Political Muscle -- When It Comes to a Possible Run for Governor, Arnold Is Acting Coy
Arnold Schwarzenegger, in Tokyo last week to promote "Terminator 3," won't say whether he'll run for governor of California if Gray Davis is recalled. (Koji Sasahara -- AP)
By Mark Leibovich
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, July 8, 2003; Page C01
WESTWOOD, Calif.
Arnold Schwarzenegger is out promoting his new movie, "Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines." He is attacking his publicity regimen -- Leno, Howard Stern, "Good Morning America" -- with customary discipline.
He is not interested in discussing whether he'll run for governor of California. "Arnold is staying on message, and the message is T-3," says George Gorton, a Republican consultant who is advising Schwarzenegger on matters that are, right now, not on message.
But politics is following Arnold everywhere. There are "Arnold for Governor" signs outside the "T-3" premiere, at which Arnold toothy-grins from the red carpet. A few nights earlier on Leno, Snoop Dogg had christened him "Notorious G.O.P." "I would love to be governor of California," Arnold himself says in the current Esquire.
Cynics might say -- and God save cynics in Dreamland -- that Arnold Schwarzenegger, 55, is attempting to exploit interest in his potential candidacy to promote his movie. Or exploit his "T-3" promotional efforts to promote his campaign. Either way, by coincidence or calculation, Schwarzenegger is starring in this summer's biggest cross-promotional blockbuster.
He is a muscular man of monomaniacal focus. In the 1975 cult documentary "Pumping Iron," Schwarzenegger boasts of how he didn't return home to Austria after his father died because he feared it would interfere with his bodybuilding workouts. The Mr. Olympia competition was just a few months away -- just as California might be a few months and a few thousand signatures away from firing its Democratic governor, Gray Davis, in an unprecedented recall initiative.
But again, Schwarzenegger, who is married to Kennedy cousin Maria Shriver, is not discussing politics. Not until he's finished promoting "T-3," which sold an estimated $44 million in tickets over the weekend. Not now, not publicly and not for this article, for which he declined to comment.
Which is something of a True Lie, because Arnold, in fact, is talking endlessly about politics. Others are bringing up the topic and he hardly shies from it.
"You will be the next governor of California. . . . We will help," Howard Stern told Schwarzenegger on his radio show recently. "I'll get you in office. But I need to be invited to the mansion."
"There is no mansion in Sacramento," Schwarzenegger said.
"Then I need to videotape you and Maria having sex," Stern said. "I need some sort of perverted payment."
One gets the feeling this could be more fun than, say, the Lieberman campaign.
A Lift From Fans
Arnold's celebrity muscle is unquestioned, though the degree to which that translates to electoral success is not. Outside the "T-3" premiere at the Mann Village Theatre here, Amanda Wight would seem the passionate embodiment of his appeal. She drove two hours from Bakersfield to catch a glimpse. She is a big fan of Arnold and a non-fan of Davis. If only she were old enough to vote (she's 17).
Across the street, Brent Seguine, who is old enough to vote, is bemoaning the mess his home state faces. It needs Arnold, he says, now more than ever, and he would absolutely support him if he ever ran for governor -- of New Jersey.
Seguine, the comptroller of a chemical company, has been here for an hour and a half. He is standing a few feet from a "Terminate Gray" sign that's been discarded against the wall of an ice cream shop. He is with his friend James Scott, a registered nurse in a Hooters cap. They met through the Three Stooges Fan Club.
"I can't vote for Arnold for governor," says Scott, who's from Illinois, "so I'll wait for him to run for president." He is told that Schwarzenegger was born in Austria and thus is constitutionally barred from the presidency. Regardless, both Scott and Seguine agree that Arnold's candidacy would thrive among Three Stooges fans.
And bodybuilders. "They are Arnold's most fervent supporters," says Gorton, the consultant. "When Arnold walks into a gym, these guys come up to him and tell their stories. They'll say, 'I used to be a 90-pound weakling, but then I read your book and saw your video and whatever.' Arnold's like a god to these people. I'm not saying you could win an election on that, but . . . "
It's a start: weight lifters, teenagers, out-of-state Three Stooges fans, Stern and Snoop -- the beginnings of a political base.
One of the sweetest parts about a Schwarzenegger candidacy is listening to political pros discuss his prospects. "He clearly has to run as Kindergarten Cop, not as the Terminator," says Phil Trounstine, director of the Survey and Policy Research Institute at San Jose State University. Trounstine, a former press secretary to Davis and political reporter for the San Jose Mercury News, says the candidate would need to project a kinder, softer image that would appeal to soccer moms and dads.
Schwarzenegger's violent record on celluloid won't hurt him if he runs, says Republican consultant Don Sipple. "If he played a well-known serial killer character it might be a problem," Sipple says. For instance, Anthony Hopkins, of "Silence of the Lambs" fame, might struggle to expand his base beyond cannibals.
The Plot Thickens
The basic plotline of Total Recall 2 begins with an aptly-named protagonist, Gray Davis, whose approval ratings have plunged to 21 percent. He finds himself in a death match with a $38 billion budget deficit, a hostile legislature and a recall campaign that's become increasingly viable.
By California law, a governor can be subject to a recall vote if opponents gather the signatures of a certain percentage of registered voters based on turnout in the previous election -- 897,158 in this case. Recall organizers say they have submitted close to 400,000 signatures to election officials and say they have hundreds of thousands more waiting to be processed.
The recall campaign is being driven and funded by Rep. Darrell Issa, a two-term Republican from the San Diego area who made his fortune selling car alarms. Issa, who has said he would like to succeed Davis, has put more than $1 million into the campaign, which Davis has called "partisan mischief."
But if recall supporters turn in the required number of signatures by next week, the state could hold a special election this fall.
A recall of Davis "looks almost certain at this point," says Richard Riordan, the former mayor of Los Angeles. In addition to Issa, Los Angeles businessman Bill Simon, whom Davis beat last November, might run if Davis is recalled. So might Riordan, but only if Schwarzenegger, whom he calls a close friend, does not. For now, a host of well-known Democrats -- including Sen. Dianne Feinstein -- say they have no plans to run on a recall ballot. Neither will actor, director and Democratic activist Rob Reiner, denying Californians a coveted Meathead vs. Terminator scenario.
A recall ballot would include two straightforward questions: Should the governor be recalled? And if he is, who should replace him? A recall campaign could be an ideal portal into elective politics for Schwarzenegger. The campaign would be quick and wide-open, the kind that rewards name recognition. It would spare him the grind and scrutiny of a long campaign.
Schwarzenegger has been active in Republican circles for years. He has stumped for numerous Republican candidates and chaired President George H.W. Bush's council on physical fitness. He toyed with the idea of opposing Davis in 2002, which amounted to nothing more than a great slogan: T2 in '02.
His most sustained and visible foray came last year, when he led a ballot initiative to ensure some state funding for before- and after-school programs that would provide tutoring, sports and other activities. His work on Proposition 49 -- which involved fundraising and a regimen of speeches across the state -- was lauded by people in both parties. Opponents said the measure would come at the expense of more pressing educational needs. Proposition 49 passed easily.
Schwarzenegger's positions on the issues are not widely known. But he is commonly described as fiscally conservative and socially liberal, a supporter of abortion rights, adoption by gay and lesbian parents and, at least off-screen, a ban on assault weapons.
Once people get to know Schwarzenegger, Gorton says, "once they see that he's not some thug in a leather jacket," they will warm to him even more. Gorton, who ran the Proposition 49 campaign, is eating lunch at Schatzi on Main, Schwarzenegger's restaurant in Santa Monica, whose menu fuses California salads with Austrian staples such as bratwurst and Wiener schnitzel. Upstairs his office, which includes a special room for mementos of his Austrian youth.
Gorton has canceled two vacations this summer and is getting about 15 calls a day from the media about Arnold's political plans. Schwarzenegger is compassionate, philanthropic and civic-minded, Gorton says. He is eager to help his community, to work for children and give back to his adopted country. He also has a gift for oil painting, Gorton says, "although very few people know this."
In "Pumping Iron," the then-gaptoothed Schwarzenegger spoke of his fascination with dictators. "I look down on people who are waiting, who are helpless," Schwarzenegger said, as quoted by writer Wendy Leigh in "Arnold," an unauthorized biography written in 1990. "I like people who think there is more to life than eating and going to the toilet."
At minimum, Arnold is 6-2 and 220 pounds, a man of supreme balance, proportion and symmetry -- the tenets he preached as a bodybuilder. People underestimate his mind -- the musclehead stigma -- which Schwarzenegger rather enjoys.
Still, Schwarzenegger is hardly a let's-prove-'em-wrong type. One of the guiding objectives of his life is to have fun. "The first 10 times I saw Arnold, he told me to relax and lighten up," Gorton says. "This is someone who loves to have a good time."
It's not clear why anyone's idea of a good time would include a $38 billion budget deficit, a contentious legislature and a state credit rating that's plummeting toward junk-bond status. There's also the question of whether Arnold would withstand the shoot'em-up rigors of a statewide campaign, even a short one. "He has been involved with ballot initiatives in the past, but that's the political equivalent of a B or C movie," says Democratic consultant Kam Kuwata. "But a campaign for the governor of California is huge. It's a blockbuster." Kuwata is not involved in the recall campaign.
It could be a big-screen fantasy, the mid-career amusement for a pumped-up icon (although increasingly flabby, judging by a photo in the latest People magazine). Schwarzenegger wouldn't be the first celebrity to flirt with running for office (see Warren Beatty, Charles Barkley, Cybill Shepherd). At the very least, if Arnold elects not to flex his twitchy political muscle this time around, maybe he'll sell some "T-3" tickets during the run-up.
At worst, he runs and loses, gets the electoral equivalent of sand kicked in his face by a puny-necked Bill Simon or Darrell Issa. He says "Hasta la vista, baby!" to politics. And he moves on to Terminators 4 and 5.
"He'll just go back to being Arnold Schwarzenegger," Gorton says. "And really, how bad could that be?"
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What do we think about actors / actresses using fame to pursue a second career in politics?