HAPPY TO PLEASE: New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.
Outside Public School 314 on 59th Street, at the wrong end of Brooklyn, a small group of 60 or so blacks and Hispanics are protesting about New York’s workfare programme. “Whey hey, whey ho, work experience has to go!” they chant sadly, as the excited crowd push past, ignoring them.
To the side of the main door, a huge, ginger-freckled cop has pinned a small wriggling boy half way up the wire-netting, as if he were a butterfly caught in flight. “Welcome to the mayor’s town hall,” grins one of seven armed guards. “It’s always like this,” an aide says, “when Rudy Giuliani is in town.” But Rudy Giuliani, New York’s Republican mayor, is always in town: that’s why New Yorkers love him.
You name it, he is always there. So what if, historically, New York Democrats outnumber Republicans by five votes to one? Everybody loves Rudy. Tonight Rudy is here on 59th Street to do what Rudy does best. Walk among the people.
The first questioner from the floor is worried about potholes. A woman says she’s been told it will take six months to fix the one outside her house. “Who told you six months?” demands the mayor. “Well, no one,” the woman admits sheepishly.
“But it feels like it’s gonna take six months.” “OK, ” says Giuliani, who has spent a lifetime in politics learning this is the stuff people really care about. “I’m telling you, your pothole is gonna get fixed. If we can do it for David Letterman we can do it for you!” The crowd breaks into applause.
The next woman wants to invite the mayor to join the Brooklyn parade on October 25. “I’ll make sure I’m there,” he grins, “even if I have to rush home from a Mets game.”
Violetta Myer, an elderly black woman, is chosen next. “You say crime is down but when I look around my neighbourhood I think it’s just not being reported,” she says. “Ma’am,” the mayor starts gravely, before waiting for silence.
“Ma’am, murder is down by 70 per cent! You think these murders aren’t reported to the police? You think these murders aren’t recorded by the police?” He stares at her sternly, until someone starts to heckle about the possibility of the crime fiures having been doctored. “We are going to follow a rule I learned in school,” he says quietly.
“We are not going to scream out, we’re going to treat each other with respect. Now…I’ll have our police commissioner explain the figures.”As the police chief stands up to give his spiel, the audience whoops and claps and a wave of steady applause breaks over the room. They love this kind of good-government scolding.
Tonight’s is a typical multiracial crowd; Hassidic Jews sit together, their corkscrew curls spinning gently with the breeze from the giant air conditioners at lunchtime it had topped 36 Celsius with 80 per cent humidity.
There are Chinese, Koreans, Hispanics, Dominicans and a group of Catholic nuns. It is to Giuliani’s credit, and the Democrats’ amazement, that such eclectic groups who might once have viewed themselves as political enemies now see each other as political allies.
Another speaker says she wants to give him a present. “What kind of present?” the mayor asks, a touch suspicious. But it is a genuine gift. The girl represents the Sunset Park organisation, which is demanding a local playing field: “We believe if we had a grass park for our children to play on, crime would decrease by 50 per cent in five years.” Ands she hands over a T-shirt.
“We will get you the ball fields,” Giuliani promises. “And then I want you to invite me to the opening!” The girl beams. A young aide accosts her on the way out to get her number and ensure the project is followed up. You can’t make promises and hope to get re-elected without delivering, and Giuliani is a politician perceived to deliver.