The Streets Were Paved with Gold - Ken Auletta [163]
Perhaps New York’s experience will finally rob liberalism of its innocence. As was true for America in Vietnam, in New York liberalism has been identified with the wrong side.
Chapter Ten
1975–78: The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same
THREE YEARS LATER—after the bouts with bankruptcy, the layoffs, the service cuts, the new bookkeeping systems and the loud threats have been replaced by Big Apple lapel pins and congratulatory speeches—has anything changed?
Not really, laments Edward Costikyan, who was fleetingly a candidate for mayor in 1977. To make the point, he recalls a story his father used to tell about an Armenian sultan with a herd of healthy horses who captured a particularly clever horse thief. Without a moment’s pause, the sultan ordered immediate execution.
“No!” cried the thief. “Spare my life and I will teach your horses to fly.”
It was an offer the sultan could not refuse, and the thief was granted a year of freedom to perform his miracle.
“But you can’t teach horses to fly!” exclaimed a friend.
“Who knows?” responded the thief. “Maybe in a year I’ll be dead. Or maybe in a year the Sultan will die. Or maybe in a year the horses will die.” He paused, a smile creasing his face. “Or who knows? Maybe the horses really will fly.”
Observes Costikyan: “That is what the first three years of the fiscal crisis have been about. New York City has acted as if horses could fly.”
In New York’s case, the reprieve came from city and employee pension funds, the banks and the federal government. New York’s ritual execution—bankruptcy—was postponed when the pension funds agreed to risk $3.8 billion of their assets and the Ford administration and Congress narrowly approved a three-year seasonal loan program in late 1975 to provide the city with annual infusions of $2.3 billion in cash it could not raise in the private credit market. The feds, like the sultan, consented to the reprieve after clever people like Governor Carey promised, “We will never need a bailout again, and we won’t come back for help; we are going to make it.” Three years later, in 1978, New York had not made it and was back before the Congress pleading for an extension of seasonal loans and for new federal loan guarantees. Horses still couldn’t fly.
What Has Changed
Much—and little—changed in New York between 1975 and 1978. Political styles changed. In times past, mayoral candidates issued white papers and 14-point platforms, usually crafted by infants fresh from college. Most candidates vied to promise more services, reduce crime, maintain the subway fare, address the “causes” of unemployment, crime and drugs, eliminate business and landlord “ripoffs.” The answer to the city’s problems, it was commonly assumed, was more money. The critical question was which candidate promised the most new programs, which candidate was most compassionate—who was the most caring liberal, not the most realistic and competent.
All that seemed to change in 1977. Most candidates in that year’s mayoral contest acted as if they were aware of the new limits imposed on City Hall. They promised not purification from “the bosses” (as Wagner did in 1961), or Camelot (Lindsay in 1965), or peace and tranquillity (Beame in 1973), but further toil and sacrifice. One candidate, State Senator Roy Goodman, warned that the city’s attrition policy was insufficient and that further layoffs would be necessary. Manhattan Borough President Percy Sutton challenged the once-sacrosanct police union and promised 60,000 to 100,000 more auxiliary police volunteers. Builder Richard Ravitch predicted future deficits unless the city cut its budget and slashed its broad range of services. Costikyan vowed to abolish the City University’s graduate school. Secretary of State Mario Cuomo promised no-cost labor contracts, with any