As the days passed, it was clear that this wasn’t just about my ability to garner the attention of people so I could present this troubling and complex information. We would also need support for drastic remedies while not causing panic. We were already talking about precautionary quarantine, mandatory quarantine, and mandatory isolation. It was all frightening. It was a fine line to walk, and my message would not be going out in a vacuum. The president, vice president, and their federal mouthpieces were all communicating. Other governors, mayors, and public health officials were communicating. Cable news was providing around-the-clock coverage featuring every talking head in the country. Different states and cities were taking different actions. People were confused by the divergence of opinions, which only vindicated their cynicism about government.
Most of all, I was concerned about public panic. I had seen it before when I was at HUD. I’ll never forget the images I witnessed during one hurricane warning in the Southeast, people blowing through red lights at intersections with a policeman banging on the hood of a car to avoid being run over while trying to direct traffic. Panic is the real enemy, even more than the initial disaster. Once people are panicked, there is chaos. A natural disaster can be managed; a panicked population cannot.
Counties around the Bay Area were among the first in the country to take decisive action, and it sent ripples of fear across the nation. The mayor of San Francisco announced a “shelter in place” policy on March 16. Shelter in place was originally used in the 1950s in anticipation of a nuclear attack. In San Francisco, it was first used as a cautionary alert in anticipation of a possible earthquake. The policy literally means to seek out shelter in an interior windowless room in your home and remain there until the “all clear” sign is given. It was a startling and frightening concept, especially for those of us old enough to remember the nuclear attack drills in elementary school when we were sent to the basement of the school to hunker down. This wasn’t what Mayor London Breed intended; she meant simply that people should stay home. But the headline traveled across the country. I could see fear in the people around me, their eyes widening with anxiety. Communication is an art form, especially when emotion is running high; I’d already got in trouble when I used the term “containment zone” in New Rochelle. When we issued our own order in New York on March 20, I would speak about “staying home” and “pausing,” which I considered more comforting terms.
This was a highly emotional time. We were navigating the unknown. People would be afraid and isolated. I wanted to say to people, you are not alone, I am here with you. I will be here with you every day. I will do my best to inform myself, and I will tell you everything that I know without any political filter. We will make decisions together, and even if we disagree, you will know why we are doing what we are doing, and you will know that what we are doing I believe is in our best interest. I wanted people to understand that even in this time of slanted “news” on both sides of the political spectrum, unvarnished truth still existed, and they could find it with me. There was no example that I could follow. FDR’s fireside chats were the only parallel I could find.
A lot happened before the 11:30 briefings every morning.
The numbers came in around 3:00 A.M. Melissa would get on the phone with Gareth and Dr. Jim Malatras between 4:00 A.M. and 5:00 A.M. to talk about them and what needed to be included in that day’s presentation.
Gareth is thirty-two years old and started working for me when he was twenty-two years old. During those ten years, he left to attend Harvard Law School and ran for Congress. Bright, hardworking, and effective, he is a superb manager who makes the bureaucracy produce. It is an art form. You can be both charming and purposeful.
Jim has been with me even longer and is one of the best policy minds not just in New York State but far beyond. When I was attorney general, Jim helped write the law that helped local governments consolidate, and went on to serve as director of state operations. Jim is a workaholic with an exceptional sense of humor. He has a PhD in political science—so while he is technically a doctor, he is not what I consider in a public health crisis to be a “real doctor,” a fact that I pointed out in my briefings, much to the chagrin of PhDs nationwide.
Melissa would text me the numbers so that I could look at them as soon as I woke up at 5:00. When I got to the office between 6:00 A.M. and 7:00 A.M., there was a stack of paper—testing numbers, hospitalizations, hot spots. I would pepper the team with questions and then write the whole presentation by hand myself. It was important to me that everything I conveyed at the briefings was logically organized and in my own words. And I’d draw the visuals for each of the twenty or thirty slides for that day. One day I wanted to visualize the threat facing New York’s hospital system, so I sketched a tidal wave representing COVID cases cresting upward, and in the sea below, a hospital. I can’t claim to have much talent as an artist, but I
