Shocking Revelation: Anderson Cooper’s Troubling Journey Towards Coping with Loss

For decades, Anderson Cooper, 56, has had a constant, humane and comparatively quiet presence on television news. But the veteran host of CNN’s “Anderson Cooper 360°” has recently entered an interesting and, in his own way, a fruitful period of emotional and professional flux. He started last year with “All There With Anderson Cooper” his podcast on grief. (When Cooper was 10 years old, his father, Wyatt, died of a heart attack; his older brother, Carter, committed suicide when they were both in their early 20s; his mother, Glory Vanderbilt, he died at age 95 in 2019.) In doing so, she realized how little she had allowed herself to feel the losses and how much more feeling she still had to do. (Accordingly, a second season will air this fall.) She also spent time writing “Astor,” a forthcoming nonfiction book about America’s historic and dynastic family, which is a thematic follow-up to her 2021 best-selling book about the life of his mother. historical and dynastic American family, “Vanderbilt”. (Both books were written with Katherine Howe.) On top of all that, he and his CNN colleagues suffered through the brief and tumultuous tenure of its chairman and CEO Chris Licht, who was fired in June after just 13 months on the job. . . “It all makes sense in my head,” Cooper says, of the twists and turns of his career. “Though it might not make much sense on paper.”

So, are you thinking about how your children will understand the story of your losses? Oh absolutely. I’m building a record for them. [Cooper chokes up.] Excuse me.

Alright. I don’t have it, but I did have that book. I very intentionally want to leave a complete set of documentation, of things that my children may come into contact with throughout their lives and that your children, if they have them, may also do. God, what I wouldn’t give to have my dad’s dad’s diaries. My mom’s mom seemed shallow and my mom’s dad was an alcoholic and died at 45, so it didn’t seem very deep, but I would love his diaries. Even writing “Vanderbilt” made me feel, for the first time, rooted in history. I like to feel grounded and I want my children to have that feeling.

In one of the last episodes of the podcast, you say: “I chose for a long time not to be vulnerable, but I think I don’t want to do it anymore.” How has being a parent affected your vulnerability? That’s a really interesting question. What I have come to realize in recent months is how little I allowed myself to mourn the death of my father and brother. I did what many children do: I buried it deep inside. It was only doing the podcast that I realized, Holy [expletive], I’m still this 10-year-old boy. In terms of acknowledging pain and sadness and allowing myself to be vulnerable, I don’t know exactly how to do it, but that’s what I’m looking to learn. I used to see this sadness behind my mom’s eyes. I want my children not to see that behind my eyes. I don’t want him to be behind my eyes now

I think one theme of your podcast and “Dispatches From the Edge” and “The Rainbow Comes and Goes” is trying to understand how you came to be the person you are. Loss is fundamental to that. I think for many people, understanding who they want and their sexuality is just as formative. But in all your books, I think there are only a few pages where you talk about your sexuality. Why is there a gap in the story you tell about how to become who you are? I hadn’t thought of it that way. I grew up with a well-known mother who was recognized on the streets, and I didn’t particularly like that as a child. Once I started to get known, I realized that I wanted to try and keep some privacy. But I don’t think I have any particularly interesting stories about being gay. I found out early on, I was in love, I didn’t really want to be gay, then I quickly accepted and embraced it, and it’s one of the great blessings of my life. Grief, loss, and the urge to be around people who were hurting was a bigger unresolved driving force in my life than gay.

I was going to say that “unresolved” is the key word. It’s the unresolved things that end up driving us more than the things we’ve made peace with. Yes. I mean, the fact that I’m 56 and still realize that I never suffered when I was 11? That’s ridiculous. Maybe I could write a little essay about my homosexuality, I don’t know what. The path of it? But I couldn’t write a book.

Can a journalist from a well-known media outlet continue to be a blank slate? CNN and Fox News mean something on their own apart from individual reporters. You’re right that some people view The Times as leftist, they view CNN as what they view CNN, Fox as what they view Fox, and that’s going to determine things. I also know that there are people who base things more on the individual. There may be people who watch Jake Tapper because they think he acts clear and does great interviews, but they won’t watch me. There are people who will see one person on Fox News and not others. So I don’t think you can paint with such a wide brush. Certainly, more than in the past, people have drawn ideological caricatures of various brands and make decisions based on them.

That’s a problem, right? Yes, that’s a problem. I mean, I read stuff in the paper, but I’m not sure what the point of it all was.

If the Trump team called and said, “We’d like you to come on your show,” would you do it? I don’t know at this time. I’m not sure. I personally would not have chosen to do a town hall. The town hall format is a specific format that CNN has used effectively for many candidates. I don’t think the first time Donald Trump returned to CNN; he wouldn’t have done a town hall, and if he would have said no, he would have said okay, so he doesn’t show up. But that’s not my choice. I was not involved.

You said you play it “down the middle”. Is that approach to television news an anachronism? This is going to sound like a dodge, but none of this particularly interests me.

This is the future of your work! How could you not be interested? You’re not going to believe my answer, but I’m going to say it anyway: what interests me about my job is being able to go places and get into people’s lives. The business side of the news: I used to worry about these things 20 years ago when I started. She kept me awake at night: “Do I have a future? What are my qualifications? That was not sustainable for me. I don’t like that kind of pressure. For me, the solution was to focus on what I had control over: get better at interviews, get better at writing, stop saying “um.” I receive all commercial material. I just don’t care. Do I have a future? I’m 56 years old. How much longer can I keep doing this? I don’t know. I fully hope that one day my services will no longer be needed or of interest and, as in a Charlie Brown Spelling Beesome voice will go womp womp, and then I’ll disappear from the screen. That’s the way this world is and I’ve been extraordinarily lucky. So I don’t worry about the long-term trajectory.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity from two conversations.

David Marchese is a writer for the magazine and a columnist for Talk. He recently interviewed Alok Vaid-Menon on transgender everyday life, Joyce Carol Oates on immortality and Robert Downey Jr. on life after Marvel.