While the president thought his legal representatives planned to hold forth at a prestigious five-star hotel, for reasons no one could explain even months later, Giuliani’s team had booked a lawn care company with the same name in an industrial section of northeast Philadelphia, across the street from a crematorium and just down the block from the Fantasy Island Adult Bookstore. If ever there were a metaphor for a flailing, amateur campaign refusing to accept reality, this would be it.
