By Keegan Hamilton
By Albert Samaha
By Village Voice staff
By Tessa Stuart
By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
You might remember the movieEl Cid, where the great general is mortally wounded, so his supporters tie him on a horse and he leads the people in battle. Everybody thinks he's still alive even though he died.
Well, maybe Andrew Cuomo is El Cid, but the Liberal Party is the rope and the horse.
The Ray Harding mystique was on full display last week as he posed for selected reporters behind his desk at the law firm he joined in 1994 to help capitalize on his then-close ties to City Hall. Speaking in his halting, rasping voice, from a throat cauterized by the unfiltered Camels he chain-smokes, Harding tried to explain why he wasn't worried by the suddenly grim circumstances of his Liberal Party, which now finds itself without an active candidate in this year's gubernatorial race. Andrew Cuomo's decision to drop out of the Democratic primary and endorse former opponent Carl McCall means the party runs the risk of not winning the required 50,000 votes required to maintain its ballot line, Harding acknowledged. But Cuomo's own situation or desires weren't the most important things, Harding insisted. What mattered was that Cuomo's name would still be listed on the Liberal Party line, beneath its tolling Liberty Bell symbol.
He toned down his remarks for the visiting Times and other papers (the Voice was excluded, as usual). But he gave vivid vent to his political cynicism in the interview cited above with an upstate radio station. Give me a political dead man with a well-known name and I can still save my party's ballot status, the old warhorse bragged, even if those votes on our line help propel a conservative Republican to victory.
It was the kind of performance that has helped keep most of the state's news coverage of Harding and his party focused on him as a caricature of an old-style political boss, instead of on the venality of his ambitions and the smoke-and-mirrors manipulations that disguise his political operation. "Ray-noir" was what Paul Schwartzman of the Daily News tellingly dubbed the act in 1993, shortly after Harding hit the daily double by electing Rudy Giuliani mayor and then joining a law firm that lobbied the same city commissioners he helped pick.
Access to power and jobs has been the underlying rationale of Liberal Party activism for decades, and in the heyday of Giuliani's political love affair with Harding there was no better place to be for those on the make.
The whole city knew that Harding was the voice closest to Giuliani's ear in setting city policies and making appointments, and Liberal Party fundraisers were the hottest ticket in town for those eager to ease past the well-guarded gates outside the mayor's City Hall office. The events were held at the cavernous Imperial Ballroom of the Grand Hyatt, where the price of admission was $500 a head. Throngs attended, including scores of high-ranking Giuliani administration officials and scores more of those either already doing business with the city or eager to do so. The parties were a see-and-be-seen extravaganza, the political equivalent of a Hollywood post-Oscars bash.
In 1994, the year Giuliani took office, the Liberals' soiree raked in $500,000. In December 1996, Voice reporters Wayne Barrett and Richard Kornylak counted 145 city aides in attendance among the 1028 guests on the seating list. The event featured Giuliani seated on the dais, with the jowly Harding on one side and Fran Reiter, the Liberal Party chairperson and deputy mayor, on the other. Looming behind them was a figure of national prestige, then-vice president Al Gore, there to pay homage to Harding's clout as custodian of the party's ballot line.
This year, however, was a different story.
The party's spring fundraiser was a quiet, modest event. It was held May 23 at the Jade Terrace Rooftop Lounge and Garden above the China Club on West 47th Street, and the price of admittance was a bargain at $250 per head. Still, attendance was sparse, limited to diehards and those who still owe their employment to party patronage. Among them were several officials from the Housing Authority and the Department of Youth, an assistant in the Mayor's Office of Film, and a deputy commissioner in the city's records department. The take, finance reports show, was a mere $38,000.
"Yes, that's about the figure," acknowledged Martin Oesterreich, another former Giuliani commissioner who rose through the ranks with Harding's backing and now serves as executive director for the party. The falloff was to be expected. With Giuliani gone from City Hall, and new mayor Mike Bloomberg owing no political debt to the Liberals, there was no reason to flock to the party standard.
Reports filed by the Liberals show that its federal political committee is sustained mainly by $37,500 in loans from Harding's family and closest associates.
"Parties wax and wane," said Henry Stern, another Liberal stalwart and ex-Giuliani aide. Stern was the last person to win election to city office on the Liberal line alone, serving as councilman at large for Manhattan from 1973 until 1983, when he became Ed Koch's parks commissioner. The long view, Stern was saying last week, requires that one remember the glory years of Giuliani and former governor Hugh Carey, another Liberal Party favorite, as well as the bleak times. "The party is 58 years old," said Stern. "That is the longest-running third party in the country; that's an extraordinary achievement. It has a great and honored history."