R.I.P. Rudy Giuliani, (1994-2000, 2001-2008)

From time to time, I write topical political opinion pieces for my boss. He gives me an assignment, I work it out, and then we go over it together for a final run through. They end up running in a variety of different publications, many of which do not have an online presence. But I'm proud of what I write and so I want to make sure that they live on someplace online.

Here is the latest piece: an attempt to make a little sense of the faltering of Rudy Giuliani's bid for the presidency. Many of you know my personal attitudes about Rudy, which I had to reign in to write this piece. To give you an idea of what the uncut version looked like, each paragraph ended up spiraling into a verbal tornado of expletive-laced rants. It's not rational, my loathing of him. So I consider this G-Rated assessment of the death of his political career - a spectacle no less beautiful than the light show of an imploding star - to be a feather in my cap as a writer, if not a human being.



R.I.P. Rudy Giuliani, (1994-2000, 2001-2008)

We are the party of freedom! We are the party of the people! And we’re a big party, we’re a big party, and we’re getting bigger… I’m even in this party! This is a BIG party!

These words, delivered by former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani as an impromptu aside in the middle of his concession speech after losing the Florida primary, were aimed directly at the hearts of Republicans desperate for a savior for their fractured national party.

At the time, the field of Republican candidates was crowded with the likes of Mitt Romney, Mike Huckabee, Ron Paul, and, for at least the next 24 hours, Mr. Giuliani. Each was an imperfect candidate representing a different portion of the G.O.P. None of them was the traditional conservative archetype who could satisfy all.

By the time polls had closed that night, the press was already busy writing Rudy’s political obituary. He didn't even make it to New York, a place that defined Rudy as much as he defined it. Th moment was ripe for his self-deprecating digression.

Giuliani’s campaign faltered for countless reasons. You could attribute it to his campaign's quixotic and (some would say) naïve choice to bypass early primary states, which set him back significantly in the race for the Republican nomination. He paid a heavy price by bypassing Iowa and New Hampshire, partly because of G.O.P. rules that allocate delegates on a “winner take all” basis, in contrast with Democratic Party rules allocating delegates proportionally. You could also blame his flame-out on the resurgence of John McCain’s candidacy, which was seen as unlikely when the race began. McCain's positions on national security, as well as his strength of character, took a lot (read: all) of the wind from Giuliani’s sails. Or chalk it up to the Curse of City Hall, the superstition that keeps New York City’s Mayors – who might be some of this country's greatest leaders - from reaching higher office.

In spite of those mistakes, the truth is that Giuliani’s campaign failed because, put plainly, he ran up against the simple fact that when you run for the highest office in the land you will be judged on the entirety of your record.

For many months, Giuliani's campaign tried to sell his party the Courageous Leader the World Witnessed on September 11th. His critics were accustomed to mocking the frequency with which he mentioned this tragedy by spelling his name "9udy 11iuliani." But no matter how he exploited the nation's misery to bolster his reputation or cash out with lucrative speaking engagements and a powerful security consulting and lobbying firm, Rudy cannot be faulted for the admirable and enviable way he poured his inner strength into the vacuum left by the Bush Administration on a day of national emergency. Early polling reflected the support he received from Republican Party base for his patriotic service to our country. For upwards of ten months, he was considered the front runner, often holding a double-digit lead over his closest rivals.

But that was not enough. Neither Rudy's status as a national hero nor his record as the strongman who tamed the “ungovernable” city was sufficient to navigate his campaign through the Grand Old Party’s gauntlet of a nomination process. In spite of endorsements from conservative evangelical leaders like Pat Robertson, Giuliani still had to reconcile his public record for conservative voters on issues such as immigration and gay rights. Moreover, just one day after receiving Robertson’s blessing, Rudy's close associate and business partner Bernie Kerik was indicted on various federal corruption charges, highlighting the cumbersome relationships he continued to obscure and defend. All of this raised real doubts among Republican voters looking for an authentic leader to continue their party's control of the Executive Branch.

By the time it became clear that Giuliani wasn’t going to leave the Sunshine State victoriously, he needed to cut his losses. Why spend the money, time, and political capital on winning a few friendly states near home when it was clear that the nomination would elude him?

But beyond questions of practical matters such as winning delegates, raising funds, and spinning favorable (if ephemeral) storylines in the press, his decision to skip early contests did not come across as a strategic choice. Instead, it reminded us of the absence of leadership we remember in the early hours of September 11, 2001, and not the powerful images of valor and bravery.

Right before Rudy delivered his written remarks conceding Florida to McCain, a man in the audience called out: "It ain't over 'til it's over, Rudy!" The contender beamed his cap-toothed smile and, like a parent to his toddler, he turned the mistake of his campaign into a "teaching moment" and attributed those words to "the great philosopher" Yogi Berra. It was pleasing to see Rudy in such a lighthearted moment. But it revealed a Rudy who was perhaps more at home in the Baseball Hall of Fame than as the unwitting paladin of 9/11, or even in the halls of the Republican Party. He endorsed McCain the next day, but he didn't get around to completing Yogi's thought and publicly admit, is it over yet? Politicians never do. But it was a fitting end for the complicated Prince of New York, whose fall from grace was as vexing and profound as the pronouncements of baseball's great philosopher king.