Total Recall: My Unbelievably True Life Story

by Arnold Schwarzenegger

  I do not deny that being governor was more complex and challenging than I had imagined. One incident, in particular, stands out for the gap it shows between what people think you can do for them and the reality you face as governor. During the terrible drought of 2009, I went to talk to the farmers in Mendota in the Central Valley. I was with Alan Autry, the mayor of Fresno and a onetime pro football quarterback who did more than anyone to call my attention to the farmers. Mendota was one of the communities that had been hardest hit by the double wave of the economic crisis and devastating drought. Agricultural production was at a standstill, the fields had turned to dust, and there was 42 percent unemployment. We needed more water from the Sacramento–San Joaquin Delta. But environmentalists argued that diverting the water would threaten a little fish called the delta smelt, and a federal judge ordered the water kept off. The federal government thought that the delta smelt needed to be protected more than the farmers.

  The farmers were demonstrating with signs that said “Turn On the Pumps” and showed me their dusty fields. They were saying things to the media like, “I’ll be damned if I’ll let a little fish take all my water away. We will fight the government to the end.”

  I told them that we were negotiating with Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar. “Those things take time and patience,” I said.

  A farmer stood up and asked, “How can you say that? Why can’t you go there and turn the valve? You go there and turn it on.”

  I realized people had the vision that I’d push aside the federal judge, push aside whoever was guarding the pumping station, go up to this huge chained valve, break the chain, and turn the wheel, releasing a torrent of water into the land, turning it a lush green and returning the farmers to work. But I couldn’t do that in real life! That’s the problem of presenting yourself as the Governator. You can do miracles but not the kind that require wearing a cape and being able to fly. Instead, it took months of pushing and cajoling the Department of the Interior and some dedicated negotiations with the Obama administration to get the water turned on.

  As governor, you’re neither a solitary champion nor a star. You have to work with the legislature, the courts, the bureaucracy, and the federal government, not to mention with the voters themselves.

  Politics can be a lot like crowd surfing in a mosh pit. All these hands reach out and carry you along, and sometimes you end up where you want to go, and sometimes you don’t. But compared to making a movie, when you do accomplish something in government, the satisfaction is so much larger and long lasting. In a movie, you are entertaining people for a few hours in a dark theater. In government, you are affecting entire lives; generations, even.

  It was always the most extraordinary feeling when we would reach an agreement, and some measure would pass the legislature or win ballot approval. I would pull out a cigar and light it up, pull out my list of things I wanted to accomplish, and take a pen and mark that item off. Although I certainly wish I had been able to cross more items off the list, I feel good about what we did get done.

  Even Maria agreed that the challenge had been worth it. Speaking at a wellness conference in 2010, she said, “I’d like to admit today that I was wrong to try to talk Arnold out of running for governor seven years ago, and he was right not to listen to me. The fact is, I didn’t want Arnold to run because I myself didn’t like growing up in a political family. I was afraid something bad would happen. I was afraid of the unknown. It turns out Arnold was right to follow his dream and run. He’s loved this governor’s job more than anything he’s ever done in his life. It ended up being a perfect match for his intellect, his love of people, his passion for public policy, and his competitive streak. I’ve never seen him happier or more fulfilled. Even with all the ups and downs of the last seven years, he says if he had to do it over again, he would in a heartbeat, and I believe him. I never thought I’d say this, but I thank him for not listening to me.”

  I was luckier than I deserved to have such a wife.

  Celebrity helped me get elected governor and boost Californiainto the spotlight, especially on global issues like the environment.

  I love it when people say something can’t be done—I jumped into the California recall election of 2003. Above, a sea of supporters in Riverside. Ron Murray

  A carpet of signs at my office in Santa Monica. Ron Murray

  Warren Buffett the Democrat and George Shultz the Republican flanked me at my first press conference, dramatizing that I was a candidate for all of California. David McNew / Getty Images

  On the eve of the election, I raised a broom on the steps of the capitol in Sacramento and vowed to clean house. Justin Sullivan / Getty Images

  Maria and I celebrated my victory on election night, October 7, 2003, at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. Hector Mata / AFP / Getty Images

  Eunice and Sarge, who always encouraged me to do public service, joined the victory celebration. Ron Murray

  Six weeks later, on November 17, we all walked the corridor of the state capitol to take the stage for my first inauguration. Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times

  Maria held the Bible as I was sworn in as the thirty-eighth governor of the state of California. Silvia Mautner

  I took office with no previous experience as an elected official, at a time of crisis, with the state facing massive budget deficits and an economic slump. California State Archives / John Decker

  Never mind that I was a centrist—I was making such a splash that the party leaders asked me to help get George W. Bush reelected. Addressing the Republican National Convention at Madison Square Garden, August 30, 2004. © 2004 Rick T. Wilking

  I set up a tent on the patio outside my office so I’d have a place to smoke stogies. It became known as the deal-making tent. Democratic assemblymen Fabián Núñez and Darrell Steinberg have come to horse-trade in June 2004. California State Archives / Steven Hellon

  Democrat Herb Wesson, left, the state assembly leader when I took office, would tease me about my height; here we chat with Reverend Jesse Jackson at an Urban League party in 2005. California State Archives / Duncan McIntosh

  Each December, a few days after officially lighting the Christmas tree, we would celebrate Chanukah on the steps of the Capitol. California State Archives / John Decker

  Overly generous public-employee pensions are now a nationwide issue, but in 2005 we were already campaigning to stop California from spending more than it was taking in. California State Archives / Duncan McIntosh

  The issues were serious, yet we still had a good time— here I’m discussing water resources at a May 2005 staff session with (from left) my cabinet secretary Terry Tamminen, chief of staff Pat Clarey, and state and consumer services secretary Fred Aguiar. California State Archives / Steven Hellon

  Senator Dianne Feinstein, a hugely popular Democrat, advised us on how to deal with Washington and with members of her party on behalf of our state. At this media conference we’re joking that it will take muscle to solve California’s water problems. California State Archives / William Foster

  My mother-in-law was a font of wisdom and insight. Notice that she has chosen the seat at the head of the table in the cabinet room when she dropped by to chat in March 2004. California State Archives / Steven Hellon

  Paul Wachter had no official position but remained an important advisor—and regular chess partner—while I was governor. California State Archives / Peter Grigsby

  California agriculture secretary A. G. Kawamura and I hyped our local produce— those are plums on the tray I’m holding—during this 2005 trade mission to Hong Kong. California State Archives / John Decker

  California is prone to floods, droughts, and other natural disasters, and I put huge emphasis on readiness and response. Above: comforting residents who have lost everything in the Humboldt wildfire of June 2008, which burned 23,000 acres and destroyed 87 homes. California State Archives / William Foster

  In the wake of a January 2005 mudslide in La Conchita that claimed ten lives. C
alifornia State Archives / Duncan Mcintosh

  A few days before his reelection, I welcomed President Bush and introduced him to an enthusiastic crowd at a rally in Columbus, Ohio. California State Archives / Steven Hellon

  Arizona Senator John McCain rode the bus with me to help campaign for my ill-fated “Reform and Rebuild” initiatives in 2005. California State Archives / John Decker

  I liked to call California a nation-state; it was a magnet for foreign leaders. Mexican president Vicente Fox was a great partner in cross-border initiatives; he and his wife Marta visited during the busy months leading to my reelection in 2006. California State Archives / John Decker

  I was eager to meet the Dalai Lama when he spoke at the Governor’s Women’s Conference in Long Beach in 2006. We chatted about his travels and his long exile from Tibet; at right is California’s chief of protocol, Charlotte Shultz. California State Archives / Duncan Mcintosh

  Strategist Steve Schmidt, chief of staff Susan Kennedy, and communications director Adam Mendelsohn helped me mend fences with the “coalition of the pissed off” and get reelected in 2006. California State Archives / John Decker

  Sly encouraged me to keep fighting when I felt sorry for myself after breaking my leg in December 2006 . . .

  Schwarzenegger Archive

  . . . and I decided not to wimp out, instead showing up on crutches for my second inauguration. Ron Murray

  Just as Ronald Reagan often went across the aisle to work with Democrats, Teddy came to speak at the Reagan Library in 2007. California State Archives / Duncan Mcintosh

  British Prime Minister Tony Blair was a key ally of our 2006 climate initiative. I visited him at 10 Downing Street the following year. California State Archives / Duncan Mcintosh

  “California is moving the United States beyond debate and doubt to action,” I told the United Nations in 2007. Secretary General Ban Ki-moon invited me to speak about our pioneering new laws combating climate change. Don Emmert / Getty Images

  In January 2008, Senator John McCain and New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani came to tour one of California’s energy start-ups. California State Archives / William Foster

  President Obama knew about my bipartisan record and that we shared goals on the environment, immigration, and health care reform. When I visited Washington in 2010 he picked my brain about making huge public investments in infrastructure. Official White House photo / Pete Souza

  I allied with New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg, an independent, and Pennsylvania governor Ed Rendell, a Democrat, to do something about the fact that the US is falling behind in infrastructure investment. We’re on our way to meet with Obama in the White House in 2009. AP Images

  Visiting Iraq in 2009, I shared lunch with a National Guard military police brigade in Baghdad. California State Archives / Justin Short

  A memorable experience during that trip was whacking golf balls off the patio at Saddam Husseins former palace. California State Archives / Justin Short

  I met with Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, who quizzed me about economic rebuilding. (Thanks to California’s global importance and Hollywood star power, when I traveled I was often welcomed as a head of state.) California State Archives / Justin Short

  California State Archives / Justin Short

  Bill Clinton and I crossed paths again at an energy and environment forum in Jerusalem in 2009. We are both passionate about building a green energy future for America and the world. California State Archives / Justin Short

  I had huge ambitions for California as a leader in renewable energy and the environment—here US interior secretary Salazar (in the white hat) joined me in the Mojave Desert at the world’s largest solar power plant. California State Archives /Peter Grigsby

  Just before my governorship ended I journeyed to the Shanghai Zhenhua Port Machinery Company in China to thank the workers building parts of the new San Francisco Bay Bridge. California State Archives / Peter Grigsby

  Susan Kennedy and I hug in relief after winning a hard-fought budget victory. California State Archives / Justin Short

  For my last birthday as governor my staff surprised me with cake and cupcakes in the atrium near the smoking tent. California State Archives / Justin Short

  Rula Manikas, my Sacramento assistant, was the only one authorized to touch my necktie and pick the color. California State Archives / John Decker

  In the dead of August 2008 as we wait for a legislative vote, I crack jokes with staffers Mona Mohammadi (seated), Daniel Ketchell, Greg Dunn, Karen Baker and guest, Daniel Zingale, and Gary Delsohn. California State Archives / Peter Grigsby

  I’ve benefited from the American dream, and the courage and dedication of the US military safeguards it. From my early days as a bodybuilding champion, wherever I traveled, I would visit bases and warships to pump up the troops—and say thank you. Here I’m with the US Army garrison in Seoul, South Korea, in 2010. California State Archives / Peter Grigsby

  CHAPTER 29

  The Secret

  DURING MY HECTIC LAST few months as governor, Maria and I went to see a marriage counselor. Maria wanted to talk about the end of my term of office, and we focused on issues that a lot of couples face in middle age—like the fact that our kids were starting to go out on their own. Katherine was already twenty-one, a junior at USC, and Christina was a sophomore at Georgetown University. In a few years Patrick and Christopher would also be gone. What would our lives be like?

  But when Maria made the appointment for the very morning after I left office and became a private citizen again (it was a Tuesday), I sensed that this time was different. This time she had something very specific in mind.

  The marriage counselor’s office was dimly lit, with neutral colors and minimalist décor—not the kind of room I’d want to hang out in. It had a sofa, a coffee table, and the therapist’s chair. The minute we sat down, the therapist turned to me and said, “Maria wanted to come here today to ask about a child—whether you’ve fathered a child with your housekeeper Mildred. That’s why she wanted to meet. So let’s talk about it.”

  In the initial instant, when time seemed to stand still, I said to myself, “Well, Arnold, you wanted to tell her. Surprise! This is it. Here’s your moment. Maybe it’s the only way you’d ever have the nerve.”

  I told the therapist, “It’s true.” Then I turned to Maria. “It’s my child,” I said. “It happened fourteen years ago. I didn’t know about him at first, but I’ve known it now for several years.” I told her how sorry I felt about it, how wrong it was, that it was my fault. I just unloaded everything.

  It was one of those stupid things that I promised myself never to do. My whole life I never had anything going with anyone who worked for me. This happened in 1996 when Maria and the kids were away on holiday and I was in town finishing Batman and Robin. Mildred had been working in our household for five years, and all of sudden we were alone in the guest house. When Mildred gave birth the following August, she named the baby Joseph and listed her husband as the father. That is what I wanted to believe and what I did believe for years.

  Joseph came to our house and played with our kids many times. But the resemblance hit me only when he was school-age, when I was governor and Mildred was showing her latest photos of him and her other kids. The resemblance was so strong that I realized there was little doubt that he was my son. While Mildred and I barely discussed it, from then on I paid for his schooling and helped financially with him and her other kids. Her husband had left a few years after Joseph was born, but her boyfriend Alex had stepped in as their dad.

  Maria had asked me many years before if Joseph was my child. At the time I didn’t know that I was his father, and I’d denied it. My impression now was that she and Mildred, who by this time had worked in our home for almost twenty years, had talked it out. In any case, very little of what I had to say seemed to be news to Maria. The issue was out on the table, and she wanted answers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked.r />
  “Three reasons,” I said. “One is that I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so embarrassed and didn’t want to hurt your feelings and didn’t want us to blow up. Two is that I didn’t know how to tell you and still keep it private, because you share everything with your family and then too many people would know.

  “Three is that secrecy is just part of me. I keep things to myself no matter what. I’m not a person who was brought up to talk.” I said this for the benefit of the therapist, who didn’t know me well.

  I could have come up with ten more reasons, and they all would have sounded just as lame. The fact was that I’d damaged the lives of everybody involved and I should have told Maria long ago. But instead of doing the right thing, I’d just put the truth in a mental compartment and locked it up where I didn’t deal with it every day.