Actor most proud of role as survivor
Rivers shares experiences after suffering from years of domestic abuse
by Dave Richards, Staff writer Erie Times-News, Erie, PA.
October 21, 2001

He's rugged-looking and dashingly handsome, a movie star who's worked with Steven Spielberg in "Amistad," Eddie Murphy in "The Distinguished Gentleman," and Antonio Band eras in "The Mask of Zorro." He started on the offensive line for coach Bobby Bowden at Florida State, and played professional football with Miami Dolphins.

What a life Victor Rivers has led, you may think.

You have no idea.

Rivers, along with his brothers and sisters, was physically and psychologically abused for years by his father. This was not occasional swat-on-the-behind abuse, but cold calculated horror that his father apparently knew was evil, as well. He committed suicide in 1980.

Rivers didn't attend the funeral. His anger cut too deeply, his wounds were too raw.

"It took me years before I actually reacted to (his death). He had basically taken all my tears away from me," Rivers said. "I didn't know if I was supposed to be sad or elated. I was basically numb."

Today, he's healthy, a father himself, a successful actor, and now a role model. Feeling compelled "to contribute back to society," Rivers, 46, serves as national spokesperson for the National Network to End Domestic Violence, an alliance of shelters and statewide advocacy groups. The NNEDV lobbies Congress for programs to help abuse victims, and led the fight for the Violence Against Women Act of 1994.
Rivers is a rarity, a man willing to speak about domestic violence, an issue normally associated with women victims. He's the guest speaker at SafeNet's benefit luncheon at noon Thursday at Porters of Union Station.
"I sort of offered my services," said Rivers, who lives in Hermosa Beach, Calif. "At first, they were kind of shocked because I'm a man. And when you think about domestic violence, many times the misconception is that it's a woman's issue. That was the beginning; I contacted them and told them my story."

It's a sad, terrible, but ultimately triumphant one. Rivers was born in Cuba, but his family relocated to Chicago in the late 1950s. His father abused not only him, but his mother and four siblings as well.

"I lived in a home where domestic violence took place on the level of torture," he said. "It wasn't just physical beatings. It was psychological. It was emotional. It was spiritual."

He was burned, locked in closets, beaten with a meat tenderizer, hammered by his father's fists. At age 12, he bravely sought help. He went to the police and dramatically displayed his welts, bruises, and burn marks that were hidden by clothes.

Rivers thought he'd be rescued. But this was 1967.

"You have to remember," Rivers said, "this was over 30 years ago. People felt it was a private family matter to be dealt with in the home. So, it kind of gave my father a license to do whatever he wanted."

The abuse continued. Though Rivers was never injured seriously enough to be hospitalized, his mother was.
"She collapsed on the street. She had developed a form of pleurisy from my father beating her chest with a wire brush," he said. "She collapsed and was in a hospital for almost a month. For two weeks, she was a Jane Doe. She wouldn't give her real name. She was too frightened to let people know who she was."
Rivers said his father's abuse left another victim, "'a brother he hardly knew but tearfully remembers every October during National Domestic Violence Awareness month.

"I had a brother who was born severely brain damaged because of the abuse my mother suffered while pregnant from him," said Rivers. "He didn't live past the age of 9. I need to remember his life. This is a month not only to raise awareness, but remember the victims. I don't often speak of Robert because it's very painful. But he was my brother, and he never really had a chance."

When Victor was 14, his father took the kids and moved to Florida. His mom, who filed for divorce, spent half a year trying to find her family. In Florida, the abuse continued, and Rivers realized his best chance for survival was to get away. He'd grown into a strapping young man. One night, he fought back He had recently turned 15.

"I couldn't live with this madness any longer," Rivers said. "I basically confronted him one day myself. I exposed him for the coward he was. I had a fight with my father that I won, and I ran away from home."

He hung out with a gang. He lived on the streets. If he owned a gun, he might well have wound up a killer, or at least in jail.

"My life could have taken a whole different turn," Rivers said. "There was a time, because the police would not help us, where I wanted to take my father's life, but I couldn't find a gun. It was a different time in our nation, and guns weren't so prevalent on the streets. Or I might have done something I would have regretted," said Rivers.

Love and football saved him. The family of a teammate - the seventh family to give him a chance - took him in. The boy who was so hurt, angry, and lost after leaving home began turning his life around. He wound up the president of his senior class, captain of the football team, and he made the dean's list.

"This is an example of how, in a short amount of time, having others step in and give you guidance and protection can help you," Rivers said. "They introduced me to love and what love should be about. It can turn people's lives around. You have to remember, I was 15 - a big, angry young man. Most people would throw the key away; would say this kid's headed for jail. That's what we do with a lot of kids from troubled backgrounds. We build more and more prisons to house them, as opposed to intervening and using resources to better equip them to become less violent and give them other options."

Rivers earned a full scholarship to Florida State, where coach Bobby Bowden became a mentor and steadying force. Later, Rivers played two years with the Miami Dolphins.

"Athletics not only paid for my education, it gave me a healthy outlet for my rage. I was able to strap on a helmet and (though) I was a clean player, I might have had a little extra spark compared to the players next to me," he said, with a laugh. "I had a lot of demons inside of me I needed to exorcise."

His coaches were positive male influences, and each team felt like a surrogate family. His on-field success rebuilt his battered self-esteem.

Rivers, remarkably, began to heal without seeking therapy.

After the NFL, the teammate he'd lived with during high school - who'd become as close as a brother - suggested a new career: acting. That teammate, as it turns out, was Steve Bauer, who later played Al Pacino's younger brother in "Scarface," just as Rivers starred as Banderas' younger sibling in "Zorro." Rivers has appeared in more than two-dozen films, but "Zorro" was a hoot.

"We had a ball doing it. Antonio was very fun to work with," Rivers said. "It was like we were playing a kid's game. Though I had no sword-fighting scenes, we all got to train, and it was great fun."

Rivers plays both good guys and bad guys. "I have to differentiate from what I do as an actor and as a person," he said "Part of the fun of being an actor is you get to play a wide spectrum of characters, both good and evil. Many times, I draw on my own experiences to portray them."

His favorite role, though, is fatherhood. Son Eli often accompanies him on his speaking engagements about domes tic violence.

"I look at my son and see how loved he is, and what great self-esteem he has," Rivers said. "When I think of myself now as an adult, I see that I was the same good little boy. He was just being abused and mistreated."
Rivers said his father never told him he was sorry, never asked for forgiveness to his face.

"There'll never be closure to that end. But, by the same token, I use everything I learned at home to become a better person. I learned what not to do as a human, as a man, and now as a father," Rivers said. "So, I don't walk around with a chip on my shoulder anymore.