The world had changed and now every gathering was a cause for alarm. The West Side Highway had been blocked off for ten blocks in each direction and the entire convention hall was surrounded by a reserve of troops, police, undercover security, news vans, limos and town cars carrying invitees, photographers and a score of onlookers. Mayor Spinelli stepped out of his town car to the applause of an appreciative city. He waved at the crowd, stopped for a few pictures that would grace the covers of all the local papers in the morning and even shook hands. He walked the red carpet alone, testament to his bravery, and more than one person in the crowd commented it was a shame he couldn’t be elected for another term. Reporters shouted questions at him and he provided a few, canned replies. Someone asked if his wife was going to join him. She had been a well-known socialite long before he had become mayor and was never one to miss a major event. Her absence was noted by all. “I told her she could take the night off.
