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Twelve hundred police officers and two F-14 jet fighters secured Yankee Stadium when Bush threw out the first pitch. Giuliani and his aides debated briefly whether to postpone the marathon, but he decided not to. "The city has to be open for business," he told the police commissioner. As the World Series continued, Giuliani commuted to Arizona for the away games, then raced back to his city. On Saturday, Nov. 3, he was in Phoenix, rooting hard in the ninth inning of Game 6 with the Yankees losing, when aides interrupted him. Anthrax spores had been found inside City Hall. It turned out to be a minor contamination, and the mayor wasn't going to let anything — not anthrax, not even the Yankees' loss — interfere with his determinedly good mood. He flew through the night, arriving home in time to cheer for the marathon winner. Nothing blew up.
Today, as the weeks pass without further attacks and people start to relax, Giuliani has remained on alert. "I think we have to assume that in both cases — the terror attacks on the World Trade Center and the anthrax, which may be either terrorists or nuts — we're not finished with them. We have to assume that they are going to do other things."
A Man in Full
Most New York Mayors leave office defeated and embittered by the demands of running the city. But when Giuliani hands over the reins to billionaire Mike Bloomberg at a ceremony planned for Times Square just after midnight on Jan. 1, he will leave at the peak of his popularity. He changed the outcome of the race to succeed him, ensuring Bloomberg's victory simply by making a TV ad endorsing him. In one sense, his mayoralty ends as it began, with the economy in recession and his aides negotiating painful budget cuts with the city council. The city's schools are little better than he found them, and cops are again rousting the homeless from Fifth Avenue. But so much else has changed that Giuliani has vaulted into the ranks of world leaders. He ignites adulation in the streets of Jerusalem. His Blackberry pager pulls in an e-mail message from the Queen of England, who is available in February to knight him. He has a $3 million, two-book deal. The networks are dangling offers. He will command six-figure speaking fees and open a consulting company with some of his aides (Rudy would not be happy working for someone). His divorce will soon be final, and some of his friends think he and Nathan will get married, but he won't confirm that. He does look forward to spending more time with his children, though even in the midst of post-9/11 recovery he managed to attend eight of Andrew's nine high-school football games as well as see Caroline's school play and take her on a private tour of ground zero. "She wanted to see it," he says. "She was upset but not overwrought. It's my job to do for my kids what my father did for me — try to help them figure out how to deal with fear. How to live life, even though you are afraid."
As long as Giuliani remains healthy, his friends believe, he will sooner or later make his next move and run for higher office. He is keeping his political-action committee up and running, and he will wait for his opening. At 57, he has time. He doesn't want to be Homeland Security boss or run for Governor against fellow Republican George Pataki, but he has always had half-concealed presidential dreams, and it's easy to imagine him trying for the Senate (in New York or New Jersey) or even serving as George W. Bush's running mate if Dick Cheney chooses not to go again. "You never know what you would do if a President asked you," he says. Bush almost surely won't ask — he prizes long-tested loyalty as much as Giuliani does — but if he did, the mayor would listen. "That's further in the future, which might make a difference. But right now I'm not looking for anything. Even before Sept. 11, I was looking forward to some private time. I need to take a break, reflect on everything that's happened. I haven't had enough time to think about any of this. I could use a vacation."
His last one was 40 minutes long.