Sex. Murder. Mystery(103)

The tide was moving in the direction of conservative upstarts in Orange County—more so than just about anywhere in the country. John Schmitz, with his David Niven mustache and sharp-as-carbide-blades wit, was in the right place at the right time in 1964. It didn't matter that he was a card-carrying member of the right-wing John Birch Society, the anticommunist organization founded in 1958 to promote conservative causes. In 1964, when Mary Kay was two, her father found his arena. He was elected state senator.

None were more proud of John's victory than those in Tustin and at St. Cecelia's. He was the pride of the congregation. Choir director Richard Kulda, a conservative, though no John Bircher, admired John Schmitz as a legislator and a man. A reelection followed two years later, and by the end of the decade, a bid for the U.S. Congress. His campaign bumper sticker read: “When you're out of Schmitz, you're out of gear.”

“John has a brilliant mind, witty, conscientious. Good-humored. He was not easily ruffled, a fighter pilot. In mortal combat you cannot get ruffled, you have to be thinking every instant. You've got to use every bit of brainpower you have,” Richard Kulda remembered.

During his six years in the California legislature many argued that his finest achievements were in curtailing sex education in the classroom and limiting the availability of condoms where young people might get their hands on them.

“More self-discipline is needed,” he said.

By 1970, three more siblings had joined Mary Kay and her three older brothers. When Mary Kay was three, her sister Terry was born, followed by Elizabeth and, lastly, Philip, born in March 1970.

“John and Mary loved having three boys, then three girls, then a boy. It was so wonderful. And so tragic later,” the close family friend and neighbor later said.

In the years of his heyday as the king of the quip, John Schmitz became beloved by reporters looking for a loose-cannon quote that could guarantee outrage and increased readership. John Schmitz became known more for what he said than what he did. Whenever he opened his mouth, John Schmitz supporters cheered and his foes wondered if he'd left enough room for his foot.

“They like to be called gays,” he once said of homosexuals in search of political clout. “I prefer to call them queers.”

Sometimes charm was slipped into the mix and his remarks came off as one-liners, given like a political Johnny Carson.

“I may not be Hispanic, but I'm pretty close. I'm a Catholic with a mustache,” he said.

When the Schmitz family left for Sacramento or later for Washington, D.C., their good Brittany Woods Drive neighbors' joy for the family was tempered with personal sadness. Though they kept in touch and saw old friends and neighbors whenever they came to town and attended fund-raisers—for which Mary Schmitz had made her daughters' dresses—it wasn't the same.

“When we got to Washington, John took us to the White House and everything. I got to sit in Tip O'Neill's chair,” said the neighbor. “We were so happy for them.”

It was June 1970 when John Schmitz moved his family to Washington, D.C., to fulfill the time remaining on a congressional seat won in a special election. Mary Kay would later say she made the transition easily, basking in the attention reflected from her father's admirers. There were parties to host, Easter eggs to roll on the White House lawn, and photographers to smile for at every turn. Heady stuff for an eight-year-old girl. Her father was at the top of his game at that time and he knew it. Things were happening for her mother, too. Mary Schmitz was more than a wife; she was a savvy political partner. She was passionate about her political and religious beliefs and every bit as adept—many felt more so—as her husband when it came to tapping into the strengths of the conservative constituency. She attracted a following by campaigning against the ERA and was dubbed a “West Coast Phyllis Schafly.” Like her husband, she was a fervent right-to-lifer who considered abortion nothing short of murder.

If John Schmitz was the leader of the band when it came to Orange County Republican politics, as one adversary later characterized him, his wife was equally powerful and accomplished. Mary Schmitz was a captivating public speaker, and an articulate crusader for conservative causes. She was more than just a woman standing behind her man—though she espoused the ideal that that's where women belonged.

Some friends of the family felt sorry for Mary Kay, and her sisters Terry and Elizabeth. The emphasis in that household was always on the sons. It was a man's world and John and Mary Schmitz made no bones about it and the fact that they wanted to keep it that way. When the Equal Rights Amendment died, Mary Schmitz had a cardboard tombstone put up in her front yard as a cheeky reminder of her greatest achievement.