The Early Show

Read An Excerpt From 'Leadership'

By Tatiana Morales

October 29, 2002 / 8:05 AM EST / CBS

Chapter 6:

Reflect, Then Decide

Making the right choices is the most important part of leadership. Every other element—from developing and communicating ideas to surrounding oneself with great people—relies on making good decisions.

One of the trickiest elements of decision-making is working out not what, but when. Regardless of how much time exists before a decision must be made, I never make up my mind until I have to.

Faced with any important decision, I always envision how each alternative will play out before I make it. During this process, I'm not afraid to change my mind a few times. Many are tempted to decide an issue simply to end the discomfort of indecision. However, the longer you have to make a decision, the more mature and well-reasoned that decision should be.

As explained in Chapter 2, I used the morning meeting as a way to drive decisions. Because I forced my top staff to see me every day, decisions couldn't be avoided. Some mayors tended to hide in the mayor's office, with a chief of staff or first deputy mayor shielding them. You'd have to talk to that person before the mayor, and the stand-in would know what issues the mayor didn't want to face.

The same is true in many large corporations. Instead of rolling up his sleeves and saying, "Okay, I'm here to make a decision," some CEOs hide behind a phalanx of vice presidents who protect them against the risk of making a bad decision. Procrastination becomes a state of mind, and filters through the entire organization. But a readiness to make decisions has a positive effect. Without my even asking most of them to do so, my deputy mayors and commissioners implemented their own versions of my morning meeting, and so established their own willingness to hear problems, make decisions, and risk suggesting unpopular proposals.

A chief executive is often called upon to communicate directly to the public. Although it's best if that's handled by the leader himself, a CEO in the private sector who does not communicate well can get away with hiring someone to do it for him. In government, however, the chief executive is the public face, whether he likes it or not. As mayor, I was sometimes criticized for running too much of a one-man show. Actually, the opposite was true. My administration was structured around committees. It was extremely collegial—which is not to say we had no battles. But I always considered everybody's opinion before I made up my mind, and doing so actually sped the implementation of programs.

Here's an example. New York City's parks were a major focus of my administration. Nearly all my principal concerns—quality of life, economic redevelopment, child protection, even crime reduction—were enhanced by well-tended, safe, beautiful parks. During the eight years of my administration, New York City gained 2,038 acres of new parkland (by way of comparison, 372 acres were acquired during the four-year administration of my predecessor, and only 1,744 acres during the twelve years of the Koch administration).

When I was sworn in, 69 percent of the parks were graded acceptably clean. When I left, the figure was 91 percent. We created dozens of parks in all five boroughs, including the Hudson River Park from Battery Park to 59th Street in Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge Park, which will eventually extend 1.3 miles along the East River waterfront, and the seven-mile Bronx River Greenway.

In 2001, I announced the renovation and renaming of the park on the Manhattan side of the East River to honor former New York City Mayor John Lindsay, who died in December 2000. The park needed some repairs because the retaining wall along the river was beginning to crumble. There were different views on how to accomplish this, so we met to sort it out.

The engineers issued a report saying we should close the park immediately. My Parks Commissioner, Henry Stern, said the engineers were exaggerating and that we could easily keep the park open for five to ten years before the wall began to sag. He felt that people who wanted to enjoy the park should at least have until the end of the summer, if not longer.

In many organizations a decision would have been deferred. That's the way it works when the model is designed to protect the chief executive. Other top executives will do anything to avoid a fight—they're reluctant to allow their staff to argue with them, or each other. The reluctant CEO would have asked everyone to write a memo, then they'd conduct more studies. By that time, action would happen by inaction—either people would be using the park in a dangerous way or it would have been shut down and no work would have been started.

That particular meeting was fairly contentious; but forcing everybody to meet got the cards on the table. And, once I felt enough information had been presented and all sides had been heard, I made a decision. That morning I decided that we'd shut the park and get the work started immediately, which would mean the repairs would take place during the winter months and be completed in time for people to use the park the following summer.

Decision-making would be easy if it were always a choice between good and evil or right and wrong. In the real world, leaders have to make decisions that are multidimensional, usually between two or more imperfect remedies, on criteria that encompass long-range goals and plausibility. In 1999, the contest for the Republican presidential nomination was gathering steam. Two men I knew and admire, both highly qualified to lead the country, were vying for the nomination. I had to make a choice.

John McCain has been a good friend for years. Because of what he endured as a prisoner of war for five and a half years in Hanoi, and all he has accomplished as a senator and man, he is a hero to me. The experience he went through can have one of two results—it can either crack you, or make you into a great man. In John's case, it was emphatically the latter. As I got to know him, I saw what a genuine person he was. In the months leading up to the campaign, we talked about his running for president.

I didn't know Governor George W. Bush as well. So I went to visit him in Austin to get to know him better and was impressed. By the summer of 1999 I concluded that he had a much better chance of beating Al Gore. For one, the Bush name unified the Republican Party right away. He went into the race with obvious support in two big, important states—Texas and Florida. I also felt close to his brother, Florida Governor Jeb Bush: I had campaigned for him, and he had helped me in the past.

The way Governor Bush ran his reelection campaign in Texas in 1998 showed broad appeal and made strong inroads among Hispanic voters. I thought he could be a crossover candidate unlike any other the GOP could produce. Further, Bush had command of what would be the key issue in the 2000 campaign—education. He devoted his attention to it as governor, and had done a good job. The art of being successful in presidential campaigns is figuring out the theme that will captivate people. Too often, candidates try to run the last campaign over again, but that's a losing battle. In 1992, Bill Clinton capitalized on repetition of his "It's the economy, stupid" theme. I thought the approach in 2000 should be "It's education, stupid," and Bush owned that issue.

Most important, I found Governor Bush to be a person of real substance during the time I spent with him. I knew the media would underestimate him, just as they had Ronald Reagan. This would be particularly true of the Eastern media, because Governor Bush doesn't speak in a way that suits their biases. The Eastern media mistakes pretense for substance and polish for smarts. Their habit of dismissing those who don't press those buttons usually works to such a candidate's advantage.

So although I was personally closer to John and perhaps would have supported him if he had had as good a chance of beating Vice President Gore, I told him that I was going to support the Governor—but that I would never say anything negative about him or participate in negative campaigning directed at him. Then I let George Bush know that he had my support. I told him I was a good friend of John McCain's, and explained why I had made my decision—that I thought he had a better chance of winning. I also told both men that if I could ever play any role in bringing them together, I would be happy to do so. In fact, Dick Cheney had not yet been mentioned as a vice-presidential candidate, and I thought Bush/McCain would be a terrific ticket.
Having made my decision, it was time to test it. As I began supporting Bush, some strain developed in my relationship with John. Whenever we talked, he would make half-teasing, half-zinging comments about my not supporting him.

Then something happened that repaired that damage but created strain with the Bush camp. As the New York primary approached, there was a movement to keep McCain's name off the ballot. The state of New York has Byzantine rules about getting on its primary ballots—there hadn't been a contested Republican presidential primary in twenty-four years—and some in the state GOP sought to protect Bush by keeping John off the ballot. I didn't think that was fair, and some of Bush's supporters interpreted my saying so as evidence of hidden support for John. It wasn't. It was just a straight, honest opinion. Additionally, I was convinced that Bush would beat McCain in New York and that that would be a better way to win.

They finally relented and put McCain in the primary. Immediately after that, whoever was running Bush's campaign in New York started to criticize McCain for having voted against breast cancer research. That's a big issue in Nassau and Suffolk counties, because the disease appears to affect women on Long Island disproportionately. I was asked to join in the criticism, which would have stung because I was at the time dealing with cancer myself.

I refused. First, the reason he had voted in the way they were referring to was that it was against part of a big Christmas-tree bill with a bunch of other items in it, so this vote had more to do with John's usual stance against overloaded legislation. I also thought negative campaigning was unnecessary. Bush was going to beat John McCain in New York, and there was no need for him to come out of it with a black eye for attacking a guy who had become a darling to the media, as well as to the independent voter, the exact voter Bush was going to need. John called to thank me. "I think you should be supporting me instead of Bush," he told me, "but I really respect you for not joining in the negative campaigning." For a while some of the Bush people were suspicious of me and whispered that my support might not be as strong as they wanted.

Afterward, I worked hard for Bush, and I think in the end his people respected me for my decisions. I know John did. It was like walking a tightrope, but it was an honest tightrope. Governor Bush went on to win the primary in decisive fashion.

BATTLING CANCER

One of the toughest series of decisions I ever had to make occurred during several extraordinary weeks in the spring of 2000. Decision-making weaves together the threads of all the rules for being a leader, so I'm going to explain at some length the interconnected decisions I made during that time. As some were literally life-or-death matters, and others had time limits associated with them, this volatile period provides an ideal examination of how I make decisions.

On Wednesday, April 26, Dr. Alexander Kirschenbaum of Mt. Sinai Hospital called me and said the five words nobody wants to hear: "Your biopsy results are positive." For a second, that sounded all right: I tend to associate "positive" with good news. Then the weight of it hit me. I had prostate cancer.

Nineteen years earlier, my father had died of the disease, at 73. This form of cancer kills about 37,000 Americans a year, so regular blood screenings for prostate specific antigens (PSA) are recommended for any man over 45. Those at higher risk, such as African Americans or those with relatives who have had the disease, should seek annual tests after 40.

In my case, early detection came as the result of a general physical. I have a degenerating vertebra at the top of my spine that bothers me about every five years. It was acting up—I was campaigning hard and feeling tired. On Thursday, April 6, I went for a physical and was given a PSA test and a digital rectal exam while I was there. I had no symptoms, so it was not as though my doctor suspected anything. In fact, he said, "Before I examined you, I expected you to show some high blood pressure, since you're under a lot of tension. It's remarkable, but your blood pressure's fine, and your prostate feels normal. Everything looks great."

The next day I was driving to a fundraiser at the Binghamton Country Club, in western New York, about three hours west of the city. I got a call on my cell phone from the doctor, who said my PSA test was in the questionable zone—high, but not very, and most likely nothing to worry about. He was leaving on vacation for a week, and said that he would arrange for more detailed tests with a urologist when he returned.

Judith was in the car with me. At that point, she was working for Bristol-Myers Squibb, the pharmaceuticals corporation, and knew just about every doctor in New York. Quietly, I explained what I had been told. There were others in the car and I didn't want anyone to know. I said, "Judith, we'll be back late tonight, after midnight, and I want to see a doctor tomorrow." She reminded me that the next day would be a Saturday and I said, "That's okay. I want to get started right now dealing with this. I don't want to wait."

Judith phoned a good friend of hers, Burt Meyers, an expert in infectious disease at Mt. Sinai Hospital. I knew him, too and he ended up being an advisor after the attacks on the World Trade Center. I told Judith to ask Burt to recommend a urologist and said, "It's okay to tell him what this is about." The next morning I went to see Dr. Kirschenbaum and he put me on ten days of Cipro, the drug that was to become famous during the anthrax scare. I asked, "Alex, can't we do the biopsy right now and find out?" He said, "No, because a modest elevation like this is often caused by an infection. The Cipro will do away with any infection." PSA can be driven up by many things, even an irritation of the prostate gland, so an elevation doesn't necessarily indicate cancer. After ten days on Cipro, I went back for another PSA test. A lower reading would indicate that there was an infection and not possible prostate cancer...