LaurieGarrett.com

DAY FIFTY SIX:

Nov. 5:

New Yorkers managed to rise and face the day, despite the sorrowful defeat of their Yankees last night. Few even wanted to talk about it. Some 40 million people watched last night's game, among them, no doubt, nearly 8 million New Yorkers. They saw it; no point in discussing the matter.

It's time to move on. Face another anthrax day.

Things got off to an interesting start when the producer of "Politically Incorrect" left a voice mail message asking whether I'd fly out to LA to be on the show. Well, gee, can't think of anything more important to do with my time.

The mere thought of airplanes gives me hives these days, though I am on the road tonight, yet again. Now the airlines have blended the worst of all worlds: security and a return to crowded, cramped abusive flying conditions. My North Carolina pal, Susan, sums it up well:

I was also amazed by the crowds at airports. I flew via Chicago to St. Louis and via Dallas to Albuquerque and back to RDU with over-booked flights stuffing us in and turning away stand-bys. Our pilot in Chicago announced "back to normal conditions" as we sat on the runway for over an hour waiting for a gate (there was a broken down plane at the gate) and all missed our connections. In fact I missed two possible connections. Everything is mobbed. What's going on? Is everyone just main-lining Cipro and getting on board?

The mysterious illness and death of New York hospital worker Kathy Nguyen continues to stymie facile answers. Her case makes no sense, to be frank. The poor woman was a Vietnamese immigrant who left her country after the hardship of war, only to have her husband desert her. Alone, in a strange country, she raised her son, who as a young adult died in an auto accident. She seems to have had little in her life but a thankless clerical job at Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital and an unglamorous apartment in the Bronx. She had few friends, little social life, and nobody terribly knowledgeable that investigators could question regarding her whereabouts in the two weeks prior to her demise. She wasn't a mail handler. Nothing in her home or office environment has tested positive, ultimately, for anthrax. Her case breaks all molds, however tenuous, that the CDC has put in place to explain the infections to date.

Yesterday it was reported that Tom Brokaw had sent a videocassette to City Hall, which tested positive for anthrax. This is true, but news reports led the citizenry to believe the posting was recent, and that was cause for still more anxiety in Gotham. As it turns out, Brokaw's office posted the package on either September 18 or 19, which is when it is believed the anthrax-laced envelope malevolently mailed to Brokaw was opened in the NBC News room. So the cassette to City Hall was probably on Brokaw's assistant's desk at the same time as the dastardly letter: a simple case of cross-contamination.

The contaminated cassette incident does help pin down the dates a bit, however, solidifying the period one week after the World Trade Center catastrophe as the time letters arrived at their targets, and providing strong hints that they were posted in concert with the September 11 events.

Still, the mystery simply deepens with time. Frustration is obvious on the faces of investigators. And as long as the nation's leaders are obviously flummoxed the citizenry stays visibly nervous. Far away in Seattle, for example, friend Amy reports:

Even out here, so far from the East and Ground Zero, now we look at our bridges differently. I went to sleep the other night with a sore throat and body ache and thought of anthrax. I saw a blemish on my child and thought of subcutaneous anthrax. My friend in Portland and her toddler were both unwell after a visit to a Pumpkin patch and she wondered briefly if someone had doused the pumpkin patch. My friends in Princeton don't bring their mail into the house-her husband takes it with gloves to the garage, throws unknown stuff straight into the garbage, opens the other stuff and throws away the envelopes, and brings only known contents into the house. Even my aunt in Los Angeles is getting her mail with gloves. We see our world in terms of "before" and "after."

My Columbia University students tonight were left with no opportunity to ask anthrax questions, though they eagerly anticipated their weekly update. After a hasty lecture on the myth of crack babies and media's gullibility in buying into the 1990 Bush Administration claim that more than 100,000 American babies would be born addicts, I made a dash for Penn Station.

The usually crowded Amtrak station was sparsely attended. It seems even train travel is too much for the skittish. Aboard the new Acela "high speed" train ("arriving 20 minutes earlier in DC!") in my car are former National Security Advisor Sandy Berger and colleague, whose conversation is appropriately hushed. And a very loud group of Democratic Party pols, Mark Green pins affixed to their lapels, drinking heavily and shouting into their cell phones. "You tell Harvey the President got there and found 18 camera crews waiting for him. He was set up, I tell you! Set up! You tell Harvey the President is PISSED OFF," the leader of the pack shouted into his phone. Who is Harvey? Which President? What's that got to do with tomorrow's mayoral elections in NYC?

"Harvey, you are a %^&%$," the man shouted in a subsequent call. "You set up the President.....Hell no he's not coming in. He saw those cameras and took off. Now New York One has it on TV, damn you......Don't lie to me, Harvey! .....Look, you &*$%$!, Green had a great day today, and you're not going to screw this up. What you did was bad for the President and really, really bad for Hillary. You get it, Harvey? You're dead meat, man!"

Ah, it becomes transparent: The President is Bill Clinton, who among Democratic Party loyalists will always carry the presidential moniker. Hillary, of course, is New York's junior senator. But Harvey? Ah, Harvey Weinstein, political consultant to Fernando Ferrer. As we approach Baltimore Berger joins the loudmouth, who clearly is the Chair of the Democratic Party. Clinton is on the phone now, and the conversation is:

"Mr. President, I took care of it for you. Yeah, the guy is an asshole. He said, 'You tell the President to go f^&% himself...Yeah, Mr. President, we can all lose his phone number how. Yeah, yeah. Well if these Democratic consultants turn around and work for Republicans we should fire their asses. Yeah! To take Democratic legislators and turn their words against the party in TV ads --- Right! Outrageous, unacceptable...Yes Sir, latest poll puts it 47-47, damned close..... I know! Bloomberg winning? It's unbelievable. I mean, here's a guy who said, 'If women want to be respected they should stay in the libraries.' And, 'We shouldn't have computers in the classrooms.' And get this - No one should ever have to go to Queens.' How can you run for Mayor of New York and say something like that?"

As the group talks, no one apparently wondering who this sole other passenger is in the care and whether she might be a reporter, the pieces fall into place. In an attempt to patch together a last minute endorsement of Green by perennial dissident and professional troublemaker Rev. Al Sharpton, Harvey Weinstein organized a supposedly secret meeting at the swank Four Season Hotel between Bill Clinton and Sharpton. But as Clinton's motorcade approached the hotel dozens of cameras could be seen thronging the entry. Sensing he was set up for a publicity stunt, Clinton aborted the meeting and some TV stations caught his limo speeding away. Sharpton , losing no opportunity, told the press, "I was supposed to have a meeting tonight with Bill Clinton, but he didn't show up. I guess that shows you what Green's supporters are like."

New Yorkers have, by in large, ignored this final round in an exhausting and surprising election. As of last night Newsday polls showed it a dead heat. The stakes are so high for New York: I pray for voters' wisdom tomorrow.

"If he wins for Mayor Sharpton is dead," the man is now saying. "You tell him, we know who we'll blame....Yeah, I know you understand. I want you to make sure HE understands....My gut says Green takes it, but"......

A woman with the group interrupts, "We'll throw it to Cuomo, and let him hammer the amned New York Party."

Cuomo? Hey, he hasn't been Govenor for years.

I love New York! Isn't this grand?

Be well. Stay safe. Stand defiant.

Laurie Garrett



DAY FIFTY SIX: Return to Index Nov. 5: New Yorkers managed to rise and face the day, despite the sorrowful defeat of their Yankees last night. Few even wanted to talk about it. Some 40 million people watched last night's game, among them, no doubt, nearly 8 million New Yorkers. They saw it; no point in discussing the matter. It's time to move on. Face another anthrax day. Things got off to an interesting start when the producer of "Politically Incorrect" left a voice mail message asking whether I'd fly out to LA to be on the show. Well, gee, can't think of anything more important to do with my time. The mere thought of airplanes gives me hives these days, though I am on the road tonight, yet again. Now the airlines have blended the worst of all worlds: security and a return to crowded, cramped abusive flying conditions. My North Carolina pal, Susan, sums it up well: I was also amazed by the crowds at airports. I flew via Chicago to St. Louis and via Dallas to Albuquerque and back to RDU with over-booked flights stuffing us in and turning away stand-bys. Our pilot in Chicago announced "back to normal conditions" as we sat on the runway for over an hour waiting for a gate (there was a broken down plane at the gate) and all missed our connections. In fact I missed two possible connections. Everything is mobbed. What's going on? Is everyone just main-lining Cipro and getting on board? The mysterious illness and death of New York hospital worker Kathy Nguyen continues to stymie facile answers. Her case makes no sense, to be frank. The poor woman was a Vietnamese immigrant who left her country after the hardship of war, only to have her husband desert her. Alone, in a strange country, she raised her son, who as a young adult died in an auto accident. She seems to have had little in her life but a thankless clerical job at Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital and an unglamorous apartment in the Bronx. She had few friends, little social life, and nobody terribly knowledgeable that investigators could question regarding her whereabouts in the two weeks prior to her demise. She wasn't a mail handler. Nothing in her home or office environment has tested positive, ultimately, for anthrax. Her case breaks all molds, however tenuous, that the CDC has put in place to explain the infections to date. Yesterday it was reported that Tom Brokaw had sent a videocassette to City Hall, which tested positive for anthrax. This is true, but news reports led the citizenry to believe the posting was recent, and that was cause for still more anxiety in Gotham. As it turns out, Brokaw's office posted the package on either September 18 or 19, which is when it is believed the anthrax-laced envelope malevolently mailed to Brokaw was opened in the NBC News room. So the cassette to City Hall was probably on Brokaw's assistant's desk at the same time as the dastardly letter: a simple case of cross-contamination. The contaminated cassette incident does help pin down the dates a bit, however, solidifying the period one week after the World Trade Center catastrophe as the time letters arrived at their targets, and providing strong hints that they were posted in concert with the September 11 events. Still, the mystery simply deepens with time. Frustration is obvious on the faces of investigators. And as long as the nation's leaders are obviously flummoxed the citizenry stays visibly nervous. Far away in Seattle, for example, friend Amy reports: Even out here, so far from the East and Ground Zero, now we look at our bridges differently. I went to sleep the other night with a sore throat and body ache and thought of anthrax. I saw a blemish on my child and thought of subcutaneous anthrax. My friend in Portland and her toddler were both unwell after a visit to a Pumpkin patch and she wondered briefly if someone had doused the pumpkin patch. My friends in Princeton don't bring their mail into the house-her husband takes it with gloves to the garage, throws unknown stuff straight into the garbage, opens the other stuff and throws away the envelopes, and brings only known contents into the house. Even my aunt in Los Angeles is getting her mail with gloves. We see our world in terms of "before" and "after." My Columbia University students tonight were left with no opportunity to ask anthrax questions, though they eagerly anticipated their weekly update. After a hasty lecture on the myth of crack babies and media's gullibility in buying into the 1990 Bush Administration claim that more than 100,000 American babies would be born addicts, I made a dash for Penn Station. The usually crowded Amtrak station was sparsely attended. It seems even train travel is too much for the skittish. Aboard the new Acela "high speed" train ("arriving 20 minutes earlier in DC!") in my car are former National Security Advisor Sandy Berger and colleague, whose conversation is appropriately hushed. And a very loud group of Democratic Party pols, Mark Green pins affixed to their lapels, drinking heavily and shouting into their cell phones. "You tell Harvey the President got there and found 18 camera crews waiting for him. He was set up, I tell you! Set up! You tell Harvey the President is PISSED OFF," the leader of the pack shouted into his phone. Who is Harvey? Which President? What's that got to do with tomorrow's mayoral elections in NYC? "Harvey, you are a %^&%$," the man shouted in a subsequent call. "You set up the President.....Hell no he's not coming in. He saw those cameras and took off. Now New York One has it on TV, damn you......Don't lie to me, Harvey! .....Look, you &*$%$!, Green had a great day today, and you're not going to screw this up. What you did was bad for the President and really, really bad for Hillary. You get it, Harvey? You're dead meat, man!" Ah, it becomes transparent: The President is Bill Clinton, who among Democratic Party loyalists will always carry the presidential moniker. Hillary, of course, is New York's junior senator. But Harvey? Ah, Harvey Weinstein, political consultant to Fernando Ferrer. As we approach Baltimore Berger joins the loudmouth, who clearly is the Chair of the Democratic Party. Clinton is on the phone now, and the conversation is: "Mr. President, I took care of it for you. Yeah, the guy is an asshole. He said, 'You tell the President to go f^&% himself...Yeah, Mr. President, we can all lose his phone number how. Yeah, yeah. Well if these Democratic consultants turn around and work for Republicans we should fire their asses. Yeah! To take Democratic legislators and turn their words against the party in TV ads --- Right! Outrageous, unacceptable...Yes Sir, latest poll puts it 47-47, damned close..... I know! Bloomberg winning? It's unbelievable. I mean, here's a guy who said, 'If women want to be respected they should stay in the libraries.' And, 'We shouldn't have computers in the classrooms.' And get this - No one should ever have to go to Queens.' How can you run for Mayor of New York and say something like that?" As the group talks, no one apparently wondering who this sole other passenger is in the care and whether she might be a reporter, the pieces fall into place. In an attempt to patch together a last minute endorsement of Green by perennial dissident and professional troublemaker Rev. Al Sharpton, Harvey Weinstein organized a supposedly secret meeting at the swank Four Season Hotel between Bill Clinton and Sharpton. But as Clinton's motorcade approached the hotel dozens of cameras could be seen thronging the entry. Sensing he was set up for a publicity stunt, Clinton aborted the meeting and some TV stations caught his limo speeding away. Sharpton , losing no opportunity, told the press, "I was supposed to have a meeting tonight with Bill Clinton, but he didn't show up. I guess that shows you what Green's supporters are like." New Yorkers have, by in large, ignored this final round in an exhausting and surprising election. As of last night Newsday polls showed it a dead heat. The stakes are so high for New York: I pray for voters' wisdom tomorrow. "If he wins for Mayor Sharpton is dead," the man is now saying. "You tell him, we know who we'll blame....Yeah, I know you understand. I want you to make sure HE understands....My gut says Green takes it, but"...... A woman with the group interrupts, "We'll throw it to Cuomo, and let him hammer the amned New York Party." Cuomo? Hey, he hasn't been Govenor for years. I love New York! Isn't this grand? Be well. Stay safe. Stand defiant. Laurie Garrett