Whether visitors recognize it or not, they couldn't meet two more different Utah politicians playing the role of host during the 2002 Winter Olympics.
There's Salt Lake Mayor Rocky Anderson, a liberal Democrat and man about town, whose main concerns include changing the city's staid, homogenous image into a place where good times can be had by all kinds of people. The mayor, like the parrot that shares his office, is loquacious and flits from place to place, especially during the Games.
Then there's Utah Gov. Mike Leavitt, the cautious, conservative Republican, who sees the Olympics as an opportunity to strike up business connections that will pay dividends in the future. He's operating on a schedule that was nailed down the night before, mapping out his every hour from dawn till dark.
But after observing the two men for a day this past week, the Deseret News found some common denominators in two vastly different styles. Besides the coincidence of starting the day together and riding around in Suburbans, both Anderson and Leavitt are indefatigable and running their respective staffs ragged trying to capitalize on the Olympics.
Working on his grandfather's southern Utah farm, Mike Leavitt often heard the saying "Make hay while the sun shines."
And Utah's governor is indeed making hay.
Indeed, he may be figuring up future harvests.
Leavitt is savoring ? and loving ? being an Olympic governor.
Take one marathon workday, 18 hours long ? a day upon which he also happened to turn 51 years old. Not even impromptu birthday celebrations could throw him off his course, one intended to exploit the attention now focused upon Utah.
First Leavitt, in a beautiful camel-hair overcoat, joins with other government and business leaders ringing cowbells to open trading on the New York Stock Exchange via teleconference.
Then there's Leavitt, attired as a policy wonk with sharp yellow pencil in coat pocket, waxing wittily about Enlibra (a term he coined to describe environmental cooperation) at a two-hour session for a think tank he formed, in part, to feed off the Games.
"I wanna hear more about what business wants out of this new dam construction," Leavitt says as he moderates a fictional environmental problem for the think tank to solve.
Next up: Leavitt visiting the Olympic Media Center to shake the hands of national and international journalists. "How are things going? Are you being treated well?" the governor asks during unscheduled interviews with New York Times and Washington Post writers, who may influence the tone of Utah's two-week hosting experience.
The governor's pace does not slacken. He's here, then he's there:
Leavitt visiting Australian Olympic workers here meeting with Vancouver, Canada, and bid organizers of other wanna-be host cities. "Sometimes you wish you could do this all again" to do it even better and enjoy it even more, he says.
Leavitt at the Capitol, giving an interview to the Wall Street Journal.
Leavitt greeting a big, walking potato at the Main Street location of the Idaho tourism office.
"This is your party too. We will all benefit," he tells his friends to the north who want a taste of Utah's Olympic party.
Leavitt popping his head into the luxury suites in the Delta Center, while the figure skating pairs finals take place on the ice below, to show his appreciation to some big Olympic sponsors and letting them know how Utah can help their businesses. "We have a vibrant high-tech industry here," he reminds them.
Leavitt dropping by a high-tech firm's dinner get-together to remind the execs there just what a great place Utah is. "We would enjoy it if a few deals got done" because of the Olympics, he says.
Leavitt riding a horse at the Olympic rodeo to let the audience and animal rights activists picketing outside know he values the Western Americana sport and knows how to sit in a saddle. "The protesters had no effect on this event. We were right to keep it" as part of the Cultural Olympiad, he says.
He ends the day, as he has all the others, with his tired staff at 10 p.m. in the Governor's Mansion to "firm up" the next day's schedule, blocking out one- and two-hour time slots for this or that event.
Utah's governor, always the consummate planner, is setting a tight schedule these two Olympic weeks.
"Our philosophy is, put on the Olympics in February, sleep in March." says Leavitt, stifling a yawn as his Utah Highway Patrol-assigned driver winds the governor's black Suburban through heavy downtown traffic. The governor says he's getting three or four hours of sleep a night, six on a good night.
As governor and as a Salt Lake Organizing Committee executive board member, Leavitt and his immediate staff can go anywhere, anytime. For security reasons, he drives up to doors blocked to others and walks around magnetometers, avoiding any searches.
"But I still got stuck in that big traffic jam" last Sunday on the way to the men's downhill at Snowbasin, he notes. Such "down time" is unusual. Best not to waste minutes, much less hours.
In the Devereaux House across from the Delta Center, leased by the state during the Games for dozens of business-related receptions and meetings, Leavitt ponders the question of whether Salt Lake City should host another Winter Games.
Speaking to Australian Olympic officials about their 2000 Games: "You did it right. And I think we are, too."
But he warns officials trying to get the Games for their cities: "You learn so much doing this, it's regrettable we don't do it a second time.
"You spend so much energy and time in the bidding process, you win, and you have to sign an (IOC) contract right then ? and later you realize what it said and say: 'We have to do that?!' "
Doing whatever "that" requires seems Leavitt's immediate goal.
"We have a real opportunity here," he says. He intends to take advantage of it.
E-mail: bbjr@desnews.com