When Sonny Bono was elected to Congress, I thought it was a joke. Then I watched him give a speech to the Press/Politicians at a Washington dinner on CSPAN. He blew the place away. You never know.
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Arnold Flexes His Political Muscle
Congress Charmed by Schwarzenegger
By Hanna Rosin
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, October 30, 2003; Page C01
Just days before showtime, the script for Arnold Goes to Washington changed drastically. The plan had been for a rambling, feel-good "meet and greet" with members of Congress, lots of handshaking and photo ops. But the Southern California wildfires intruded. So instead Gov.-elect Schwarzenegger aimed yesterday for a tone closer to politico-thriller, "Backdraft" meets "Dave."
Back at home, his people were "in the middle of a disaster," facing "raging fires," "gigantic fires," "a very serious disaster," he said on Capitol Hill. Surveying the damage, he realized "the fire is right now at a very dangerous stage."
Strangely, then, he smiled.
Schwarzenegger was speaking after a meeting with House Republicans. Given the severity of the subject, and the general sober tone of the Capitol, it took the frankest of congressmen to admit what really had taken up most of the meeting: Everyone was jumping around, hollering, clapping, said Dana Rohrabacher of California. "Every time he moved, someone would jump up and take a picture," he said, by which he meant members of Congress, not news photographers. "I mean, we all had cameras in our pockets."
Washington tried to be utterly nonchalant about Schwarzenegger's visit, unfazed, business as usual. After each of their meetings with him the lawmakers stopped to answer serious questions about emergency relief funds, after-school initiatives, ethanol subsidies.
"Yes, I actually took out PowerPoint graphs," insisted Sen. Barbara Boxer (D-Calif.).
But here and there the giddy fan club provincialism showed. A congressman would try to maintain a somber tone: "A very serious disaster," agreed Rep. David Dreier (R-Calif.), Schwarzenegger's constant sidekick throughout the day. And then he turned to Schwarzenegger and cracked a huge, tongue-showing, apropos-of-nothing smile.
From a distance, Schwarzenegger's day at the Capitol looked like this: From behind a closed door -- the House speaker's office, a senator's office -- a man emerged, tan, toothy. He turned around slowly and said "Hi, everyone." Or "Hi. How are you?" as if he were surprised anew to see dozens of reporters and cameramen waiting for him. He made his way through the rabbit-warren Capitol hallways with hordes following, yelling questions. He then disappeared into an elevator, smiling, leaving reporters wholly unsatisfied. Luckily, several lawmakers waited just around the corner, ready to answer any and all questions.
"Ms. Shriver! Ms. Shriver! Can I ask you a question?" a woman yelled, chasing her target down the hall. But she was talking to Rep. Mary Bono (R-Calif.), another raven-haired fox in a tight sweater but not the one who is Schwarzenegger's wife.
"Celebrity," said Bono, wife of the late Sonny Bono, "is a double-edged sword. People either think you walk on water or they think very little of you. Either way, when you're a celebrity politician you have to prove yourself three times over."
Whether lawmakers took the adoring or the skeptical approach depended on who they were. Rep. Richard Pombo (R-Calif.) was one of the conservative Republicans who didn't rush to endorse the more moderate and arguably socially liberal Schwarzenegger. "Very casual," said Pombo, describing the meeting with the state's Republican delegation. "Not a big deal." Yawn, yawn. Same old, same old.
On the Democratic side the studied cool came from Rep. Henry Waxman (D-Calif.). "We've done this before with lots of governors," he said. "Davis, Wilson." Yeah, and every time one of those guys turned to the cameras and said the words "Interior bill," 200 photographers lovingly captured the moment.
Some allowed themselves a tiny spoonful of giddiness, even if judiciously restrained.
"Of course, it's exciting to have a dynamic governor," said Rep. Darrell Issa (R-Calif.), who'd partially funded the recall of Gov. Gray Davis and ultimately became a Schwarzenegger cheerleader. "It makes it a lot more rewarding to be a representative for this state."
But it took the tourists wandering around the Capitol to ask the real celebrity-gazer questions most appropriate for the occasion, the ones no reporter dared ask out loud, namely: "Is he wearing makeup?" And "Where's Maria?" and "Isn't he taller than that?"
Indeed, in a navy suit and maroon tie, Schwarzenegger disappointingly blended in. He was no taller than Dreier, no tanner than Rep. Christopher Cox (R-Calif.), no more coiffed than, say, Sen. Trent Lott (R-Miss.). And yet his presence reduced them all to people whose faces are instantly recognizable mostly to readers of Roll Call.
"All of us are on a stage," said the philosophical Rohrabacher after one of the morning meetings. "And we know that. But he is better than all of us at it. He knows how to use it to get things done."
The Democrats who had opposed Schwarzenegger found themselves walking a fine line between keeping a partisan distance and wanting to believe in his magical powers. Rep. Zoe Lofgren appointed herself the hall monitor, making sure the governor-elect did not turn his meeting with Democrats into a bipartisan photo op. "I told them, 'We weren't sent here to socialize,' " she said, giving a fine summary of life in Washington. She handed him a four-page letter listing priorities for California's Democrats: Head Start, teacher training, welfare reform, energy funds, wastewater treatment, among many others.
His meeting with Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) was most closely watched since they had exchanged the most fighting words during the election. "Appalling," Feinstein had said of some of the womanizing charges against him. Not a man of "character." "I don't want that man as my governor."
But by yesterday she had melted. Observers described their private meeting as casual, chatty, relaxed. In a tape of it much laughter is heard in the background. "He is a very engaging persona," she said afterward. "What's past is past."
To all the state's representatives he served as what in studio terms is known as the "draw," the star whose overpowering charisma gets the studio (the federal government) to fork over millions more for the project (California). If all goes as planned, he will leave Washington with millions more from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, and the departments of Transportation and Energy, where he spent the afternoon.
"He says he can get the money," said Lofgren.
And Schwarzenegger responded in kind.
"I am the Collectinator," he said, a joke he repeated over and over that day. A joke that was self-deprecating. A little wonky. Not really that funny. Perfect for Washington.
Finally, in the evening, everyone loosened up a bit; Schwarzenegger, Shriver, his Washington hosts. At a party held on the rooftop of a building with a view of the Capitol, the star-gazers lost their reserve. Lawmakers broke through the velvet ropes to unabashedly ask for his autograph.
"My 14-year-old son will kill me if I don't get this," said J.D. Hayworth (R-Ariz.).
The wife of Rep. Jim Ryun (R-Kan.) circled around Schwarzenegger with three cameras, snapping him from every angle, whispering to her amused husband, "I got it! I got it!"
Asked if he had fun on his visit to Washington, Schwarzenegger gave an answer slightly respectful, slightly insulting.
"It's like when I was a bodybuilder, I would see guys doing 500 sit-ups, lifting 500 pounds and saying, 'Oh, do I have to do this again.' But I was always looking forward to the gym," he said. "It's the same as with here. When you see clearly the end goal, which is bringing California back, then something like this is fun."
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