Running Weld
By Stephen Rodrick
The quixotic candidacy of the partying patrician who wants to be governor, again.
  Vera Wang’s Second Honeymoon
By Amy Larocca
Brides love Vera Wang. But does she love them? (Not so much.) What this former Vogue editor and self-described fashion nun really has a passion for is clothes. But let her tell you about it.
The Good Old Boy of Time Inc.
By Kurt Andersen
John Huey sits atop Time and Fortune and 149 other magazines, ready to have some fun. Only now the good old days of big media are history.
Chuck’s Chance
By John Heilemann
Whatever happens with Judge Alito, Schumer is likely the Democratic winner. It’s all part of his secret plan for senatorial domination.
The Winner's Circle
Unlike his opponent, Mike Bloomberg barred his campaign staff from even thinking about a transition until after the election. But now it's time to picture what Team Mike will look like . . .


Let's get the niceties out of the way first: the furniture at City Hall is going to take a beating. Mike Bloomberg is a guy who always puts his feet up on his desk or the nearest coffee table, and that's just what he was doing in his campaign office the day after the election, propping up his black tasseled loafers while returning calls from longtime pals and new best friends.

New Yorkers woke up to the giddy unreality of a new mayor last week, and attention immediately shifted from attack ads and exit polls to how Bloomberg and his quirky personal and management styles -- the billionaire doesn't believe in job titles and insists on working trading-desk-fashion in the midst of his employees -- will translate into the daily reality of running city government. As Kathleen Cudahy, the tough-talking lawyer who left City Council Speaker Peter Vallone's staff to work on Bloomberg's campaign, jokes, "Mike believes in the no-door policy."

While Mark Green overconfidently began planning for his transition several weeks ago, the Bloomberg team adamantly refused to even discuss privately the post-election landscape for fear of jinxing the candidate's prospects. "Today is day one for us," says Jonathan Capehart, a Bloomberg policy wonk and speechwriter who was previously a Daily News columnist. "We were really superstitious; no one wanted to talk about it before."

That changed fast. "When I got back to headquarters at 2:30 a.m. on Election Night, my phone was already ringing," says Harold Doley III, an investment banker who took a leave of absence to work on the campaign. "The résumés are rolling in."

The first rumor that circulated even before Election Night had ended was that Bloomberg would keep most of the Giuliani team on. But on his first day as mayor-elect, Bloomberg annoyed diehard Rudyphiles by blithely announcing he may not keep any of Giuliani's top advisers. Based on his history as a CEO, it is more likely that Bloomberg's top picks will come from within his company, his campaign, and his prominent social circle.

It's hard to believe that anyone could be more obsessed with loyalty than Rudy Giuliani, but Mike Bloomberg built his entire financial-data and media empire by handsomely rewarding devotion -- he rarely fires anyone -- and viewing anyone who quits as a deserter, unworthy of ever being hired back.

So who can we expect to see in City Hall in two months? For starters, there's Patti Harris and Kevin Sheekey. These two trusted campaign advisers -- the pair he thanked in his Election Night speech -- are veteran Democrats who deliberately attracted minimal personal attention, making them the most important political players in New York you've never heard of. Harris, the well-connected, graciously steely former Koch arts-staff member who disburses Bloomberg's charitable millions, has been the office perfectionist who carefully guards his image, from lining up meetings to working debate prep to even approving brochure photos. Sheekey, the boyishly smooth former Moynihan strategist hired by Bloomberg several years ago to introduce him around Washington, was nicknamed "the invisible man" by campaign staff for his role as the candidate's quiet, ever-present shadow on the hustings.

"Kevin and Patti were Mike's eyes and ears," says Capehart. "Nothing happened on the campaign without them signing off." Now Harris is rumored to be in line for a deputy mayor's job, and Sheekey is likely to get an equally prominent post.

Bloomberg will also be drawing from one of the largest collections of business cards in the city. Sure, he's been paying his respects to Hispanic and African-American business leaders and politicians to create a winning coalition, and he'll make a point of putting together an unusually diverse staff for a nominal Republican. And despite the three sexual harassment lawsuits filed against Bloomberg and his company, the fact is that his inner campaign circle was populated with veteran women pols like Harris, Cudahy, and Maureen Connolly, a former Koch aide, and some of them will join him at City Hall. But what sets him apart -- and it's one of the main reasons many voted for him -- is the breadth of his contacts in the traditionally white and male New York business elites.


Next Page: "As a billionaire who lives in a lavishly appointed Upper East Side townhouse..."

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From the November 19, 2001 issue of New York Magazine.

Photos: Carina Salvi


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