Categories
From The Archives NEWS & POLITICS ARCHIVES THE FRONT ARCHIVES Uncategorized

What’s Wrong With Rudy Giuliani?

What’s Wrong With Rudy?

ON A RAINY DAY LATE in June, about a month after Rudolph Giuliani formal­ly announced his candidacy for mayor of New York, his car rolled north to Harlem for lunch at Sylvia’s restau­rant with an endangered species: black Republicans. Giuliani was conserva­tively dressed in a gray suit, his thin­ning black hair combed into the now familiar it-only-looks-like-a-bad-tou­pee style. He was missing his belt, wristwatch, and the eyeglasses he uses for reading. Giuliani forgot them while rushing out of his East Side apartment in the morning.

The prosecutor-turned-politician was fiddling with a portable phone in an effort to reach a former colleague who had just won convictions in a tough mob trial, when the talk turned to the city school system:

“What are your thoughts about the number of chil­dren enrolled in special education programs?”

“In what sense?,” the candidate replied.

“There are a staggering number of kids enrolled in special education. What are your thoughts on that?”

“You’ll have to make it a more specific question.”

“OK. Well, the number of children enrolled in special education is thought by some to be abnormally high, distressingly high.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question.”

“Do you think there are too many children enrolled in special education?”

“Do I think that there are children enrolled in special education inappropriately? That shouldn’t be in a spe­cial education program because the numbers are so high? I don’t know the answer to that.”

This is the man who was the most famous federal prosecutor in memory — the media’s darling, who never seemed to make a false move when the public eye was on him. Now, suddenly, Rudy Giuliani seemed very mortal.

As New York’s top cop, Giuliani spent the past five years in a fortress-like environment, as insulated from the nitty-gritty of urban life as any midwestern Republi­can here to gape at the tall buildings and exotic types. In that monastery of indictments and investigations Giu­liani excelled, but on the streets of New York, he frequently seems lost. His solemn face and candlewax skin were appropriate for an avenging angel announcing the indictment of mobsters, inside-traders, and crooked pols. But at street fairs, walking tours, and other venues for mayoral candidates, Giuliani looks wooden, robotic, even a little ominous at times. If he held up a baby, it might cry.

What happened to the Rudy Giuliani many peo­ple had such hope for? A stunning cross-sec­tion of the city was excited about the idea of his candidacy, but after more than three months of lackluster campaigning, he has slumped badly in the polls. He is trailing both his likely Democratic opponents, Ed Koch and David Dinkins, and so far, he’s looked good only in comparison to the dread Ron Lauder. Fortunately for Giuliani, many voters have yet to make up their minds, but among the uncom­mitted, his campaign has raised doubts and failed to quell fears. And the media, which initially smiled on Giuliani, has joined the chorus of doubt. “I like the idea of change at City Hall,” says one newspa­per executive. “And I like the idea of Giuliani coming in and cleaning things up. But I don’t know what this guy stands for.”

The crime-fighting Giuliani would nev­er have dreamt of becoming, in a single day, the target of tabloid headlines that ranged from “RUDY’S MEN ACTED LIKE NAZIS,” in the Post, to “RUDY HAS A BLACK EYE,” in Newsday. The former allegation was largely bogus; the latter was the biggest blunder of Giuliani’s law enforcement career. In 1987, the prosecu­tor arrested three Wall Street executives on insider trading charges so flimsy that the case against them dissolved almost overnight. Nevertheless, he pressed a two-and-a-half-year criminal investiga­tion of the trio. It ended last week with no charges filed against two of them. The third executive pled guilty to a charge unrelated to the allegations that prompt­ed the arrest. “It was a mistake to move with that case at the time that I did,” Giuliani said, “and to that extent I should apologize to them.” But Giuliani’s tortured explanation did not help. The politician was paying a heavy price for the abuses of the prosecutor.

Giuliani’s supporters believe his strongest personal and political quality is his leadership ability, but the campaign has so far found him on the defensive on important issues like abortion and irrele­vant ones like Noriega. His continued fixation on the C-words — crime, crack, and corruption — might well require the services of a deprogrammer before the election. (Giuliani recently conducted separate press conferences on corruption on three straight days.) “He’s good at the only thing a mayor doesn’t have to do — ­prosecute criminals,” says Democratic mayoral candidate Richard Ravitch.

Giuliani’s political beliefs remain shrouded by the “fusion” fog pouring forth from his $23,000-a-month headquarters at Rockefeller Center. Giuliani’s press releases refer to him as a “fusion candidate” or omit his party affiliation. This is an honorable tradition in New York, where Fiorello La Guardia ran as a Republican/Socialist, and John V. Lind­say initially pieced together a Republi­can/Liberal coalition and won reelection without the GOP. But La Guardia, and Lindsay (at least initially) had a popular touch that overcame confusion about their affiliations. Giuliani will go through the ritual flesh-pressing of New York politics, but watching him meet and greet voters, it’s clear he doesn’t have the com­mon touch. Giuliani is used to the kind of personal appearances a crimebuster would be expected to make. He is intro­duced, makes a short, formal speech, an­swers questions from a friendly, white, middle-class audience, and departs. This is not exactly the testing ground on which voters in New York decide whom they will allow to live in Gracie Mansion.

The abortion issue, in particular, has left the two-fisted gangbuster doing more head spinning than Linda Blair in The Exorcist. The Supreme Court’s ruling last month underscored Giuliani’s unwilling­ness to take strong positions on most controversial issues. “I would not take a leadership position supporting or opposing abortion,” Giuliani said just after the court’s decision was announced.

But the problem for Giuliani goes much deeper than appearances. There’s a perception among large groups of voters he will need to fashion a winning coali­tion that Rudy is traveling in three direc­tions at once. Giuliani wants the Republi­can and Liberal Party nominations. He must also attract large numbers of Demo­crats if he is to become the next mayor of New York. He therefore presents himself to the voters in the fuzzy form of Mr. Fusion, the candidate who is all things to all people.

It’s worthwhile noting that Giuliani’s pronouncements on issues like abortion are made only after what one of his asso­ciates calls “considered judgment.” For instance, shortly after the abortion ruling was announced, staffers huddled at Giu­liani’s campaign headquarters. They re­viewed the decision and Giuliani’s previ­ous statements on abortion. They also discussed questions Giuliani might be asked as a result of the ruling. They then moved on to a second meeting with the candidate himself. “We presented to him what had happened and what he’d said on abortion,” former campaign manager Russ Schriefer explained. “We let Rudy talk for a while, and as he talks, we kind of get an idea what his position is, where he’s coming from.” The Giuliani team then peppered the candidate with ques­tions he might be asked. Only after this process was completed did Giuliani emerge from his campaign cocoon to pub­licly turn one thumb up and one thumb down.

As Schriefer explained, without appar­ent irony, the most challenging aspect of the Giuliani campaign was illustrated by the abortion controversy. “Every decision you make has to be weighed as to how it’s going to affect another element or anoth­er area,” he says. “Abortion was one where the decision-making process had to take into account that there was a liberal position, a Democratic position, and a Republican position.” The “decision-­making process” clearly wasn’t good enough. Giuliani’s waffling hurt him bad­ly among women and Jews, prompting an unconvincing recent “clarification” in which the man opposed to Roe v. Wade said that he would fight any effort to outlaw abortion. “It’s one thing to screw up through inexperience,” said a Koch campaign official. “But you don’t have to be a brain surgeon or a savvy politician to have a strong, clear position on abor­tion.”

At a recent town meeting, Giuliani was asked a simple question about whether community boards should be given more power and money. It took him 350 words to explain that he would “be happy to consider” such an increase. Even when it comes to crime, Giuliani’s performance has hardly been emphatic. The candidate has had much difficulty in straightening out the exact age at which he believes young killers should be electrocuted. Is it 14, 15, 16, 17?

Then there was the Donald Trump newspaper ad in which the balding air-­shuttle executive talked about his “hate” for muggers and murderers and the need to incinerate the little criminals. Even death penalty–Ninja Ed Koch found this excessive, but Giuliani hailed the ad by the co-chairman of his first big fundrais­ing event as contributing to what he called a “healthy debate.” On the day he announced his candidacy, however, Giu­liani traveled to Bishop Loughlin, the Catholic high school in Brooklyn that he attended as a boy, and faced a solidly black and Hispanic student body. Giu­liani swiftly distanced himself from “Trump-the-ad” when a black student asked him if he endorsed the hyperactive casino owner’s position. No flapdoodle for this audience.

Giuliani has raised eyebrows among Irish voters by expressing warm admira­tion for Margaret Thatcher, and blundered through a campaign appearance at a city firehouse — a place where partisan politicking has always been prohibited. His campaign garnered a potentially valuable endorsement from the families of four slain policemen, but he promptly angered other fallen cops’ relatives by announcing the endorsement minutes af­ter a memorial service for the officers.

“Rudy does not suffer from the Arthur Goldberg or Pete Dawkins syndrome,” in­sists Raymond Harding, the Liberal Par­ty leader who has singlehandedly crafted the Giuliani fusion. “This is not a man who goes out to campaign and steps on his dick.”

Perhaps not, but Giuliani is clearly a man who has had trouble with his fly.

By mid-June, it became apparent that the campaign was in trouble. By July, the polls confirmed the obvious: Giuliani was trailing Din­kins and Koch. His declining pop­ularity has made fundraising more diffi­cult, and by August, he was faced with a financial crisis. Two weeks ago, he cut staff salaries in order to generate cash for television ads — the lifeblood of any effec­tive campaign.

Perhaps it was inevitable that, when trouble arose, Giuliani would place the campaign in the hands of one of his old­est and most trusted friends. With the exception of one stint as a lawyer in pri­vate practice, he has spent his entire ca­reer as a criminal prosecutor. He shares the caution and suspiciousness of the law enforcement fraternity. As a prosecutor, Giuliani’s top deputies were more than subordinates; they were his personal friends. So it’s not surprising that he would push out the pros. Says one Giu­liani confidant: “You don’t win Rudy’s trust overnight.”

Peter Powers and Rudy Giuliani go back to high school. They double-dated, joined the same fraternity at Manhattan College, graduated in the same class at NYU Law School, and then went their separate ways professionally — Giuliani to the federal prosecutor’s office in Manhattan, Powers to a successful practice as a tax attorney. The two men still live close to one another on the Upper East Side, and their passion remains arguing about politics. This decades-old dialogue goes back to the days when Giuliani was a Kennedy liberal. Powers is a lifelong con­servative, and though the two still don’t see eye-to-eye on everything, he has emerged as the most influential figure in Giuliani’s organization.

The steady, cautious Powers has been involved with the campaign since day one. He was part of a team who picked Richard Bond, George Bush’s former deputy campaign manager, and Schriefer, another Bushie, as a team to run the campaign. As Giuliani’s candidacy floun­dered, he turned more and more to Pow­ers. One afternoon in late June, the two men sat side by side in a nearly empty car of a Metroliner bound for Philadelphia. It was the first time in months Giuliani and Powers had been able to enjoy each oth­er’s company without interruption. Their talk, however, was about the problems they had left behind in New York. “Look,” the candidate told Powers as the train slid through Trenton, “I think it’s time you came on board full-time.”

Over the next month, Powers was phased into the campaign. By July, Schriefer, who had been the day-to-day manager of the campaign, was meeting each morning with a “management com­mittee” composed of Powers, campaign chairman Arnold Burns, and Liberal Par­ty chief Harding. On July 25, Giuliani made it official by appointing Powers as his campaign manager. Attorney Ken Ca­ruso, another longtime Giuliani pal, is slated to become Powers’s deputy. He joins deputy campaign manager Bob Bucknam, another friend who worked for Giuliani as an assistant U.S. attorney. Schriefer and Richard Bond — two “Bushies” originally hired to run the campaign — were pushed aside.

(Giuliani’s old sidekick, Denny Young, has never been a major player. Young made the move to White & Case with Giuliani, and his duties with the firm have prevented him from becoming a full-time campaign activist. His presence is missed. As Giuliani’s top deputy in the U.S. attorney’s office and a close friend, Young often seemed epoxyed to his boss. The mild-mannered Young functioned much as a human Thorazine tablet by calming Giuliani in moments of anger and tension.)

The new team is long on the trust factor and very short on political experi­ence. Powers clearly has his work cut out for him. Despite a large and highly paid staff of 35, Giuliani has no briefing book containing his positions on important is­sues and other pertinent facts. The candidate has also been writing his own speeches — an enormous waste of time, particularly since Giuliani lives in anoth­er era when it comes to the written word. He does not type. He does not dictate. He writes everything from letters to major speeches in longhand on yellow legal pads and gives them to his faithful longtime secretary, Beth Petrone, to type. Outsid­ers brought in to check the campaign’s temperature were amazed to realize that the candidate was laboriously composing speeches that should have been done by hired hands.

Powers says speechwriting has now been turned over to others. A briefing book is being prepared. Another nagging problem, the lack of a media consultant, has been solved with the hiring of Roger Ailes.

The newest member of Giuliani’s inner circle of advisors, Ailes is a 49-year-old veteran GOP media man with the reputa­tion of a tough guy. Ailes is said to have a certain flair for leaning on journalists. Barely on board, he has already called a reporter to complain that her story on a recent Puerto Rican Day Parade in the Bronx had a pro-Koch slant.

Ailes was one of Nixon’s key media men in 1968, and has a lengthy involve­ment in GOP politics. When Nixon went on television in 1970 to announce the U.S. invasion of Cambodia, Ailes was there. Foolish Nixon advisers wanted the president to use a pointer to illustrate the movement of our boys into the tiny Asian nation. But Ailes quickly realized that the heavy pointer might cause Nixon’s hand to shake, thereby sending the wrong message to the nation and the communist enemy. Thanks to Ailes, Dick Nixon used his forefinger on that fateful night.

Ailes was also manning the ramparts during the dark days of Al D’Amato’s campaign for the Senate in 1980. Once again, the media savant proved equal to the task by unleashing Ma D’Amato on television audiences. The elderly lady was strategically placed at the produce counter of a supermarket. “Every time I go to the supermarket, prices keep ris­ing,” she complained. “I am afraid to walk the streets because of crime. That’s why my son is running for the Senate.”

The rest is history.

Ailes fashioned George Bush’s televised attacks on Michael Dukakis last year, though the modest videomeister denies any responsibility for the infamous Willie Horton commercial. This year he has already raked in major bucks by turning out insufferably boring commercials for Giuliani’s Republican foe, Ron Lauder. After either being ousted in a power struggle or discovering to his horror that Lauder was out to get Giuliani, Ailes quit the Lauder campaign.

Giuliani aides say Ailes has been push­ing the candidate to go on television as soon as possible, but the campaign’s con­tinuing financial woes have made it un­certain when commercials will begin. Ailes is planning a series of “positive” ads to precede the September 12 primary. This may well work against Ron Lauder, but in the general election, some of Ailes’s better-known traits may emerge. There’s already been a backlash among liberals to the mere presence of this hard­core Republican — a heartbeat from Lee Atwater — in the Giuliani camp. Ailes’s own image problems could complicate Giuliani’s task of courting Democrats in the general election.

If that weren’t difficult enough, Ailes must teach the candidate to deal with the press. Giuliani needs to return to the “directness and candor” that marked his style as a prosecutor, says Ailes. “I think he’s been too careful. Rudy should stop worrying about being political candidate Giuliani and just be Giuliani.”

That first day of Giuliani’s campaign, May 17, also launched his mushrooming press problem. The day began well enough. The candidate, flanked by his wife, television anchorwoman Donna Hanover; son, Andrew; and mother, Hel­en, launched into a speech highlighting the C-words: crime, crack, and corruption. The R-word, Republican, was never uttered.

After delivering the speech announcing his candidacy, General Giuliani executed the first flanking maneuver of the war to come by walking out of the Metropolitan Republican Club in Manhattan without answering any questions from the media. Television, the important medium, would be forced to focus on his message without the danger of annoying questions that might deflect attention, and airtime, from the candidate and the C-words. The strategy worked in the same way one might succeed in “tricking” a drunken gang of Hell’s Angels armed with chain saws and lead pipes. The press quickly caught up with Giuliani and began a sav­aging that continued for weeks. Wasn’t his new law firm, White & Case, representing the government of Noriega, the Panamanian dictator/drug dealer? Of course it was a nonissue. And the media would cream him with it.

The transition from prosecutor to poli­tician transformed Giuliani’s press rela­tions. During his five-and-a-half years as U.S. attorney, Giuliani’s critics liked to revile him as a masterful media manipu­lator, but it took candidate Giuliani less than a week to establish just how gener­ous that assessment of his talent really was. Giuliani sweated, shifted in his seat, and in one instance simply fled the pres­ence of a hostile television journalist. Nothing remotely like this had happened to him on Foley Square.

“It’s the case of a guy from a very protected environment being thrown into one of the toughest [media] bullrings in the world,” says David Garth, Koch’s me­dia maven. “I can understand the culture shock.”

And Giuliani’s new opponents were not handcuffed or accompanied by lawyers telling them to say nothing. The candi­date’s political enemies readily heaped verbal napalm on his head. Of attacks by rascals Ed Koch and Republican perfume scion Ron Lauder, Giuliani said: “If they really were men, they would apologize.” Needless to say, the unmanly imps sneered at the White Knight and contin­ued to slip thistles under his mayoral saddle.

“Prosecutors throw bombs. Mayors catch them,” says Mitchell Moss, director of NYU’s Urban Research Center. “Giu­liani has proven to be a bleeder.”

Koch in particular seemed to sense instinctively that it takes very little to set Giuliani off. He was right. Even as U.S. attorney, Giuliani could be stupendously thin-skinned. For instance, there was a flattering profile of Giuliani published in the Daily News Magazine shortly after he became U.S. attorney in 1983. The story was typical of the favorable pieces that were regularly written about Giuliani dur­ing his tenure. The author provided some balance to the article by mentioning a few criticisms of the prosecutor. There was a line in the story that reported — correct­ly — that Giuliani had a temper.

“He got so upset about it,” his wife, Donna Hanover, recalls. “He was hurt, saying this is terrible and so forth. I said, ‘Honey, it’s a little line. There are two or three criticisms in this long article.’ But he was in agony. We agonized the whole Sunday. It was a miserable, miserable day.”

Giuliani’s best qualities — intelligence, courage, honesty, and leadership abili­ty — have yet to put in an extended appearance on the campaign trail. His worst traits — self-righteousness, hypersensitivi­ty, and a grasping opportunism — have been too much in evidence.

His message, certainly, is not getting through. Most New Yorkers know little more about what Giuliani believes than they did three months ago. They might be forgiven for wondering if the candi­date actually has any strong feelings on any issue besides law enforcement.

Just what does Giuliani believe?

As most people know, Rudy Giu­liani started life as a liberal Democrat who worshipped John and Robert Kennedy. He voted for George Mc­Govern in 1972, and according to friends who knew him then, despised Richard Nixon with a fervor typical of Kennedy worshippers. A year later, however, he registered as an independent. He did so partly because of his growing disillusion­ment with the party of McGovern but also, as he told the Daily News, because he was working as a federal prosecutor in a Republican administration.

In 1975, Giuliani came under the wing of Judge Harold Tyler, a pillar of the respectable Republicanism of the Eastern Establishment. Tyler was appointed num­ber two man in the Justice Department of Gerald Ford, and took Giuliani along with him as his deputy. When Ford was turned out of office in 1976, Tyler took Giuliani back to New York with him as a partner in the white-shoe law firm then known as Patterson, Belknap & Webb. By then, his politics blended with those of the firm: the liberal Republicanism of Nelson Rockefeller.

A month after Ronald Reagan defeated Jimmy Carter in 1980, Giuliani switched again, registering as a Republican. The timing was not coincidental. When Rea­gan took office in 1981, Giuliani was of­fered the number three job in the Justice Department. Giuliani took two young as­sociates with him to Washington. He ad­vised Renee Szybala, a liberal Democrat, and Ken Caruso, who had no party affili­ation, to become Republicans, just as he had.

Giuliani was showing a flair for taking on the political coloration of his employ­ers, and his stint as associate attorney general from 1981 to 1983 marked him as a loyal and energetic Reaganaut. He was a leading player in the administration’s war on drugs, and capably supervised an array of important Justice Department agencies.

His first messy mission involved a pending criminal case against McDonnell Douglas. The gigantic St. Louis airplane manufacturer and four of its executives had been charged during the Carter ad­ministration with bribing Pakistani offi­cials to buy the company’s DC-10 airlin­ers. In one of the controversial early decisions of the Reagan administration, Giuliani dropped criminal charges against the four executives. He concluded that the government’s case against the four rested on the retroactive application of a congressional act outlawing overseas bribery, even though the courts had up­held the legality of the indictment. It was the kind of pro-business gesture that set the tone for the Reagan years.

A second act Giuliani undertook as as­sociate attorney general has come back to dog him in the mayoral campaign. The Reagan administration decided to stop the influx of Haitian refugees into south­ern Florida by jailing those who arrived in the Sunshine State and turning back those they could stop at sea. More than 2000 Haitians were placed in detention facilities critics described as “concentra­tion camps.” This shameful policy was not of Giuliani’s making, but he went to dubious lengths to defend it. Partly on the basis of a 48-hour trip to Haiti in 1982, he testified that political repression was not a problem in Haiti under Presi­dent-for-Life Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier.

“It was like someone in our own gov­ernment getting up to say the Soviet Union is a democracy,” said Stephen Cohen, a State Department human rights specialist in the Carter Administration, who found Giuliani’s assessment “laughable.”

Giuliani’s opinion — although based on a visit somewhat shorter than a luxury cruise boat-docking — was important. Im­migration law permitted aliens to be granted asylum in the U.S. if they fled political persecution. So if the Haitians were to be kept out, it was essential for Giuliani to find an island bereft of politi­cal torture, imprisonment, and intimida­tion. He followed up his trip to Haiti with an appearance as a government witness in a federal civil case in Florida filed on behalf of the refugees. Under questioning by lawyers for the Haitians, Giuliani de­scribed the dread Tonton Macoutes as an “interior police department” that was “alleged” to have committed repressive acts in the 1960s.

Q. Do you believe that the Tonton Ma­coutes does not exist anymore?

A. I don’t know if they exist or don’t exist.

And:

Q. Mr. Giuliani, in your tour of Haiti, how many prisons did you visit?

A. I spoke with no prisoners.

All of this suggests that like most poli­ticians, Giuliani is a man quite capable of adjusting his beliefs to suit the temper of the times. And a man whose political advice the candidate values highly is, not surprisingly, a professional pollster.

Robert Teeter was the pollster and a top campaign strategist for George Bush in last year’s presidential campaign. The 50-year-old former political science in­structor has been active in Republican politics since he went to work for Michi­gan governor George Romney in 1956. He is widely regarded as one of the best in the business by Democrats and Republi­cans alike.

Teeter’s advice helps to account for the Johnny One-Note character of Giuliani’s campaign. “By anybody’s definition, those [crime and drugs] are severe prob­lems in the city,” Teeter says. “But more importantly, they are the problems the voters think need attention right now.” Teeter, who lives and works in Ann Arbor, Michigan, flies into New York peri­odically for discussions with Giuliani and members of his campaign staff. He and Giuliani also talk by phone. Teeter, at least, has no doubt about Giuliani’s poli­tics: “I think he has a fundamental, basic, Republican, center-right philosophy.”

Which brings us to the old saw about strange bedfellows. The last member of Giuliani’s Gang of Four is Ray Harding, a portly aficionado of unfiltered Camels who holds a doctorate in political schem­ing. Harding has been a major player in the endless and impenetrable infighting in the state’s minuscule (and ridiculous) Liberal Party. But he delivered the par­ty’s nomination to Giuliani and is ad­mired by the candidate for his shrewd­ness and political judgment.

Of the men Giuliani relies upon the most for political advice — Powers, Ailes, Teeter, and Harding — only Harding has extensive experience in New York poli­tics. Some political observers believe this to be a serious shortcoming. Ailes dis­agrees: “I haven’t done a whole lot in New York,” he says, “but politics is poli­tics. I’d never done anything in Wyoming, and I won in Wyoming.”

With the new team in place, the future of Giuliani’s campaign is becoming clear. “You’re going to see a new Rudy coming down the pike in the next few weeks,” Powers predicts. The “new” Rudy will speak more forcefully; his answers will be clearer and more concise. The candi­date is being made over into a strong leader with the courage and determina­tion needed to make the changes voters want.

His learning curve is on the rise. De­spite blackouts on topics like special edu­cation, his knowledge of municipal prob­lems has increased since the campaign began. He has earnestly studied the is­sues in briefing sessions that feature guest experts who enlighten him on vari­ous subjects. But one of those urban spe­cialists, who arrived eager to share his expertise with the mayor-to-be, came away disappointed by Giuliani’s glassy-­eyed response. “He was very passive, and he didn’t seem at all familiar with the issues we were discussing,” the expert said. “If it were Mayor Koch, he would have been engaging me and asking tough questions. I didn’t have any sense that I was getting through.”

“Getting through” to Giuliani is a mat­ter of arousing his passion. The man who as a little boy donned priestly vestments sewn from Turkish towels to solemnly perform the mass and distribute Holy Communion to his mother and grand­mother does not take things lightly. (On one occasion, his mother substituted chocolate mints for the white Necco wa­fers she normally gave him for use as communion hosts. Young Rudy sternly rebuked her for sacrilege.)

Giuliani has moved from passion to passion throughout his life. Horse-racing, tennis, New York Knicks basketball, pho­tography, and the Civil War are among the interests that he has embraced and abandoned. These pursuits are not as well known as his love of the law, opera, and the New York Yankees, but he has approached them all in the same way. He will read everything he can get his hands on about a topic that strikes his fancy in an effort to master it as quickly as possi­ble. Last winter, when Giuliani privately decided to become the 106th mayor of New York City, he devoured books about municipal government in his small East Side apartment at night and played U.S. attorney during the day.

But the passion always seemed to be missing. Giuliani appeared to look upon governing New York City as a problem to be analyzed and dissected rather than an intoxicating challenge to his abilities. He has always been keenly interested in poli­tics, but there is nothing in his past to suggest that he wanted to become the mayor of New York. He has talked with some measure of enthusiasm about be­coming governor, but the road to Albany is blocked by Mario Cuomo’s popularity. He also toyed at length with the notion of challenging Democratic senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan, but he ultimately abandoned the idea.

At the time, one of his closest friends said Giuliani seriously considered run­ning against Moynihan only because the opportunity had presented itself rather than because Giuliani wanted to become a U.S. senator. The same might well be said of his mayoral candidacy. Ed Koch’s job was the only important political posi­tion on the horizon when Giuliani wrapped up his law enforcement agenda at the end of 1988 with the trial of Bess Myerson and the settlement with Drexel Burnham, Wall Street’s big bad investment firm. Giuliani took the plunge, but nothing about the candidate or his campaign to date suggests that anything approaching a fire burns in his belly.

Giuliani’s supporters are betting that he’ll hit his stride as the campaign un­folds and take on the job of vanquishing his rivals with the same workaholic drive he applied to the Mafia and political cor­ruption. That may happen. Giuliani is a man who doesn’t like to fail — as a college student he was blackballed by the most prestigious fraternity on campus, but he rebounded by promptly gathering a group of his friends and taking over a dying fraternity with three members. The re­born frat made Rudy its president.

But New York City is no fraternity. The divisions between rich and poor, black and white, prochoice and antiabortion, are too deep to permit the election of a formless Mr. Fusion. Rudy Giuliani isn’t La Guardia, and he won’t defeat a Dinkins with bona fide liberal creden­tials, or a middle-class hero like Koch, unless he tells the voters exactly who he is and what he stands for. “It’s going to be a lot easier for us when we get down to the general election and it’s one of them against one of me,” Giuliani predicts. It’s true that he will get a second chance. But the “new” Rudy will have to show much more to convince New Yorkers he’s an alternative to the “old, tired political leadership” that has made one of the world’s great cities a miserable place for the poor and middle-class alike. ■

 

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES From The Archives NEW YORK CITY ARCHIVES NYC ARCHIVES Uncategorized

Why’s a Nice Man Like David Dinkins Running for Mayor?

Except for a 109-year-old woman and some of her family members, the Most Worshipful Enoch Grand Lodge in Bedford Stuyve­sant was nearly empty on a recent April night. The 17 people in the masonic hall’s main meeting room were waiting for David Dinkins, mayoral candi­date, to arrive to present a proclamation — on the oc­casion of her birthday — honoring Aunt Jannie Glover for living so long. As photo opportunities go, it was not shaping up to be a good one: one local television camera crew, one reporter, and one photographer. An organizer of the birthday party worried about the turnout: “There were a lot of people who were supposed to show up who didn’t. I don’t know what happened to them.”

When he arrived at 6:25, Dinkins ap­proached Aunt Jannie, who was sitting at a folding table, and introduced himself:

“Hello, Aunt Jannie, I’m David Din­kins. I’m the borough president of Manhattan.”

“Who?”

“I’m David Dinkins, the borough presi­dent of Manhattan. I’m here to give you this proclamation.”

“What?”

“I’m going to be the next mayor.”

“What?”

“I’m going to be the next mayor.”

“That’s nice,” a not-too-impressed Aunt Jannie responded.

Dinkins read the framed proclamation announcing April 20, 1989, to be Aunt Jannie Glover Day in Manhattan. That Glover, a Brooklyn resident, has never lived in Manhattan a day out of her 109 years does not really matter. This is, of course, an election year, and 109-year-­olds are not that easy to come by. Espe­cially ones with family members active in the Brooklyn Democratic organization.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727545″ /]

IN POLITICAL CLUBS, synagogues, civic associations, and church basements across New York City over the past few weeks, a familiar scene has been played out nightly. The three Democrats actively running for mayor — Dinkins, Comptrol­ler Harrison (Jay) Goldin, and banker/builder Richard Ravitch — are each given about 15 minutes to explain to crowds numbering as few as 25 people why they should be the one to replace Ed Koch, who has not yet begun to campaign.

Ravitch, hampered by his perennially hoarse voice and plodding monotone, reg­ularly has trouble holding a crowd, though his speech is thoughtful and his resume impressive. Goldin’s presentation, on the other hand, is a high-speed trip through the failures of Ed Koch’s admin­istration, a talk that often includes the recounting of a bicycle ride through Cen­tral Park during which Goldin’s son won­ders, “Daddy, would you like to see the pushers?” The comptroller, with his arms flailing about, sounds like a mix between Lowell Thomas on speed and Eddie Mur­phy’s Gumby character.

As the front-runner in the race — the latest Marist Institute poll shows him with a 12.5 per cent lead over Koch­ — Dinkins is often the most anticipated speaker at these forums.

In his standard address, the borough president focuses on crime and drugs as well as the poor planning and “crisis-to-­crisis management” of what he calls the “current administration,” to which he rarely attaches Koch’s name. But since he has yet to unveil detailed solutions for the major problems he identifies, Dinkins falls back on general, conceptual notions. Speaking last month before the Douglas King Democratic Club in Queens Village, for instance, he said, “We must expand the criminal justice system” to deal with jail over-crowding, and spoke of the need for a “greater police presence” at the lo­cal level. Referring to drug treatment and education, Dinkins said, “We’re not handling it right. We’ve got to find options for young people.” As to other problems, the often says, “I suggest that we can do better. And we must.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

In his public appearances, Dinkins is careful not to stray too far from his stump speech, careful not to take any unnecessary chances this early in the campaign. While he ticks off various shortcomings in the city’s hospital and health care system, all Dinkins will say about quality of care is that city hospitals “are not doing nearly as well as they might.” Of course, the candidate must realize that the city’s health system is in abominable shape, but he does not choose to say this. When asked at an East Side candidates’ forum about the conditions in Brooklyn’s Kings County Hospital, Din­kins appears surprised by the question. All he can offer the questioner is that “I’m distressed,” and that city emergency rooms have become the family doctor for many city families.

Dinkins also often avoids talking about how programs would be implemented, and what they would cost. And with bud­get restraints at the city, state, and feder­al levels-not to mention possible eco­nomic downturns, or even a recession­such a financial component has taken on added importance this election year. Din­kins’s desire to limit high school size to 1500 (some currently have more than 3500 students) and his desire for treat­ment on demand for substance abusers are commendable, but the candidate has yet to explain where the money would come from to pay for these programs.

Since announcing for mayor in Febru­ary, Dinkins has been badmouthed and second-guessed — behind the scenes — on everything from his choice of media ad­visers (the high-profile Washington team of David Doak and Bob Shrum) to his speaking style (“almost as boring as Ra­vitch,” according to one elected official), his lack of concrete proposals, and his supposedly slow-developing campaign apparatus. Although the Dinkins campaign is just beginning, the general wisdom seems to be that it’s already stalled. That the efforts of Ravitch, Goldin, Koch, and Republicans Rudolph Giuliani and Ron­ald Lauder cannot approach the organi­zation, volunteers, or enthusiasm gener­ated so far by the Dinkins campaign is rarely discussed. (Clearly, none of the other three Democrats could come close to mustering the horde of noisy supporters that greeted Dinkins at the overflow opening of his West 43rd Street head­quarters in late March.) These swipes at Dinkins may well come with the title of front-runner, but they are also surely rooted in an ugly mix of racial paternal­ism, jealously, and greed, especially from some of the city’s traditional political “handlers” who have been excluded from Dinkins’s campaign, and therefore left without a paycheck.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727493″ /]

But with polls showing Dinkins with large leads over his three Democratic op­ponents, this backbiting can be fairly eas­ily ignored by the candidate and his cam­paign. Bill Lynch, who served as Dinkins’s chief of staff before leaving to manage his mayoral campaign, says of his campaign apparatus, “We’re damn sure closer than anyone else. As far as I’m concerned, we’re where we should be at this point.”

In fact, campaign supporters — and sometimes Dinkins himself — sound as if the Democratic primary has already been won and that the real battle this fall is with Rudolph Giuliani, who might appear on two lines in November’s general elec­tion. In 15 campaign appearances attend­ed by the Voice over a recent two-week period, Dinkins uttered the word “Koch” only three times, while he often brought up Giuliani. His remarks at a Greenwich Village fund-raiser were typical. “I’m sure Rudy will get around to announcing someday and then it’ll be interesting to see him explain how he can be running as a Liberal and a Republican,” Dinkins said. “It should also be interesting to see him explain whether he’s been pleased with the Reaganism of the last eight years. Homelessness is a problem brought on by the Republicans in Washington. And let’s see him explain why the Justice Department he worked for did so little for civil rights.”

Compared to Goldin’s slashing attacks on Koch, Dinkins has been downright genteel when it comes to the mayor. “It has never been his style to scream at the top of his lungs,” one supporter says. “And I don’t think he’s going to get into a mud-slinging contest. He’s happy to leave that up to Jay [Goldin].” While the comptroller gleefully recounts episodes from the municipal corruption scandal, Dinkins only occasionally mentions “problems with the Talent Bank,” which, he says, “apparently was used for patron­age.” On the stump, Dinkins has not ut­tered the names Donald Manes, Stanley Friedman, or Meade Esposito, or even let on that, under the incumbent’s leader­ship, City Hall had been turned over to the county organizations. Calling Koch on these dangerous liaisons, of course, would be a sticky proposition since Dinkins himself is actively seeking the sup­port of the same three Democratic orga­nizations once headed by the aforementioned crooks.

The David Dinkins that David Dinkins wants voters to see is a man who can bring the city together, who cares about the city’s growing underclass, and who can do something about New York’s out-­of-control drug and crime problems. Dinkins is confident in crowds, patting shoulders, shaking hands, and calling ev­eryone “buddy” or “darling” if he does not already know their name. His facility with crowds serves him well, for the nature of the mayoral race forces Dinkins to put in appearances at some bizarre events. There was, for in­stance, the recent ritual at the Friar’s Club, where the candidate “celebrated” —  in the Milton Berle Room, no less — the release of another vanity book by Toast­master General Joey Adams. Dinkins purchased a copy of Joey’s Guaranteed to Make You Laugh, and chatted and posed for photos with such celebrities as Cindy Adams, Anthony Quinn, Dr. Ruth, How­ard Cosell, Morton Downey Jr., Alan King, and various old Borscht Belt come­dians. The mayoral candidate was one of only three blacks not serving drinks in the Uncle Miltie Room.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

SPEAKING AT THE Gramercy Park Syna­gogue last month, Dinkins recalled being raised in Trenton, New Jersey, by his mother, a manicurist and domestic work­er, and his grandmother. Dinkins’s par­ents were divorced in 1934, when he was six years old. “I remember we moved a lot. Often times, when the rent was due it was prudent to move,” he said. As a young man, Dinkins sold shopping bags on Eighth Avenue and 125th Street and worked washing cars and dishes. “I can’t remember being without a job,” he said. Dinkins served in the Marine Corps, but World War II ended while he was in boot camp. After graduating from Howard University with a mathematics degree, Dinkins entered Brooklyn Law School; he helped pay his tuition by working as the night manager of a Harlem liquor store. Dinkins maintained a private law practice from 1957 until 1975, when he became city clerk. After unsuccessful tries for the Manhattan borough presi­dency in 1977 and 1981 (he lost to Andrew Stein by less than three points), Dinkins was elected beep in 1985 by a two to one margin.

Unlike many, if not most, politicians, Dinkins does not tailor his speech to his audience. Speaking before the mostly white, middle-class John F. Kennedy Democratic Club in the stifling basement of a Jackson Heights Methodist church in April, Dinkins departed from his stump speech and began talking about the plight of the homeless. Dressed in a blue double-breasted suit and sweating profusely (Dinkins could break into a sweat riding the elevator in the Munici­pal Building), the candidate was unusual­ly forceful. “One day an elderly couple could be living in their apartment, the next day they’re out on the street. Some­one gets sick, the bills pile up, they fall behind on the rent and then” — snapping his fingers for emphasis — “just like that, they’re on the street.”

In fact, far from pandering to his audi­ence, Dinkins often does the opposite. In Jackson Heights, after discussing the homeless, Dinkins spoke about his 1984 and 1988 support of Jesse Jackson, not­ing that some Jews were distressed about “Jesse this and Jesse that. If I thought he was anti-Semitic I wouldn’t have sup­ported him.” The candidate then told of his longstanding support for Israel, his trip to the White Rose gravesite in Mu­nich while Ronald Reagan was in Bit­burg, and his courageous 1985 denuncia­tion of Louis Farrakhan.

[related_posts post_id_1=”729664″ /]

Similarly, when speaking to predomi­nantly black crowds, Dinkins often does not even mention Jackson’s name­ — though to do so would draw surefire ap­plause — despite the fact that Dinkins co-­chaired the reverend’s two presidential campaigns. Speaking at the monthly meeting of the predominantly black Fred­erick Douglass Club in Queens, Dinkins told the crowd of “my deep concerns for the safety and security of Israel,” as well his belief that IRA member Joe Doherty be released from prison and granted po­litical asylum.

It is rare for Dinkins to diverge from his controlled public persona. But when he does, his flashes of passion — like the ones he showed in the Jackson Heights church basement — can strongly affect crowds who view him simply as a quiet, reserved politician. On the other hand, Dinkins can also turn off crowds when his testy side appears. When pressed in public about an issue. Dinkins can be quick to snap back at a questioner.

At an endorsement meeting of the Cen­tral Brooklyn Independent Democrats, for instance, former liberal assemblyman Joe Ferris calmly asked Dinkins to ex­plain his vote in favor of the Atlantic Terminal development, an urban renewal project that, Ferris contended, would hurt poor people. “I can’t give you specifics on that, Joe. I really can’t remember,” Din­kins replied. Ferris pushed again for an explanation, pointing out that he believed the project would create more homeless families. “Now hold it,” Dinkins bel­lowed. “Look, if I asked you to remember the last time you ate egg for breakfast, you probably wouldn’t remember either.” An indignant Ferris was set to try a third time for an explanation, but he backed off. “That was a bullshit answer he gave to a serious question,” Ferris said. “We deserve better than that,” He added later. “Based on my experience with the man, in my gut, I’m troubled by him.” The former state legislator sat out CBID’s endorsement vote later that evening. Din­kins, as it turned out, did not need Ferris: the candidate won the club’s endorse­ment by a landslide.

But Dinkins has also been able to han­dle touchy subjects well. At a meeting last week of Manhattan’s Lexington Democratic Club, the second question directed at Dinkins seemed to be a plant: “Is it fair that you live in a large Mitchell-­Lama apartment when the city is in the midst of a major housing crisis?” a man asked. “Yes,” Dinkins replied, trying to dispose of the question. When the man then asked, “Is that a proper response for a public official?”, the candidate ex­plained that he, his wife, and his two children needed the space of a three-bed­room apartment when they moved into their Riverside Drive home years ago. “Nobody told us back then that someday we would be forced to move. My 430 neighbors feel the same way,” Dinkins said. He added, “I trust that you’ll ask Mayor Koch the same question about his rent-controlled apartment.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”727970″ /]

The question of Dinkins’s large, subsi­dized apartment is not considered a cam­paign negative since the man most likely to raise it — Ed Koch — is himself ware­housing a one-bedroom apartment on Washington Place in the Village. Koch has said he believes that Mitchell-Lama residents without families who live in large apartments should move into small­er ones to help ease the city’s housing shortage. Dinkins says that these tenants would undergo “extreme hardship” if forced to relocate.

There are, however, two “negatives” Dinkins will have to face in the upcoming campaign: the “tax question,” and the issue of race in an increasingly polarized city.

From 1969 to 1972, Dinkins did not file tax returns. Doak and Shrum are cur­rently “massaging” that issue, according to Lynch, since it is expected that some opponent (read: Koch) will use this 17-year-old episode against Dinkins. The borough president, who deftly handled the question at his February announce­ment, recently said. “I don’t think it’s unfair to be asked about it. I have never ever avoided making a full explanation.” Dinkins, who was forced to pay $15,000 in back taxes, says he believed some of his taxes were paid and that “it was one of those things that I was always going to take care of but sometimes I did not have all the funds or I did not have all the documents.”

One city campaign consultant says that Dinkins’s old tax problems will “definite­ly be used against him. It’s going to be a real item in the campaign. It doesn’t mat­ter that it’s ages old. The approach will be something like, ‘How can he handle billion-dollar budgets when he can’t even file his own taxes?'” “It only loses him votes, that’s for sure,” a party official agrees.

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

A second, and perhaps a more serious “negative,” is race. Within his campaign, Dinkins’s ability to find support in the predominantly white neighborhoods of the outer boroughs is widely considered to be the key to a primary victory and the avoidance of a runoff election. Harlem congressman Charles Rangel says that while “a lot of New Yorkers might feel uncomfortable with a black mayor,” a number of white congressmen in the city delegation are close to defecting from Koch to Dinkins. Though he would not discuss individual names, Rangel says that some of these representatives “have not yet found ways to tell their constitu­ents that they want to leave Koch.” Ac­cording to Rangel, the only two congress­men who would find it “difficult to walk away from Koch” are Queens’s Gary Ack­erman and James Scheuer.

Brooklyn’s Rabbi Jacob Goldstein, a member of the conservative Lubavitcher Hasidim community, says that “Ed Koch would have you believe that anyone who talks to Jesse Jackson is an anti-Semite. Don’t think that everyone out here agrees with that. The stereotype is that we are crazies out here, but that’s not the case. People understand that, politically, Din­kins needs to have Jesse near him.” Gold­stein, who is chairman of Community Board 9 in Crown Heights, adds, “The Jewish community outside of Manhattan has not seen much of David Dinkins. When he gets out into the communities, people will see that he doesn’t have horns on his head.”

As he addressed audiences about last month’s gang attack in Central Park, Dinkins referred to the arrested teen­agers as a band of “urban terrorists” who could have “attacked my wife, my daugh­ter.” While his proposals to combat at­tacks like these are thin — he has suggest­ed that unarmed park rangers (“Y’know, the guys with the hat”) become more involved in crime prevention — Dinkins has spoken out forcefully about the at­tack, though his words have been over­shadowed in the daily papers and the electronic media by the reactions of Ed Koch and Donald Tump.

In an interview last week, Dinkins said, “You’ve got to have a sister or daughter to feel this. It has shit to do with race. But it’s got everything to do with a real brutal fucking act. They not only raped her … but they beat the shit out of her. Now in that climate, I cannot get exercised about whether someone calls them a ‘wolfpack.'”

[related_posts post_id_1=”29428″ /]

Though Lynch and Dinkins dismiss the possibility that the Central Park attack will have a negative impact on the Din­kins campaign, five city politicians inter­viewed by the Voice said the event would probably hurt the Manhattan borough president. One city councilman said, “Strictly on racial terms, this does noth­ing to enhance [black] empowerment ar­guments.” Herman Badillo, a Dinkins foe, says that the park attack “has got to hurt him. It’s an unspoken disaster.” Lynch rejects this argument, contending that anyone who would be turned off to Din­kins because of the attack “probably wasn’t voting for him anyway.”

Lynch also dismisses the suggestion that the announcement last week of At­torney General Robert Abrams’s endorse­ment of Dinkins was intended to counter any white hostility stemming from the Central Park attack. Lynch confirms, however, that the campaign had had the Abrams endorsement lined up for more than a month. But he says Dinkins decid­ed to announce the endorsement now ­rather than late in the summer and closer to the primary-to “give us some mo­mentum.” This reasoning seems suspect, however, since momentum — in the form of recent major union endorsements — is not in short supply in the Dinkins campaign.

The role that Jesse Jackson will play in the campaign is also being discussed. Last month, Dinkins said that his cam­paign “will surely draw people from all over the country. I’m sure he’ll [Jackson] be here.” Dinkins declined to discuss whether the question of Jackson’s in­volvement was a concern to his campaign strategists, though this is another issue Doak/Shrum are examining. “We want everybody to remember that this is David’s campaign,” Lynch says. “We don’t want him overshadowed by anyone.” A Brooklyn Jewish leader who supports Dinkins says, “If Jesse is here one or two weekends, that’ll be fine. I don’t think anybody in this community will have a problem with that. But if he’s here all the time, well, that’s another story.”

The Marist poll released in April gave Dinkins a favorable rating of 59.4 per cent, far ahead of Goldin (41.4) and Koch (40.5). His unfavorable rating was 9.1 per cent (Koch’s was a whopping 54 per cent), while 31.3 per cent of those polled said they were unsure or had never heard of Dinkins. The only major candidate in either party with a higher favorable rat­ing was Giuliani (74.3 per cent), who also had as low an unfavorable rating as Din­kins (9.0). A New York Newsday poll re­leased last Sunday showed that if the primary were held today, Dinkins would receive 38 per cent of the vote, compared with Koch’s 28 per cent. However, it’s worth noting that neither of these polls (nor any other surveys released to date) have asked voters about any of Dinkins’s potential “negatives,” including race and taxes. One Dinkins supporter says, “Be­cause David is a new face to many people, you don’t know what the downside, if there is one, might be.” On the other hand, as David Garth recently made clear, Ed Koch’s negatives are all well-­known.

[related_posts post_id_1=”720961″ /]

WITH THE GLARING exception of his steadfast support for the Board of Esti­mate (and then for weighted voting), Dinkins has been the most progressive — ­while still pragmatic — voice on the Board of Estimate in his three-plus years a borough president. He has opposed the berthing of a nuclear homeport in Staten Island, beat the mayor in a showdown over the construction of heavily subsi­dized luxury housing in Clinton, and fought for community interests in con­nection with proposed commercial and residential developments at Lincoln Cen­ter and the New York Coliseum. He has been the strongest voice on the board calling for additional funding for AIDS prevention programs and the most pas­sionate spokesman for the city’s growing homeless population. His staff — which West Side council-woman Ruth Messinger calls “the most extraordinarily skilled and racially integrated staff in my memo­ry” — features some of the city’s best housing, community service, and health advocates.

But despite his record as borough pres­ident and his inspired hiring decisions, many politicians and community leaders still have reservations about Dinkins. Al­though he has proven his independence on the board, Dinkins’s organization background (he was a district leader for 20 years and is a charter member — along with Basil Paterson, Percy Sutton, and Charles Rangel — of what is derisively re­ferred to as the “Harlem Gang”) still wor­ries some.

Oliver Koppell, a Bronx assemblyman who heads that county’s “reform” move­ment, says that he believes Dinkins is untested as an “administrative manager” and that the candidate has not been an “antiorganization politician. He comes out of a regular background. Jay [Gol­din], despite some of the ethical ques­tions, does come out of a reform background.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

Herman Badillo is more critical, con­tending that Dinkins does not have “im­pressive credentials.” Badillo adds, “The mistake that he is making is that because Jesse got 45 per cent, that he too can get 45 per cent. In reality, Dinkins is closer to Denny Farrell than he is Bo Jackson. Dinkins doesn’t stir up the passion that’s needed.” Badillo’s comments are no sur­prise, since he holds Dinkins responsible for the Coalition for a Just New York’s last-minute support for Manhattan as­semblyman Herman “Denny” Farrell over Badillo in the 1985 mayoral race. (Far­rell’s entry into the race and his non-cam­paign helped Koch easily gain reelection.)

Dinkins dismisses Badillo as “not a factor” in this year’s election. (The Latin vote may be the key bloc in this year’s primary, and, according to both New York Newsday and a recent poll conduct­ed by Local 1199 — which supports Dinkins — the Manhattan borough president already holds a wide lead over the other Democratic candidates in the Latin com­munity.) “As for the betrayal he speaks of, I was never for him [Badillo],” Din­kins says. “I was supporting Carol Bella­my.” He adds that he has been unfairly slammed on the Farrell debacle: “The vote was 28 to 14 … including such peo­ple as Herb Daughtry and Roger Green voting for Denny. Will you tell me how, in that climate, this gets to be my fault? That’s the dumbest shit I ever heard of. It’s just plain asinine. And I have been carrying the weight for that from that day right down to now, right now, with The City Sun and certain others. So they can all take a running jump.”

However, even some of Dinkins’s sup­porters are worried about the lack of “passion” that Badillo cites. A Brooklyn community activist who supports Din­kins says, “I’m concerned that David start turning up the heat a bit. I think Lynch should be feeding him raw onions­in the morning.” Charles Rangel, howev­er, insists that Dinkins “has the ability to govern. I’ve heard this stuff about him being a wimp, being quiet. But I’ve known him too long. He is a former Ma­rine. And I have seen that former Marine take charge.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”730253″ /]

SOME OF THE BEST receptions Dinkins has received to date have been on Staten Island, which is not usually a hotbed of liberalism. It will be in white areas of the city like this where the Dinkins campaign must make that crucial crossover, accord­ing to Lynch.

On a recent Friday night, in a Knights of Columbus hall, Dinkins spoke to about 100 men gathered for the monthly meet­ing of the Amalgamated Transit Union. The ATU has been fighting against the explosion of private bus lines on the is­land and the city’s granting of franchises to out-of-state, non-union bus companies. Many of the bus drivers and mechanics in the crowd were dressed in their MTA uniforms, having come directly from work.

After being introduced by former city council president Paul O’Dwyer and Shir­ley Quill, the widow of former Transport Workers Union boss Mike Quill, Dinkins got a standing ovation as he walked to the podium. Wearing an ATU cap and baseball jacket, the Manhattan borough president looked very much like a Little League coach. Speaking below portraits of Christopher Columbus and Fulton Sheen, Dinkins drew sustained cheers when he told the predominantly white unionists that he opposed the city’s poli­cy of granting franchises to the out-of-­state firms. As he left the hall, Dinkins proudly displayed the jacket the union had given him, with the inscription, “Da­vid Dinkins, Mayor.”

At another Staten Island meeting — ­this time, a public hearing of Community Board 3 — Dinkins reiterated his support for the transit workers. After Dinkins had departed the auditorium, Ron Bell, the business manager for a longshoremen’s local at Howland Hook, told the crowd, “We have to change the city gov­ernment come November. And I person­ally feel that David Dinkins is the man.” Bell, who is white, received a large ova­tion from the audience. People like the union leader, with his gray hair and brown flannel shirt, were once Ed Koch’s core voters.

In less than a month, the Dinkins cam­paign will begin gathering nominating pe­tition signatures for the September primary. Though the bulk of these signatures — 10,000 are needed to qualify for the ballot — will surely be collected in minority neighborhoods like Harlem and Fort Greene, it will be in such areas as Riverdale, Stapleton, and Forest Hills that Dinkins’s campaign must take root. It is in these neighborhoods that Ed Koch’s base has eroded from under him. And it is in these neighborhoods that David Dinkins must prove he is the best alternative, something he has yet to accomplish. ❖

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES From The Archives NYC ARCHIVES THE FRONT ARCHIVES

Koch’s Clan: The Way We Were

NEW HAVEN — It is worth remembering what might have been. If Ed Koch had been elected governor in 1982, Stanley Friedman would not merely be the boss of the Bronx. Governor Koch would have made him head of the state Democratic Party in early 1983. Later that year the governor and his party chief would have moved to elect Donald Manes mayor. Then Manes, as the Queens boss once promised his bagman Geoff Lindenauer, “would’ve really showed” Lindy “how to make money.” In Ed Koch’s city, Stanley Friedman and Donald Manes were the twin towers of insider trading, the most powerful of the mayor’s men. The just­-completed trial record of their crimes is in a sense Ed Koch’s third book — a can­did account, at last, of his government.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

It is also worth remembering what was. Twenty years ago, Donald Manes and Friedman’s codefendant Michael Lazar first assumed public office. In January 1966, they were sworn in as newly elected members of the City Council. At precise­ly the same moment, an unknown club­house lawyer from the Bronx, Stanley Friedman, got his first City Hall job as associate counsel to the City Council majority leader. A few months later, Ed Koch won the Village council seat in a special election and joined the other three in City Hall. The four became gi­ants in this city on virtually the same calendar — until Manes decided to cele­brate their mutual 20th anniversary of public prominence by slashing his wrist on January 10. Lazar was by then king of the clubhouse developers, cut in even on Times Square, while Friedman and Ma­nes owned entire counties. Koch, who be­came mayor in 1977 by running against an administration then dominated by Deputy Mayor Friedman, Transportation administrator Lazar, and Borough Presi­dent Manes, wound up giving pieces of his own government to these same per­manent pols, in exchange for a recurrent position on Manes and Friedman’s Elec­tion Day palmcards. Koch would now have us believe he was naïve. He says he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Finally, it’s worth noting what’s to come. The Times‘s Josh Barbanel recent­ly reported that the city’s former taxi chief Jay Turoff, slated for trial in Febru­ary on federal bribery charges, may soon be reindicted, adding new charges. His trial will lift the curtain on the operations of another Koch agency ceded to the clubhouse: the Taxi and Limousine Com­mission. In addition, U.S. Attorney Rudy Giuliani told Gabe Pressman on a Sunday talk show that Friedman’s conviction is hardly the climax of the city scandal, that there are more cases to come. Giu­liani says that he has “concrete reasons” to expect the convictions to loosen other tongues. The most likely new government witnesses are two longstanding Friedman allies who, unlike most Friedman friends, never made a supportive appearance in New Haven: Bronx party secretary Mur­ray Lewinter and former city planning commissioner Ted Teah. Bronx beep Stanley Simon has been publicly volun­teering to go into a Giuliani grand jury. The brewing Giuliani cases revolve around cable, towing, and water tunnel contracts, as well as city economic devel­opment projects.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

Former city transportation chief Tony Ameruso has just been indicted, and fed­eral prosecutors in Brooklyn are closing in on the borough’s former Democratic boss Meade Esposito and Bronx con­gressman Mario Biaggi. The new U.S. at­torney in Brooklyn, Andrew Maloney, is still considering the long dormant case against Staten Island beep Ralph Lam­berti. Federal and state probers are also refocusing on the Brooklyn and Queens projects of developer Joshua Muss, whose special relationship with the city’s Public Development Corporation led to his des­ignation for two prime public sites.

There may also be more direct reper­cussions of the Friedman case. Manhat­tan District Attorney Robert Morgen­thau still has his own version of a Friedman case ready for trial. In addition to Friedman and his businessman code­fendant Marvin Kaplan, the state case involves three more principals of Citi­source, the Friedman computer firm whose city contract was the centerpiece of Giuliani’s case. Two of the state defen­dants, Martin Solomon and Kaplan’s brother Albert, regularly attended the trial in New Haven. Since Morgenthau is presently probing a state Citisource deal that involved the Biaggi law firm, this federal conviction may give the D.A. new leverage to cut a deal with the Kaplans that could protect the state defendants not nailed in New Haven.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727956″ /]

While there is no indication that either Kaplan would be willing to cooperate, an­other defendant in the Friedman case, Michael Lazar, went to a lawyer close to Giuliani and tried to negotiate a deal be­fore the trial began. He may well seek to lessen his time in federal prison by reap­proaching Giuliani before Judge Whit­man Knapp sentences him in March. A close friend of Manes’s, Lazar had exten­sive dealings with PDC, the department of Housing Preservation and Develop­ment, and other city and state agencies. Lazar’s trial strategy seemed to concede conviction on the two cash bribe counts and concentrate instead on undermining the two other, more arcane racketeering charges (involving Lazar’s alleged bribe of former PVB director Lester Shafran by offering him an investment opportunity in a mid-Manhattan real estate ven­ture and Lazar’s promise of an equity interest for Lindy and Manes in a collec­tion company, Miller & Rothman, that never got off the ground).

Had Lazar been convicted only on the cash bribes, he could have tried to get the whole case thrown out on appeal by argu­ing that the cash bribes should have been a single count and were arbitrarily split into two counts (under federal racketeer­ing statutes, a defendant must be nailed on at least two racketeering acts). But his conviction on the Miller & Rothman charges, as well as the cash bribes, leaves him with little to appeal (though he is reportedly considering using high-priced appellate attorney Alan Dershowitz). In­deed, the only defendant convicted in New Haven with appealable legal issues is Marvin Kaplan, who was convicted on only two racketeering charges that argu­ably might be regarded as the same act. But Kaplan was also found guilty on per­jury and mail fraud charges.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

Friedman was convicted on every rack­eteering and mail fraud count. The jury apparently had little difficulty making up its mind about Friedman since only one of their notes to the judge asked a question about his case (most of the jury notes required the readback of testimony related to Shafran and Lazar). The one note about Friedman had nothing to do with the allegations involving the Citi­source stock scam, which the jury accepted without question. Clearly the jury did not believe that Friedman, whose two days of testimony constituted virtually the entire defense case, was telling the truth.

So far the Friedman appeal discussions have focused on Judge Knapp’s decision to bar the testimony of an assistant dis­trict attorney who interviewed Manes im­mediately after the first suicide attempt and would presumably have testified that Manes initially lied about trying to kill himself. Friedman attorney Tom Puccio was going to use this testimony, together with a videotape of Manes in his hospital bed admitting he lied, to suggest that Manes had deceived Lindenauer about Friedman’s role in the Citisource scam. Such are the slim pickin’s of a Friedman appeal. ❖

Research assistance: Leslie Conner and Kathy Silberger 

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES From The Archives NYC ARCHIVES Uncategorized

After Stanley Friedman’s Fall

It’s Time For The Governor To Act

I once saw Stanley Friedman cry. It wasn’t last Tuesday morning in New Haven when the jury foreman said he was guilty of racketeering. It was a night long ago in the Hunter College gym, when Stanley Friedman’s mistake cost City College a basketball game. It was the only time I ever saw Friedman show any weakness or vulnerability. He was 20 years old then, and his wiseguy nickname was already Bugsy.

About three months ago, a partial ad­mirer of Friedman asked me why I never wrote anything kind about him. I replied that the only sincere compliment I could pay him was to say that “Friedman proves there is honor among thieves.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”727478″ /]

Stanley Friedman was probably the only honorable crook that Donald Manes and Geoffrey Lindenauer could trust to hold 50,000 shares of Citisoursce stock for an indefinite period of time. He was the person Datacom trusted to broker bribes. Witnesses against Friedman called him “a stand-up guy” who had “brass balls.” For this he deserves a cer­tain grudging respect — and about 10 years in prison.

As a defendant, Friedman behaved with a kind of arrogant cynicism that can easily be mistaken for dignity. He had the chutzpah to lie on the witness stand, and concoct a sentimental alibi that he was holding the bribery stock for his chil­dren — and then denounce prosecutor Ru­dolph Giuliani for bringing his 10-month­-old son, whom Giuliani hadn’t seen for weeks, to the courthouse during jury deliberations.

Friedman was the exact opposite of his co-conspirator Donald Manes. Manes re­membered right from wrong, and when he was about to be found out, felt such guilt and pain that he killed himself. To have killed himself, Manes had to have been mentally disturbed. But he was able to feel disgrace, because at some level he understood that taking bribes in the uri­nal of his public office was a shameful act. He felt he couldn’t survive it and grow a new skin.

Manes had started in politics as an idealist. He named the political club he founded after his hero, Adlai Stevenson; he probably was gradually corrupted over the course of his career by power, by envy, by feeling he owned the office he occupied for 15 years.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

I don’t think Friedman was ever an idealist. He was a cynic who thought he was a philosopher about where the line was drawn between cunning and crime. He was in politics and government to enrich himself and his bribery ring, and he didn’t care what happened to the citi­zens of Morrisania, Hunts Point, and the South Bronx. In one sense, this indiffer­ence to his community is among his worst felonies. There is no cable TV in the Bronx, and a scarcity of cabs, because Friedman represented the interests of his clients instead of his constituents.

And he was in politics to get even as well as rich. He grew up in the South Bronx, the only child of a poor family. His father was a taxi driver, and for the last several years, Friedman controlled the taxi industry as the lobbyist for the fleets and power broker at City Hall. He paid taxes on $914,000 in income for 1985, and he acted like that wasn’t mon­ey enough to heal the hurts of his childhood.

Friedman was defiant about his amo­rality. He couldn’t feel the shame Manes must have felt, because he didn’t think his kind of white-collar gangsterism was outside the law. He didn’t see the differ­ence between extortion and politics. He even tried to cultivate the look of a semi-­hood with his fat cigar, his eyeglasses with rhinestone initials on the rims, his flashy style of dress, and devilish goa­tee — before he tried to disguise himself as a dentist on the eve of his trial.

There was one moment in the trial when I became convinced Friedman was going to be convicted. Rudolph Giuliani asked him if he had made $10,000 for making two influence-peddling phone calls to Donald Manes. “No, just one call,” Friedman corrected — his warped sense of government hitting the Hartford jurors in the teeth.

During the trial two witnesses testified that Friedman, rather than speak and risk being taped, wrote incriminating things on pieces of paper, and then ripped and burned the paper like a pro­fessional mobster. These anecdotes reinforced a story a journalist told me several years ago about Friedman.

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

During the last week of the Beame ad­ministration, Friedman, who was then deputy mayor, had promised the journal­ist some documents. But Friedman failed to deliver them and time was running out. So the journalist left a note for Friedman on his desk, reminding him of the promised papers. A few minutes later an irate Friedman rushed into the press room, waving the note, and screamed at the journalist: “Goddamn it, I told you, never put anything in writing. Never.”

The people never chose Stanley Fried­man to be Democratic county leader. He was not even a district leader. He only moved to the Bronx after he became county leader. He wasn’t elected. His im­mense power had nothing to do with de­mocracy or elections. His power came from Ed Koch’s persuading the elected district leaders to name him county lead­er, and from getting hundreds of patronage jobs from City Hall, and millions of dollars in contracts from City Hall for his clients. Most of Friedman’s power de­rived from Koch and the three tainted enforcers of Bronx politics — Ramon Velez, Joe Galiber, and Mario Biaggi­ — whose influence made him the county leader.

Perhaps because he hadn’t faced the voters, Friedman wanted his trial moved to New Haven, with a jury pool from Hartford. He didn’t trust the people of the city he’d looted from a backroom. He was convicted by a jury he selected. Friedman had no respect for ordinary New Yorkers, and that is one reason why he was able to steal and lie with no guilt.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727515″ /]

There is an element of tragedy to Friedman’s fall. He had authentic leader­ship qualities, particulary intelligence, and the capacity to be loyal and inspire loyalty from others. He reminds me of the cops who get medals for bravery and then turn crooked, and get a lot of youn­ger cops to follow them into corruption because they are so effective on the street.

There are also two other ways of look­ing at the city scandals that have tragic dimensions.

One involves Mayor Koch, who every few months declares the scandal finished and behind him, and then has to distance himself from each new “shock.” Koch continues to treat the historic and sys­temic corruption as an annoyance to be­ dealt with by wishful thinking and public relations.

I remember Koch’s early campaigns for district leader against Carmine DeSapio in the 1960s, when Koch ran on promises to eliminate all clubhouse patronage, and root out conflicts of interest, and award city contracts on merit.

If Koch hadn’t betrayed his own best principles, his city government wouldn’t have become the cesspool it now is. In fact, there is an almost Greek tragedy in Koch’s odyssey from the conqueror of DeSapio to the defender of Friedman’s Citisource contract at the City Club in 1984. The need to acquire power made him close his eyes. Ambition made him choose to act naive. He took power, not money. What is the difference?

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

The roots of these scandals go back to the Sunday morning in September 1977 when Ed Koch received Meade Esposi­to’s commitment to throw the Brooklyn machine behind him instead of Mario Cuomo in the runoff for mayor. Cuomo wouldn’t even ask Esposito for support, because he knew the price would be too high — that when Esposito said “respect,” he meant patronage. Koch, who needed to win more than Cuomo did, promised to make Anthony Ameruso and Jay Thr­off — Esposito’s clubhouse stooges — city commissioners. Koch bargained his soul to get what he desired. If he had kept faith with the ideas and values in his 1963 speeches, he might have lost the election, but the city would be better off today. And even Koch might be more at peace with himself today, and less fright­ened of tomorrow’s newspapers.

The other tragic element in all this is the absence of visible public outrage. Perhaps the ordinary working people of this city have no way of expressing anger, and we are only seeing powerlessness rather than apathy, or fatalism, or indifference.

Since the scandal started to evolve in January, nothing fundamental has changed. Because of Warren Anderson’s obstructionism, the state legislature did not enact any of the more serious ethics reforms proposed by the governor and the attorney general. The city council has not acted to change the way no-bid, sole-­source contracts are given out to campaign contributors, or to ban county lead­ers from holding an interest in companies that receive city contracts. (Remember, with the convictions of Friedman, Pat Cunningham, Matthew Troy, Carmine DeSapio, and the ghost of Donald Manes at New Haven, the crime rate among Democratic Party bosses is higher than the crime rate of the Hell’s Angels.)

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

None of the opportunities for corrup­tion have been abolished. Tom Manton (who left the country to avoid testifying in New Haven) became the party leader in Queens even though he also holds pub­lic office — the same mixing of govern­ment and patronage that Manes abused. Joe Galiber has been reelected to the state legislature while he is on trial in the Bronx for crimes involving the mob. The decision by The New York Times to en­dorse Al D’Amato for reelection showed that even the establishment doesn’t take ethical government all that seriously.

The drastic reforms that need to be adopted are not secret. They are all listed in the excellent reports issued by the So­vern Commission; in press releases from Robert Abrams, Franz Leichter, and Ruth Messinger; in speeches by Rudolph Giuliani. They are in Ed Koch’s 1963 campaign leaflets. What’s missing is pres­sure from the people, and anger pointed directly at Koch, Warren Anderson, Howard Golden, Tom Manton, Stanley Simon, Denny Farrell, Peter Vallone, and others who still practice business-as-usu­al. An hour after Friedman was convict­ed, Vallone put out an oddly irrelevant statement about the appeals process. He did not mention public financing of cam­paigns. Or Carolyn Maloney’s bill lan­guishing in his city council to prohibit politicians from simultaneously holding public and party office. Vallone is the Rosemary’s baby of New York politics — ­the offspring of the final deal between Manes and Friedman.

One of the lessons we learned from the Watergate hearings and the Knapp Com­mission hearings and Andrew Stein’s nursing home hearings is that the best way to educate the public to feel con­structive anger is through the drama of televised testimony. These instructive hearings did not prejudice the trials that occurred subsequently. The truth may make us free — if enough people see it in their living rooms. That’s what we need now in New York. The time has come for Governor Cuomo to appoint a Seabury-­type commission, with broad subpoena powers, to hold public hearings and com­pel those responsible for the shame of our city to testify under oath about exactly how they did it.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721001″ /]

A commission modeled on Seabury could be chaired by politically sophisti­cated but independent statesmen like federal judge Eugene Nickerson, federal judge Jack Weinstein, former U.S. attor­ney Paul Windels, or presiding appellate judge Milton Mollen.

I want to hear Geoffrey Lindenauer ex­plain how he — a pathological liar with a fraudulent degree, who had sex with his patients at a phony clinic that went bankrupt — got himself appointed by Mayor Koch to be deputy director of the Parking Violations Bureau in July 1980, a job for which he had no qualifications or experience.

I want to see Stanley Simon, in front of the cameras, asked why he wouldn’t waive immunity and testify before a Bronx grand jury after he promised that he would. I want to hear Simon explain why he successfully pushed Cablevision to get the Bronx franchise after the com­pany had promised to pay $3 million in “fees” to Friedman, Mario Biaggi’s for­mer law firm, Ramon Velez, and other clubhouse sponges.

I want Meade Esposito to explain how he became a millionaire in the insurance and printing business through his abuse of political influence. I want Esposito to explain to the people of this city why he was such intimate friends with a hood named Fritzie Giovenelli, who walked around with a loaded gun and murdered a New York City police officer last January.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727525″ /]

Let’s hear Anthony Ameruso explain to the people who pay rent and mortgages and day-care fees where he got the money to secretly invest $20,000 in a parking lot while he was transportation commission­er, and what he did with the $140,000 profit he took out of the lot while he was still a city official. (Ameruso was indicted yesterday for lying about how he invested the money he took out of the parking lot.)

Put Ramon Velez under oath and on television and ask him to tell us how he has come to control $16 million in anti­poverty funds, placed in his custody by the Koch administration.

And put Stanley Friedman and Mike Lazar in the hot glare of the TV lights. Warn them that unless they tell us everything they know about cable television, midtown development, the taxi industry, the water-tunnel cost overruns, towing contracts, and the making of judges, they will both receive substantial prison terms.

We need to know what has happened. Our history also has been stolen from us. Only a commission whose mission is edu­cation, not prosecution — appointed by the governor — can disclose the facts that will bring about the outrage that is the necessary prologue to reform.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727532″ /]

Televised hearings would help reveal to the voters the nature and values of the men who rule the city, in the way that Friedman’s testimony at the trial re­vealed his mentality to the jurors. Let the whole city see Velez, Simon, Esposito, and Ameruso the way they really are.

In late 1930, Governor Franklin Delano Roosevelt appointed Judge Sam Seabury to investigate corruption in the courts. Three years later, after dramatic public hearings at which Mayor Jimmy Walker testified under oath, the mayor was forced to resign, just as the governor was about to remove him from office.

Walker was followed into City Hall by Fiorello La Guardia because the Seabury hearings had informed and outraged the people. Unless some forum is created to convert fatalism into fury, nothing, in the long run, will change.

The ultimate remedy for corrupt gov­ernment is participatory democracy. Peo­ple who are now apathetic have to become politicized. We need to change the methods of government, not just the faces at the top. The problems are the alliance between the clubhouse and the contractors that can turn city agencies into racketeering enterprises; the domi­nance of campaign money over public policy; and the capacity of outside power brokers like Friedman, Lazar, Esposito, and Velez to manipulate the contract and franchise decisions of elected government by delivering votes and contributions.

The real tragedy would be if two years from now, Friedman and Lazar are in prison, the Sovern Commission reforms are forgotten, and Ed Koch, Howard Golden, Peter Vallone, and Denny Far­rell are the leading candidates for mayor. ❖

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES NEW YORK CITY ARCHIVES NYC ARCHIVES

What Did Koch Know, and When Did He Know It?

Anatomy of a Cover-Up

I’m the perfect route to the downfall of this administration.
— Bess Myerson, New York magazine,
March 30, 1987

In the middle of the afternoon last Friday, Ed Koch slouched in his office chair, with just a cou­ple of cameras to perform for and a handful of print reporters. He’d called a press conference to badger the City Council and the Board of Estimate about the budget, but the reporters wanted one more run through the Myer­son thicket — a complex and mounting series of questions about the mayor’s knowledge of former Cultural Affairs commissioner Bess Myerson’s wrongdoing, which had dominated news coverage at City Hall all week. For the next half-hour, the mayor became a zombie.

“I don’t know,” “I can’t recall,” “I can’t reconstruct that,” were Koch’s answers to question after question. He looked like a man who’d spent the night in an arcade with a pocketful of quarters; a video­game glaze had seized control of him. Having struck out on questions that pushed Koch’s memory about events as far away as 1983, the Voice‘s Wayne Bar­rett asked him to think back to when he first read the Tyler report in early April of this year. Barrett wondered if Koch could recall whether the report’s account of the activities of his close friend and aide Herb Rickman rang a bell with him, sounded like something he’d heard be­fore, or whether it was news to him — the first time he’d ever heard that Rickman had warned both Myerson and Judge Hortense Gabel not to go ahead with the hiring of the judge’s daughter. The mayor paused. The mayor grimaced. The mayor grappled. But nothing came out. He couldn’t remember again.

The mayor’s memory lapses last week were part of a four-year-old stonewall on questions about Bess Myerson. And the stonewall did not end with the confer­ence. Moments after Koch finished, the gray tape recorder that the press office used to record the conference was hurried into a small private office 40 feet from the mayor’s. The office belongs to Herb Rickman, who immediately sat with an assistant, listening to a playback of the mayor’s amnesia.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

Koch cannot be sure that Rickman will decide to match the mayor’s apparent evasions with his own. A former assistant U.S. attorney who voluntarily appeared before Judge Harold Tyler’s commission and the federal grand jury probing Myerson without even retaining an attorney, Rickman has been a sword in Myerson’s gut. If sworn or forced by the press, he might be the same to the mayor. Rick­man knows how many times Koch was warned about Myerson over the past four years and he knows the depths of the mayor’s indifference. Rickman told Tyler a good portion of the truth about Myer­son, but no one, until now, has asked him to spell out his own conversations with Myerson’s stubborn protector, Ed Koch. When Rickman raises his hand for the Ferrick Commission — appointed by Gov­ernor Cuomo to probe the city scandal — ­he may, combined with other evidence of warnings to the mayor, put Koch at the center of a legal firestorm.

The report, news stories over the last week, and Voice interviews suggest the following chronology of cover-up:

1983: FOUR DOORS FROM KOCH 

Around Labor Day in 1983, Herb Rickman, whose office is only four doors down the hall from Koch’s, learned that his longtime close friend, Bess Myerson, had hired the daughter of another friend of his, Hortense Gabel. The hiring deeply disturbed Rickman, who knew that Judge Gabel was then hearing a difficult divorce case involving Myerson’s lover, city sewer contractor Andy Capasso. A week later, the New York Post reported (on Septem­ber 14, 1983) that the Capasso divorce case was heating up and that Myerson and Capasso had “recently been playing coy” about their relationship. This story appeared the same day that Judge Gabel slashed Capasso’s alimony payments by two-thirds. Rickman says he then ar­ranged a meeting with Myerson to warn her about the appearance of impropriety and to urge her not to go through with the Gabel hiring. Later he went to lunch with Judge Gabel and warned her.

But Rickman, who was so troubled he confronted two of his friends face-to-face, has so far maintained that he said noth­ing to the mayor, even though the con­flict of interest involved the possibly ille­gal use of a city job. The mayor also says Rickman divulged nothing to him, noting that it would have been better if Rickman came forward, but insisting that Rickman did nothing wrong. Rickman’s explana­tion for his silence is that Myerson as­sured him that the major decisions in the divorce case had occurred before she hired Sukhreet and that the hiring had been “cleared by City Hall.” These expla­nations temporarily satisfied Rickman, although a City Hall sign-off on the hir­ing — minus the information he had — ­would have been routine. (Of course if Rickman saw the September 14 Post story, he would’ve known that the divorce case was still active after Sukhreet’s hiring.)

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

What apparently bothered Rickman was that Myerson’s hiring of the judge’s daughter was a blatant conflict that could attract public attention. His own actions, if they were designed to both help and protect Myerson, suggested a far more subtle approach. Several months before Myerson offered Sukhreet a job, Rick­man began looking for one for her, at the urging of Judge Gabel, whom Rickman had known for years. At a lunch with Sukhreet in May or June 1983, Rickman picked up her resumé. According to Sukhreet, Rickman took it to city eco­nomic development commissioner Larry Kieves, who interviewed her, but did not offer a job. Myerson had simultaneously begun the wooing of Judge Gabel, whose handling of the divorce case had been reported in a March front-page New York Post story that featured a picture of Myerson. During this period, Myerson, Rickman, the judge, and her husband, Dr. Milton Gabel, had dinner at a restaurant. But it is unclear if jobhunter Rickman was acting only out of affection for Judge Gabel or was aware that Myerson was then engaged in what the Tyler report described as a conscious “courtship of the judge.”

The Tyler report says these various contacts culminated in a dinner party at Judge Gabel’s home, attended by about 14 people, on June 17, 1983. Myerson and Rickman attended together. (Rickman, who is gay, and Myerson have been social companions for two decades.) Myerson met Sukhreet for the first time, and the two spent most of the evening chatting. Tyler concluded: “If Myerson was looking for a way to influence Justice Gabel, and we believe she was, it became apparent by the dinner on June 17, if not before, that Ms. Gabel provided the best path to that result.”

Rickman sought a job for Sukhreet while spending several long weekends at Capasso’s Westhampton Beach house, and listening to Myerson and Capasso’s incessant talk about Capasso’s divorce and Judge Gabel. He saw the divorce papers strewn all over the house. With the collapse of his efforts at OED and the pressure of the critical alimony decisions in the divorce case, Myerson took mat­ters into her own hands. Yet when Rick­man learned that Myerson had hired Sukhreet herself — as her own special as­sistant no less — he says he kept his infor­mation to himself. And the mayor now says that’s all right with him.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727478″ /]

OCTOBER 1983: TWO DECEPTIVE LETTERS

On October 18, 1983, the Post re­ported that Myerson’s agency had hired Sukhreet Gabel while Judge Gabel was handling the Capasso case. Herb Rickman was surprised and outraged because the story indirectly attributed the hiring — which he had op­posed — to him. A Myerson spokesperson was quoted as saying that Rickman had tried to get Gabel a job at the Office of Economic Development, but that prob­lems had developed “so her resumé was sent to me.” Rickman told Tyler he an­grily called Myerson and her assistant, correcting the inference that he had something do with the resumé winding up at DCA. But he did not stop there.

Rickman told the press last week that he also informed the mayor the Post sto­ry was incorrect and made it clear that he’d had nothing to do with Sukhreet Gabel’s hiring. During his press confer­ence on Friday, the mayor could not re­call when Rickman told him about the error in the Post story. But sources famil­iar with the facts told the Voice that Rickman went to the mayor about the story “the moment it appeared.”

The timing is important because the day after the story Myerson sent the mayor a letter that responded to the Post piece and falsely contended that “most of what had to be decided” in the divorce case “had already been decided in the first six months, a major part of it in favor of Mrs. Capasso.” On October 21, the mayor answered Myerson’s letter with a brief note of praise, saying Myer­son had done “exactly the right thing in filling an open job with an able person.” The Tyler report has established that Myerson’s description of the hiring pro­cess in her letter to Koch was a wholesale fraud, designed to deceive the mayor.

But the mayor already had two reasons to question the truthfulness of Myerson’s letter. Rickman had just told him that Myerson’s suggestion in the Post story that he’d referred Gabel for the job was false. And the Post story of September 14 established that the divorce case was at such a critical junction after Sukhreet was hired on August 29 that Capasso and Myerson were trying to conceal their own relationship. These facts alone should have prompted Koch to hesitate before enthusiastically endorsing Myerson’s conduct. His own City Hall personnel staff could’ve told him, had they been asked, that Gabel was hired before the vacancy notice was even published, de­stroying the facade of a search concocted in Myerson’s letter.

Tyler concluded that Judge Gabel’s as­sertions that she had not read the Post stories of March and September — which describe her own decisions and link the Capasso divorce to Myerson — were unbe­lievable. Is it believable that the Septem­ber 14 Post piece was missed by Koch, a voracious newspaper reader; Rickman, who had spent much of the summer with the very people named in the story; and the mayor’s chief of staff Diane Coffey, the City Hall liaison to Cultural Affairs who reviewed Myerson’s letter with Koch? At a minimum, this story would’ve alerted them to the falseness of Myer­son’s assertion that the case was virtually over.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

1984: JULY 4 FIREWORKS

The Tyler report indicates that Myerson called Rickman in March 1984 and left a message regarding a state decision to suspend payments on two contracts with Capasso’s company because of apparent violations of law by Capasso in the use of phony minority fronts as subcontractors. By July 1984, Rickman knew enough about an investigation of Capasso’s construc­tion company, Nanco, to warn Koch not to attend a July 4, 1984 party at Capas­so’s Westhampton Beach house. Rickman declined to go himself and called Koch, telling him that he had “heard there was a problem.” Koch, who had been invited by Myerson, said at the press conference last Friday that he went because “there were no indictments.” Ultimately Attorney General Robert Abrams did indict Nanco on these charges.

Rickman’s rejection of the party invita­tion was part of a conscious decision to distance himself from Myerson. Some months back Rickman told New Yorker reporter Andy Logan that he was con­sciously cutting his contacts with Myer­son during this period, gradually ending their social relationship. The Voice has learned that Rickman told the mayor he was disassociating himself from Myerson, although it is unclear precisely when Rickman told him or whether he told the mayor why he was cutting his ties. These discussions, together with Rickman’s call about the party, constituted a second wave of warnings to the mayor.

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

1985: THE GIFTS, AND A HIT-AND-RUN DRIVER

In the summer of 1985, Nancy Capas­so’s counsel, Herman Turnow, met with the mayor’s City Hall counsel, Pat Mulhearn. Turnow says he spoke to Mulhearn “about the interrelation­ship of Judge Gabel’s ruling on the alimo­ny and child support to reports that Bess Myerson hired the judge’s daughter.” Mulhearn says they “never discussed the giving of the job to her” or at least that he has “no recollection of that.” Mul­hearn and Turnow agree that they did discuss the propriety of Myerson, a city official, receiving expensive gifts — includ­ing the use of a Palm Beach condo, a company limo, and a Mercedes sports car — from a company with $200 million in city contracts. Mulhearn maintained there was no ethical violation, saying, “After all, they are friends.” Turnow says he discovered in this visit to City Hall a wholly different set of ethical standards than his own.

Mulhearn passed the issue of gifts on to the mayor, but Koch says that Mul­hearn and then corporation counsel Fritz Schwarz told him that acceptance of the gifts was “within ethics guidelines.” At his Friday press conference, the mayor angrily rejected questions by WNBC’s Gabe Pressman, who was pressing him on the appropriateness of these gifts, none of which were listed on Myerson’s finan­cial disclosure statements filed with the city clerk.

When Mulhearn met with Turnow, he was already sitting on another hot potato involving Myerson. Myerson had refused for six months to fire her city chauffeur after the Department of Investigation found that the driver had been involved in a hit-and-run incident while driving Myerson’s city car, that he’d driven Myerson for two and a half years with a suspended license, and that he had improperly been permitted to carry and dis­play Myerson’s city shield when she was not in the car. Myerson had refused to act on a detailed DOI report sent her in February 1985, and DOI had at first en­listed Mulhearn to try to force Myerson to fire the driver. When nothing happened, DOI Commissioner Pat McGinley brought the subject up at a meeting with the mayor, Mulhearn and Deputy Mayor Stan Brezenoff. The mayor reportedly told Brezenoff and Mulhearn: “Take care of it.”

Of course, as the Tyler report fully demonstrated, the driver had intimate knowledge of Myerson’s activities in the Gabel case as well as information about her violations of city law regarding both the gifts and the illegal use of his own services by Myerson. Myerson, who had directed the driver to falsify his mileage reports to the city, was protecting her own accomplice. Despite Mulhearn’s in­volvement, the driver was never fired, but resigned and was placed in a job deliver­ing payrolls for the City University of New York.

By the time the issues of the gifts and the driver were brought to Koch’s atten­tion in 1985, the mayor was wading in Myerson warnings. But he did not ask the city’s Department of Investigations, which was clearly already involved with a serious Myerson matter, to examine the gift issue, nor did be refer it to the Board of Ethics, though on its face the legal question merited more than informal as­surance from in-house counsel that ev­erything was okay.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727515″ /]

1986: THE MAYOR’S McCARTHYITE ATTACK 

After the Manes suicide and the explosion of the city scandal in early 1986, the Daily News published seven investigative articles on Myerson, from May 1 to May 15. Rickman was featured in many of these stories. We know Koch read them closely because on May 2, at a City Hall news conference, he accused the News of “Mc­Carthyism.” (Koch must have meant Mary McCarthy for her brilliant renderings of the decadence of the rich.) It is certainly reasonable to assume that Rick­man, whose photo accompanied the first piece, discussed the articles with Koch.

These stories — written by Marcia Kramer, Marilyn Thompson, and Barbara Ross — revealed that U.S. Attorney Ru­dolph Giuliani was investigating Capasso and “reviewing records of Capasso’s re­cent bitter divorce.” Myerson was quoted as saying, at this late date, that she and Capasso are “friends, that’s all.” These articles demonstrated that the heart of Myerson’s defense for the hiring of Sukh­reet Gabel, contained in the 1983 letter, was fiction. Judge Gabel had, according to the News, “sharply trimmed the ali­mony payments of a businessman linked romantically to Myerson one month after Myerson hired the judge’s daughter.”

At his Friday press conference, Koch could not say why he hadn’t asked Myer­son to explain the discrepancy between the News stories and her assertions in the 1983 letter. He recalled calling her and said she simply referred him back to the 1983 exchange of letters. That was enough for the mayor to reject what was by now a mountain of evidence. He did nothing. (Giuliani told the Voice this week that the investigations of Myerson and Capasso began in his office and were not a referral from DOI. Although DOI was never asked by Koch to investigate Myerson, this week DOI called in for questioning several employees of the Ap­pellate Division, First Department, to try to find out who leaked the Tyler report to us.)

[related_posts post_id_1=”718566″ /]

1987: SEALING THE TRUTH 

Even when Myerson’s decision to take the Fifth Amendment in a federal grand jury appearance was revealed early this year, Koch’s respons was muted. He still proclaimed at a press conference that he had “faith in her integrity” and refused to fire her, although she had hidden this appearance from him. Instead, she agreed to a 90-day suspension while Tyler did his investigation.

Tyler urged Koch not to release the full report to protect witnesses from retalia­tion and safeguard Giuliani’s ongoing probe. But Tyler did not object to revealing the report’s basic conclusions. The mayor’s decision to summarize the report in five simple sentences — one of which was exculpatory — was one more cover-up gesture. As a Times editorial noted last week, “Surely more of Mr. Tyler’s story about Ms. Myerson’s sordid manipula­tion of the judge and her daughter could have been safely revealed.” To keep the report sealed, the mayor’s attorneys had railed on in court that the lives of witnesses would be in jeopardy if it were released. But Giuliani said that after the Voice broke the story last week, “no witnesses needed protection.” Everyone “is fine,” said Giuliani, “there are no problems.”

Why has Koch gone to such great lengths to protect Myerson?

He has attributed it all to friendship. In fact, no public of­ficial is less loyal to his friends than Ed Koch. In his best-selling memoir, Mayor, he wrote about how he reduced his longtime aide and then deputy mayor Ronay Menschel to tears. He has written critically about his loyal special assistant John LoCicero. In fact, inti­mates of Koch say that he has not been personally close to Myerson for years, rarely seeing her socially. It is indeed an irony that though she is widely and accurately credited with having played a piv­otal role in making him mayor, he never mentioned her in Mayor.

The fact is that Koch has protected Myerson because he has long recognized that there is no way that a damaged Myerson wouldn’t also damage him. And perhaps turn on him. The two went to such lengths to manufacture a fictional relationship that Koch is now a captive of it. In the end, the cover-up that has insulated Bess so long was designed to protect the mayor, who was joined to her in the public mind by creative advertising. As that cover-up unravels, so does he. ❖

[related_posts post_id_1=”725990″ /]

THE IMMACULATE DECEPTION 

There is a great irony in the fact that Ed Koch’s gravest crisis comes from his perceived inti­macy with Bess Myerson. The irony goes back to the Immac­ulate Deception of the 1977 campaign for mayor.

During that campaign, Koch and Myerson kissed in Co-op City, hugged in Forest Hills, held hands in a syna­gogue on Rosh Hoshanna, and looked into each other’s eyes in Pelham Park­way. The Koch campaign wanted to convey the idea of a romance to refute the whispering campaign that Koch was gay.

The romance was the invention of the brilliantly cynical David Garth, who was Koch’s chief strategist and media adviser. Once, early in the campaign, Garth told Jack Newfield he had to cancel a meeting with him because he was hav­ing lunch with “the Smith Brothers.”

Newfield asked who were the Smith Brothers.

“Oh, that’s my nickname for Ed and Bess,” Garth replied.

“I don’t get it,” said Newfield.

“Two beards, shmuck,” Garth said. and laughed.

There never was any romance be­tween Koch and Myerson, although they were good friends. It was Myerson who arranged for Koch to meet Garth, and it was Myerson who pressured Garth to mastermind the campaign, in which Koch started with 2 per cent city­-wide recognition.

Gossip columnists began to print items saying that Koch and Myerson might get married after the election, a notion that surely helped Koch with working-class Jewish voters, who might otherwise have voted for Abe Beame or Bella Abzug without considering Koch.

[related_posts post_id_1=”418247″ /]

Late in the campaign, when political reporters started to ask Koch and Myerson about a real romance, they would give coyly clever answers, like, “Anything is possible,” “We may have an announcement after the election,” or, “For now, we’re just good friends.”

In appearances with Myerson, Koch would say to audiences, “Wouldn’t she make a great first lady in Gracie Man­sion?” On television, Koch was asked if be planned to marry Myerson, and he said, “It’s always a possibility, but I don’t want to talk about it. She’s an incredible person, a warm human be­ing that I truly adore.”

Myerson acted like a surrogate wife in the 1977 campaign. She stood next to Koch on the basic campaign post­er — the only time in anyone’s memory that a nonfamily member was used in such a fashion. She made television commercials for Koch, asking, “Have you no character, Mr. Cuomo?”

It was all a charade — a consumer fraud perpetrated by the former con­sumer commissioner. Koch and Myer­son agreed to use each other to create an illusion. Koch needed to win an election and Myerson wanted a politi­cal career. Three years later, Myerson would run for the Senate with the sup­port of Koch and Garth.

But for the past six or seven years, Koch and Myerson have not been really close friends, in the way that Koch is close to Dan Wolf, David Margolis, Leonard Sandler, or Herb Rickman.

As the Myerson scandal unravels, Koch will be paying a price for his fantasy politics of 1977, which the vot­ers believed and now remember.

— W.B., J.N. & T.R.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727000″ /]

BESS’S GABEL VENDETTA

The head of the city’s Human Rights Commission says Bess Myerson demanded that Sukh­reet Gabel be fired from her second city job, a top post at the Commission, which she obtained on the recommenda­tion of her mother, state supreme court judge Hortense Gabel.

At a meeting in Myerson’s Depart­ment of Cultural Affairs office on Au­gust 7, 1984, Myerson urged human rights chairwoman Marcella Maxwell to discharge Gabel without giving any rea­son. “Bess told me I had to fire Sukh­reet,” Maxwell told the Voice. “She didn’t say why, just that I had to. I was so shocked I almost fell off my chair.”

Maxwell had in fact already decided to dismiss Gabel because “she was un­able to relate to people at the agency.” But before telling Sukhreet, she took Judge Gabel — a 20-year friend — to lunch and told her that her daughter would be sacked. “She told me, ‘You can’t do that, she’ll kill herself,’ ” says Maxwell, who agreed to Judge Gabel’s request to let Sukhreet resign.

Myerson’s demand to Maxwell two days later seems puzzling. It may have been one more lurching turn on the roller coaster of affection and rejection to which Myerson subjected Sukhreet. But it came in the midst of increasingly aggressive legal strategies by Capasso’s wife, Nancy, in their divorce case, being handled by Judge Gabel. On July 25, while being deposed by his wife’s formi­dable new attorney, Herman Turnow, Capasso balked at answering questions about his business relationships with city officials — including Myerson.

Less than a week later, on July 31, Nancy Capasso secretly recorded a dra­matic conversation with her husband in which he said she knew enough about his business dealings to put him in jail “for 400-500 years.” Capasso proposed a cash settlement of the case for $1 mil­lion to $2 million; Nancy Capasso coun­tered with $7 million to $8 million. Ca­passo clearly felt a rising desperation as Nancy and her lawyers began closing in on his business dealings, his relation­ship with Myerson — and perhaps Myer­son’s favors for Judge Gabel.

Maxwell’s hiring of Sukhreet came af­ter Judge Gabel, along with many oth­ers, had written the mayor, recommend­ing Maxwell for the Human Rights position. “Hortense told me I’d need someone I knew and trusted,” Maxwell told the Voice. Even though Maxwell barely knew Sukhreet, she took Gabel’s suggestion that she hire her daughter. Ironically, Maxwell had wanted Sukh­reet to serve as an executive assistant, at a lower salary. But no such job exist­ed, and Sukhreet was instead offered the agency’s third-highest job, a $40,000-a-year deputy commissioner­ship — more than double her DCA salary of $19,000.

Myerson displayed her protective side when Maxwell asked her to approve Sukhreet’s release from DCA. Although Myerson had demoted Sukhreet and denigrated her work, Maxwell said when she called Myerson from Judge Gabel’s apartment in June 1984, “Bess was very reluctant to let her leave.”

Myerson may have had good reason to want to keep Sukhreet close by and at the mercy of her fickle attentions. Although Judge Gabel had already sharply reduced Capasso’s child support and alimony payments in September 1983 (following Myerson’s hiring of Sukhreet at DCA), several important motions were pending, and the case was still a ticking time bomb for Capasso.

But Sukhreet’e new job also quickly began to unravel. The only task Gabel seems to have been given on her own was arranging a huge swearing-in bash for Maxwell at City Hall on July 11. Gabel told the Voice she had no further dealings with Maxwell after that. “I sat isolated and alone in my office.” Once Sukhreet began to get the same treat­ment at Human Rights that she had gotten at DCA, Myerson’s attentions re­sumed. “I hadn’t seen Bees for a long time,” said Sukhreet. “I was rather de­pressed. When Marcella started treating me horribly, I showed my work to Bess and she praised it.” When, in early Au­gust, Maxwell told Sukhreet she would be fired, Sukhreet called Myerson, and got a very different reaction than Max­well later received. “Bess was support­ive,” said Sukhreet, “she made nice clucking noises.” Gabel was at a loss to account for Myerson’s demand that she be fired. “Bess is crazy,” she said, “but Marcella is mean and vicious.”

— W.B., J.N. & T.R.

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES From The Archives NYC ARCHIVES

Snapshots of Stanley’s City

Phone Log Fixes

The following snapshots of the polit­ical life of the city — some sinister, some bizarre — are taken from the appointment diaries and phone logs of convicted former Bronx Democratic boss Stanley Friedman. The Friedman records, seized by the feds ear­ly last year and released as part of his criminal case, were maintained by Fried­man’s longtime secretary, Rose Mintzer, at Friedman’s East Side law office.

Though they cover only a portion of 1985 and a couple of weeks in January 1986, the logs unveil the machinations of a remarkable range of prominent New Yorkers — from mobsters like Tony Saler­no and Tommy Gambino to publishing giant Si Newhouse and developer king Donald Trump. The sagas of Larry Kir­wan and Carlos Galvis reveal Friedman’s onetime legendary reach into state and city government, even though neither deal was achieved. And the tales of City Councilman Bob Dryfoos and Brooklyn beep Howie Golden’s daughter Michelle are commentaries on their characters, not Friedman’s. Remarkably, there are dozens more vignettes like these left in the Friedman volumes, revealing the dai­ly activities of a quintessential power broker.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727478″ /]

Ties to Fat Tony

Fat Tony Salerno, the boss of the Gen­ovese crime family, who is now doing a century on federal racketeering charges, and Vincent “Fish” Cafora, Sa­lerno’s constant companion who is under indictment with Salerno in a still pending case, apparently visited Friedman on Oc­tober 16, 1985. Salerno had long been a client of Friedman’s senior law partner, Roy Cohn, and a Cohn aide set up the meeting with Friedman the day before, leaving this message: “Tony and Fish coming at 2 on Wednesday to see Cohn and they’d like to see you too.” The entry in Friedman’s appointment diary for 2 p.m. on Wednesday simply says “Cohn.” A notation in the logs a couple of months later lists a phone number for “Fish.” When the Voice called the number and asked for “Fish” Cafora, a man who de­clined to identify himself, said, “He isn’t here anymore.” Law enforcement sources told the Voice that the references are to Salerno and Cafora, who were apparently on a first name basis with Friedman. Reached by the Voice, Friedman refused to answer any questions about his logs.

The indictment pending against Cafora and Salerno, who was recently convicted in the commission case, contains a count against one of their alleged racketeering partners, Milton Rockman, which says that he “misrepresented and concealed” from a federal pretrial agency in the mid­west his reason for three trips to New York while out on bail pending a trial in Kansas City. The indictment says he was meeting with Salerno and other members of the Genovese family “under the guise of consulting” with an attorney, Cohn. The indictment also indicates at least one area of interest where Friedman and Sa­lerno activities overlapped — concrete.

According to the indictment, S&A Concrete and its affiliates, owned by Sa­lerno and other Genovese crime family members, controlled all concrete con­struction contracts in Manhattan exceed­ing $2 million. One of the rigged bids cited in the indictment is a $30 million contract for the just completed conven­tion center. An earlier companion case, brought by State Attorney General Rob­ert Abrams, charged that S&A and an­other concrete company close to Fried­man, Dic Underhill, rigged the convention center bid so that S&A would win it at a price 27 per cent higher than the prebid price estimates.

A Dic Underhill affiliate, S&D, was represented by Friedman and won a $7 million city contract to repair broken parking meters (that contract is now the focus of a federal probe). Two Dic Under­hill principals, Bernard Jereski and Wal­ter Goldstein, appear on Friedman phone logs and appointment diaries half a dozen times. Dic Underhill has given $12,000 to Friedman’s Bronx Democratic commit­tees in recent years, while S&A Concrete gave $1400 to a Friedman committee and Bronx beep Stanley Simon.

[related_posts post_id_1=”713118″ /]

A Cuomo Lease

State Democratic chairman Lawrence Kirwan holds no state government position, but according to Friedman log entries he was in the middle of a 1985 effort to steer a Department of Motor Vehicles office into a building owned by a big donor to the Bronx organization and borough president Stanley Simon.

On November 6, Friedman was called by party secretary Murray Lewinter and urged to call Kirwan “to speak to Motor Vehicle Com’r — would like White Plains Road for Motor Vehicle office.” Lewinter left Kirwan’s Albany telephone number for Friedman. Later that day, and again on the following day, Kirwan, who was handpicked by Governor Cuomo, left messages informing Friedman that the DMV office “will happen” on White Plains Road.

The proposed DMV site, 2078 White Plains Road, is owned by Violet Camac, who, along with her son Howard, donated $2250 to Simon’s 1985 reelection cam­paign and has given $3150 to the Bronx organization since 1982. The Camacs company, Yankee Lumber, also provided material for a rehabilitation of Democrat­ic headquarters on Williamsbridge Road. Howard Camac said that he “mentioned” to Friedman that he was interested in the state lease, but did not ask for help in securing it. Camac’s lawyer, Richard Gugliotta — whom Friedman unsuccess­fully ran for civil court judge three times — said that community opposition eventually led to DMV rejecting the White Plains Road site. “It came as a surprise to Mr. Camac that Larry Kirwan was involved,” Gugliotta said.

Friedman’s datebook shows three meetings with Camac in 1985, two of which included Kathy Zamechansky, the former head of the Bronx Overall Eco­nomic Development Corporation and a key party fundraiser. His phone logs refer to a fourth meeting in November, the day before the series of Kirwan messages re­garding the rental. The records also re­veal that Kirwan met frequently with Friedman, whose Bronx organization was one of the chief contributors to the state party (one notation refers to a $20,000 check Friedman was sending Kirwan’s state committee).

The DMV office was originally sched­uled to be located in Pelham Bay in space owned by a local businessman with no political ties. However, pressure from Si­mon, the late Republican state senator John Calandra, and Congressman Mario Biaggi forced DMV officials to withdraw the site from consideration. The White Plains Road site was the state’s next choice, but this time — despite Kirwan and Friedman’s support for the Camac lease — protests from civic and neighborhood groups led DMV officials to drop the location.

Kirwan did not return numerous Voice phone calls about the deal. DMV officials have now decided to lease space near Fordham Plaza owned by the Metropoli­tan Transit Authority.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727515″ /]

Cohn’s Demise: A Ghoulish Golden Grab

In November 1985 newspaper stories de­tailed the disbarment proceedings against Roy Cohn as well as the late attorney’s battle with what he described as liver cancer, but later was revealed to be AIDS. Since he left city government in 1978, Friedman has been affiliated with Cohn’s law firm, Saxe, Bacon, and Bolan.

As Cohn’s legal and terminal medical problems appeared in the papers, Mi­chelle Golden, the 27-year-old daughter of Brooklyn borough president Howard Golden, began calling Friedman at Saxe, Bacon, and Bolan’s headquarters, a five­-story townhouse at 39 East 68th Street. Michelle Golden, a real estate salesperson with Cushman and Wakefield, left a mes­sage on November 22 stating she was “anxious to carry” the townhouse and wanted to know what was happening with it. “She read that Roy Cohn was sick and that he had some legal problems,” Mortimer Matz, Golden’s spokesman, said. “That’s what real estate people do.”

Golden, who left seven messages about the building and met with Friedman twice, was also interested in helping the firm find new office space if it decided to leave the townhouse, Matz said, adding, “Nothing ever happened.” Golden’s sense that the townhouse may have been on the block appears accurate: property records reveal that the ownership corporation took out a third mortgage — this one for $178,000 — on the townhouse in April 1986 to apparently allow the law firm to stave off bankruptcy. The money was used by the corporation to pay off a legal judgment against Saxe, Bacon, and Bo­lan, which is described in a rider to the mortgage as being unable even to pay its rent.

[related_posts post_id_1=”725566″ /]

Donald’s Deals

One Friedman client who dominates his logs is Donald Trump. Though Trump conceded through a spokes­man that Friedman did represent him on occasion, he contended that Friedman was representing the other side of the deal he and Friedman discussed the most during this time period: Trump’s near acquisition of the air rights over the Parkeast Synagogue at 163 East 67th Street (Koch’s synagogue, and also May­or Beame’s). Friedman was in constant touch with Rabbi Arthur Schneier about the sale and arranged meetings with Trump. A date was set for the closing on this deal, but it conflicted with the major­ity leader election in the city council so it was canceled. A couple of days later the scandal exploded. Trump, who says it was Friedman who approached him and who had no specific plan for the air rights, dropped the deal.

Friedman did represent Trump in ne­gotiations with the state’s Division for Housing and Community Renewal con­cerning Trump’s attempt to empty a rent-stabilized building at 100 Central Park West that he acquired some years ago. Trump says that “Stanley suggested that he might be able to negotiate a set­tlement,” so Trump said that he should go ahead. Friedman then began an ex­traordinary series of at least a dozen calls and meetings with Manny Mirabal, the DHCR deputy commissioner who had a tenant complaint on the building before him. Mirabal is recorded as having at­tended meetings with Friedman at Fried­man’s townhouse office. After initially confirming the conversations with Fried­man, Mirabal ducked a series of follow-up Voice calls pointedly asking about the meetings. In the end, Trump settled with the tenants.

On November 27, 1985, Friedman and then Bronx city planning commissioner Ted Teah, who operated a law practice out of Friedman’s office, attended a meeting at Trump’s office that the logs recorded as involving Trump’s grandiose Lincoln West project. Trump says that the purpose of the meeting was a private presentation to Teah of Trump’s plans for the West Side, which were then before the planning commission. Friedman was clearly given the job of getting the undependable Teah to the meeting, as mes­sages like this one from Trump’s office suggest: “Ted must show on time.” Trump insists that Friedman was not there representing him, but was included because Friedman had represented Francisco Macri, the previous Lincoln West developer who had sold this prime stretch of waterfront land along the West 60s to Trump a year earlier. A spokesperson for the Macri interests said they could not recall if Friedman represented the project.

Suitably enough, Friedman is also list­ed as attending a meeting regarding the Hyatt Hotel with Trump and department store operator Michael Modell of the Mo­dell’s chain. It was Friedman, as deputy mayor, who approved, in the final days of the Beame administration, a series of tax abatements and other benefits that en­abled Trump to build the Hyatt — his first Manhattan deal. Trump contends that Friedman was representing Modell in the meeting, which concerned the store’s sub­-lease in the Hyatt. Modell told the Voice that he’d never retained Friedman but that Friedman was a close friend and that Friedman was helping him in his meeting with Trump. Trump was so friendly with Friedman that he once left a message providing his “direct line to his Aspen room,” and when Friedman’s candidate won the council majority leadership last January, congratulated him, adding, “He is so proud of you: hope the papers do right by you.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

Helping Gambino’s Buddy

Thomas Gambino, the son of the late mob chief Carlo Gambino and himself a member of organized crime, called Friedman on behalf of Sal Carrera, a friend seeking a real estate broker’s license.

On October 1, Carrera called Friedman and said that “Gambino told him to call” and that he was calling about a package of papers “to go to Albany.” A subse­quent message reveals that the papers concerned a real estate broker’s license for Carrera. Four weeks later, Carrera called again and Friedman’s secretary left the following message: “Sent paperwork to Albany. From Tom. What’s the sta­tus?” Gambino called Friedman on No­vember 8, “re his friend. Also he’ll call Jackie,” Friedman’s wife. The following day, Jackie Friedman, who works in the mayor’s office, left a message reminding her husband about “1) Reservation PR 2) Gambino.” The first message refers to a trip the couple took to Puerto Rico last winter.

Thomas Gambino owns one of the gar­ment district’s largest truckers, Consoli­dated Carriers (his messages to Friedman included Consolidated’s number). While he has no criminal record, Newsday re­ported last September that Gambino was identified by a police detective in federal court testimony as a captain in the Gam­bino crime family. An FBI court affidavit contends that Gambino is a soldier. Car­rera received his broker’s license last Sep­tember through Ketrec Management on East 40th Street, where he was reached last week. Asked about Friedman and Gambino, Carrera said “That’s none of your business” and hung up. Gambino, too, hung up when the Voice called.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

Stanley’s City Council Mole 

Eastside city councilman Bob Dryfoos, who double-crossed the rest of the Manhattan delegation last January and cast the decisive vote that elected the Friedman/Manes-backed Peter Vallone majority leader of the council, made his first appearance on the Friedman logs on October 9. His initial message was wedged in between two from Brooklyn borough president and county leader Howard Golden, who ultimately allied himself with the Manhattan delegation in an attempt to keep the majority leader­ship in Brooklyn (it was the retirement of former leader Tom Cuite, a Brooklyn councilman, that created the vacancy).

Golden’s first message read: “wants to meet with you next week — early part — ­just you and he — when? where?” Since Golden, Friedman, and Manes met regu­larly, this message was probably an at­tempt by Golden to sound out Friedman alone about the possibility of supporting a Brooklyn candidate against the front­runner, Vallone, who as a Queens coun­cilman was Manes’s candidate. Fried­man’s control of the six Bronx votes made him a pivotal player in any contest between Queens and Brooklyn. The very next message that day was from Dryfoos: “Yes — meet — drink coffee here one hour — reorganization of City Council and thereto, before you talk to Howard.” A short while later, Golden called again: “Don’t do anything — OK — Howie Gold­en — talk to him.” Friedman’s diary lists an October 15 lunch with Golden at Friedman’s office and an October 21 meeting with Dryfoos. Neither Golden nor Dryfoos returned Voice calls.

After this initial exchange, several mes­sages suggest a growing relationship be­tween Friedman and Dryfoos. In early November, Dryfoos called while Fried­man was vacationing in Puerto Rico and was given Friedman’s number there. Next he called for Friedman’s mailing address. Then another meeting was set in early December. As the tight race headed for its early January showdown, Dryfoos, who kept attending meetings of the Man­hattan delegation and pledging his sup­port to its candidate (Brooklyn’s Sam Horowitz), became a Friedman mole. On December 27, he called while Friedman was once again vacationing in Puerto Rico, said he “heard some news you should be aware of,” and left Friedman his own vacation number at an upstate hotel. Messages from a Bronx council­-member, June Eisland, indicate that Dry­foos met with them on January 3. On January 8, Dryfoos coolly assured his fel­low Manhattan members, moments be­fore the vote, that he was with them, and then publicly announced his vote for Vallone.

The logs also suggest that Friedman was looking for some last minute insur­ance. Council President Andrew Stein, who had no vote on the matter unless the council members deadlocked, has con­firmed that he met with Friedman and others the night before the vote. Stein insists that the meeting was only to dis­cuss the parliamentary rulings he would make the next day and that he was deter­minedly neutral. But two sources deeply involved in the process told the Voice that Stein told them he preferred Val­lone, and one of them says that the meet­ing with Friedman “might have been” to lock in Stein’s vote in case of a tie. Stein told the Voice that he met with Golden too, but in fact he met only with Golden technicians. Indeed Stein met with tech­nicians from both sides the morning of the vote. Friedman was unlikely to per­sonally attend an emergency meeting with Stein the night before the vote to discuss innocuous parliamentary decisions.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

Si’s Slip is Showing

Roy Cohn’s aide Sue Bell called Fried­man on October 10, 1985 and asked Friedman to try to get “a boatslip for S.I. Newhouse III (known as Sam) begin­ning mid 1986” for Newhouse’s 42-foot yacht, Diver Master. Publishing heir Newhouse, whose family owns Vogue, Glamour, Vanity Fair, The Staten Island Advance, Random House, and dozens of newspapers and cable TV stations across the country, wanted the boat berthed at the city’s only active Manhattan mari­na — at East 23rd Street. Cohn and Ne­whouse’s father were lifelong friends.

A series of subsequent messages indi­cate that Friedman called a top city offi­cial who ran the city’s ferry bureau and asked for help. But the ferry bureau didn’t run the marina; the city’s Depart­ment of Ports & Terminals did. So the ferry chief called Audrey Lasher, P&T’s leasing director, who supervised the city’s sublease with Skyports Inc., the company that operated the marina under an agree­ment with the city. Lasher agreed, ac­cording to the ferry chief, to talk to Sky­ports. Despite what sources say is an “exceedingly long waiting list,” Newhouse got his slip — only one of 27 — at the mari­na. Both Lasher and the ferry chief have since left the city. P&T spokesperson Marcia Reiss said that the agency’s lease with the marina operators does not per­mit the agency “to interfere in the alloca­tion of slips” and that any action taken by Lasher would not be a matter of agen­cy business.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727525″ /]

The Kiss of Death

A 1983 Daily News story reported that the mayor had contacted the four county leaders close to him, including Friedman, to seek their recommendations before appointing a new Ports & Termi­nals commissioner. A two-to-two tie re­sulted in Koch naming Susan Frank, who had not been favored by any of the party bosses. So when Koch began the search for a replacement for Frank after his re-­election in 1985, it was widely assumed that Friedman would once again play a role. A spokesman for Deputy Mayor Alair Townsend, who was overseeing the selection of a new commissioner for the mayor, confirmed that Friedman had called Townsend on behalf of a candi­date: Carlos Galvis, a Princeton graduate who had worked in the Lindsay adminis­tration and for Congressman Les Aspin. The phone logs indicate that Friedman did not know Galvis personally, but was contacted in late December by Robin Farkas, whose family owns Alexander’s. After Farkas talked with Friedman, Gal­vis sent Friedman a résumé.

Galvis told the Voice that both Farkas and two friends of his at the Real Estate Board suggested that he contact Fried­man for help in getting the job. While he declined to say who at the Real Estate Board pointed him in Friedman’s direc­tion, he said they also suggested that he contact Donald Manes. He added that he has known Farkas since the ’60s. Fried­man gave Galvis an appointment, and Galvis went to Friedman’s law office at 11 a.m., January 10, the morning of Ma­nes’s first suicide attempt. Galvis said that Friedman’s secretary mistook him for a senator and ushered him right in, observing that otherwise he might not have been able to see Friedman, who “was having a very busy day.” Galvis saw Friedman for about 20 minutes and re­called that throughout the interview an “unruffled” Friedman was making and receiving calls. Friedman told Galvis that “he was trying to get a car to go see his best friend in Queens, who was in the hospital.” Friedman promised: “I will call on your behalf.”

In late January, when Galvis was told he had not been hired, the city scandal had already exploded and Friedman was at the center of the storm. “Even if I was the best candidate, I had become taint­ed,” he said. “After all this started I felt like crap. I felt like the guy who got nominated for supreme court justice on the day the president got impeached.” But city officials insist that Michael Huerta, who is the now the P&T com­missioner, had already been selected by the time Friedman and Galvis met. Huer­ta was reportedly offered the job on Jan­uary 6 and the city was merely conclud­ing terms with him.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

Mr. Fixit

Friedman’s phone was the political Ac­tion Line. Requests from friends and fellow pols came in regularly for tick­ets to Broadway plays (Cats and The Odd Couple) and the Palladium (from Stanley Simon on behalf of his daughter Suzette, and from Councilwoman June Eisland). Bronx county clerk Leo Levy called ask­ing for four hotel rooms (with dinner and a show) for New Year’s Eve at Trump’s Castle in Atlantic City. Trump’s secre­tary called wanting to know, “Are they heavies at the table?” since it was a “hardship” to give up the rooms. Fried­man eventually informed Levy that he could not swing the rooms. Levy also called on behalf of Norman Goodman, the New York county clerk, asking for four tickets to a Carnegie Hall concert. Friedman also got requests for tickets to Midnight Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral as well as local football games. Jet tickets were no problem, the logs reveal, but Friedman did not have a hook in with the Giants. He could get judges to perform weddings, though.

Lillian Delgado called in September, 1985 asking for help locating an apart­ment for $700 in Manhattan or down­town Brooklyn. Friedman put Delgado, a friend of a friend, in touch with Lew Katz, the owner of the Uncle Charlie’s chain of gay bars and a friend of Roy Cohn’s. Katz, who also helped get Fried­man’s step-daughter a job, was charged last May with stabbing to death a 37- year-old man during an argument, and is currently free on $400,000 bail. Delgado said that Katz did not find her an apart­ment. “I ended up paying a big broker’s fee,” she added.

One deal Friedman was not able to complete — through no fault of his own­ — concerned the securing of hangar space for attorney Richard Friedman’s airplane. Richard Friedman called three times in October, 1985 asking Friedman to “make the case” with officials of the Port Au­thority. Then, on December 9, the search was called off. On that day, Lewinter left the following message: “Richard Fried­man, re: plane storage. Forget it — he crashed plane & was killed.” ❖

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES From The Archives NYC ARCHIVES

How Ed Koch Handed Over City Hall

Violation! 

“After eight years of charisma and four years of the clubhouse, why not try competence.”
— Koch slogan, 1977 mayoral race

Ambitious people of­ten become the thing they hate. His­tory is full of young idealists obsessing about some en­trenched evil and then replicating that evil when they come to power. The Aya­tollah has become the Shah. George Bush spent the 1970s fighting right-wing extremists and now he wraps himself in extremist icons like William Loeb, Jerry Falwell, and Ferdi­nand Marcos. And Ed Koch, who first achieved fame by conquering Tammany Hall boss Carmine DeSapio in the early 1960s, has become Carmine DeSapio.

Not the DeSapio who later went to prison, but the DeSapio of the early 1960s and late ’50s, who Koch opposed as the personification of patronage, conflicts of interest, and cynical abuse of the pub­lic trust. Koch has also become the Abe Beame he defeated for mayor in 1977, the incumbent he accused of abdicating gov­ernance to the political machines.

This city is now witnessing the start of the largest municipal scandal since the revelation of police corruption in the ear­ly 1970s. It’s not just that Donald Manes is accused of extortion, or that the depu­ty director of the Parking Violations Bu­reau, Geoffrey Lindenauer, has been ar­rested for taking a bribe in a public urinal. Bronx Democratic leader Stanley Friedman is also under criminal investigation by U.S. Attorney Rudolph Giu­liani, Manhattan District Attorney Robert Morgenthau, and the Securities and Exchange Commission. The Voice has learned that in December Friedman dumped a large amount of his stock in Citisource — the company for which he got a $22 million Parking Violations Bu­reau contract in 1984 — apparently be­cause he was tipped off about the federal investigation.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727478″ /]

The Friedman probes focus on allega­tions of insider trading and fraudulent misrepresentation of his role in Citi­source. (No one has so far suggested that Manes’s crew at PVB had the temerity to charge Friedman for his contract; it may have been the only freebie Lindenauer, et al. handled.) Friedman and Manes are the two county leaders closest to Koch and have been bulwarks of support for his last three races, including the 1982 gubernatorial primary when Manes re­jected Queens’s hometown candidate, Mario Cuomo, in favor of Koch.

The recent conviction of Queens Su­preme Court judge William Brennan for taking payoffs to fix cases from mob defendants, and the separate federal probe of Richard Rubin, the executive secretary of the Queens Democratic party, for taking kickbacks by check for court guard­ianships and receiverships, suggest that the county party is an organized crime enterprise in a literal sense. The mayor suggests, that he thought Friedman and Manes were altar boys until this burst of revelations, but at least two prior Manes­-recommended city appointees and one Friedman associate have been involved in similar scams.

The Taxi and Limousine commissioner from Queens, Herb Ryan, pleaded guilty to taking a bribe from an undercover agent in 1982, and Nick Sands, who was apparently recommended by Manes for mayoral appointment to the board of the city’s Public Development Corporation, wound up surviving nine bullets in a mob hit and was convicted twice of embezzle­ment. Not as lucky as Sands was Rick Mazzeo, the Friedman and Roy Cohn-­connected distributor of multimillion dollar leases for city-owned parking lots, newsstands, and other concessionaires. During the first couple of years of the Koch administration, Mazzeo, who man­aged to put $564,934 into a private com­pany he started while a $15,000-a-year civil servant, ran the real estate section of Marine & Aviation, a subsidiary (like PVB) of the city’s Department of Transportation. Mazzeo was convicted and sent to jail once by the feds; but when he faced a second indictment in 1983, his body was discovered in the trunk of a car parked in Brooklyn.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

The PVB brand of civic service is inev­itable when the mayor awards whole city agencies or sections of them to DeSapio’s descendents — party bosses like Fried­man, Manes, former Brooklyn honcho Meade Esposito, Staten Island’s Nick La­Porte, as well as their top soldiers such as South Bronx kingpin Ramon Velez. Con­tracting out to the clubhouses is the root cause of the current sensational revela­tions. A mayor who does not recognize that these career party businessmen are mere vendors of the public weal is wearing blinders.

The continuation of clubhouse patron­age was a clause in the Faustian compact that Koch made with much of the city’s old-line party leadership during the run­off campaign of 1977, when he got Espo­sito, Friedman, and others to back him against Mario Cuomo. He’s renewed that pact time each time he’s run, always with the support of every county leader but Manhattan’s. Koch’s acceptance of club­house patronage is what opened the door to corruption, because it based hiring on connections and party loyalty rather than merit. It is hardly surprising that these appointees then began to award contracts and leases based on the same consider­ations that got them their jobs.

It was Meade Esposito, for example, who gave Koch his worst previous scan­dal: Alex Liberman, the city’s director of leasing, who was the “Man of the Year” in Esposito’s Canarsie club and who (almost unnoticed by the media) pleaded guilty in 1984 to extorting more bribes — $2.5 million — than anyone ever previously in­dicted by a federal prosecutor anywhere in America. Memos filed by both sides in the Liberman case concluded that Liber­man “would have been unable to wield such tremendous arbitrary authority without the complicity of others in the Brooklyn Democratic machine.” Yet in his current book, Politics, Koch describes Esposito in loving terms as someone who “has always been helpful to me,” and his administration is still filled with other Esposito appointees. “After Koch was elected, he called us to City Hall,” Espo­sito once told reporters. “He gave us some doughnuts. The powder came off on my pants and he said he wanted to work with us. He catered to us, in patronage, whatever.”

The Koch administration has also giv­en Esposito contracts. The prime clients of his small insurance company are city contractors, and they’ve made Esposito a rich man. “I’ve been very successful in business,” Esposito told the News in 1980, “and I owe it all to politics.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

No Goodies for Crooks

Throughout the Manes explosion, Koch repeatedly said that the public would forgive anything except criminal­ity. Since the mayor believes he is the embodiment of the public’s common sense, he meant that he was comfortable with anyone but a crook. That is now the moral standard for a mayor who spear­headed a crusade against DeSapio long before DeSapio became a felon.

The most disgraceful and self-serving indicator of Koch’s no-rap-sheet heroes was his embrace of Staten Island beep Ralph Lamberti, who he endorsed for re­election in 1985 even after his own Inves­tigations Commissioner Pat McGinley had publicly reported that Lamberti had committed five misdemeanor violations of the city charter, one of which provided for the forfeiture of his office. A Staten Island grand jury ultimately refused to indict Lamberti, but the record is clear that Lamberti greased the delivery of a 50-acre parcel of prime city-owned land to a developer who was his own private partner. The mayor described Lamberti as “an honest man,” a “partner,” and a “friend,” adding that he was “shocked” by McGinley’s charges. McGinley must’ve been shocked that Koch had be­come Lamberti’s leading media character witness.

Ed Koch is not personally corrupt. And he hasn’t turned his entire government over to hacks. Fritz Schwarz, Stanley Brezenoff, Torrence Moan, Henry Stern, Robert Wagner Jr., Gordon Davis, Jo­seph Hynes, Haskell Ward, James McNamara are just some of the honest public servants he’s empowered. He’s appointed many judges of distinction.

But at the same time, he’s given the clubhouses custody of agencies like the mammoth Department of Transportation and the Taxi and Limousine Commis­sion. He’s given them hidden little shops, where the leases and contracts that feed machines are processed, like PVB, Liber­man’s leasing office inside the Depart­ment of General Services, Mazzeo’s Ma­rine & Aviation, some Tax and Planning Commission appointments, the Civil Ser­vice Commission, and pieces of such key, obscure entities as Ports & Terminals, the Public Development Corp., and the Board of Standards & Appeals. And then he’s looked the other way.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721001″ /]

The other way has most often been somewhere in the direction of a mirror. Koch could always look at himself and see clean hands. He could stand in front of a Gracie Mansion mirror with his arms raised triumphantly above his head and know he had done no wrong. He could mistake himself for his government. And then he could turn on the tube. His ad­diction is power, not money. Lesser poli­ticians develop an appetite for gambling, drugs, women, and a lavish lifestyle. Koch lives on the narcissistic need to watch himself every night on the televi­sion news. To be on the news, he has to be in power. And he has long been pre­pared to allow others to do just about anything if they would permit him to keep power. That is the bargain that is only now beginning to haunt him, be­cause finally it, too, is playing on the television news.

He has manufactured his press confer­ence answers. I-am-not-responsible, he sometimes intimates, because I only ap­point commissioners. The commisioners hire everyone else. This is a myth. May­oral assistant John LoCicero has been publicly identified for eight years as the mayor’s patronage chief. What has he been doing all that time if the mayor’s claim is to be believed? And what has the best kept secret of the Koch years — Joe DeVincenzo — been doing?

DeVincenzo is identified in the Green­book as a special assistant to the mayor, but no one except people who hustle city jobs has ever heard of him. A leftover from the Beame administration, DeVin­cenzo occupies a basement office in City Hall. He sits on the dais of the Brooklyn Democratic organization dinner dance. City personnel officials say he is in charge of something called the mayor’s talent bank. One former Koch commis­sioner told the Voice: “I couldn’t hire anyone without the Joe D. letter.” He has been processing jobs for Koch — every­where in city government — since Koch became mayor. A half dozen sources have told the Voice about having to go to Joe D., even for raises.

[related_posts post_id_1=”418247″ /]

Remember Candidate Koch, running against Cuomo, in 1982? Remember how he decided to play hardball after Cuomo rapped him in the first debate? Remem­ber that Koch made a TV commercial about Cuomo’s aide Bill Cabin, who had hidden five no-shows on the lieutenant governor’s payroll, copped the checks himself, and gotten indicted? Remember Koch snarling that he ought to be im­peached if he ever carried five phantoms on his payroll? The same Koch is now saying he never met Geoff Lindenauer. He says he neither selected nor knew the PVB crew — an entire agency handling millions in city funds. He says he just looked at the revenue bottom line and saw it going up. He says he always thought Stanley Friedman was in the holy water business. He says it’s “news to me” that Anthony Ameruso, the trans­portation commissioner who oversees PVB and several other past and future scandals, is identified with the Brooklyn Democratic organization. He says it’s also news that Ameruso has stacked his agen­cy with hacks from every county party.

Our mayor, after 25 years of public life and two books about politics, is a babe in the woods, a shock absorber. He can only shake his head in surprised chagrin. He can only argue that the question is not whether his government caused this scandal, but what it is now doing to cor­rect it. He can actually say that the scan­dal “is not a major problem for me or my administration.” He can announce that he wouldn’t have visited Mane’s at the hospital if he’d known what Jimmy Bres­lin was about to write, suggesting that all those he calls friends may only be a head­line away from nowhere. Or worse still, a headline away from being called a crook.

The mere existence of the Michael Dowd contract, earning $2 million from the city in six years, is the best evidence of just how much the mayor will tolerate to satisfy powerful friends. Koch names Dowd in his own book as the man who managed Cuomo’s 1977 race and hired a private detective to probe Koch’s sex life. Yet the mayor who says he never forgets a slight has, indirectly, been making Dowd rich. Once Manes was given an agency, he was allowed to reward whom­ever he would reward. The legendary long memory gave way to Manes’s large pockets. Everything else dissolves when Koch’s power needs are at stake.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727493″ /]

The Koch Machine

Pol-businessmen like Stanley Fried­man are so arrogantly confident that the voters will never get in the way of their public profits that they put themselves up front in the collection business, seem­ingly the last place a politician would want to be. The letters we get dunning us to pay our parking tickets have become the unlikely prism through which we can all finally see, with sudden clarity, the nature of our leaders and our govern­ment. But PVB is only one of the ma­chine haunts in the Koch years. Here are a few others:

• Top Koch officials have been leaking stories that Transportation Commission­er Anthony Ameruso is on his way out for at least the last four years. They said it because they thought it was true. Then, magically, Ameruso would ride out the rumors. He was appointed commissioner when Koch became mayor. Koch ignored the advice of his own screening panel, which opposed the appointment of Amer­uso, who comes out of the Boro Park club of Brooklyn beep and county leader Howard Golden. His other rabbis are Esposito and Bronx congressman Mario Biaggi. Ameruso not only survived the Mazzeo scandal during the first couple of Koch years, he then went job hunting for the discredited Mazzeo in other city agencies.

Ameruso was the target of two 1981 probes by the State Investigation Com­mission. SIC reports obtained by the Voice (and written about in a 1983 NYC column) say that the investigations “fo­cused on the awarding by the NYC DOT of the midtown tow-away contracts to TRW Transportation Inc.” and on the granting of “no parking anytime signs” to the mob-owned SPQR Restaurant in Lit­tle Italy. In the SPQR investigation, wired agents were sent to interview Ameruso himself about the decision, in violation of city regulations, to treat mobster Matty the Horse Ianniello’s lat­est swank restaurant as if it were a church: John Culhane, an SIC commis­sioner who did parking lot business with Continued from preceding page Ameruso, helped kill these inquiries into his conduct.

At a press conference last week, Koch emphatically denied that he’d ever been urged to appoint or retain Ameruso by any Brooklyn political leader. But Espo­sito told the authors of I, Koch (a biogra­phy written by the Times, News and UPI bureau chiefs): “There were rumblings that Tony was going to be dumped. I saved him by telling Koch that he’s my guy, he’s a good man, don’t drop him.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”725990″ /]

• Taxi and Limo chairman Jay Turoff, a Brooklyn regular out of the Benson­hurst club led by Howie Golden aide Marcy Feigenbaum, was originally ap­pointed on the final day of the Beame administration in 1977. But Koch reap­pointed him in 1982, making him his own. The SIC is currently in the midst of a year-long probe of Turoff, investigating a possible hidden interest he may have in a car service and an allegation that he has several lines of credit in Atlantic City casinos. Other Koch appointees to the nine-member commission include party regulars Douglas McKeon from the Bronx and John Russell Sr. from Staten Island.

• Housing Preservation and Develop­ment commissioner Anthony Gliedman is an active member, coordinating election day activities, of Canarsie’s Thomas Jef­ferson Club in Brooklyn. He is close to both Esposito and district leader Tony Genovesi. “I recommended him for a job,” Esposito told the authors of I, Koch about Gliedman. “I spoke to LoCicero and told him to take care of this guy because he’s good.” When another club member, Mo Silver, lost his state job in 1983 and went to work for the nonprofit Wildcat Services Corporation, he imme­diately began negotiating new contracts for Wildcat with Gliedman, who employs his wife, Sheila Silver, another club-­member. Gliedman’s agency has also de­livered countless housing projects and community consultant contracts to neighborhood groups controlled by ma­chine loyalists, including multimillion dollar sponsorship deals to hacks like for­mer city councilman Luis Olmedo, who recently got out of jail on federal extor­tion charges, and Ramon Velez, the well­heeled prince of Bronx poverty who is Friedman’s prime minority property.

• The newly named Environmental Protection (DEP) commissioner, Harvey Schultz, is, like Gliedman, a competent machine bureaucrat. But Howie Golden, who is now to Brooklyn politics what Ma­nes is to Queens (wearing both the party and public hats of dual dominance), knows he has someone he can count on. Schultz has been Golden’s top assistant so long that many Brooklynites think he’s been the borough president. The agency he inherits already has its other party players, like deputy commisioner Fred Carfora, a Friedman regular. The PVB scandal has already hit a subsidiary of DEP, the Environmental Control Board, which uses many of the same col­lection companies as PVB. The Board’s collection chief, Joseph Scelzo, was con­victed of taking bribes to kill tickets last year.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721462″ /]

• When Manuel Bustelo was named Employment Commissioner in 1985, Ra­mon Velez and his two business partners, Jorge Batista and Frank Lugovina, threw a party celebrating the appointment. Bustelo earned his appointment as pub­lisher of El Diario, which he turned into a Spanish version of the Post, swinging an endorsement of Koch even in 1982, when he lost every Latin assembly dis­trict to Mario Cuomo. But it didn’t hurt that the Velez crew loved him (including Lugovina, whose company, Mobicentrics, has multi-million dollar, for profit, train­ing contracts with Bustelo’s agency). Ve­lez also threw a party when Batista was named by Koch to head the South Bronx Development Organization, the city’s planning arm there. Batista, whose conflict of interest ties with Velez and Lugo­vina [“How Ramon Velez Bleeds the Bronx,” Voice, Dec. 31, 1985] are now under investigation by the city’s Depart­ment of Investigation, is also Koch’s Loft Board chairman. The combination of the two posts has given Batista a commis­sioner level status. Lugovina was recently named by Koch to the Water Finance Board.

• Two days before Manes was discov­ered on Grand Central Parkway, Koch named a new chairman of the screening panel that recommends city marshals to him for appointment. The chairman, Peter Rivera, who says he has a “friendly and cordial relationship” with Velez, is a contributor to Velez’s sidekick, Assem­blyman Hector Diaz, and represented Ve­lez’s wholly owned subsidiary, City Coun­cilman Rafael Castenaira Colon, in an election law matter last year. Rivera’s partner represented a Velez backer charged with assaulting the wife of a can­didate running against Colon. Rivera, who has a $7 million collection contract with the city’s Health and Hospitals Cor­poration, and has also been appointed to the Off-Track Betting board, says he is tied to Latin pols unconnected to Velez, like Bronx State Senator Israel Ruiz.

City marshals are among the juiciest organization plums — potentially six-fig­ure jobs that require nothing more than a high school diploma. New York is virtual­ly the only major city that relies on such bounty hunters to collect court judgements. Their annual income (as much as $300,000) is determined by how many people they evict, how many salaries they garnish.

A lifelong opponent of the marshal sys­tem, Koch introduced a bill to abolish it when he first became mayor, lost in the assembly, and then gave up. After Stan­ley Fink became speaker in 1979, Koch never even asked him to back an aboli­tion bill. Instead, Koch adopted the win­dow dressing of a screening panel. Voice stories over the years have listed the numerous new marshals who’ve climbed out of clubhouses, as well as the party ties of some of Koch’s panel members. The most prominent duo were Carlos Castellanos and Elba Roman, two Luis Olmedo-des­ignees, both of whom were suspended for pocketing collections and not reporting them to the city. Castellanos also wound up nabbed in the Olmedo extortion case and trooped off to the federal pen with the man Koch used to call his favorite councilman (another shock).

Of course, in recent days, Koch has made ex-Queens marshall Sheldon Chev­lowe even more notorious than Castel­lanos, calling him “a bag man.” It was at Chevlowe’s funeral that Manes allegedly approached Dowd and asked him to switch the payoffs from Chevlowe to Lin­denauer. As Post stories have estab­lished, Manes tried to penetrate the screening process Koch created for marshalls with a few phone calls to City Hall. Chevlowe’s wife was quickly appointed, rushed past hundreds of other applicants.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721023″ /]

• The transportation department (DOT) is loaded with high and low level patronage. The agency’s chief counsel, Robert Shaw, is a Friedman appointee, out of Stanley Simon’s Riverdale club. The job was handled in classic patronage fashion — Shaw replaced another Bronx jobholder, George Salerno, who won a more significant state post. The chief of Legal Affairs is Michael Mondshein, an active Jeff Club member from Brooklyn. Deputy Commissioner Julian Prager, who’s now overseeing PVB, has been ac­tive in the Village Reform Democratic Club, an invention of Koch and LoCi­cero’s designed to counter the anti-Koch Village Independent Democrats

Felice Saccone, an assistant commis­sioner who now handles all of DOT’s leas­ing and facilities management, is also ac­tive in VRDC, together with his wife Joanna. Both are close to LoCicero and, ironically, to Carmine DeSapio. Saccone and DeSapio repeatedly share tables at the dinner dances of the Brooklyn and Bronx Democratic parties, and stayed for a private dinner together after the Man­hattan organization’s recent Tavern on the Green affair. Sources indicate that Joanna Saccone babysits for DeSapio’s daughter’s child. Felice Saccone was orig­inally named to replace Mazzeo as real estate director in Marine & Aviation in 1980, but she has been promoted twice since and now handles the entire agency’s facility portfolio.

• DOT Assistant Commissioner Leon­ard Piekarsky, a Friedman friend and primary day worker who is also a member of the Rockaway club in Queens, became Saccone’s boss at Marine & Aviation in 1980, which was renamed the Bureau of Ferries and General Aviation in the after­math of the Mazzeo scandal. Piekarsky replaced Leon Tracy, another Jeff Club captain who was tainted by Mazzeo and burned in a series of city comptroller’s audits. Though Piekarsky made substan­tial improvements in the agency, he also delivered at least one notorious conces­sion to a Cohn/Friedman-represented newsstand firm, after negotiating the terms with a Cohn associate already under indictment in a videotaped bribe case   involving an Amtrak contract in Washington. Piekarsky says he didn’t know about the indictment at the time.

Piekarsky was recently dumped by Ameruso, and Staten Island beep Lamberti has reportedly laid claim to name his successor. Lamberti and party boss LaPorte already have dozens of patron­age employees in the bureau, including the beep’s brother James, who is part of the ferry police force, district leaders Diane DiAngelus and Carl Berkowitz, La­Porte gopher Al Smith, and Lamberti campaign aide and contributor Robert Massaroni. Two Lamberti cousins also worked there, but left in the last year or so.

[related_posts post_id_1=”718566″ /]

• The unit at DOT that inspects pot­holes caused by utility companies has long been a Brooklyn patronage preserve. East New York district leader Everett George is a pothole supervisor; so was former Brownsville leader Edith Broth­ers. Jeff Club officers Lucy Schwartz, Claudia Shapiro, and Gerdie Gerst have also worked in the unit in recent years. Another top Jeff Club official, Frank Seddio, who is Genovesi’s business part­ner in a travel agency, was hired last year as an administrator in the traffic depart­ment. A Golden club member, Sam Aza­dian, is the DOT’s ombudsman. Two oth­er longtime Brooklyn clubhouse activists, Rita Levinsky and John Nelson, also have agency jobs. Ameruso’s executive assistant, Joel Stahl, is reportedly tied to the Queens organization and was impli­cated in the Liberman scandal. The fed­eral indictment of Liberman details how he used two letters signed by Stahl pre­tending that DOT was doing a feasibility study about a municipal parking lot to extort a $5000 bribe.

• Koch’s appointments to the Civil Service Commission have been bipartisan clubhouse, including Bronx regulars Harry Amer and Stanley Schlein, former Brooklyn Republican district leader Frank Gargiulo, and Juanita Watkins, the chairperson of the Queens Democrat­ic County Committee. Similarly, he named Nick LaPorte Jr., son of the Stat­en Island county leader, who goes to par­ty dinners and was once active in the county party, as first deputy of the city’s personnel department. By law no person­nel department officials are supposed to be connected with political organizations.

• Ted Teah, a partner in Stanley Friedman and Roy Cohn’s law firm, is a Koch-appointed City Planning Commis­sioner from the Bronx. And planning commissioner John Gulino, whose ap­pointment in 1978 was vigorously op­posed by the American Institute of Ar­chitects, is the former law chairman of the Staten Island Democratic party. Gulino shares his three-story office building on the island with LaPorte’s county headquarters, and he is the lawyer for several developers doing business with the city.

[related_posts post_id_1=”722370″ /]

• Harold Fallick, another Brooklyn pol out of Marcy Feigenbaum’s clubhouse, is an assistant commissioner at Ports & Terminals and processes some contracts. Throughout much of the first Koch term, the agency was notoriously tolerant of lease abuses and rent arrears at a city-­owned pier facility by operators tied to Tony Scotto, the convicted Longshore­man Union leader and Gambino crime family member. The ILA and its leaders have given the once scornful Koch $69,000 since 1978.

• Steven Spinola, the president of the increasingly powerful Public Develop­ment Corporation (PDC), was selected after getting votes of approval from both Manes and Esposito. PDC’s vice presi­dent in charge of the sale of city-owned property is Margaret Guarino, a longtime Esposito ally whose husband is active in the Jefferson Club and is a regular con­tributor to Golden and the Brooklyn par­ty. Spinola was taken to a pre-appoint­ment interview with Esposito in his Brooklyn office by Guarino. “Meade said he would put in a good word for me,” Spinola told the Voice in 1983. Two sons of Guarino’s brother-in-law, who runs fu­neral homes with Guarino’s husband, were murdered in mob hits in 1982, one while acting as a pallbearer. Federal orga­nized crime strike force sources told the Voice that Anthony Guarino, Margaret’s brother-in-law, is an associate of Tom Lombardi, a capo in the Genovese crime family.

Staten Island beep Lamberti’s land­-grab for a business partner was quietly processed through PDC. And minutes of a clandestine 1985 meeting obtained by the Voice reveal that Ramon Velez and his partners Lugovina and Batista tried to steer a piece of city property out of the agency that controlled it and into PDC, because they believed they could get Spi­nola to turn it over to them.

Responding to press accounts, Koch asked DOI this week to investigate an­other PDC-negotiated deal: Manes’s de­livery of the air rights over the municipal parking garage behind Queens Borough Hall to developer Joshua Muss. Muss, who plans to build a 28-story tower there, gave Manes a $10,000 contribution at the time, exceeding the $5000 legal limit. A related Muss company and employees gave over $21,000 since 1981 to Brook­lyn’s Golden (one contribution of $7500 was also illegal), who’s spearheading a Muss-developed hotel for downtown Brooklyn through PDC.

[related_posts post_id_1=”725734″ /]

• Virtually every city tax commission­er has been tied to party organizations — ­none more so than Brooklyn’s Sandy Rozales, who is related by marriage to Shir­ley Weiner, Esposito’s longtime vice chair of the county party and former Canarsie district leader. Rozales got swept up in the flurry of investigations in Brooklyn in recent years, and Koch did not re-ap­point him when his term expired in 1984. But Koch did not replace him, either, so Rozales has remained a holdover commissioner, exercising a wide latitude of judgement over tax reductions granted in the borough. Rozales was the law partner of another Weiner relative, Spencer Lader, who was convicted of stealing $600,000 in an array of scams, and then became a federal and state witness. Wei­ner herself became a target of the Lader inquiry and wound up pleading guilty to a state charge that her deputy court clerk position in Brooklyn State Supreme Court was a no show.

Ed Rappaport, the president of Gol­den’s Boro Park club and the man Howie chose to replace him in the city council when he left it almost a decade ago, has been interviewed by top city officials and is awaiting appointment to one of the two Brooklyn tax posts, probably not Rozales’s.

• Sanitation Department clubhouse appointees include Roger Fortune, a dep­uty commissioner in charge of real estate and the son of Brooklyn district leader Tom Fortune, and Ralph Uzzi, a Jeff Club official who is the sanitation depart­ment’s director of administration for the Office of Resource Recovery. The Build­ings Department long featured Deputy Commissioner Blaise Parascandola, and Chief Engineer Leonard Dwoskin, both Brooklyn regulars who recently resigned. Former Manhattan city councilman (and Koch backer) Robert Rodriguez was named to a fire department deputy commissioner post when he lost his seat but gave it up when the Alvarado scandal forced many of the ex-chancellor’s East Harlem allies to run for cover. He was succeeded at the fire department by for­mer mayoral aide Rafael Esparra, who has his own Velez and Esposito ties.

[related_posts post_id_1=”714416″ /]

• Jeff Club leader Marvin Markus chaired the Rent Guidelines Board for years and Board of Standards and Ap­peals vice-chair Vito Fossella is a long­time Staten Island regular with strong Friedman connections. Fossella, the brother of a recently defeated Staten Is­land councilman, put Mazzeo in place initially at Marine & Aviation but has survived this and at least one other em­barrassing DOI probe. Longtime Esposito ally Steven Aiello is now the chairman of the city’s Youth Board and ran the Edu­cation Construction Fund through much of the Koch era. Carpenters’ union boss and Koch backer Teddy Maritas was named to the PDC board where he served until he was indicted in a 1981 racketeer­ing probe. Tapes played at his trial re­vealed him boasting of his relationship with Koch, but he was murdered before he could be convicted.

• Koch is the third mayor to allow Esposito to turn the 261-acre, city-owned Brooklyn Navy Yard into an Esposito playground. Every pier and every naval vessel that docks there for repairs is in­sured by Esposito. Esposito’s firm, Serres, Visone, and Rice, is the prime broker for a minimum of $50 million worth of insurance covering the dry­docks, and shipyard building leased on a 40-year basis by his principal client, Coastal Drydock, headed by Charles Montanti. Esposito personally pressured David Lenefsky, the Koch-appointed chairman of the yard’s board, to deliver the no-bid, extraordinarily favorable lease to Montanti, who’s been the subject of two federal probes. Lenefsky told the Voice that Esposito did not disclose his insurance interest in Montanti’s contract when he called to complain about “why it was taking so long to get the negotiations finished.”

Both Coastal and the city corporation that runs the yard have been heavy pa­tronage employers as well, with Coastal carrying another Weiner in-law as per­sonnel director and a longtime Esposito district leader employed as the Lenefsky board’s secretary. Koch did not name Lenefsky to begin the clean-up of the corporation until a couple of weeks after he was re-elected in 1981 — leaving the management of the Navy Yard firmly in the hands of Esposito cronies until then. A Brooklyn Supreme Court judge, who was asked to rule on a pay claim submit­ted by the the yard’s executive director through most of the first Koch term said that conditions there, which led to sever­al indictments, made “the corruption of the Tweed Courthouse architects look amateurish.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

One top executive at the yard during the early Koch years, Charles LoCicero (not related to John LoCicero), was an associate in the Columbo crime family; his father was a consiglieri in the same family and was machine-gunned to death. Hired ten days after he finished a six-year jail term, LoCicero got a series of rapid promotions until he held two of the five highest executive posts there. LoCi­cero was eventually indicted in 1980 on 190 counts of bribe receiving, grand lar­ceny, forgery, falsifying business records, and theft of services, but he is still a fugitive. One of his scams [“Pirates Plunder the Piers,” Voice, Dec. 20, 1983] in­volved the theft of hundreds of thou­sands of dollars in Navy Yard checks written to fictitious individuals and con­tractors that were endorsed by the hot dog vendor who parked his wagon at the yard. The vendor turned the payments over to LoCicero. The LoCicero scandal was a second or third wave at the yard (a previous executive director was convicted of conspiracy to sell $1.6 million in stolen cashiers’ checks); but nothing deterred the Koch administration from treating the port as Meade’s motherland. Even Lenefsky’s current board and adminis­tration has its Esposito players and favors.

Four More Years

For years Ed Koch has prospered by manipulating the press, baiting blacks, taking credit for things he didn’t do (like solving the fiscal crisis), and governing effectively from the point of view of the richest third of the city. But the scandal that started with a slashed wrist could change everything. It has, at least tempo­rarily, persuaded the public that its gov­ernment is in trouble. What will it mean for Koch in the end?

We put that question to one of the city’s most astute powerbrokers this week. His reply was: “No fourth term. And a very messy third term.” The PVB scandal has put things in perspective. It’s illuminated the recent past. It’s revealed a flaw in Ed Koch’s character that may become his fate. A year from now he will look at thlie government of this city and not see a lot of the present faces. He will look into a mirror and see a face that has aged, that has sagged, like Dorian Gray’s.

No fourth term is what this is all about. ❖

Research assistance by Janine Kerry Steel and Leslie Conner. 

[related_posts post_id_1=”727000″ /]

Manes’s Patronage and Plunder Zones

When Donald Manes announced his candidacy for governor in April 1974, he was flanked by Peter Smith, his cam­paign manager, and lawyers Sid Davi­doff and Donald Evans. Manes said he would spend $90,000 on radio and televi­sion commercials, a buy that would be paid for by loans co-signed by council­man Eugene Mastropieri and Ann Groh, the wife of deputy borough president and Sanitation Commissioner-designate Robert Groh. The candidate unveiled his campaign slogan (“Manes — He’s For Real”) and told 50 supporters at the Roosevelt Hotel, “I have looked after the needs of more people than the governors of 19 other states.”

The Manes campaign disintegrated quickly, but it signaled that the borough president was a pol in a hurry, content to do deals with the dreck of the Queens organization:

• Smith, Koch’s first Department of General Services (DGS) Commissioner, was bounced after it was revealed that he embezzled money from the law firm he worked for before joining the Koch administration. Smith, who helped orga­nize various Manes campaigns, was eventually convicted in the swindle and served time. He now runs the Partner­ship for the Homeless, a not-for-profit organization funded by Koch adminis­tration grants.

• Mastropieri was backed by Manes and the county organization until he was booted from the city council after being convicted in 1980 on federal corruption charges. Back in 1978, the Voice and the News detailed Mastropieri’s history as a  scofflaw, council truant and compromised hack. At the time, Jack Newfield wrote that Mastropieri “is a public servant seemingly imbued with the tastes of ­a drug lawyer — a Mercedes-Benz, a yacht — but without the guile necessary to support his greed.”

• Sid Davidoff is as close to Manes as any pol. Davidoff visited Manes’s hospital room the night he tried to kill himself — six hours before police were allowed in. Soon after the bedside visit, Davidoff began interviewing attorneys to represent the borough president; he eventually chose former Knapp Commission counsel Michael Armstrong. Davidoff was a special assistant to John Lindsay and later doled out patronage for Abe Beame. In 1976 Davidoff was indicted on charges of failing to pay the state taxes he withheld from employees of  a restaurant he owned. His company agreed to plead guilty to grand larceny, pay a $1000 fine and $33,000 in back taxes in exchange for criminal charges against him being dropped. Davidoff represented Warner Amex in its success­ful bid to get the lucrative Queens cable television franchise and has also served as counsel for the Jamaica Water Com­pany, which has, for years, successfully fought off city takeover attempts.

[related_posts post_id_1=”722698″ /]

• Robert Groh, a Manes protégé, was indicted in 1977 on charges that he ex­torted $7000 in political payoffs from a Queens businessman in exchange for a zoning variance. The money went for the purchase of tickets to Manes fundraisers in 1972 and 1973, when Groh was still an  aide to the borough president. Groh was acquitted of the extortion charges in 1979 and continues to serve as a civil court judge.

But while Manes’s discredited main backers in the short-lived 1974 gubernatorial race remained close to him for years thereafter, they are hardly the only close associates who could have given Ed Koch reason to temper his enthusiasm about the Queens boss:

• Herbert Ryan, another Manes pal, was convicted of taking a $1400 bribe from an undercover cop while serving on the Taxi and Limousine Commission. In 1982, New York magazine reported that federal law enforcement officials claimed that city officials “torpedoed a potential sting operation — called ‘Cabscam’ — that was inspired” by Ryan’s arrest. The magazine reported that federal authorities believed if they could “turn” Ryan it would be a “way to open a wide-ranging” probe of the Queens Democratic ma­chine. However, Koch and then-Depart­ment of Investigation commissioner Stanley Lupkin nixed the idea and pushed for Ryan’s prosecution. At the time of his indictment, Ryan held a $7400-a-year part-time patronage job with Queens councilman Morton Pov­man. Appointed to the commission in 1975, Ryan owed his spot to Manes and former county leader Matty Troy, an­other Queens convict. Ryan is still a member of Manes’s home club, Flush­ing’s Stevenson Regular Democratic Club.

• Richard Rubin, the county organi­zation’s lawyer, is the target of a federal probe into a kickback scheme involving court appointments and receiverships. Rubin, a longtime Manes adviser, him­self collected $20,050 in legal fees from Queens Surrogate Louis Laurino over the past 21 months. Laurino has en­riched numerous organization lawyers and pols, including State Senators Emanuel Gold ($7000) and Jeremy Weinstein ($3500) and district leaders Jay Bielat ($7450) and Charles Cipolla ($4250).

• A close friend of Rubin’s, lawyer Abbey Goldstein, landed a spot on the city Tax Commission in 1982, thanks to his organization ties. Commission mem­bers meet once a week and are paid $21,000-a-year to rule on tax exemptions and aaseeaments. Like most member of the commission, Goldstein is politically active: a former reformer, he ill now a regular in Manes’s Stevenson Club.

[related_posts post_id_1=”725621″ /]

• David Love is a Lindsay-Republi­can turned-Queens-clubhouse-regular. He attends most county dinners and made noise about running for Ben Ro­senthal’s seat after the congressman died in 1983. Love resigned as first deputy commissioner of the Department of Transportation in December 1981 as part of a department shakeup. At the time, Koch said he was “not happy with the bottom line on what the transporta­tion department” accomplished during his first term. Love has worked as a counsel for EDP Medical Computer Sys­tem, a collection agency which held a small contract with the PVB until it was cancelled in 1984, and still has larger contracts with the Environmental Con­trol Board (ECB) and other city agen­cies. A source familiar with the compa­ny’s contracts told the Voice that PVB officials recommended that another agency hire the company to collect out­standing fines.

• Former Taxi and Limousine Com­mission (TLC) chairman Michael Lazar traveled with Manes to the 1984 Demo­cratic National Convention in San Francisco and can often be seen at Manes’s shoulder during county political dinners. His real estate business is booming, thanks to his ability to land city and state development deals, one of which has resulted in a state investigation while others have spawned numerous lawsuits. One of the suits is aimed at “politically influential individuals” who scored big in the Times Square deal. An example of Lazar’s political sway was the 1980 purchase of the Candler Build­ing on 42nd Street. Lazar and partners paid $1.3 million for the building in 1980 and resold it for more than $14 million in 1984. The building, which houses the offices of the agency Lazar once headed, was one of only two buildings in the 13- acre project area not slated for demoli­tion. Lazar, one lawsuit claims, was “the only apparent reason for not condemn­ing the Candler Building.” Manes was an early supporter of the Times Square redevelopment project and voted for it at the Board of Estimate.

The state investigation arises from Lazar’s rental, to New York State, of office space in Jamaica’s Gertz Building. The head of the World Trade Center relocation task force, Joseph Siggia, rec­ommended that the state transfer offices from Manhattan into Lazar’s building. Siggia has now admitted receiving $23,625 in “commissions” from Lazar a few months after retiring in May 1983 from his post at the state Office of Gen­eral Services (OGS). A State Investiga­tions Committee report on Siggia and Lazar is due aoon.

• But it is the role of Manes’s former executive assistant, Daniel Koren, in the attempt to organize Grand Prix races at Flushing Meadows Park that might be the most disturbing Manes-wired, and Koch approved, city deal of recent mem­ory. As the Voice reported in May, 1983, Koren started organizing the race while he was still on the Manes payroll. Then he left to become the company’s chief executive officer. With Manes running interference, Koren’s company whipped through the city approval process, brushing past widespread editorial and community opposition. Manes was so committed to Koren’s project that he personally presided over a raucous, six-­hour borough board meeting at which he rammed the project through. In addition to Koren, two other Manes cronies — Sid Davidoff and Michael Nussbaum, the borough president’s political strategist — also had a piece of the Prix action. Only the subtle roadblocks, invisibly built by Koch subordinates who dared not open­ly oppu,e the project, slowed the race down. With Manes’s demise, the scam may also disappear. ■

[related_posts post_id_1=”727515″ /]

Friedman: The Bronx “Scofflaw”

Bronx county leader Stanley Fried­man’s reputation, and the attention it has brought him, are well-earned. His list of political operatives includes Ra­mon Velez, Joe Galiber, and Stanley Si­mon. Friedman is a law partner of Roy Cohn (who Ed Koch once called “the most vile person in New York”), and until John Calandra’s death last week, Friedman divvied up the borough with the ultra-conservative Republican state senator as if he were a brother Democrat.

The first of many blights on Fried­man’s record came in 1972, when the city Department of Investigations (DOI) found that Friedman — then an assistant to council leader Tom Cuite — ­sent a few parking tickets to his father Moses, an administrative assistant at the Parking Violations Bureau’s (PVB) Bronx office. DOI investigators deter­mined that Friedman’s father, instead of forwarding them to a hearing officer, marked “dismissed” on the summonses. Friedman told DOI that he did not know how his father was disposing of the tickets.

In an internal report obtained by the Voice, then-DOI Commissioner Robert Ruskin wrote that Friedman’s explana­tion “strains credulity.” Ruskin con­cluded that if Friedman’s father had not died during the investigation, the case would have “certainly been re­ferred to the district attorney’s office.”

The following year, Friedman left Cuite’s office to become Abe Beame’s Albany lobbyist, and a year later he was appointed deputy mayor for intergov­ernmental relations — Beame’s patron­age czar. During the final 10 days of the Beame administration, the city awarded a mammoth tax abatement to Donald Ttump. The $160 million abatement — ­which Friedman shepherded through the city bureaucracy and which typified his blatant self-dealing — went to Trump for the construction of the Hy­att Hotel, although the developer had not even arranged financing and did not yet have legal title to the property. Friedman had already agreed to join Cohn’s firm, Saxe, Bacon and Bolan, while he was securing the Hyatt abate­ment. Trump, as Friedman surely knew at the time, was already a Cohn client. The Hyatt package, Barron’s conclud­ed, was “the most generous package of tax abatements in state history.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

Since becoming county leader in May 1978, Friedman, whose wife Jacqueline holds a $47,000 post in Koch’s office, has lorded over a massive political cesspool The low points have included:

• The political partnership Friedman has entered into with Ramon Velez and State Senator Joe Galiber. This pact has delivered patronage and contracts to these minority fronts, while Fried­man gets their support and the assur­ance that empowerment is an ideal left for the other boroughs. Galiber is cur­rently under indictment — for grand lar­ceny and falsifying business records — ­along with former Labor Secretary Ray­mond Donovan in connection with a scheme to defraud the Transit Author­ity of $8 million. The current charge stems from Galiber’s business dealings with mafia hoodlum William Masselli, the twice-convicted felon who was Galiber’s partner in the Jopel Contracting and Trucking Corporation. Despite the fact that, according to a DOI report, “the City of New York probably had information sufficient to disqualify Jo­pel as a subcontractor based on William Masselli’s criminal record, plus the on­going investigation against him … ” the city awarded Jopel two excavation and hauling contracts worth $1.6 million. FBI tapes caught Masselli saying that, “I don’t think that this Koch you could do business with him on this level.” However, Masselli did not rule out the possibility of cutting deals without Koch: “Maybe the people around him I say yes.”

Galiber-controlled community groups are also favorites of Friedman and Koch — one, the Mid-Bronx Council, re­ceives more than $6 million in antipov­erty funds. Despite Galiber and Velez’s sleazy records, both Friedman and Koch have refused to break with the pols.

• Friedman has delivered patronage plums to friends of borough president Stanley Simon, including Stanley Wolf’s $58,000 commissioner post on the Board of Standards and Appeals, and Robert Moll’s spots on the Tax Commission ($21,000 a year for attend­ing weekly meetings) and the Taxi and Limousine Commission. Moll and Wolf are members of Simon’s political club.

[related_posts post_id_1=”397777″ /]

• In 1981, Koch proposed an 8 per cent tax on the sale of taxi medallions. A group of taxi owners paid Friedman $15,000 to work his magic with the may­or and administration officials. After some lobbying, Friedman had the tax cut to 5 per cent, thus saving his clients $3 million annually. At the time, Fried­man said that people like the taxi own­ers “want to feel like they’re getting an edge. That’s what life is all about.”

• Friedman’s wired Citisource deal has prompted a city investigation into how he was awarded the contract and a federal probe into possible insider trading by Friedman of the company’s stock. Friedman reportedly owned 25 per cent of the company’s stock at one point. He then quietly dumped much of his stock last month at the midway point in the stock’s fall from $14 a share to $2 a share. Friedman also has repre­sented another PVB contract holder, Datacom, which had its contracts stripped by the city last week. A No­vember 1982 DOI report ripped Data­com’s contract performance and at­tacked PVB’s contract monitoring. On December 13, 1984, Ed Koch received contributions of $5000 from Datacom, $5000 from Citisource’s parent compa­nies and $5000 from Friedman’s Bronx county committee. Both Citisource and Datacom had lucrative contracts ap­proved months earlier.

Friedman, like Manes, has always re­alized that in return for political sup­port, Ed Koch would provide plums. In October 1983, both leaders refused to endorse Koch in the 1985 mayoral race despite pleas from the incumbent. At the same time Friedman was rejecting an early Koch endorsement, he was lob­bying city officials to approve a multi­million dollar contract for hand-held, ticket-writing computers from his new company, Citisource. Friedman ex­plained that he did not want to come out for Koch two years before the may­oral primary, because if he did, “pots of money” available in the following two years “would not go to the borough that’s already in somebody’s pocket.” ■

[related_posts post_id_1=”727525″ /]

Mayor Meese

The mayor of New York City is a lawyer. Indeed, in his selfless years, his knowledge of civil rights and civil liberties law made him persistently effective in those areas in Congress.

Now, after eight years of intoxicating sovereignty, Koch has jettisoned his history as an advocate for and defender of the Constitution. In publicly declaring Donald Manes guilty of having “engaged in being a crook” — and then insisting he be imprisoned — Koch has allied himself with the nation’s preeminent enemy of civil rights and civil liberties: the Attorney General of the United States. Edwin Meese, too, has proclaimed publicly that if someone, anyone, is a suspect, he or she must be guilty.

Koch says, “In the case of Donald Manes, we clearly know he was corrupt … in the court of public opinion.”

We have a Bill of Rights to prevent people from being lynched — before indictment and trial — “in the court of public opinion.”

Nothing Ed Koch has done in his time as mayor has so dismayed those who remember him as a courageous defender of the presumption of innocence than this self-­transmogrification into Joseph McCarthy.

And, in view of the Mayor’s widely publicized prejudicial pre-trial judgment of Manes, if there is a trial, where can fair-minded jurors be found? Not in the city of New York.

— Nat Hentoff

 

Categories
From The Archives Housing NEW YORK CITY ARCHIVES NEWS & POLITICS ARCHIVES NYC ARCHIVES THE FRONT ARCHIVES

Memories of Meade and the Mob

Bugging Mr. Big

After 15 years of investigations that fiz­zled in dead ends, federal investigators are now confident they have enough evi­dence to prosecute former Brooklyn Democratic boss Meade Esposito. Sources in the FBI and the Justice De­partment say they can prove conspiracy, stock fraud, and possibly mail fraud against the legendary 79-year-old politi­cal figure. For the past five months, the FBI has had bugs and wiretaps in Esposi­to’s offices, authorized by four federal judges. The FBI’s code name for the in­vestigation was “Runnymede.” Perhaps it will lead to a Magna Carta for Brook­lyn politics.

Esposito’s machinations around two corporate enterprises are the focus of the investigation. One company is Coastal Drydock, a ship-repair firm based at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Coastal is the big­gest client of Esposito’s insurance bro­kerage company, Serres, Visone & Rice. SVR is the sole broker for liability insur­ance for ships being repaired by Coast­al — insurance valued at about $1.8 mil­lion a year. Last month, Coastal declared bankruptcy after a long fight with the Department of the Navy over millions of dollars in disputed funds.

Federal investigators contend that Esposito improperly used his influence to try to bail out Coastal. Coastal owed SVR $613,000 in commissions at the time it went bankrupt.

A television report last week said that Bronx congressman Mario Biaggi was also being investigated for accepting a free vacation at a Florida spa in return for helping Coastal. But Biaggi has made available to the Voice an American Ex­press bill and cancelled checks that show he paid for the vacation himself.

Biaggi acknowledges interceding on Coastal’s behalf to help solve some of the company’s problems, but says he did so because of his friendship with Coastal’s president, Charles Montanti, not because of Esposito.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721001″ /]

Esposito is also under investigation for his dealings with LoPat, a New Jersey chemical company which was marketing an environmental cleanser that it claimed could remove asbestos and other pollut­ants. Investigators are inquiring into allegations that Esposito tried to manipulate LoPat’s stock and use his influence to obtain government contracts.

Two weeks ago, federal judges Leonard Sand and Leo Glasser signed search war­rants for FBI agents and New York City police officers to raid three of Esposito’s business offices to seize financial records. Normally, federal judges do not sign search warrants without credible evi­dence of possible crimes being presented to them first.

Perhaps of equal significance to any possible crimes, the federal probe has do­cumented Esposito’s 40-year friendship with gangster Fritzie (Carbo) Giovanelli. Giovanelli is now in jail, accused in the murder of plainclothes police detective Anthony Venditti on January 21 in Ridgewood, Queens. Venditti was the fa­ther of four daughters, including a one-­month-old baby. Esposito, who has made 60 or 70 judges in his political career, spoke with Giovanelli several times every week and socialized with him on a regular basis. Giovanelli was involved in the Lo­Pat stock deal with Esposito, and Gio­vanelli’s son worked for Esposito’s insur­ance company.

According to testimony given in court by FBI and police intelligence experts, Giovanelli is a member of the Genovese crime family and controls a gambling and loan-sharking cartel with a gross annual income of “more than $20 million.” Gio­vanelli has a record of 11 arrests and three misdemeanor convictions. He had $4700 in cash in his pockets when he was arrested for Detective Venditti’s murder.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

In April, Queens Supreme Court Jus­tice Sidney Leviss outraged the law en­forcement community by setting bail of more than $1 million each on Giovanelli and two co-defendants. Previously, Judge William Earlbaum had ordered Giovan­elli held without bail. According to the Queens DA’s office and the police depart­ment, no accused cop killer in the last 20 years had been granted bail.

Within three days, Giovanelli’s friends came up with $3.7 million to set him free. At a subsequent court hearing, evidence was presented that much of the bail mon­ey came from criminal rackets controlled by Giovanelli.

After the hearing, Judge Leviss changed his mind and revoked bail for Giovanelli and his co-defendants. Last week, FBI agents questioned Judge Le­viss about whether anyone had ap­proached him about giving Giovanelli bail. Leviss said no one had spoken to him.

Esposito’s intimate connections with organized crime have been known for more than 20 years. They are part of his myth and maybe part of his power.

For years while he was Brooklyn Dem­ocratic leader, Esposito met regularly with mob boss Paul Vario. Henry Hill, Vario’s protégé, and the federal infor­mant who is the subject of Nick Pileggi’s best-seller, Wiseguy, told the FBI that Esposito was the only person Vario in­sisted on meeting alone, often on a bench in Marine Park. Hill was in on all of Vario’s other meetings.

[related_posts post_id_1=”718520″ /]

The 71-year-old Vario is now in federal prison for four years as a result of Hill’s testimony. But during his career as a mob boss, Vario twice received suspiciously le­nient treatment from state judges close to Esposito. In 1967, Vario was arrested for conspiracy and bribery. The maxi­mum sentence he could have received was 15 years. But Justice Dominic Rin­aldi allowed Vario to plead guilty to a misdemeanor and let him go with a $250 fine.

In 1976 Vario was convicted by a jury of conspiracy and “rewarding official misconduct” as part of the famous “Gold Bug” investigation into a Canarsie junk­yard. Justice Milton Mollen sentenced Vario to the maximum four years in pris­on. But in February 1977, the conviction was reversed by an appellate panel that included Esposito’s friend, the late Vin­cent Damiani. Not only was Vario’s con­viction reversed, but the indictment was dismissed for “insufficient evidence.” Justice Mollen had rejected a defense motion to dismiss the case on the same grounds before it went to jury.

In the January 3, 1974, Village Voice, I wrote an article called “Meade, the Mob, and the Machine” that sketched Esposi­to’s ties to organized crime.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

Meade Esposito is a cunning and self-­centered con man. He has outwitted prosecutors and journalists for a genera­tion. He has a routine of illusions that has worked. He intimidates the well-bred with vulgarity and he plays the primitive with a heart gold for the masses. He has been a survivor.

For example, when his then friend and political ally Alex Liberman got caught extorting millions of dollars in bribes from landlords as director of leasing for the city, Esposito told everyone that he knew all along Liberman was a crook, and had “warned” mayors Beame and Koch about him. The fact is that Esposito had recommended Liberman for a high-level job in writing during the Koch transition and later sought pay increases for him. And Esposito quietly arranged for letters to be written by religous leaders asking for leniency for Liberman. At the same time, Esposito told me that Liberman “should rot in jail.”

My first exposure to Esposito the con artist came in 1972. I had written two articles accusing his friend, Brooklyn Su­preme Court Justice Dominic Rinaldi, of going easy on drug dealers and mob de­fendants, including Paul Vario. Esposito had an intermediary invite me to lunch with him at Foffe’s restaurant near the Brooklyn courthouse.

At lunch, Esposito made an emotional appeal for mercy and human sympathy. He said Rinaldi and his wife were suicidal because of my articles. He said Rinaldi’s son was in a mental hospital, and that was contributing to the grief in the Rin­aldi family. He said that if I had any decency at all, and if I didn’t want a suicide on my conscience, I ought to find another subject to write about.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727478″ /]

I was sufficiently troubled by Esposi­to’s pleading that I went straight to the chambers of a judge I knew and told him what Esposito had said to me. The judge, a good friend of Esposito’s, started to laugh uproariously. He then informed me that Judge Rinaldi’s son was “a little strange” but that he was not in any men­tal institution. He was, in fact, a peace officer, with a gun, in that very courthouse, courtesy of Esposito patronage, and he was furious at me, and looking for me — and I had better leave immediately, with the judge as a personal escort.

Esposito played a decisive role in Ed Koch’s winning the run-off for mayor against Mario Cuomo in 1977. Esposito threw the support of the Brooklyn club­house organization behind Koch, as part of a deal in which Koch promised to make Brooklyn hacks Anthony Ameruso and Jay Turoff city commissioners. Sub­sequently, Koch’s own screening commit­tee found Ameruso unqualified, so Koch disbanded the screening panel and appointed Ameruso anyway.

In his book Politics, Koch described the deal in more general terms: “… we made it clear that the one thing we didn’t want him [Esposito] to do was to endorse me in any public way … he agreed to pull strings very discreetly.” This meant Esposito delivered money, palm cards, and workers from the machine.

Koch went on to add that Esposito “has always been helpful to me.” Koch more than reciprocated this generosity by giving jobs to dozens of Esposito’s friends. And last week, when news of this new scandal first began to seep out Koch jumped to Esposito’s defense. Attacking the messenger, Koch told the Citizens Crime Commission: “Do you think that’s fair? Let’s assume that he is never indicted. Do you think that he will ever recover from that story?”

Esposito, the artful con man, was able to flatter Koch, and made Koch feel like a regular guy. And Koch, who prefers gazing into the mirror rather than out the window, chose not to see Esposito for what he really is — a venal intermediary between the world of judgemakers and the world of bookmakers.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

But the mayor is not the only person Esposito has fooled. Because of the six grand juries that Esposito outsmarted over the years, he has received a predom­inantly positive press.

On December 10, 1972, The New York Times Magazine ran a favorable cover profile of Esposito by Rick Hertzberg.

When Esposito retired as county leader in January 1984, the New York Post paid tribute to him in a sentimental editorial that concluded: “They don’t make politi­cians like Meade anymore, and we can’t imagine the prospect of being without his earthy wit and wisdom. Politicians, mere mortals, come and go. The Meade Espo­sitos, for whom a man’s word is his bond, go on forever.”

The same week, Roger Starr wrote a signed editorial farewell to Esposito in The New York Times. With some naive­te, Starr wrote: “Many are incredulous that Mr. Esposito was content with the rewards of power, prestige, and friend­ship, instead of wealth … this boss was not brought down by scandal.”

Starr wrote a vale­dictory to a disguise. The fact is that Esposito has a vast appetite for wealth and has accumulated four homes, a yacht, an insurance company, and a printing business. Esposito has associ­ated in a secretive way with vicious criminals, while at the same time plac­ing some men of no merit and doubtful integrity on the bench. As party boss, Esposito pro­moted the ambitions of corrupt black pol­iticians like Sam Wright and Vander Beatty, and ostra­cized independent and honest black lead­ers like Major Owens and Al Vann. Espo­sito’s insurance bond was his bond; his word was unreliable.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727515″ /]

When he held party office and con­trolled elected officials, Esposito did some good things. He was a complex man of occasional underdog sympathies. He backed George McGovern for the Demo­cratic nomination in 1972. He helped John Lindsay defeat Mario Procaccino for mayor in 1969. He supported the gay­-rights bill for years before it became law.

Meade Esposito is a shrewd manipula­tor who has worn many masks. Even the trademark cigar he always held in his hand was a mere prop for the role of Boss. He never lit the cigar.

Now, at 79, the bill is coming due. The FBI knows Esposito was in business with a hood who killed a cop. And they think they have enough proof to prosecute him.

Over the last few months and years, we have discovered how many of our leaders have lived secret lives, pretending to be statesmen or lovable rogues in public, while behaving like gangsters in private. After hearing Watergate tapes of Richard Nixon and John Mitchell, who among us should be surprised by what politicians do in secret? After hearing the tapes of “labor leader” Anthony Scotto taking payoffs in a men’s room to reduce work­men’s compensation claims, or seeing the Abscam videotapes of congressmen stuff­ing cash into their pockets and suitcases a few hours after quoting Jefferson and Madison, who can be shocked?

Most recently we have seen, this phe­nomenon with Donald Manes.

Meade Esposito is probably just one more leader who has lived a double life. ■

[related_posts post_id_1=”727000″ /]

Categories
From The Archives NEWS & POLITICS ARCHIVES NYC ARCHIVES THE FRONT ARCHIVES Uncategorized

How To Win Contracts and Influence People

Stanley Friedman and Donald Manes, the twin towers of insider trading during the Koch years, are now the twin tar­gets of the probes that have marred the mayor’s reign. The two Demo­cratic county leaders emerged as heavyweights in the political life of the city while Abe Beame was mayor — Friedman was Beame’s “Deputy Mayor for Politics,” as Ed Koch put it in Mayor, and Manes, already Queens bor­ough president, became party leader in 1975 when Beame pushed the county’s district leaders to pick him. But the two men did not rise to the highest levels of city influence until Koch, who’d campaigned against Beame’s clubhouse rule in 1977, made them his friends. These partners in public plunder discovered that all they had to do to make the mayor their chump was put him on their palm­-cards. No matter what he was running for — governor, or mayor forever.

Manes and Friedman own homes in the Hamptons that are just a few minutes apart, enabling them to plan the pillage of the city in seaside comfort. Friedman’s long-time secretary at Saxe, Bacon & Bo­lan, Rose Mintzer, is a Democratic state committeewoman from Manes’s home as­sembly district in Queens, where he is still the Democratic district leader. Dur­ing the Beame years, Manes delivered key Board of Estimate votes for patron­age contracts wired by Friedman, while Friedman steered plums for Manes’s friends through city agencies. But these workouts were just preparations for the day when they went after $22 million computer contracts and switched bagmen wound up with the best goody Manes’s PVB store had to offer. And he may have been the only Manes customer who didn’t have to pay for a prize. Now they and their closest associates are in a prose­cutorial steam bath.

Manes has watched both his state su­preme court judge, William Brennan, and his fat-farm sidekick, Geoff Lindenauer, get nailed in recent weeks. Richard Ru­bin, the law secretary of the Queens par­ty, has yet to explain why lawyers who received surrogate patronage write him checks. Developer Mike Lazar, who lived at Manes’s side and has never cut a truly private real estate deal, is suddenly as invisible as his mentor. And Manes re­sponded to the heat with two pre-emp­tive strikes on himself — savaging his own wrist and surrendering his public posts.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

Friedman has already lost the contract he’d won for Citisource, his phantom computer company, and is expecting a double hit from Manhattan district attor­ney Robert Morgenthau and U.S. Attor­ney Rudolph Giuliani. Friedman’s two closest aides, Paul Victor and Murray LeWinter, are sweating through a federal investigation of a printing firm they set up in Yonkers that did no printing but got a quarter of a million dollars in pay­ments from campaigns that Friedman ran for Bronx Borough President Stanley Simon and four judges. Friedman’s black right hand, State Senator Joe Galiber, has already been indicted, and his Latin strong man, Ramon Velez, is facing various probes. Ted Teah, the City Planning Commissioner who shares a Manhattan law office with Friedman, and Frank Lu­govina, the chairman of Friedman’s Democratic county committee, are busy ex­plaining what they did with $300,000 in fees paid by the do-nothing cable compa­ny that won the Bronx franchise. Teah, who managed Simon’s campaign and rarely allows the comatose beep to appear in public without him, also faces federal grand jury questions about the [ed. note: line cut off] tor and LeWinter. Indeed Simon, the knob on Friedman’s door and master of the dunce defense, may be the only major Bronx player untroubled by the current probes.

Of the two leaders, Koch was closest to Friedman, one of a select few that the mayor invited to his private inaugural ceremony just a couple of months ago. This is the story of how Friedman has finessed the Koch years, angling for deals in the nooks and crannies of city govern­ment. His influence is seen through four clients — a landlord in search of city leases, a developer hunting bonuses, and two bus company executives pursuing franchises. The relationship between Friedman and Koch began in 1978, just when Koch helped round up the district leader votes that made Friedman county leader. By 1981, they were so close that the mayor attended Friedman’s marriage to Jackie Glassman, and later made the bride his $47,000-a-year deputy director of special events. Had Ed Koch been elected governor in 1982, Friedman would likely have become the state Dem­ocratic chairman.

A city commissioner told the Voice that at a Bronx organization dinner dance a couple of years ago, Koch looked at the two dozen top city officials sitting at the front table, and opened his speech with this line: “At least I know where my commissioners are tonight.” One of the commissioners at the dinner was trans­portation czar Tony Ameruso, who was then overseeing the Manes-run PVB sub­sidiary that gave Friedman his Citisource bonanza. According to top Board of Esti­mate sources, Ameruso personally lob­bied for the contract with at least one board member, making a highly unusual visit to the board’s chambers the day of the vote. The only one of the currently mentioned probe targets from a Brooklyn clubhouse (Borough President Howard Golden’s), Ameruso retired just before recent Voice revelations that he was in the private parking business with a mob­ster and fixer judge Brennan.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727493″ /]

Nothing prior to Friedman’s current problems seemed to affect Koch’s public warmth for this unambiguous rogue. Friedman went straight from government to Saxe Bacon, the law firm run by Roy Cohn, the four-times-indicted, self-advertised tax dodger who is both the tour guide and historian of public corruption in New York. Neither Friedman’s linkup with Cohn, nor the eventual news of the dirty business their “clients” did with city agencies, seemed to damage his rela­tionship with the mayor. The conviction, and then the mob-style murder, of a city director, Rick Mazzeo, who’d delivered concessions to Saxe Bacon clients while being represented by the firm himself, also left City Hall undisturbed. And when Friedman re-created Ramon Velez, the South Bronx poverty baron who Koch had described as a poverty pimp in his 1977 campaign and defunded at the start of his first term, the mayor allowed his Human Resources Administration to pump millions into Velez’s hands and a $209,000 salary directly into his pocket.

As the $7000-a-month lobbyist for the taxi industry, Friedman blocked every mayoral attempt at reform, while making more from that single client every 30 days than the average Bronx citizen earns a year. No one even noticed that Friedman’s lobbying, which kept the number of taxi medallions at 1937 levels, was in conflict with his role as Bronx Democratic leader. He was preventing the borough’s blacks and Latins from ever breaking into the lucrative cab industry — or any Bronx resident from ever getting adequate service.

When Friedman championed Galiber, who Congressman Koch had gone to fed­eral prosecutors about in the mid-’70s, and turned the Democratic line over to Republican boss and State Senator John Calandra, who had gay-baited Koch dur­ing the 1977 mayoral election, Koch re­sponded, by endorsing Calandra himself and giving Galiber’s mob-tied trucking company dirt and dumping contracts.

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

Friedman became the symbol of the mayor’s shifting mores. In Mayor, Koch accurately depicts Friedman as Beame’s chief patronage dispenser, yet turns an episode about Friedman’s wholesaling of youth jobs into an excuse for praising him as “one of the smartest, ablest, most loyal people I know.” In the sequel, Poli­tics, he admiringly quotes Friedman as offering to get a thousand people to a Koch dinner dance if the mayor would only “give me a thousand jobs” (Koch called this sort of quid pro quo with the public payroll “the regular glue of poli­tics”). The mayor, who preaches merit at the mere mention of affirmative action, wound up endorsing Simon last year against a capable pro-Koch minority challenger, Assemblyman Jose Serrano. The only possible explanation — especial­ly since the mayor had touted Serrano as a future mayor — was that Koch was Friedman’s captive, a mouthy shill for an amoral shell.

Even now, the mayor who shouted crook at Manes barely mentions Fried­man, who is the one actually accused of having misled the Koch administration about his personal interest in a city con­tract. Indications are that Friedman’s de­fense, should he be charged with having defrauded the city, will be that the ad­ministration was well aware of his per­sonal stake in the company. City officials are already arguing that they thought Citisource was merely one more Fried­man client using the county leader’s clout — apparently an everyday occur­rence inside Koch’s City Hall. The ad­ministration seems to accept influence-­peddling, just so long as there isn’t a capital gain.

A Voice investigation has uncovered a few choice examples of the Friedman lob­bying style at work during the Koch years. Since none of these examples involve companies actually owned by Friedman, this is a list of still approved activities.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727478″ /]

HIRING FRIEDMAN TO LOBBY MANES

In late November 1982, 40 Worth Street, a 16-story office building a few blocks north of City Hall that has long housed several city agencies, changed hands. The new owners, Newmark & Company, wanted the city to remain in the over 500,000 square feet that the city was then renting in their musty, deterio­rating building. They also wanted to ter­minate 230,000 square feet of existing, cheap leases as much as a year and a half before they expired. Then they wanted to lock the city into new 10-year leases — at more than double the previous rent — at a time when the city was signing other downtown leases for only half that long (they also sought two-year cancellation clauses as opposed to the single year that was frequently being offered by the city). The switch to shorter downtown leases was partially prompted by Board of Estimate members Manes and Howie Golden, who vote on every city lease and who were talking about moving agencies out to the boroughs.

Newmark seemed to have little trouble getting what it wanted. By January 1983, only a month after the purchase, leases for four city agencies were up for Board of Estimate approval. But the leases hung there for nine months, laid over again and again by Manes. Joined by Council President Carol Bellamy and Comptroller Jay Goldin, Manes turned the leases for 40 Worth into a war cry for outer borough (particularly Queens) rentals. The city kept putting the leases on the calendar, but seemed to back away from them at times. On July 25, Depart­ment of General Services Commissioner Robert Litke wrote Bellamy, conceding: “We have not moved on the package of 40 Worth leases because we have not yet reached firm conclusions regarding the feasibility of relocating the affected agencies.”

It is not clear exactly when Newmark turned to Stanley Friedman for help, though it is clear that they did. One per­son who says so is the city’s former leas­ing director, Alex Liberman, who pleaded guilty in a multi-million dollar federal extortion case. Liberman, who is now do­ing 12 years in a federal pen, has recently begun talking to prosecutors and the FBI, reportedly telling them that Fried­man pressured him and others to stick with the Newmark leases despite the opposition.

[related_posts post_id_1=”722698″ /]

In the midst of the 40 Worth debate, the mayor, at Bellamy’s insistence, insti­tuted policies requiring agency heads seeking Manhattan renewals to submit written justifications. The tenant seeking the largest renewals was the Department of Transportation, whose commissioner, Ameruso, waited to complain in writing about horrendous conditions in the building until a month after the leases were approved. The next largest tenant was the Department of Environmental Protection, whose leasing director, Ed Gitkind, is close to Friedman. Signing the requisitions to remain at 40 Worth for the third largest agency, the Department of Personnel, was First Deputy Commissioner Nick LaPorte Jr., the son of the Staten Island county leader. LaPorte told the Voice he was unaware that Friedman had anything to do with the rental and that his sign-off was a routine matter; neither Gitkind nor Ameruso returned Voice calls.

Though Howard Rubinstein, the publi­cist who represents Newmark, confirmed that the company retained Friedman to lobby for the leases, primarily at the Board of Estimate, neither Bellamy nor Goldin were approached by Friedman. Both Bellamy and a Goldin spokesman told the Voice that it was “news” to them that Friedman was involved. Manes isn’t talking, of course, and his deputy, Claire Schulman, who laid the item over meet­ing after meeting, says that “as far as I can recall I never heard that Stanley Friedman had any involvement with 40 Worth.” In September, Manes’s opposi­tion suddenly evaporated. Goldin and Bellamy followed his lead, and the 11 leases were unanimously passed. The os­tensible reason for Manes’s shift was giv­en in a joint statement he and Koch is­sued on September 15, the day the 40 Worth leases passed (and two days after Liberman was arrested in the bribe scandal).

The statement announced that five city agencies would be “moving to sites in Jamaica, Queens, leasing a total of 124,000 square feet.” Manes was quoted as claiming that the “new city offices” would bring “hundreds of new employ­ees” to Queens. Strangely though, one of the agencies listed as part of the deal was already located in Queens. A second, the Environmental Control Board, had an­nounced in 1981 that they would be set­ting up small offices in all the outer bor­oughs and had already made the Brooklyn move. The other three agen­cies — including Parks, Human Re­sources, and General Services — never moved and are not now planning to relo­cate. Subterranean lobbyist Friedman, whose Bronx party position should’ve put him at the head, of the line demanding outer borough move-outs, had apparently cajoled Manes to end the longest lasting Board of Estimate resistance to Manhattan’s monopoly for nothing.

[related_posts post_id_1=”397777″ /]

MACKLOWE’S MIGHTY MOVER

Harry Macklowe is the builder whose demolition company, hurrying to tear down two 44th Street buildings in Janu­ary 1985 to beat the effective date of a new law banning the conversion of SRO hotels, forgot to turn off the gas. Both Macklowe’s vice president and his demo­lition company were indicted for the raid, as was Sol Goldman, who sold the build­ings to Macklowe, but Macklowe himself escaped with a $2 million civil penalty. A major Manhattan office and residential builder, Macklowe has long been repre­sented by Stanley Friedman. Though next to no one knew it, Friedman was a closet counsel on Macklowe’s other con­troversial project — a 462-unit, 39-story, rental tower at York between East 72nd and 73rd Streets that displaced 22 light manufacturing and other businesses.

Asked why Friedman’s representation was largely invisible, Macklowe said: “Stanley wasn’t familiar with the public process. I used him on other issues where his advice and counsel were more ger­mane, where I needed a more respected voice.” Macklowe said he uses Friedman because Friedman is “an influential man” who can “deal with the morass of red tape” and “guide us through the proper departments.” He refused to say what departments Friedman was most helpful with and declined to specify a single legal document that Friedman had ever prepared for him.

Though Friedman never surfaced pub­licly, he helped the 72nd Street project when it was initially approved in Febru­ary 1983 by the City Planning Commis­sion. Macklowe’s up-front counsel was Jesse Masyr, who’d just stepped down as Manhattan Borough President Andy Stein’s deputy to join the law firm head­ed by Donald Manes’s closest sidekick, Sid Davidoff. Masyr says that he doesn’t know what Friedman did to help push the project. According to a source close to the negotiations, Friedman was on the phone to chairman Herb Sturz, pressing for a settlement of the commission’s tough demands on the developer.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721462″ /]

In exchange for the commission’s ap­proval of the variances necessary for the Macklowe project, Sturz and his staff were requiring Macklowe to make im­provements on the esplanade between the FDR Drive and the East River from 72nd to 81st Street. Macklowe was “hag­gling about everything,” the source said, especially contesting “the extent of the esplanade improvements” and the plan­ning commission’s explicit connection of the improvements to building permits and occupancy certificates for the new tower. The negotiations between Mack­lowe and the commission staff reached “a very intense period,” lasting until 4 a.m. one February morning, when Macklowe “would periodically leave the room to take calls” from Friedman and commis­sion member Ted Teah. “Teah and Friedman would then call Sturz at home,” said the source.

Macklowe acknowledged that it was “possible” that Friedman had acted as an intermediary between him and Sturz, but said he “didn’t recall conversations with Teah,” adding that if he did talk to Teah, the conversations weren’t “anything outstanding, not anything of moment.” Sturz did not return Voice calls, and Teah denied that he’d discussed the proj­ect with Sturz. There is no denying, how­ever, that Teah voted for the Macklowe permit, even while his officemate Fried­man was lobbying for its approval.

Teah’s device for avoiding this appar­ent conflict is his emphatic contention, which he repeated in a Voice interview, that he has not been associated with Friedman’s firm for five years. But Teah’s financial disclosure statement with the city, which was filed in July 1984 and covers 1983, lists the East 68th Street penthouse where the firm is locat­ed as a source of Teah’s income (up to $100,000), describing him as an “attorney proprietor” working there. That is exactly how Friedman describes himself in the disclosure form filed by his wife. Roy Cohn, who mastered the trick of paying no taxes by earning almost no income and living on expenses, has apparently invented a law firm without partners — all the prominent names are sole propri­etors. A notice on the planning commis­sion secretary’s wall lists Teah’s contact number as care of Rose Mintzer, Fried­man’s secretary. And one commission of­ficial told the Voice that the way they reach Teah now is to call Saxe Bacon. When they ask for Teah, said the official, they are “routinely switched into Fried­man’s office.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”725566″ /]

After the project was approved in Feb­ruary, Macklowe had to return two more times to the planning commission. That October, he easily got commission ap­proval to modify the plans. But in 1985, when Macklowe sought another approval, the commission learned that the “pro­posed” modifications — ranging from floor area changes to window size — had already been completed. Sturz told the Times: “We cannot be in a position to have a developer go ahead and do some­thing in violation of a special permit.” An angry Sturz, supported by several other disturbed commissioners (but not Teah), delayed approval for months of what is technically labeled a minor modification, threatening at one point to find that the changes were major. Such a finding would’ve forced Macklowe to go through the city’s entire review process again, blocking the opening of the building.

Friedman’s previously covert represen­tation of Macklowe suddenly became open. Friedman went to a commission meeting in June 1985 to press Sturz and the staff to permit the modification. Asked why Friedman was brought in, Masyr replied: “The client felt I needed help. I think Stanley was tremendous. He was very articulate in the chairman’s of­fice. He created the atmosphere for a dis­cussion to take place. He said the obvious thing, that we did not come down to ar­gue about the violation. We came down to make amends. He had the authority to make a deal.” Friedman claimed that Macklowe had new tenants waiting in ho­tels to move in, saying they couldn’t until the certificate of occupancy was issued.

Sturz pressed Friedman for 22 more blocks of esplanade improvement, from 103rd Street to 125th Street. Friedman left the room to call Macklowe and re­turned, saying: “OK, you got it.” Mack­lowe says now that Friedman “tried to reach me,” before saddling Macklowe with the $4 million obligation, but “I wasn’t available.” Macklowe would not reply when asked if Friedman had acted beyond his authority. When the planning commission finally approved Macklowe’s modifications a couple of days later, Friedman’s friend Teah was recorded as present, and raised no objection. Neither did any other commissioner. Macklowe got his temporary occupancy certificate, allowing his tenants to move in, four days after the commission approved the modi­fication. He has since made five submis­sions to the commission containing plans for his latest esplanade improvement, some of which were so skimpy they were described by a city official as “laughable.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”418247″ /]

Macklowe stubbornly submitted the same plan three different times, but he will not get a final certificate of occupan­cy until he comes up with a proposal that meets with the commission’s approval. His esplanade delays have also held up a multi-million dollar, 10-year, 421A tax abatement for the building, which won preliminary approval from the city’s Housing Preservation and Development Agency a couple of weeks before Mack­lowe’s assault on 44th Street. (In a schiz­oid decision, HPD awarded the tax break only to the 72nd Street half of the pro­ject, where no businesses would be dis­placed. The agency obviously can’t en­courage half a project; it either gives an incentive to a developer or it doesn’t.)

Friedman’s influence on Macklowe’s behalf was apparently felt in at least one other agency, the Department of Transportation, where Friedman apparently pushed for approval of the first phase of esplanade improvements in 1983. Steve Abend, the special assistant to DOT’s general counsel Robert Shaw, told the city’s Department of Investigations in a 1984 sworn deposition that he overheard Shaw and Friedman in phone conversa­tions “about maintaining an esplanade from 71st Street to 81st Street in which Friedman represented the builder, Harry Macklowe.” Abend told the Voice that he saw Shaw, a longtime activist in Simon’s Riverdale Democratic club and a Fried­man-backed school board member in Community District 10, pressure another DOT official, Jerry Blaustein, to approve Macklowe’s esplanade work despite Blaustein’s concerns about the soundness of the seawall. When reached by the Voice, Blaustein attempted to minimize his connection with the esplanade work, asserting that he was only concerned with “a traffic circle” near Macklowe’s 72nd Street site. But agency documents reveal that Blaustein was intimately involved in every stage of the esplanade process and that he played a pivotal role in approving Macklowe’s planned improvements (DOT is officially listed as the walkway’s landlord because it abuts the FDR Drive). Through his attorney, Shaw re­fused to answer Voice questions.

Rebecca Robertson, the planning com­mission’s Manhattan director, told the Voice that Blaustein “verbally assured” her by phone that the seawall of the es­planade was sound, justifying the work on the walkway. She said Blaustein sent her test borings of the wall that were completed by an engineer selected by Macklowe. In fact, the report indicates that the test was of the subsurface of the center of the walkway. David Sobel, who heads the Department of Ports & Termi­nals permit division and examined the Macklowe esplanade work, says that no surveys were done of the seawall (Masyr concurs).

[related_posts post_id_1=”713393″ /]

A visual inspection by engineers hired by Macklowe three weeks before the final agreement was signed in February 1983 did conclude that the seawall was so damaged by tidal pressure that it “must be repaired” in various places. Macklowe passed this damage report on to Sturz, then sought and got an indemnification for liability on any damage to the seawall. “We thought the whole project was fol­ly,” Macklowe told the Voice. “We ques­tioned it then and we question it now.” The planning commission reacted to these warnings as if they were simply attempts to avoid doing the improve­ments. Since Macklowe was merely the first in what has become a series of devel­opers who will get zoning bonuses from the city in exchange for improvements from one end of the esplanade to the other, the city’s lack of interest in wheth­er it is cosmetically improving a walkway that is washing out to sea is mystifying.

Once the city and Macklowe signed the agreement, Macklowe had to give the comptroller irrevocable letters of credit totaling almost $1.5 million-the esti­mated cost of the first 10 blocks of im­provements plus 25 percent. If he failed for any re􀀤son to finish the walkway after that, Macklowe would lose his deposit plus interest. The developer who weeks earlier condemned the project had be­come its champion. That is when Abend contends that Friedman and Shaw pressed for DOT approvals. DOT offi­cials sent two letters, one in September and one in October, authorizing Ports & Thrminals to issue a work permit for the project. The pressure had apparently eroded any doubts.

[related_posts post_id_1=”718172″ /]

LEAVE THE STEERING TO STANLEY

Ed Arrigoni, whose New York Bus Tours Inc. controls most Bronx express bus franchises and school bus contracts, may be Stanley Friedman’s most cher­ished client. Arrigoni has bankrolled such pivotal Friedman-backed campaigns as the first Simon race in 1979, when he put up $50,000 to cement Friedman’s county leadership against a strong reform chal­lenge, and Assemblyman John Dearie’s 1981 comptroller race, when Arrigoni, his wife and his companies donated $141,000 to a challenge to incumbent Jay Goldin, who was then in a blood feud with Fried­man partner Roy Cohn.

Friedman escorted Arrigoni to the VIP section of the Democratic national con­vention in 1980 and sat with him during Jimmy Carter’s acceptance speech. Arri­goni has designed several buses with rear platforms and sound systems for use in campaigns, and regularly lends them (to­gether with a driver) to Board of Esti­mate members Simon, Andrew Stein and David Dinkins — the same people who vote on his franchise renewals.

As Beame’s deputy mayor during the mid 70’s, Friedman actually signed some contracts granting franchises to Arrigoni. Since he left government, Friedman has helped Arrigoni win a host of public benefits. Henry Dachinger, the deputy director of the city’s Bureau of Fran­chises, told the Voice that Friedman has appeared at the bureau pushing fare in­creases and increased state subsidies for Arrigoni’s company and Liberty Lines, another private bus client that also has express franchises, primarily in West­chester. (Liberty’s owner Arthur Bernacchia is Friedman’s second largest political giver.) “When Friedman came in, it in­volved both companies,” said Dachinger. “Sometimes he was an attorney and sometimes he indicated he was a public servant. I can’t differentiate which times he appeared· as a public servant and which times as an attorney.”

As a critical part of the renewal pro­cess, the Department of Transportation writes the Board of Estimate and the franchise bureau supporting or opposing each bus line’s application. Dachinger says that DOT’s Ameruso, during his eight-year term as commissioner, never objected to Liberty or NYBT applica­tions, though Ameruso has regularly writ­ten to oppose others. Dachinger said that DOT “doesn’t like express buses because they create a traffic problem and can take away revenue from the MTA.” Yet Ameruso supported the authorization of a new NYBT route from City Island to Manhattan in 1979, backed a renewal of its franchises in 1983, and raised no ob­jection last year when the company was granted extensions on its midtown routes to Wall Street — a major boon for the company. Ameruso similarly backed franchise extensions for Liberty in 1983, giving it a series of route changes, includ­ing one that had been rejected by Ameru­so’s predecessor in 1976 “because it duplicated service provided directly by the subway system.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

While Ameruso has not been con­cerned about the traffic problems prompted by NYBT and Liberty’s com­bined 326 express buses a day, he wrote a 1984 letter objecting to the renewal of a 12-year-old franchise for Inter-County Coach, a line that Dachinger says sends two buses a day between Brookhaven and midtown. Ameruso complained that “the buses compete for scarce street space in midtown and create pollution and con­gestion.” The franchise bureau and State DOT opposed Ameruso, and Inter-Coun­ty’s route was renewed.

Ameruso has also been involved in the federally subsidized purchases of new buses for these and other lines, starting with the 1979 acquisition of 41 buses for the two lines. While the earlier acquisi­tions were in accordance with a federal formula, the city is now preparing to use federal subsidies to buy another 106 bus­es for the two lines, doubling the initial number reserved for these express com­panies. In addition to the purchases and renewals, DOT has discretionary author­ity over just what stops are permitted along private bus routes, but after weeks of requests at DOT, the Voice was not permitted access to records about stops granted NYBT or Liberty.

Steven Abend, the former special assis­tant who testified at the Department of Investigations in 1984 about Friedman’s influence at DOT, claimed that Friedman and Arrigoni frequently called Abend’s boss, Robert Shaw, the agency’s general counsel and a Bronx clubhouse activist, about the purchases and decisions re­garding stops. Jack Lusk, the mayor’s mass transit advisor, says the agency ex­ercises no discretion in the purchase ar­rangement, but records obtained by the Voice reveal that Shaw participated in negotiations with federal authorities over the bus purchase agreement.

Lusk acknowledges that the city and state have dramatically increased the lev­el of state subsidy for the two lines, which went from zero in 1982 to over $4.2 mil­lion for 1984. A 1981 Goldin audit re­vealed that Arrigoni had juggled his books to obtain at least $32,000 in excess subsidies, and recommended that future subsidies be withheld pending a criminal investigation (no prosecution ever oc­curred). Lusk, who praised Arrigoni’s company as one of the most efficient, says these subsidy levels are a result of a formula pegged to each bus line’s profit­ability and the total mileage their buses travel. Lusk brushed off questions about Friedman’s involvement, saying he “might have attended a meeting.” Arri­goni returned our call and announced that he would not answer questions, say­ing that he doesn’t think the Voice “is an honorable newspaper.”

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

THE SCANDALS STAND-UP GUY

The Newmark, Macklowe and Arrigoni sagas are snapshots of Stanley Friedman at work. A recent Newsday story recount­ed how he collected a $25,000 fee as a lobbyist for the Metropolitan Motion Pictures Theatre Owners, who used him to beat back a 1983 city sales tax on admissions. Friedman’s firm also man­aged to represent the Clean Air Cab Cor­poration, the only recipient of new cab medallions, awarded in spite of the nu­merical limit that Friedman’s other cli­ents, the large fleets, pay him to defend. And of course, there is the story broken by the Times some weeks ago of Fried­man’s role in putting together two wings of the current scandal — the towing com­panies, now under investigation by Bronx District Attorney Mario Merola, and the collection kingpins. In its way, that deal, too, has an intriguing Manes/Friedman intertwine. It turns out that the Tow Op­erators Association, and many of its indi­vidual members, have been represented by the Queens law firm of Baron & Vesel, whose senior partner, Martin Baron, is the treasurer of Manes’s campaign committee.

A source close to the PVB investiga­tions said that Friedman appeared when the negotiations stalled in 1983, “like a ghost out of the machine,” without even indicating who he was working for (it was Datacom, a PVB collection company). Friedman hosted four meetings, accord­ing to the source, most of which featured Geoff Lindenauer. The first meeting was at the Atrium Health Club, followed by meetings at Saxe Bacon and Friedman’s Bronx county headquarters, and closing with a lunch session. The result was that Friedman’s client got the contract to tow scofflaw cars, which Datacom then sublet to actual towing firms in each county. Datacom told the News that they hired Friedman in 1983 because he had “very, very good government and political experience.”

The inside track has been Stanley Friedman’s currency since he began working in the city council more than 20 years ago. He advertises it. He may have inherited it-his first scandal was a 1972 ticket-fixing charge that involved him and his father, who then worked at PVB. His street savvy has kept him atop a county that is three quarters minority; he is elected every two years by 20 district leaders who are predominantly black and Latin. Even now, while Manes hides, Friedman goes to meetings of the Demo­cratic National Committee and dines with the Inner Circle of the city’s press corps, taking the cigar, the smile, and his slight tremble with him. This week he sent out invitations to a May, $250-a­head Bronx organization fund raiser that could become an indictment party. Fried­man must sense, with the Lindenauer turn-around, that his old beach and Board friend Donald Manes may wind up on a witness stand against him. But no one who knows Friedman expects him to wilt or whine. The tragedy of Friedman is that he knows who he is and he likes himself. ■

Research assistance by Janine Kerry Steel and Leslie Conner 

Categories
CITY HALL ARCHIVES From The Archives Neighborhoods NYC ARCHIVES THE FRONT ARCHIVES

Stanley Friedman’s Banana Republic

The Bronx as One Man’s Land

They are businessmen who demand that others call them “political leaders.” To them la Colonia of El Bronx is a busi­ness and allegiance to the business is more important than loyalty to any par­ty. They are mostly Democrats but they do business with Republicans. A few of them are Republicans but do business with Democrats. They are lawyers; they own pieces of construction firms; they control cable television companies; they are consultants. These are the business­men who control the colony of the Bronx.

The jefe of the colonialists, the man who makes most of the decisions affect­ing the Bronx from his Manhattan pent­house office, is Stanley Friedman, Demo­cratic county leader. He makes these decisions, which affect thousands of Lat­ins and Blacks, while making big profits for his own business ventures. This is possible because of Friedman’s control and influence over the Democratic Coun­ty Committee, the office of borough pres­ident, local planning boards, and “eco­nomic development” community agen­cies. He exploits them all.

Friedman’s friends and fellow colonial­ists include his famous law partner, right-­wing Republican Roy Cohn. His other associates, some of whom have been de­scribed by Norman Adler, political action director of District Council 37, as “the dobermans in Animal Farm,” include Paul Victor, law chairman for the Bronx Democratic County Committee, and two members of the Democratic County Committee of the Bronx, Murray Lewin­ter and Stanley Schlein.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726967″ /]

Along with these individuals there are State Senator John Calandra represent­ing the Republican Party, and last and perhaps least, the Bronx borough presi­dent, Stanley Simon. Excluding Calan­dra, these white males control the Bronx Democratic County Committee — its funds, appointments, nominations, and all its activities — despite the fact that the Bronx is over 70 per cent Black and Latino.

Unlike his predecessor Patrick Cun­ningham, who refused to understand that to maintain his power he had to “adjust” to changing times, Friedman does include some minority representation in his group. Friedman has found some natives who are most willing to support him in return for relatively small rewards.

Crazy Joe Gallo, famous underworld figure, who was known for his attempts to include Blacks and Latinos in “la Fami­lia,” understood that to keep his opera­tion strong in poor communitites, he had to change his strategy to fit new realities. Friedman has recognized the same changes in the Bronx and that they called for a similar strategy in his organization. He found individuals like South Bronx boss Ramon Velez and State Senator Jo­seph Galiber to legitimize his power in the Black and Latino communities of the Bronx. Velez and Galiber basically act as overseers to make sure that Blacks and Latins who challenge the power relation­ships in the “banana republic” do not obtain any power. For Friedman’s purposes, Velez and Galiber serve to create the illusion that power is shared in the Bronx.

[related_posts post_id_1=”718606″ /]

Recently, Friedman has also supported minority candidates such as Larry Sea­brook, who defeated incumbent Vincent Marchiselli this fall in the 82nd Assembly District. This kind of support is only giv­en, however, when the incumbent is anti­-Friedman and anti-machine, as Marchi­selli has always been, and when the challenger indicates a willingness and commitment to work with “County” and cooperate with Friedman.

As in a colony, the Bronx’s leadership positions are all held by outsiders (who are also white males), including the office of Democratic county leader, the borough presidency, the office of the district attorney, the Surrogate, and the majority of seats on the Democratic County Exec­utive Committee. El Jefe keeps it this way by running a well-organized, tight-knit group, exercising control over the office of borough president, controlling judgeships and maintaining an intimate relationship with Mayor Koch, who has provided the Democratic county leader with numerous city jobs. Through the use of patronage Friedman has developed a loyal group of followers and hundreds of others who are hoping to get something from the Democratic boss.

Friedman’s control over the office of Bronx borough president began with his early contributions to the first borough presidency campaign of Stanley Simon in 1979. Friedman, his law partners, and some of his clients made substantial loans to Bronx borough president Simon during this campaign. A 1979 Voice arti­cle detailed these loans and showed how Simon’s campaign was almost completely dependent for its initial financing on the Friedman/Cohn law firm, Saxe, Bacon and Bolan. In return, Friedman has been rewarded with patronage on the staff of the borough president, in the planning boards, and in agencies like the Bronx Development Corporation.

Friedman has used this patronage to find jobs for district leaders and other “community activists” who are key play­ers in minority communities. It is be­cause of this patronage that Friedman has been able to guarantee that the dis­trict leaders who elect the county leader continue to choose him. Although 11 out of 20 of the district leaders are minor­ities, Friedman was just recently reelect­ed by 19 of the 20.

[related_posts post_id_1=”718172″ /]

Friedman has also exercised his influ­ence in the borough president’s office to gather friendly votes at the Board of Es­timate. Friedman was influential in pro­viding support for Koch in 1981 and has been able to sway most minority politi­cians in the Bronx to his side. This, in turn, has helped Friedman get favorable votes for his “projects” on the Board of Estimate.

Referring to this control Friedman has over Simon, former Bronx borough presi­dent Herman Badillo stated, “Bronx bor­ough president Stanley Simon has al­lowed his office to be used, controlled, and dominated by the county leader. Si­mon has turned his powers over to Fried­man.” When asked to respond to this accusation and other charges in the arti­cle, Bronx borough president Simon as well as Democratic county leader Fried­man refused to comment.

Israel Ruiz, state senator and district leader in the South Bronx and often the sole dissenting voice in county meetings, has described Friedman as “a county leader who uses his position solely to fur­ther his business interests. Friedman forces anyone doing business in the Bronx, whether it be building highways, housing construction or developing mar­kets, to do business with his law firm or one of his ‘favored’ law firms.”

Describing the loyal support that mi­nority district leaders have lavished on Friedman, Norman Adler stated, “Stan­ley Friedman is like a corpse being car­ried around by vampires. He is like a dead man who is being propped up.”

Saxe, Bacon and Bolan’s Bronx clients include: the New York Bus Express Ser­vice Company, that allows the white mid­dle class of the Bronx to avoid mingling with the poorer nonwhite residents of the South Bronx; the New York Yankees; and the Metropolitan Taxi Board. Ac­cording to State Senator Ruiz, the firm recently acquired as a client the architec­tural design company of Daniel Mann, Johnson and Mendenhall, a group con­tracted to do a feasibility study for the new Bronx prison.

[related_posts post_id_1=”726468″ /]

Ruiz has documented a whole history of shady dealings involving Mann, John­son and Mendenhall. According to this documentation, the firm was convicted and fined by a Massachusetts state court for paying bribes for contracts. The firm has also had construction and design problems in Baltimore, New Orleans, and Niagara. Despite this track record the State Office of General Services awarded this firm a design contract for the pro­posed Metro North Prison.

Talking Turkey, a new progressive newspaper in the city, recently revealed that Friedman is the largest stockholder in a company which was awarded the contract to produce and maintain a new system called Summons Issuance Device of New York, hand-held computers to be used by parking enforcement agents to find out if a ticketed car belongs to a scofflaw. This contract, unanimously granted by the Board of Estimate to a brand new company with no significant resources, netted Stanley Friedman, as largest stockholder, a capital gain of $1.3 million dollars. Among those companies rejected by the Board of Estimate were Motorola Corporation and a subsidiary of McDonnell Douglass Corporation.

In the most recent edition of Talking Turkey Friedman denies that his compa­ny received any special treatment from the Board of Estimate.

Friedman’s law firm itself is an excel­lent example of how colonialistas of the major political parties unite around prof­it. Saxe, Bacon and Bolan includes, in addition to Roy Cohn, Tom Bolan, a leading force in the Conservative Party. Both Cohn and Bolan have done legal work for the Catholic Archdiocese and have ties to conservative Archbishop John J. O’Connor. This same type of col­lusion between Democrats and Republi­cans is reflected in la colonia’s politics.

[related_posts post_id_1=”725566″ /]

South Bronx powerbroker Ramon Ve­lez supported Ronald Reagan in his re­election bid. Not only did Velez’s com­munity programs like Bronx Venture receive federal money before this en­dorsement, but so did an economic devel­opment agency called Bronx Develop­ment Corporation, an organization directly controlled by Bronx boss Stanley Friedman and Borough President Stan­ley Simon.

Last month State Senator Galiber, a strong Friedman ally who at all times makes himself available to help divide Blacks and Latinos and reelect whites, was indicted with Secretary of Labor Ray Donovan, a Reagan appointee. Joseph Galiber, until last week the ranking mi­nority member of the State Senate’s Eth­ics Committee, was indicted for grand larceny in the second degree and falsify­ing business records in the first degree. He has also been linked to William Mas­selli, a well-known mobster; they were co-­owners of JoPel Contracting and Truck­ing, a firm which frequently did business with Donovan’s company, Schiavone Construction Company.

Politicians like Congressman Robert Garcia who cooperate with Friedman and local Bronx Republicans are often given the Republican line while leading conser­vative Republicans like John Calandra go unchallenged by Friedman’s County Committee. Calandra remains unchal­lenged by the Bronx Democrats although Democratic members in the state senate have identified him as one of the most vulnerable Republicans in the state senate. It was Calandra who helped give Koch the GOP line in the 1981 mayoralty race, and who is already lobbying for the Republicans to give Koch the line in 1985. In return for his support, Calandra, the leading Republican in the Bronx, wins such rewards as the $1 million he received in the April 1984 supplementary budget for programs in his area. While Calandra obtained his million, in com­parison, areas like the South Bronx got crumbs.

Stanley Simon, Roy Cohn, John Calandra, Ramon Velez, Freddy Ferrer, Rafel Castaneira Colon, Joseph Galiber, Stanley Schlein

The Bronx colonialistas not only do business with “opposing” political par­ties, but have provided legal representa­tion to underworld figures who feed from the same field.

Friedman’s law partner, Roy Cohn, has represented reputed mobsters like Vin­cent DiNapoli, one of the most powerful builders in the Bronx. DiNapoli was con­victed in 1982 for extortion and labor racketeering. Before sentencing DiNapoli received letters of support both from As­semblyman Jose Rivera and from State Senator Calandra, who described DiNa­poli as “an individual who has always responded to community needs.”

Friedman’s ally State Senator Joseph Galiber not only was joint owner of Jo­Pel Trucking with underworld figure William Masselli, who is now serving sev­en years in prison on federal hijacking charges, but has also politically support­ed Louis Moscatiello, widely reputed to be the “son” of Vincent DiNapoli. It was DiNapoli who began Plasterers Local 530, the union of which Moscatiello be­came president.

[related_posts post_id_1=”725990″ /]

Moscatiello, whose mob ties have been detailed in previous Voice articles, is now on the payroll of State Senator John Ca­landra. It was Moscatiello who inspired the recent civil court judge candidacy of Richard Gugliotta, the candidate Stanley Friedman tried to ram down the throats of Bronx voters. Gugliotta’s background includes once having been a serious scoff­law, a tax dodger, and a man whose clos­est allies have been people like Louis Moscatiello.

Friedman pulled out all the stops to try to get Gugliotta elected. Although Gugli­otta lost the primary, Friedman attempt­ed to get him placed on the ballot through the nomination of the Democrat­ic County Committee. Most of the dis­trict leaders went along with Friedman, and if Vincent Marchiselli hadn’t filed a successsful lawsuit, Gugliotta would have been on the Democratic line.

Other members of the Democratic County Executive Committee have done business with reputed mobsters. In 1982 the Voice revealed that Paul Victor, law chairman of the Bronx Democratic Coun­ty Committee and parliamentarian of the Executive Committee, represented Sonny Guippone on major narcotics selling charges. Guippone was known to federal authorities as a drug dealer responsible for moving millions of dollars of heroin throughout the Bronx, especially the South Bronx. He was convicted for nar­cotics trafficking and sentenced to 30 years.

[related_posts post_id_1=”713066″ /]

Friedman and his friends have been very successful in creating a total monop­oly of political power in the Bronx. Un­like Brooklyn and Manhattan where there are real battles between regulars, reformers, and Black and Brown political movements, the Bronx, even now, has no organized antimachine group. Reformers in the Bronx are few, unorganized, and in recent years most willing to make deals with Boss Friedman.

The big loser is the Bronx Democratic Party. “Since Friedman and his cohorts are only interested in doing business, we have a weak party with little connection to the concerns and problems of the Bronx,” explained State Senator Ruiz in  a recent interview.

The Democratic Party in the Bronx is not concerned with registering new voters who could create a challenge to the status quo. As long as there are few voters and low voter turnouts, the candidates the Bronx Party supports — who offer the voters so little — can continue to be re-­elected, thus perpetuating the power held by Friedman and his associates.

Generally, politicians who have been opponents of the machine, like Al Vann, Major Owens, Basil Patterson, and Her­man Badillo, have tended to be more pro­gressive and more responsive to their communities.

Politicians like Joseph Galiber, Rafael Castaneira Colon, Hector Diaz, or Enoch Williams, all sponsored by the machine, have tended to be weaklings with very little interest in empowering their com­munities. It is therefore very important how a minority politician comes to pow­er — whether through the efforts of orga­nized community people or simply as the machine’s choice.

[related_posts post_id_1=”721462″ /]

The one-party rule in El Bronx will be doing business as usual in the 1985 elec­tion for Bronx borough president and for City Council. In return for the machine supporting Latino incumbents, it is ex­pected that councilmen Rafael Casta­neira Colon and Freddy Ferrer, along with Ramon Velez and Joseph Galiber, will support the reelection of Stanley Si­mon for borough president and Ed Koch for mayor. The 1985 election in the Bronx may in fact be a referendum on one-party rule in the Bronx.

Most recently in the Bronx there have been some independent stirrings in the Black and Latino community. Surely the campaign of Jesse Jackson, pitted against the machine and Latino politicians who supported Mondale, began to produce the elements needed for an emergency rescue mission.

The 1985 opposition to Friedman will come from the activists of the Jackson campaign, from the reformers who were successful in electing Alexander Delle Cese to civil court judge and from unex­pected sources like Assemblyman Jose Serrano, who recently broke away from Koch, Friedman, and Simon, and an­nounced his support for Herman Badillo along with his own candidacy for Bronx borough president.

Signs of what is coming were seen in this past election year; independent forces began opposing the incumbents who are loyal to Friedman. In the North Bronx, young Black activist David Brush initiated a campaign to capture the 82nd Assembly District. Although knocked off the ballot (with a little help from Fried­man) he certainly intends to run again. In this same area, Black activist Alice Tor­riente will be running against Friedman ally Councilman Jerry Crispino.

[related_posts post_id_1=”718566″ /]

In the Fordham Road/Kingsbridge area of the Bronx, a number of progres­sive Blacks and Latinos supported the candidacy of Reuben Franco against As­semblyman George Friedman. Although Franco was defeated with room to spare, these Blacks and Latinos are now devel­oping their own independent political club. It is expected that this club will identify a serious challenger to run against Councilman Freddie Ferrer.

In the South Bronx, Soundview, and Parchester areas of the Bronx, a group of Black and Latino community organizers have developed the Bronx Rainbow Club. This group is emphasizing the importance of Black and Latino unity in de­feating Friedman’s machine and is plan­ning to run progressive candidates this year. It appears that Roberto Marrero, longtime tenant activist, will be their candidate against Councilman Rafael Castaneira-Colon.

There are many other independent ef­forts now being planned in the Bronx. Some of these emerging movements are guided by new progressive ideas while others simply seek to replace Friedman or one of his friends in order to seize power and use it in the Friedman/South Bronx tradition.

It is important to note that Black and Latino independents, reformers, and pro­gressives have yet to develop a long-range strategy for the seizure of power in the Bronx. Too many have been co-opted by the immediate crumbs. Both short and long-range strategies are needed. As long as these kinds of plans are neglected, Friedman’s power will indeed be secure.

[related_posts post_id_1=”397777″ /]

Herman Badillo has suggested that the prime strategy of all reformers, indepen­dents and progressives in 1985 should be to replace Bronx borough president Stan­ley Simon. “We cannot have a borough president who allows his position, his staff, and his vote on the Board of Esti­mate to be used by party powerbrokers that are only interested in enriching their legal practices,” says Badillo. Simon re­fused to comment.

“We must get rid of Stanley Simon,” said Badillo, “and instead elect a borough president who will be independent.” Oth­ers have agreed with Badillo that if Friedman loses control of the office of Bronx borough president he will lose con­trol of significant patronage, of the vote at the Board of Estimate, and access to information for business dealings.

If Serrano can unite with a Black/ Puerto Rican/Labor/Liberal citywide ef­fort to support Herman Badillo, and then link up with serious challengers like Tor­riente and Marrero, the Friedman ma­chine may indeed face its first serious challenge.

Friedman’s colonial machine is clearly prepared for such challenges. If a Puerto Rican runs for Bronx borough president the machine will find a Black like Joe Galiber, in hopes that he will divide the vote. If a Black runs, South Bronx caudi­llo Ramon Velez will certainly help them find a Puerto Rican to divide the vote. They will use all the power they have with the Board of Elections to make sure that any challenger is knocked off the ballot. They will call in Paul Victor, Stanley Schlein, and Murray Lewinter to represent incumbents and to pose legal challenges to the independent candi­dates. Friedman appoints the commis­sioner on the Board of Elections from the Bronx, so you can expect the board will cooperate with the machine.

[related_posts post_id_1=”727098″ /]

If a reformer is able to survive the chal­lenges from the Friedman forces, he or she will then face an election day in which all the poll watchers and personnel at the polling sites are part of the Fried­man machine. Irregularities will flourish. In a very recent race for district leader where a young Puerto Rican named Jose Rivera (unrelated to the assemblyman) ran against the incumbent in the 78th A.D., numerous illegal practices were cited in a lawsuit challenging the results.

Attorneys for Rivera, provided by State Senator Israel Ruiz, found that many inspectors were not members of ei­ther party, in clear violation of the law; in many of the election districts there were no inspectors at all; Republicans were al­lowed to vote in a Democratic primary, and unregistered voters were allowed to vote.

The Friedman colonialistas will do ev­erything and anything to remain in pow­er. They are businessmen first, second, and always, but they prefer to be called “political leaders.” Every day they obtain new Bronx clients and begin new con­struction companies, housing manage­ment corporations, consultant groups, and other types of enterprises. They do business with Republicans, reputed mob­sters, and “cooperative” Blacks and La­tinos. They successfully run a one-party state, ready to take on those who seek the independence of the Bronx.

But natives are beginning to stir. One small group after another is forming and the word is being spread: “Stanley Simon must go, and then, Stanley Friedman.” As the independent movement begins to develop, as they begin to unite, as re­formers begin to realize they must work with independent Blacks and Latinos, Stanley Friedman will go the way of all colonialistas, and independencia will soon arrive in the Bronx … ■