doesn’t sue me.” I don’t believe he actually thought I would sue him for not forwarding on to me an opportunity to be in Playboy. Keith had inadvertently let it slip that he planned to fire me, and that everything that had happened to date was to publicly position me for that firing.
So far, however, nothing they had thrown at me—the boob job (which they urged on me and paid for), or the old photos (which struck many people as no big deal; in fact, Donald Trump later said he found them “fine and lovely”), was enough to get rid of me. These were designed to soften up my public image so they could then soak me with the main charge: missing appearances.
This line of attack was the killer. I had, it was said, missed more than fifty-three appearances in one month. The press went for it. When someone makes such a specific charge, the person being attacked is always at a disadvantage. It takes time to find out
exactly what your accusers are talking about. By the time you do your homework and prepare to answer the charge, the damage is done. When I looked into it, these “appearances” were, again, really just the same old Hollywood News Calendar.
There were, of course, several events I declined because of scheduling conflicts or because they were designed to make me eat crow in public. One was an invitation from Keith to a mid-May event to attend the premier of a Hollywood docudrama promoting “same-sex marriage.” Keith told me I could even go incognito by wearing a hat. He said I would gain credibility on the subject if the next day he could make a public statement that Miss California had attended a gay movie documentary.
I told him thanks, but I would take a pass on that one.
An event on which we did agree was my appearance at a jewelers’ convention in Las Vegas. Although my contract did not permit Keith to take a fee for my appearances, he asked for a $500 cut of my earnings. Later, not wanting to be in breach of contract, he did return the money. At the time he requested it, though, I decided to let him have it to keep the peace.
Some peace!
Around that time, I asked Keith if I could visit the USS Ronald Reagan. Michael Reagan had called me himself, told me how proud he was of me and how much he supported me, and then invited me on the USS Ronald Reagan for my birthday! The ship was in port in San Diego with 5,000 sailors and Marines on board. I thought it would be an honor to go aboard the ship, a great way to show my support for the troops, and the perfect event for a Miss California—representing the state aboard a ship named after our former governor, not to mention president of the United States.
But Keith would not get back to me with a definite answer. He kept telling me to wait until he could get more details. “I’ll let you know,” was all he would tell me.
Finally, as the event drew closer and I still could not get Keith to decide, I grew so exasperated that I got in touch with Donald Trump. This was not the first time I had had to contact Trump to get Keith to allow me to attend an event. Donald was always available to talk to me, and I appreciated his support, especially since I knew it annoyed him to be bothered with our trivial concerns, when he had so many other things to worry about.
Donald took my side and called Keith on the spot.
“Why won’t you let her go?” he asked. It was ridiculous, he said, to make such a big deal out of this. There was no reason I shouldn’t go, and in fact it would be a lot of really good publicity for the Miss California Organization, and a good way to show support for our troops.
Keith had no real answer, and he agreed to let me go. I got a phone call from him shortly after that. “Carrie, you go,” he said to me.
And so I did, on a beautiful day off the coast of San Diego. What a thrill it was to be surrounded by so many dedicated men and women in the military on the huge deck of this awesome, powerful carrier. I am so glad Donald Trump took my side on this. Because he was so decisive, I enjoyed one of the most memorable days of my life. Mom and Chrissy were able to join me, and we had lunch with Michael Reagan, who told us fascinating stories about his father.
Donald Trump also set up a chance for me to co-host FOX & Friends. At first, I felt tremendous pressure at being on national television and learning in real time to read from a teleprompter. But by the end of my time in front of the camera, I was having fun.
Despite the fact that the FOX opportunity had been offered to me by Donald Trump, Keith Lewis didn’t miss a chance to make it look like I was being disobedient.
He told Radaronline.com, “We did not know about Carrie hosting FOX & Friends on May 27th. She did not ask if she could host the show, and, once again, Carrie is not in compliance with her Miss California USA contract and obligations.”
I couldn’t believe it. Was it possible there was so little communication within the organization that Keith did not know that Donald Trump himself had set this up? This just proved to me the distant relationship Keith had with his boss.
The most underhanded trick was a press conference at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills during which Keith and Shanna, feigning sadness, told the press that because I was not handling my responsibilities, they had to ask my first runner-up, Tami Farrell, to fulfill some of my duties as “Beauty of California Ambassador” to pick up the slack. After months of lackadaisical interest in events, Keith suddenly seemed to have a packed schedule of events that were going begging for lack of attention from Miss California.
Tami was naturally eager to step in. Earlier, she had told Access Hollywood, “I would be honored to represent the State of California if they need me for my responsibilities as first runner-up. I wouldn’t mind stepping into the spotlight.”
Keith told the press that my answer to Perez Hilton had not cost me the Miss USA title. I “was not winning” when I was asked that question, and, anyway, my answer lacked “edge.” (I thought the problem might be that it had too much edge!)
Shanna, still fanning herself over the shock of the vest photo, said that I had entered the contest under “false pretenses.” She also reiterated that I was often unavailable for important events for sponsors. (I didn’t know that the Hollywood News Calendar was a sponsor!)
And why, the press asked, wasn’t I there at the Peninsula Hotel to celebrate the appointment of the Beauty Ambassador?
Keith looked around, at a momentary loss. I had been invited, he said. But who knows why Carrie does what she does? All Keith could say was, “I believe she’s, uh, en route to the airport to head to New York.” As if I might be going to catch a Broadway show.
The reason I was not at the press conference is that I had not been invited to be at the press conference. The first I heard of it was when a reporter asked me to comment on it a few days in advance. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. Larry Ross, my publicist, confronted Keith over the phone about this. This was the second time in about a week that Keith and Shanna had “scheduled” an appearance for me (the other was the pro-gay marriage public service ad) when in fact they had never invited me at all and knew I would be out of town—and then portrayed me as running out on them!
Keith was right about one thing. I was heading to the airport. I had been sent by the Miss Universe Organization to see Donald Trump, who was growing increasingly alarmed by what was happening in his organization.
The next morning in New York, Donald Trump’s secretary called to say that our meeting had been pushed back an hour. When I got to Trump’s office, I saw why. Keith and Shanna had taken the red-eye and were now sitting in front of a very angry Donald Trump. Even the windows seemed to be rattling.
Setting a professional tone, Donald said that we were all there for one reason—“to settle all this stuff” once and for all. The professionalism didn’t last long. Shanna started yelling at me. I am sorry to say that I didn’t hold back. I tore into Shanna for violating my privacy and releasing personal and medical information. While I spoke, Donald Trump nodded. He turned to Shanna, as you’ve seen him do on The Apprentice, and called her out on that.
Shanna didn’t have a good answer. She hemmed and hawed and looked like she wanted to be in China. It was an awkward moment for her.
I then asked why they had not stood up for me against some of the more vicious attacks I had faced. Keith said what I said about gay marriage had hurt him. He said that I needed to get back to work. I replied that I would be glad to be Miss California, but I didn’t feel I was getting any support. Moreover, thanks to the way the pageant had treated me, I now had reason to be worried about my personal safety, and I wanted the pageant to provide me with security for events. (Earlier, a gay British politician had said on live national television in the UK that I was a “silly bitch” and that he wanted to kill me. Another so-called “joke.”) It was then agreed that I would get security.
Knowing that after our meeting there would be a press conference, I had written a script for any contingency. If I was to be publicly “fired” and humiliated, at the very least I w
anted to explain myself, point by point. Hearing that I would retain my title, I crossed out the contentious stuff on the spot. Then I handed the script to Shanna.
“Look at this,” I said. “This is all the stuff I was going to talk about. I’m willing to let it go.” Shanna seemed genuinely touched that I had pulled back and was reaching out to her. She said some kind things to me. Both she and Keith thanked me.
Donald Trump seemed to like that. He agreed it was possible for us all to move forward.
I turned to Keith and said, “I’ve been through a lot. I want to be able to do speaking engagements as Carrie, not as Miss California. I want to be able to write a book.”
In front of Donald Trump, Keith agreed. He only asked that I keep him informed of developments, and I said that I would. Then Donald walked me down to where the press conference was. Before the harsh lights and clicking cameras, he said that I had answered Perez Hilton’s question just as Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton had done when they were running for president. He laughed off the embarrassing pictures of me, noting that we are now in the twenty-first century.
“Carrie,” Donald declared in his strong voice, “will remain Miss California.”
He went on to observe of Perez Hilton’s question, “It was a controversial question. It was a tough question. It was probably a fair question, because it’s asked of many people. And I’ve often said it, if her beauty wasn’t so great, nobody really would have cared.”
When Donald invited me to the podium, I began by thanking him for believing in me and allowing me to continue as Miss California USA. Trying to extend the good feelings from the meeting we’d just had, and, true to my word that I was willing to move on, I thanked the Miss California organization for their support “thus forward.” (It was as gracious as I could be without being insincere.)
I turned to my script and again thanked the Miss California Organization for “believing in me, and believing in women; in the empowerment of women, and how women can really make a difference in the world.” I added, “I would like to thank the Miss Universe Organization for allowing me to be here today. I would like to thank the thousands of Americans who have sent letters and emails. I cannot count the number of fan mail that I have received. They’ve confided in me that they have found hope and inspiration in my story. I would like to thank my Mom and Dad who are with me today. I would also like to thank my sister who is serving in the United States Air Force. And, most importantly, I would like to thank God for trusting me with this large task, and giving me the strength to stand by my beliefs.”
Still Standing: The Untold Story of My Fight Against Gossip, Hate, and Political Attacks Page 11
