Rachel Maddow is putting her feet up in her office. However,
this doesn’t denote complacency (not that anyone would
accuse Maddow of that). She has no choice. She fractured
her left ankle six weeks earlier when “getting on a boat in a
pair of boat shoes,” she grumbles while pumping up the
compression on the large boot covering her foot.
Maddow’s office is very on-brand: A wall functions as
a whiteboard (today, the word “opioids” is scrawled in big
letters, followed by other topics of inquiry). On the floor rest
chunky piles of manila folders and at least a dozen bottles of
whiskey, tequila, and assorted spirits. (“Utah makes a great
whiskey,” she says, grinning. “Who knew?”) On the wall fac-
ing Maddow’s desk stands a clothing rack filled with around
20 nearly identical black blazers, their rigidity tempered by
some racy beige and navy numbers farther down the rail.
Maddow, 46, is entering her 12th year as host of The
Rachel Maddow Show. When she started as anchor in 2008
(following a career in radio and a guest-hosting gig on
Countdown with Keith Olbermann), the country was enter-
ing the Obama years, which now seem like something of a
dream sequence. The left-leaning MSNBC was a comfy
place back then, but Maddow never rested on her laurels.
Alternately thorough and goofy but relentlessly curious
and armed with a ton of knowledge, she doubled the ratings
for the network’s 9 p.m. time slot in a matter of days.
Now, of course, we are in a different time. Maddow’s
stated mission—“To increase the amount of useful infor-
mation in the world”—is more vital than ever. And it’s a tes-
tament to her smarts and innate decency that she delivers
even the most traumatic news with a light hand (though
sometimes she has to pinch that hand to keep from crying).
And despite hosting a nightly news show for 50 weeks a
year, Maddow found time to write her second book, Blowout,
about big oil and gas, “the richest, most destructive industry
on earth.” Yet, rather than an eat-your-spinach obligatory
read, the book radiates zing, intelligence, and black humor.
Much like its author.
LAURA BROWN: So I have two questions and then you
can fill in the middle. How the hell do you wake up in the
morning, and how the hell do you sleep at night?
RACHEL MADDOW: I don’t sleep very well, but that’s
mostly because of my torn ligaments. But I have a wonderful
job. Everybody who’s stressed out about politics or who’s
feeling overwhelmed by the pace or progress of news these
days should be jealous of my job. I read the news all day
and then figure out what I think is important and useful to
convey about it, which is such a blessing. It’s also compli-
cated and challenging and upsetting at times, but you’ve
just got to push it all down.
LB: Is it somehow easier on your psyche to be the “great
distiller” and look at things analytically?
RM: We’ve got this internal mantra on the show—to increase
the amount of useful information in the world—and it’s a very
helpful guide. We don’t try to cover everything every day. We
try to read everything every day so we know everything that’s
going on, but it doesn’t mean we’re going to cover it all. We
cover stories that are a) important and b) to which we can
add something important. For me, that’s how to not be over-
whelmed, because you’re actually processing the information
and making sense of it. Yes, sometimes the amount and the
pace of it gets overwhelming. But my job is to catch up.
LB: Right. So run me through your standard day,
from eyes awaking.
RM: I’m pretty good at compartmentalizing. I don’t
look at my phone first thing when I wake up. I’m
not a morning person, but my girlfriend, Susan
[Mikula, a photographer], is. She’s up hours ahead
of me, so if something truly epic has happened,
she’ll either wake me up or tell me as soon as I get
up. When one of the first Trump administration
indictments happened, I remember I was having a
really good dream. I was dreaming as a puppy,
dreaming of bunnies. I had a puppy-eye view of
the bunnies. So I’m chasing a fluffy bunny, and it’s
a nice day, and then there’s this gentle shaking. “Honey,
honey, the national security adviser’s been indicted. Your
phone has been ringing.” And I was like, “OK, time to go.”
LB: Yanked from the puppy’s arms!
RM: I was the puppy! [laughs] I need to be gently drawn into
the day. Then I try to do something that’s not work-related.
These days it’s going to physical therapy before starting work
around 11:30. And then I read solidly without talking to any-
body. It’s a really important part of my day in terms of getting
my head on—and it’s fun. In my own coded shorthand I take
R
“I have Scotch, rye,
bourbon, Irish pot-stilled
whiskey, mezcal. In case
of the apocalypse, you
should come to my office.”
156 InSTYLE NOVEMBER 2019