Zibby Mag

By Kaira Rouda

When Sonny Bono (of Sonny and Cher fame) died tragically in a skiing accident in 1998, he was a sitting member of Congress, representing California in the U.S. House of Representatives. Shortly after his death, his wife, Mary Bono, won a special election to serve the rest of his congressional term. This victory was not a fluke—she went on to win several more regular elections in her district, and served in Congress for 15 years after Sonny died. Similarly, when Senator John McCain died in 2017, his wife, Cindy, was appointed by the Governor of Arizona to complete his senate term.

These are not merely coincidences, but two of the most high-profile examples of the Widow’s Mandate, the unofficial tradition in American politics when a sitting member of Congress dies and their seat is filled by their spouse.

When my husband was elected to Congress as a representative from California, our lives turned completely upside down. We moved to Washington, D.C., and I immersed myself. It’s a city like no other, filled with power, history, and steeped in traditions like the Widow’s Mandate. Since the founding of this country, there have been almost forty widows who took over their husbands’ seats in the House of Representatives. I became fascinated by the history of these women who served our country—at first by their husbands’ sides as confidants and backroom planners, and then by stepping into their shoes to carry out their own legacies.

Incidentally, the first woman to be elected to Congress was not a widow. Her name was Jeannette Rankin, and she won one of Montana’s seats in the House in November 1916. Rankin was the only woman member out of 531 total members, four years before Congress passed the 19th Amendment giving women across the country the right to vote. With a handful of exceptions, the Widow’s Mandate was one of the earliest ways women got into Congress. The practice peaked in the mid-twentieth century, 35 of the 95 women who served in Congress before 1976 were Congressional wives first.

The idea behind it was continuity and the notion that women could complete the work their husbands started. The parties saw widows as placeholders, a safe person to fill the seat while they regrouped to find a more suitable candidate for the next term. But it turned out to be a winning formula. Among first-time House candidates between 1916-1993, eighty-four percent of the widows won, while only 14 percent of other women were victorious.

I became fascinated by the history of these women who served our country—at first by their husbands’ sides as confidants and backroom planners, and then by stepping into their shoes to carry out their own legacies.

Indeed, some widows became much more than placeholders. The first widow elected to replace her husband in the House was Mae Ella Nolan of California in 1912; she served out his term in the 67th Congress. And the first woman to succeed her husband in the Senate was Hattie Wyatt Caraway, whose husband died in November 1931 while making plans to run for a third term. The state held a special election for the remaining year of his term, with the understanding she would step aside to make way for a suitable successor.

But Hattie had plans of her own. She filed for the full six-year term, and won, and then won again, making her the first woman to be elected to the U.S. Senate on January 12, 1932. Hattie’s story inspired me, as did the rest of the women who lived the Widow’s Mandate and served our country—whether simply to fulfill their late husbands’ terms or, in some cases, to become powerful legislators in their own right.

And then I began to wonder: What if a wife was tired of her spouse’s shenanigans, and had political aspirations of her own? In my suspense-novelist brain, the wife of a cheating congressman didn’t necessarily have to just wait around for him to die, did she?

In my new novel, The Widow, Jody and Martin Asher are a formidable D.C. power couple. He’s serving his 15th term representing the great state of Ohio. And Jody is at the top of the D.C. social ladder, volunteering at all the right functions, attending the best parties, participating in all the best social clubs, and planning an opulent wedding for their only daughter Charlotte. The only problem is Martin. Jody isn’t personally bothered by his rumored affair with a young staffer, but she is worried about their legacy, and potentially losing everything they’ve accomplished during their time inside the beltway. Maybe becoming a widow isn’t the worst thing…

I was amused to learn that the plot of my latest book raised eyebrows and caused concerns among my husband’s staffers during his time in Congress. I reassured them it was all fiction. Becoming the wife of a congressman was the honor of a lifetime. The experience was intense, and deeply moving on many levels.

The realities that wives, spouses, and family members endure in the name of service were eye-opening. They must remain calm and composed in the face of occasionally profuse verbal and political attacks on their partners. The role of a political spouse as an essential support system is, for the most part, hidden from the public. That’s why I dedicated my novel to them. I hope many more women continue to take on political roles and win elections. The political world needs more women in power. And we should always remember those remarkable widows who paved the way.

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Kaira Sturdivant Rouda is an American author and businesswoman. She is best known for her psychological suspense novels, including Best Day Ever and All the Difference. Her latest novel, The Widow, is out December 1.