All during the summer and fall of 2002 I started to grow more alone. Some of my friends continued to reach out to me, but most took a walk. That was the expression I would use to describe this, "took a walk." Most of the friends who continued to reach out to me I pushed away. One close friend from the Mayor's Office wrote me several sweet letters and I did not respond to a one. Hard to explain why. There are some experiences in life that unless you go through them yourself, you can never fully comprehend. I imagine cancer or a debilitating illness would be one, the loss of a child by a parent would be another. You can empathize or try to relate but you will never become fully imbued with the emotion and terror of the thing. That is what a full fledged federal prosecution coupled with a libelous smear campaign in the press was for me. It was something I could try and convey but you simply could not 'get' the nightmare unless you lived it personally or with me day in and day out. I pushed most of my friends away because of the terrific amount of shame I felt about all this. I wasn't just a deeply closeted homosexual who was outed by the Village Voice, I was now labeled a pedophile (pervert and sicko were the words the NY Post most often used/uses).
The rest of my friends I ignored because I just didn't want them getting involved in this. I had no desire to make more people go through this with me. I mean emotionally, not legally. Most people I had known - personally and professionally - began to ignore me. I lived near and worked out at the same gym with Jeff Blau, President of The Related Companies (see post: Home, Sweet, Home). We had done a lot of business together and I had been very good to Related. Now when he saw me at the gym or on our block he would walk away briskly or cross the street'. I just simply couldn't understand that type of behavior. But as time went on I came to blame no one for taking a walk. People react to these types of things differently. Although I had proven that I could never behave that way, I just couldn't blame others.
{I say 'proven' because back in 1991 a former Giuliani staffer from the 89 campaign was sentenced to federal prison. He and I had become close friends. His crimes were committed while working as Director of Advance for Elizabeth Dole when she was Labor Secretary in 1990. His name was Mike Kaiser and he had a long history with Bob and Elizabeth Dole. It was Mike who had arranged for her to do a Rudy fundraiser in 89. Anyway, he was indicted for stealing Mrs. Dole's credit cards and taking off to Europe. He had been living far, far above his means for years. He had a penchant for antiques in his Capitol Hill townhouse. There were other embezzlement charges to go along with the credit cards.
Like me he had shut down and withdrew. I followed his case and became aware through a mutual friend that he had been sentenced to a prison camp in the desert near Los Angeles. I was planning a vacation to LA to visit friends and decided I should visit him. I mentioned this to my friend Mindy Franklin, Randy Levine's wife. She was extremely opposed to me going to visit Mike. She too had been close friends with him during the 89 campaign. The three of us had spent a lot of time together. She mentioned my intentions to Denny Young. Mindy relayed that Denny said if I were to visit Mike, I would be threw with the them (Rudy, Denny, et al.). I then told Mindy something that would become prophetic. I said, "He's all alone. His family wants nothing to do with him, he has no friends. If I were ever in prison, all alone, I'd sure as hell want someone to come visit me."
And so I called the Bureau of Prisons and inquired what the procedures were to visit someone. I then wrote Mike and asked him to put me on his visitor list. I drove deep into the desert and like a mirage there appeared Camp Boron. I believe it has subsequently been closed for some reason. My father had told me to bring lots and lots of quarters (for the vending machines). We had a good visit and he told me very quietly of how the US Attorney had taken a dislike to him. They had arranged that he be placed at Lorton outside DC. Bad, bad things happened to him there that I will not repeat here. He was housed at max. facilities while he made his way to the West Coast and more bad things took place. It was all very sad from every perspective, needless to say.}
The one person I had become closer to during this time was Mo Rocca. You might know his name from the Daily Show or other TV appearances. Mo and I had been introduced in 1999 by one of my oldest friends who happened to be his agent. Mo having an interest in government and politics, learned from his agent what I did and asked her if she wouldn't mind asking me if I could arrange a tour for him of Gracie Mansion. The administrator of GM was a friend so I arranged a private tour for him. He wrote me back a nice thank you note and we became friends.
Mo and I started to spend more and more time together. I didn't have any openly gay friends so it was nice to finally have one. Mo and I socialized before my troubles, but we started to spend more and more time together after they began. Mo is an interesting fellow. He has a lot of varied interests and is incredibly bright, personable and funny.
Mo had an abiding dislike of Jon Stewart, his boss, and especially of the show's executive producer, Madeline Smithberg. He felt that Stewart unfairly slighted him in favor of Stephen Colbert, a Stewart favorite. Mo thought Colbert a preening, no talent and resented the attention he got from Stewart. Mo eventually left the show just as it was becoming a national phenomenon. It was probably the worst career decision he could have possibly made (kind of a Shelley Long, David Caruso career choice). Stephen Colbert, Steve Carrell, John Oliver, Ed Helms, Demitri Martin etc. would go on to great success from that show.
Ironic side note. During our friendship, Mo had mentioned to me at one point that he considered the lowest appellation an entertainer could have was "TV Personality." I was reminded of this while in prison and listening to NPR's current events quiz show, Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me . Mo had always been introduced as Daily Show contributor and then author. On this day - and every appearance that followed - Peter Sagal introduced him as "TV personality Mo Rocca." I cringed for him.
Mo started to do morning pop-culture analysis for VH-1, CNN and then The Today Show. I helped him with material for many of those appearances. I have a small knack for finding old movie quotes or scenes that analogize or contrast current happenings. Mo loved using classic movie allusions. He would tell me stories of Katie Couric. She took a big shine to him and eventually convinced him to fire his agent - my friend - and hire hers. Mo liked Katie but was also scared of her. She apparently treated poor Matt Lauer terribly. Mo told me story after story of how she would announce to Lauer shortly before a big interview that he was to conduct, that she would be doing it instead. According to Mo, Lauer always took these slights and never said a word, like a cuckolded husband.
Mo also knew lots of people in the entertainment industry, especially gay industry types. He knew the producer for a very popular Fox News show (still on-air) who told him that its anchor (still on-air) was gay and a coke addict. Another cable star on CNN was not only gay -which most people already know - but is into some real serious S&M. Mo had an amazing knack for meeting someone and finding out that they were gay and befriending them. He did that at an benefit dinner with a famed New York Times reporter. I was in awe, not only of his gaydar, but his ability to bring the topic to the fore with someone he had just met. He was disarming that way. He had a voracious sexual appetite too. He lived across the street from a bar in the Village where he would go most nights and manage to pick someone up and bring them back home. He certainly didn't seem the type, but he was awfully successful at it.
The worst part for me during this time was the waiting. When you are being investigated your life comes to a complete standstill. Your fate is completely out of your hands during this period so you just keep waiting for the shoes to drop. I was a nervous wreck. My depression deepened and thoughts of suicide preoccupied me regularly. I had no will and asked my father to find me an estates attorney who would draft one for me. He did and I met with them to lay out my assets. I didn't have very much but I had my apartment which had increased in value four fold since I had purchased it six years earlier. I had mentioned suicide to Jerry on a number of occasions and he informed me that should a defendant kill himself before the case reached a jury the indictment would be dismissed (this would later become a national issue when Ken Lay dropped dead). This was of interest to me since I didn't want my assets seized by the government after my death. But at this point there was no indictment, just an on-going investigation by the U.S. Attorney.
There also appeared during this time hateful internet postings and blogs devoted to my supposed venality while at HDC. Tom Robbins had reported that my secretary used petty cash to pay for breakfast for me. It was made to sound like this was a daily occurrence. In fact, over 3 1/2 years this happened maybe 15-20 times and it was just a bagel in each instance. Someone told me there was a mocking website where you could supposedly contribute towards the cost of my bagels. It was even more ridiculous because HDC had a long standing policy - long before I arrived - that any employee who worked through lunch could order-out on the corporation. HDC was filled with take-out menus from local places where we had accounts. The bills each month were high but it was an HDC culture issue - just like the 100% 403(b) match - that contributed towards us paying average salaries but attracting top-flight talent. I had revamped the corporation from top to bottom but tried to remain mindful of what made HDC such an attractive place to work.
Fall turned to Winter and came the New Year 2003 without any resolution to all this. It was still unknown to us how many images Debbie Landis was claiming had been in my possession beyond the one she said they had found on a disk. She would never say and just kept claiming that they were still looking. All the while the grand jury continued to meet and evidence was apparently being presented. I continued to stay at home most of the time with Seabe. No joke about being man's best friend. He certainly was mine.
Early in 2003 the forensic psychiatrist in my case, Mark Mills, asked me to pay him a visit in D.C. Coincidentally, I received a call from Frank Luntz asking how I was doing. I mentioned I was going to D.C. and he asked that I stop by his house for a visit.
Frank is a quirky, funny, loyal and extremely intelligent guy. We had become friends during Rudy's campaign. Frank doesn't have close friends and during those years I would have to say I was one of his closest. Whenever he was in NYC we would meet for lunch or dinner. Frank never gives you notice of his appearances. He'll just call and say, "I'm here, what are you doing right now?" I would also visit him at his home or office in D.C. regularly. I flew down for instance for his so-called retirement party (he was retiring from polling for political candidates) that was held in a reception room in Congress. I had a long, very engaging talk with Tom Delay that night. Only Luntz could manage to get Tom Delay and Tom Daschle at the same party. As a surprise I had stopped off beforehand at Sarge's Deli on Second Avenue to pick up his favorite food, noodle kugel, and brought it with me to D.C.
Most people don't know for instance that Frank's Jewish. He also abstains totally from alcohol but we could never figure out if he was an alcoholic. He would always dodge the question when asked. The other two great mysteries about Frank were if he wore a toupee (we debated it constantly) and whether or not he was gay. Frank never had a girlfriend and no one had ever heard of one in his past.
In 2007, following Luntz's prediction in the New York Times that Rudy would receive 60% of the vote, Rudy wanted him fired. It was up to Ray to calm Rudy down but also to calm Luntz who completely freaked out, realizing his error and not wanting to be sacked.
There is also a sad, dark side to him that the public is unaware of. Frank would go through episodic bouts of deep depression. They were related, I believe, to a lack of self worth and serious father issues. When these episodes would come he would disappear for days, sometimes weeks. It was up to his staff to cover for him.
The great thing about Giuliani people is their loyalty and heart. Frank has a lot of professional friends and clients, but during these episodes it was only the Giuliani people who would gather round and find him help. Ray would usually be the point person on this. I don't think it's widely known but on at least one - and I think more - occasion Frank had to go away for treatment. I believe Ray arranged it. I never asked Ray directly when I found out at the time and he didn't volunteer. At Frank's bad times Ray and Rudy would talk about what needed to be done and Ray would usually reach out to Luntz to set things right. Giuliani people are never given the proper credit for being extremely thoughtful and compassionate at moments like that. That was the old Rudy whom he all respected.
Sadly, for me, that get together at Frank's house in Virginia would be the last time I would see or hear from him, other than on TV.
At some point early in the new year, Mo called and asked if I wanted a computer. He was upgrading to the latest Mac and was giving away his old one. I had been without a computer since Jerry needlessly acquiesced to the prosecution request that I should consent not to have one at home any longer. I had been without one for about 11 months and I was very bored siting at home all day. So I brought Mo's computer home and reactivated my Time Warner internet service.
The U.S. Attorney's Office would claim it was this internet service reinstatement that caused them to "rush" to indict me more than a year after they began investigating. They would use words like 'urgent' and 'deeply troubling' to describe their need to move "swiftly." So at 6 AM on St Patrick's Day 2003 the lobby intercom rang. The person on the other end said in a loud, seemingly drunken voice, "Happy St. Patrick's Day, Russell." I hung up and wasn't really quite sure whether to go back to sleep. On the one hand, Jerry and I knew this day was imminent. On the other, I didn't think it would be on St. Patrick's Day.
Sure enough, a few minutes later the doorbell rang and I was being arrested by investigators from the U.S. Attorney's Office and DOI. As I knew this was coming I had made arrangements with a neighbor to take care of Seabe. I told her I would inform the doorman and he would ring her.
My favorite story as it relates to what idiots DOI investigators are comes from that morning's arrest. First, you have to understand that DOI has absolutely no legal standing in any of this. When my apartment was searched a year earlier they were there in numbers but couldn't touch a thing since a Federal search warrant gives them zero jurisdiction. But they hung around all day acting smug doing nothing productive. Every court appearance I would ever have, there were not US Customs officials from my case, nor U.S. Attorney investigators. They were all working; their presence wasn't required for motions and arguments. But sure enough the first two rows were filled with DOI staff. Every single court appearance there they were as opposed to actually working on City business. As I have said before, absolutely the most useless and inept City officials are DOI personnel.
But I digress. As I was getting dressed, in my bedroom hovering were a Fed agent and the "lead" DOI investigator, a guy named Brian Foley (You'll most likely recall him as the lowlife who posted a threatening comment on the first day of this blog). At one point he starts yelling at me regarding how I was getting dressed. He screamed that I was stalling. Since a young age, when I donned a suit with dress shoes I would put on my socks and shoes before my shirt, suit and tie. Why? It's what my father did. He told me in the army this was how they had instructed him to get dressed (the idea being in an emergency you would have your footwear on first in order to leave the barracks quickly). Obviously, whether you put your footwear on first or last, it still takes the same amount of time, only the order is changed. Well this guy was so stupid that he couldn't grasp that. So I started screaming back. Finally, the Fed guy who couldn't believe what an idiot this DOI guy was, said, "Lets everybody calm down."
After I got dressed I kissed Seabe goodbye. He was very confused and naturally wanted to come. Seabe is a gorgeous yellow lab and was unusually attached to me. He did not like being away from me, ever. I was always afraid during law enforcement's presence that Seabe's boisterous nature could get him hurt (You may recall the young married couple who had their two yellow labs shot and killed a few years ago during a raid of their home by a Sheriff in Maryland. After storming the house to arrest the owner and killing the two labs it occurred to them that they had the wrong house). When I knew the search warrant was coming I had sent him away to stay with friends.
The Fed guy at this point explains to me that he's going to do me a favor. He's going to cuff me from the front instead of the back. This was breaking procedure and he wanted me to know this so that I should be grateful. It's so unbelievably idiotic that they were arresting me in the first place as opposed to self surrendering. Now I was supposed to be grateful that he was handcuffing me. This lead investigator from the U.S. Attorney's Office, whose name I forget, and I would meet again one more time. But while I wasn't contemptuous of him the way I was of DOI lackeys, this guy was always just a little too slick for my taste. Like most Feds I have met before, and since, he thought he was cleverer, suaver and better dressed than he actually was. I don't know why they all suffer from these same delusions, but they all do.
I was lead out of the building just as the night and morning doormen were changing shifts. They gave me very sympathetic looks and I told them to ring my neighbor to look after Seabe. The porter volunteered to get Seabe and walk him right away. As I sat in the back of that car heading to Federal Court, I thought to myself, "OK - at least this is now ending, so it can begin."
{Next installment - How a Gotti Kept Me in Jail, Arraignment and How Many Times Could Jerry Shargel be Wrong?}
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