On January 10, 2009, trying to act undaunted by the disappointment of the New York Times debacle, Caroline Kennedy met with Governor Paterson to more formally discuss her aspirations for the Senate. She’d now had some time to take his advice and work her way through the New York boroughs, meeting people, shaking hands, and doing her share of interviews even if to mixed results. All accounts of this meeting confirm that he came forth with a warning that, in weeks to come, he’d be talking to other candidates who also wanted the position, and that Caroline shouldn’t be upset to hear that he’d done so. That’s just how the game is played, he cautioned her, and “I don’t want this intrigue about Hillary’s Senate seat to be viewed as a fait accompli for you. That wouldn’t be fair to you.” On one level, Kennedy agreed, but on another she had to wonder if maybe the governor had some secret agenda. Was he really trying to tell her not to get her hopes up?
On January 20, Barack Obama was inaugurated as President of the United States. It was a big moment for the country, and, of course, for the Kennedys, who had supported him. Ted and Vicki, along with Kara, Teddy, and Patrick, were all present for the swearing-in, as were Caroline and Ed; most of the Shrivers, including Maria; and an assortment of other Kennedys and Smiths, even those who hadn’t supported Obama, such as Kathleen and Bobby Jr.
After the swearing-in, Governor Paterson had a conversation with Caroline’s cousin Kerry during which he suggested strongly that Caroline would be his pick. In the days to come, the governor then became the go-to guest for many talk shows, and for one reason: to talk about Caroline. Was he going to appoint her, or not? On some shows he said he was sure he would and on others he suggested he wasn’t, all of which just served to keep the story alive. He had a reputation for being mercurial, anyway.
Then what some felt was the inevitable finally happened: Caroline lost her steam. One friend of hers reported meeting her for lunch at her home in New York. There were photographers staked outside her estate’s front gates, her children were scared, their lives turned completely upside down. All the chaos was stressing her marriage, Caroline admitted. “Ed is unhappy,” she told her friend. “He said it’s up to me but he thinks I should quit this thing. We had such a nice, quiet life and now we have this,” she said as phones rang all over the house and aides dashed about, talking to one another about this story in a newspaper, or that one in a magazine.
“She was disgusted with the whole thing,” said Caroline’s intimate. “She said she wished she could change her mind. I told her it was not too late. ‘Just say you’re done,’ I told her. But she said that quitting wasn’t an option. She said she wished she’d just released a simple statement, a letter to the governor saying she was interested in the seat. Then giving a few reasons why and let that be the end of it. The tour of New York and all of the interviews and photo ops and interaction with this naysayer and that one, she now believed, hadn’t been in her best interest. When I left her, I embraced her and could feel the bones in her spine. She was thin and seemed somehow frail and I thought, No, if she continues with this thing, it will for sure be the end of her. I said, ‘Caroline, get your old life back. This is not good for you.’ She looked at me and nodded.”
At this same time, a new controversy began to build relating to Caroline’s spotty voting record and rumors that some members of her household staff were in the country illegally. Who knew if it was true or not? By the end of January, though, there would be a few more mediocre interviews and weak personal appearances, and Caroline looked as though she was finished. It was as if one day she was in, and the next she was out—a lot like her cousin Max Kennedy years earlier. “Politics will do that to a person,” said Maria Shriver. “It can be life-ruining. I have seen it in my own family. I have seen it in others’.”
Complicating things further was a strong rumor that Caroline’s operatives traced back to the governor’s office that he really wasn’t going to name her to the position, anyway. “Are you kidding me?” Caroline asked one of her team members. She was irate. After everything she’d been through, the governor might name someone else? Of course, this had always been a possibility; there was never a single moment during which she or anyone on her team felt her to be an absolute shoo-in for the appointment. However, combined with everything else going on, the possibility that she might be passed over pushed Caroline closer to the edge.
She knew who she had to call: Uncle Teddy. When Caroline finally reached him, he was weak, barely able to talk. It was a bad day for him. However, he spoke to her in depth and, ultimately, suggested she drop out. If she felt strongly that Paterson would not name her, Ted didn’t even want her in the race. Being overlooked by the governor would look bad for her and the family, he said.
Ted had a caveat to his advice, though: he wanted Caroline to spend the next two years studying in order to get a firmer grasp on all the pertinent issues affecting her state. He wanted her to learn the ropes of being a politician, he said, because he still believed she had it in her. Running for the seat in two years would be difficult, he reminded her, because a real competitor would have it in for her and do whatever he or she could do to make her look bad in the eyes of the voting public. Therefore, she should steel herself. “It’s New York,” he reminded her, according to one account, “and, as is New York’s way, they’re going to come at you hard. They love scandal there, and as you’ve seen, if they can find a hint of it, they thrive on it.” Still, he felt she could handle it if she took the time to really prepare for it. For now, though, he felt she should drop out. He urged her not to let Paterson have the final word. She should have the final word, he told her: “A Kennedy always has the final word.” Caroline thought Ted’s advice was good. She thanked him for it.
Two days went by. There was more waffling. It was still a tough decision and, as it would happen, one that would ultimately be made by her children. “The way I heard it,” recalled one of the Kennedys’ intimates, “the kids felt their mom was changing, and not for the better. They asked their mom to please bow out. That was it; that was all she needed to hear. She would never disregard the opinion of her children. So she talked to Ed about it, and he agreed that she should let it go. And that was the end of it.”
On January 22, an email was sent to the media from Caroline’s team that announced that she was dropping out of consideration, with no reason given other than “personal reasons.” In the end, Governor Paterson would end up appointing Kirsten Gillibrand, a congresswoman from Hudson, New York, to fill Hillary Clinton’s vacated seat.
Caroline’s entire senatorial gambit had lasted for just seven weeks. However, it had taken everything out of her. It would be some time before she’d be able to come to terms with it. In many ways, it felt to her as if she’d been living someone else’s life. She felt exposed for the first time, unable to shape public opinion about herself. None of it was familiar terrain. In the end, she had to wonder if it had all been a big mistake.