The name Cuomo has been in the national political conversation for two generations, since Andrew’s father, Mario, governed New York from 1983 to 1994. After the 2016 election, oddsmakers had Andrew Cuomo’s name among the top 10 most likely Democrats to take on President Donald Trump in 2020. It seemed possible that the governor was having the same thoughts, as Cuomo dipped back into the Washington social scene and used public appearances to rail against Trump’s policies. He was living physically closer to the fray as well, spending the majority of his free time at a Westchester County house he shared with his long-term partner, Food Network star Sandra Lee.

But as Democrats struggled to find the right messenger to take on Trump in the presidential election, Cuomo didn’t put his hand up, and so far he isn’t even out mobilizing the troops. If anything, he has retreated. He moved from Westchester back to Albany full-time; he and Lee—whom he credited for helping him regain his mojo after a divorce from Kerry Kennedy and his first, failed gubernatorial run—split up last fall with a statement saying their romantic relationship had turned into a “deep friendship.” Cuomo now spends his nights here, in a mostly empty 40-room Victorian brick mansion on Eagle Street, less than a mile from the Dunkin’ Donuts on Madison Avenue. He stays frenetically busy—especially, in recent weeks, as he has worked aggressively to combat the coronavirus panic enveloping the state—but largely in isolation.

Top: The Governor’s Mansion in Albany. Bottom: Andrew Cuomo is sworn in as governor in December 2010, with his girlfriend, Sandra Lee, his daughters and his parents, including former Governor Mario Cuomo, in attendance. | Getty Images

The mansion has been home to a handful of future presidents—Grover Cleveland, the two Roosevelts—and some near misses, like Al Smith and Nelson Rockefeller. Many Albany observers have long figured Cuomo, 62, would add his name to that list. In his 20s, he was the top political adviser to his father, Governor Mario Cuomo, a darling of the Democratic Party who flirted with running for president himself. The younger Cuomo, less charismatic but voraciously ambitious, went on to become Bill Clinton’s housing secretary and New York state attorney general before winning his first term as governor in 2010, a job many consider a natural steppingstone upward. Over a decade, he has positioned New York as one of the most progressive states in the country, while fighting a constant war with the left and the right, and seemingly with time itself, demanding efforts from his staff and underlings that match his own no-excuses workaholism. He relishes talking about his record in the job, from legalizing gay marriage to raising the state’s minimum wage, in the way that you would expect from someone building his résumé for the national stage.

Instead, Cuomo is perhaps more firmly turned inward than he has been in years, with see-sawing approval ratings, though well-positioned to run, as he has said he will, for a fourth term. Now, in two wide-ranging interviews last month, Cuomo described one of his current off-hours pleasures as strolling through town with his Siberian-shepherd mix, Captain—a habit that causes his aides and security team some heartburn when they see photos or texts from locals alerting them the governor is wandering the streets solo.

“It’s just me and my dog. There’s no one around, and people feel more at ease to talk.” Governor Andrew Cuomo

“I very much value being alone going into a Dunkin’ Donuts or a Starbucks or walking down the block,” says Cuomo, who’s never had much of a reputation as a glad-hander. “It’s just me and my dog. There’s no one around, and people feel more at ease to talk.”

If he seems wistful watching the parade pass him by—no fewer than four fellow New Yorkers jumped into the 2020 Democratic race—he’s not letting on. He says he has always liked Albany and that his full-time presence there is natural at this stage of his life and career. His three daughters are nearly on their own now; the youngest is a senior in college. He has a pat, oft-repeated line when asked about his national ambitions: He’ll finish out another term as governor unless “God strikes me dead.” He has studiously avoided commenting on the presidential primary results, despite near-daily local and national media events. Ask him what he considers “fun” these days, and he talks about signing bills to make New Yorkers’ lives better. “And that’s enough,” he says.

Top: Mario Cuomo, as a gubernatorial candidate, left, with his son and campaign manager, Andrew Cuomo, at their campaign offices in September 1982. Bottom: President Bill Clinton talks to reporters in 1999 at the Rose Garden, as Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Andrew Cuomo looks on. | William E. Sauro/The New York Times; Tim Sloan/AFP via Getty Images

“You know, I’ve been in different situations [when people have said], ‘Well, you’re going to be this, you’re going to be that.’ I was in the federal administration when I was very young. I was a Cabinet secretary. I was on Air Force One. I’ve been in the White House. I believe where I am now, I am doing good.”

So, is that it? Is a mansion on Eagle Street—and the office he now occupies—the last stop in a career that began nearly a lifetime ago? It might be. But several former Cuomo aides told me they believe he made a political calculus about this presidential race, determining that he was unlikely to win the race this year, and that he might still be experiencing some FOMO. And Cuomo is still young enough, especially by the standards of current candidates, to think four, eight or even 12 years down the road. “Knowing the way his mind works, I never thought it possible in this cycle,” says one former aide, who requested anonymity because he is still part of New York political circles. “It’s not that he doesn’t want [the presidency]—he does. Nobody could watch a debate this year and not say, ‘I could do better than that.’”

Even as a close ally, Joe Biden, rises toward the nomination, it’s unclear whether Cuomo, a pragmatic fighter with rough edges, is the kind of politician national Democrats want right now, or in the near future. He might be alone in more ways than one.

“I am happy doing what I do,” he insists, then pauses. “Not happy, that’s the wrong word. Happy-ish.”

“I’m happy,” he tries again, but as the word hangs in the air, he rephrases a second time. “I’m comfortable. Well, it’s all hard, right?”