My Great “Arnold Schwarzenegger” Expose
My Great "Arnold Schwarzenegger" Expose
The Wildest Story I Ever Wrote
So there I was in late July 1988 a cherubic faced aging juvenile of 39 winters and 12 summers (I had lived in England all my life) recently appointed as Editor for MuscleMag UK, which had launched that year, contemplating the trailer I had just composed which would be a tease for a story slated for our October issue. I looked at the headline I had composed: A blockbusting one that was to take off like Usain Bolt on a downhill run and end …… well, we’ll see. The banner text glared back at me.
ARNOLD EXPOSE COMING SOON!
* ARNOLD: Wild Nights at Stallone’s!
* ARNOLD: The Biggest Boozer!
* ARNOLD: The Cracks are Showing!
* ARNOLD: The Banned Book!
* ARNOLD: Facts that Will Shock!
The lowdown on Arnold by Peter McGough, who knows more about Arnold than any other bodybuilding journalist!
BLUE TOUCH PAPER LIT!
When the half page blurb nestled onto the news-stands in early September 1988, such was the reaction you’d have thought I’d invited Mother Theresa to go behind the bike sheds and check out a couple of my habits.
1988 was a year in which Arnold Schwarzenegger’s blockbusting movie star credentials were rising faster than Martin Sheen’s libido in a strip joint. The seven-time Mr. Olympia was the focus of every celebrity magazine and his name had worldwide marquee value written in green dollar bills. Everyone and his Uncle Sid wanted to know what I had on maybe the most publicized guy at that point on the planet. And was it fair, many censored, to discredit someone who had done so much for bodybuilding? The calls and personal confrontations came from, readers, competitors, officials, other magazines; even the typesetter rang to verify the copy. I just shrugged. In fact I shrugged so much, Dorian Yates called to ask what I was doing for traps?
A certain party in our nation’s capital, who had long preached an affinity with Arnold Schwarzenegger were, I was reliably informed by several sources, outraged. From here on I’ll refer to them as “The Party”. But the seat of their anger seemed not to be so much the seeming imminent mudslinging against their bosom buddy; the main gripe was along the lines of how has that piece of #*@% McGough (that’s me folks) got the gall to say he knows Arnold better than us?
“The Party” I am told contacted Schwarzenegger’s base and within days of the trailer’s appearance his people were on to me firing some heavy artillery. By phone every tactic possible was tried to urge me to scrap the expose.
Among the ploys tried were: the warning of legal action and financial ruin; the suggestion that it was highly inappropriate for a bodybuilding magazine to damage one of its heroes; the insinuation that I would be an outcast in the bodybuilding community; the accusation that I was sublimely damaging someone’s personal life and career; the hint that I was being used as an innocent pawn by others with ulterior motives; the admonishment that I was someone who didn’t know any better and should reconsider for my own good; the bait that if I withdrew perhaps I would be given what every bodybuilding journalist (and me as well) dreams of an interview with Schwarzenegger.
What my fresh found LA based acquaintances really focused was what I referred to as The Banned Book. What I didn’t know at the time was that British author Wendy Leigh was at that very time was writing Arnold: the Unauthorized Biography, an unflattering tome which was finally published in August 1990. It was a book my new buddies didn’t approve of. It having as much chance as Arnold signing copies in major book stores as Boy George being a linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. It came to light that that the energy generated towards me was due to an assumption on their part that my feature (particularly with its reference to the banned book) would be based on the same material Miss Leigh had collated.
MY LIPS ARE SEALED
I consistently refused to reveal the details of my story before publication. Taking the tact I would only do it in person to Mr. Schwarzenegger. In turn their final word seemed to be this was a possibility. It was so much of a carrot and stick policy that I considered spending the summer on the beach of the nearby seaside holiday town of Skegness.
I was surprised at the zealous trans-Atlantic approach; this sort of thing never happened when I wrote about Frank Richards shoulder routine? Why didn’t they let this little British bum get on with his fantasy and then sue him and his magazine for every penny? (Anybody want to write an expose on me? Go ahead -- in fact I’ll write it for you and we’ll both make money)
My better half Anne Byron became disconcerted at all this attention. There were funny phones calls late at night; certain people tried to talk to her in private advising her to make me see the error of my actions. One morning we awoke to find a strange man peering into the bedroom -- it was the new window cleaner!
The general media were now showing an interest in the expose and there seemed a chance of national publicity for the magazine. So publication of the story was held back from the promised edition, and the suspense spun out for an extra two months.
“The Party” meanwhile were by all accounts doing the rounds pointing out that they were close personal friends of Arnold S and he had never even spoken to McGough. They knew Arnold better than anyone and certainly they knew him better than three sheets McGough!
Well I did know Arnold better than them! I still do and probably always will have the distinction of knowing Arnold better than any bodybuilding journalist. Why back at that time hardly a day passed without Arnold and I having contact.
Because the Arnold in my expose wasn’t the star of Pumping Iron who became the highest paid star in Tinseltown and was 15 years later elected as Governor of California. My Arnold wasn’t that Arnold. My Arnold was even bigger than Mr. Schwarzenegger. My Arnold was a suburb of my hometown Nottingham. Arnold’s boundary lines which I crossed almost daily ran along the end of the street I lived in, so you’ll appreciate Arnold and I saw a lot of each other in those days.
ARNOLD EXPOSE REVEALED
When the expose was finally published, three months after the trailer first appeared, the feature was illustrated with a map of Arnold. And the lurid headlines were explained thus:
ARNOLD: Wild Nights at Stallone’s! A photo showing revelers at Stallone’s Night Club in Arnold accompanied the blurb.
ARNOLD: The Biggest Boozer! A photo showing The White Hart, then Arnold’s biggest pub, accompanied the blurb
ARNOLD: The Cracks are Showing! A photo showing the cracked roadway on Coppice Road Arnold accompanied the blurb
ARNOLD: The Banned Book! A photo of Arnold Library with the information that the books of famed British author Enid Blyton had been withdrawn from the library as it was felt they reflected an outlook inconsistent with modern Britain accompanied the blurb.
ARNOLD: Facts that Will Shock! The blurb was accompanied by the information that Arnold at that time didn’t have a McDonalds or Wimpy Bar.
And the line that I knew more about Arnold than any other bodybuilding journalist was explained by my geographical location.
In the unusual McGough style (aw shucks) every fact had been thoroughly researched checked and verified. The only “porkie” (British slang for lie) in the feature was me pictured next to a signpost emblazoned “ARNOLD”
(The full page Expose is shown at the foot of this story.)
On publication of the expose I received further feedback from the bodybuilding fans mostly of the view that they hadn’t had so much of a chuckle since Maggie Thatcher talked about the need for humility. Me? Laugh, I thought I’d never start. Because although the actual content of the finished story was kept secret from the general readership until publication Arnold’s people now knew it was a scam (in circumstances explained later in the narrative) and the prospect of the magazine benefitting in some way from the interest engendered had gone.
It was remarkable that no one ever rumbled the hoax, by making the Arnold/Nottingham connection. Indeed, there was an incident concerning “The Party” when I was sure the ruse would be uncovered.
Just days after first trailer came out I organized the posedown to select the English team for the 1988 World Championships. The event was held at the Bonington Theatre, Arnold. “The Party” attended the posedown and were actually given directions on how to get to Arnold. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson they weren’t. They never figured out the spoof for themselves. Instead they did exactly what was intended. Got on the blower to Arnold's HQ.
THE BEANS ARE SPILLED
The fact that the whole exercise was a prank was kept under wraps for nearly three months before the game was given away. The British publisher of MuscleMag UK, who spent most of that period in Australia, knew the truth of the story, and promised to keep it under wraps. He flew back from Australia on the day of the 1988 British Championships at Wembley and went straight there. My first sight of him at Wembley was of him in conversation with one of the party. I quickly broke this chinwag up, took the publisher aside and asked him if he had divulged the story. He said he felt he had to. I reminded him the chance of national publicity, perhaps international publicity had now gone because the first recipients of the news would be the LA contingent. A few weeks I resigned from the magazine
PROVING THE POWER OF A NAME
Looking back it’s pertinent to recall that at no time during the frenetic interrogation from Arnold’s people, or indeed from any other quarter of bodybuilding, did anyone ever say is the story about “Arnold Schwarzenegger”? They spoke only of “Arnold”. Thus true to the way my Mum and Dad brought me up I never told a fib during this whole episode. When I was consistently asked if I was sure my story on Arnold was accurate I was able to reply to the affirmative.
Arnold Schwarzenegger purposely built his career with the intention that one day the whole world would simply know him as Arnold. The formulation and execution of my Arnold expose was based on the belief that I felt he’d achieved that ambition. I knew nobody was going to ask Arnold Who? They would just assume the central character was Mrs. Schwarzenegger’s little boy. Thus the venture proved the power of Arnold’s (as in Schwarzenegger) name
As he himself by design aspired to the acquisition of his name having that power, he must have at times pondered if he had succeeded and perhaps the expose and its consequences act as a helpful gauge of his efforts. So maybe after all we shared a common interest.
Postscript: Eighteen months after the caper Petered out, Anne was still worried by the funny phone calls late at night. But I had to do something when I couldn’t sleep!