The Pat and Rudy Show

Pat Robertson’s recent endorsement of Rudy Giuliani’s presidential campaign is like something out of Star Wars. The force is with you, Rudy, but do you know what you’re getting into? On second thought, it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. After all, he was once New York’s very own Darth Vader, vanquisher of criminals and all who would oppose him. Robertson’s fundamentalist empire has started to crumble. There’s that business about fighting evil 24/7, and all those souls to save—and with conservative senators getting caught playing footsy in airport bathrooms, a televangelist doesn’t know who to trust.

Giuliani now has the support of a man who once trivialized the Sept. 11 attacks. While not quite as heinous as the late Jerry Falwell’s explanation that the dead New Yorkers had been punished because they were heathens, Robertson’s depiction of “a few bearded terrorists flying planes into buildings” could not have pleased Giuliani. But that’s yesterday’s news, because now Rudy talks about more than Sept. 11—a relief no matter who endorses him.

Like Punch and Judy, the Pat and Rudy show features two public figures with strings attached. Ignore the man behind the tapestry—he’s just there to make them move—but who really pulls the strings on Rudy? For the answer to that question, you have to start with his humble origins in Brooklyn.

Born to Harold Giuliani and Helen D’Avanzo, Rudy grew up in a family of cops and firemen who served as male role models to offset the example of his father, who spent time in Sing Sing for robbery and felony assault, and was later an enforcer for a Mafia loan shark. Young Rudy attended Manhattan College, where he reportedly considered becoming a priest, the better to atone for the old man’s sins, no doubt. He went to law school instead, and rose through the ranks of gangbusters to become United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Rudy was quick to nail down his first high-profile prosecution, earning the conviction of Congressman Bertram Podell on corruption charges. By coincidence, Bernard Kerik, Rudy’s police commissioner during Sept. 11 and failed nominee for Secretary of Homeland Security, was convicted of corruption several days after Robertson’s endorsement. These things happen, though, so let’s get back to Rudy’s resumé.

As U.S. attorney, he went on the warpath against his father’s old cronies, indicting the heads of New York’s “Five Families” and putting them away for good. He ran for New York City mayor, lost and then won, and became the first Republican since Fiorello LaGuardia to win reelection.

So what caught Pat Robertson’s eye? Certainly not Rudy’s public support for abortion and gay rights, from which he hasn’t been able to backpedal fast enough now that he’s in the race. What makes him more palatable than, say, Mitt Romney or John McCain? Pat and Rudy are both born salesmen, promoting themselves as their best products. Robertson, whose real name is Marion, preferred the name Pat because his older brother called him that when patting his cheeks as a baby. His father was Absalom Willis Robertson, a conservative Democratic senator from Virginia.

Young Pat lived a Faulknerian life—not the hardscrabble marry-your-cousin kind—but a cloistered Bush-like romp through prep school, college, and the Marine Corps (where he used his connections to avoid combat during the Korean War). He mustered out and went to Yale Law, though his failure to pass the bar puts him at odds with Rudy’s jurisprudential prowess. Pat did undergo a religious conversion, and went on to study at New York Theological Seminary. You just can’t keep a good man down.

Robertson bought a small cable station, named it the Christian Broadcasting Network, and went door-to-door selling set-top boxes, presumably speaking in tongues when necessary. He built his company into a conglomerate and mounted his own unsuccessful presidential bid in 1988. During that campaign, he threatened to sue one major network for calling him a “television evangelist,” which evoked the then-struggling Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker. Robertson insisted on being called a “religious broadcaster.”

Giuliani’s adept use of the media frenzy surrounding Sept. 11 enabled him to start his own security firm, run by the hapless Kerik, and an investment banking firm as well. The rest is history. Rudy sold the firm, threw Kerik under the bus when he became a liability, left his wife and children for a younger woman, and waited in the wings. Along came Pat Robertson in search of one last Hail Mary, and the rest remains to be seen.
If the polls don’t change, it’ll be Rudy vs. Hillary in next year’s general election. While it’s safe to say Clinton would surround herself with the best and the brightest, could we really see Robertson in a Giuliani cabinet? Perhaps he would prefer running the FCC, but the smart money says ambassador to the Vatican. Isn’t that how Michael Corleone did it?

The author is a graduate of the Columbia College class of ’69.