Yes, if I were Governor David Paterson, I’d want to change the subject. I’m just not sure I’d want to change the subject to drugs. Well, maybe. At least we can be sure that the drug weren’t paid for with campaign funds or the public treasury. Well, actually, with this Governor even that is probably somewhat less than certain. What can be said with certainty is, despite competition from his nose and nether regions, the bodily organs which have so far caused the Governor the most damage are his mouth and tongue.
Thank goodness that the Albany Times-Union has retracted its story that Paterson used state funds to travel with his "former" (at least as of the last couple of weeks) mistress to campaign for Hillary Clinton. If the story had been true, it would have been the most damaging to date, as the trip’s avowed purpose was guaranteed to put a damper upon sympathy for the Governor from that portion of the State’s population most likely to otherwise stay in his corner, come what may (or with whom). "SAY WHAT? You Bogarted my tax money so you could campaign for WHO?"
I, for one, reject the inSINuation that the campaign trip was less about the call of duty than the call of booty (at least that particular butt). The whole idea of road trips of this sort is to "bag the locals", not to take one with you from home. Or as they say in South Carolina, "what happens in Waccamaw Neck, stays in Waccamaw Neck".
And what’s this thing about mistresses looking just like the wife, anyway? First Al Pirro, and now the Governor. Not that Paterson could tell the difference anyway, but isn’t this exactly the sort of thing which could lead to slips of the tongue (and not in a good way). I mean, one early morning “Lila” delivered to the wrong person, and it would surely be Kirtons. Better to chose a mistress with the same name as your wife than the same face, right?
I’d have much more sympathy for the violation of privacy visited upon Ms. Kirton without due notice if she’d shown a little discretion herself, rather than hanging post-its informing the Governor’s staff who was to be staying in which offices and who’d better be packing their belongings, and doing so in a manner which conveyed her apparent authority. When it comes to explosive and toxic sources of great power, plutonium apparently has nothing on vaginal secretions, although, in a sign of progress, in some circles semen may now qualify as an alternate and renewable source of motivational fuel.
In any event, we can now rest easy, for the trip paid for by the taxpayers was not a Clinton campaign trip, but the annual “Somos El Futuro”, a “legislative conference” best described as “Albany Nite Life + (Beaches x Mojitos) > Vegas”. It’s sort of like pre-Castro Havana, with every legislator getting to personally play the part of “Superman”.
Sadly, the Governor’s initial response to the story was essentially, “Oops, did we really do that? Sorry. Henry will see to it we write a check”. But, let me defend the Governor here. This non-existent crime he nearly copped to was one lacking the element of intent. Clearly, David Paterson had no intent to pay for Clinton campaign trips using state funds, or to pay for a no-tell room using his campaign funds. As has become apparent, when reaching for his plastic, David Paterson was utterly indifferent whether the card he used was his own, his campaign’s or that of the State of New York. Charge it all now and let God or Henry Berger sort it out later (for those confused about the difference, God does not think he is an election lawyer).
Personally, I am not all that concerned about the illegal misuse of campaign funds, although the rules seem so elastic that it almost requires effort in order to violate the applicable laws. And, why shouldn’t a bar tab be a legitimate campaign expense anyway? I’ve done some of my best campaign work from a bar stool. I’ve also done some of my best political missionary work (no pun intended–not necessarily even accurate) in an hotel room. During the Clinton administration, a pretty young Republican in a bar at a Quality Inn told me she was going to do to me what my party had done to the country. Puzzled, I asked, “You’re going to make me prosperous?”
Back in late 2006, I had a spirited debate with former Councilman Ken Fisher and the blogger "Cranky Independent" about the proper and permissible uses of campaign money (two different things). In defending Alan Hevesi, Fisher said "Govenor Pataki, I am sure, can't help but feel compassion for Alan Hevesi. After all, if Hevesi had only followed the Pataki model and arranged to put Mrs. Hevesi's driver on the state party payroll…"; he then cited to a Times story in which the Governor conceded that the Republican Party was paying $50,000 for his wife's personal assistant. I responded that:
"A Chief Fiscal Officer violating his fiduciary obligation (and a public trust) for the purposes of personal enrichment (or at least offsetting a potential threat to his fiscal health), to the detriment of those who funds are being absconded with, is quite different from the titular head of a private political organization misusing that organization's funds with the express permission of those who are legally charged with determining that organization's priorities. Both are unseemly, but the former is much much more."
As I noted then, contributions to the Republican State Committee buy "access" no matter what the money is spent on. That evil remains the same regardless. And since most of the donors got what they bought, they were not cheated. By contrast, my misused taxes were not spent on what I thought I was buying, so I was robbed. That Pataki misused these ill-gotten funds did not really concern me; in fact, to the extent the funds were wasted, they were not used to elect more Republicans. Therefore, I was very pleased. In fact, I wished they’d gotten the woman a few more servants. However, if David Paterson gets any similar ideas about the Democratic State Committee, I’m raising a hanging party.
In Paterson’s case, the proper response to any illegal use of his personal campaign funds (say, hypothetically, to buy suits or Broadway tickets) would be to sic upon him the gentle ministrations of the IRS. After that, he’d only wish it were some prosecutor instead (although perhaps not Eliot Spitzer). But, for now it seems best to withhold judgment.
Public funds are a different matter, and despite the lack of a smoking card (just yet), one sure to raise its ugly head in the near future. However, there are gray areas. A Governor is a busy man, and surely requires a driver. But even busy men have personal matters they must deal with, whether it be buying the milk or structuring a payment to an escort service. If a Governor or Senate Minority Leader finds a spare hour in the middle of his day to work out at the gym or the Day’s Inn, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to ask the chauffeur to do the pick ups and drop offs between the legitimate business. Seems far less egregious than going to the trouble of creating legitimate business to provide cover for those trips, especially when the real reason involves an act of prostitution (like raising funds for the Republican Senate Campaign Committee).
Still there are limits. Former NJ Governor Jim McGreevey provides an almost admirable egalitarian contrast to the high price elitist behavior of Mr. Spitzer; he invited the driver to join in the fun. Further, in contrast to the courtesy bar at the Mayflower, the McGreevey Family wined and dined their inamorata at TGI Friday’s (did they then join David Paterson at the Day’s Inn?).
Poor mundane Eliot Spitzer appointed a Republican State Senator as his Director of Homeland Security to create a Special Election; by contrast, McGreevey seemed more interested in Special Erections, giving the equivalent post in his administration to his Israeli born boyfriend, Golan Cipel. Now, with the driver story, we see another example of McGreevey’s philo-Semitism; while none of the parties involved were Jewish, it was apparent that with the McGreeveys every day was Rosh Hashanah (please don’t ask me to explain the pun contained within).
The lengths to which these men went to save their marriages boggles the mind. Rather than catting around behind her back, McGreevey, (at least until the Cipel affair) took the Clinton’s "two for the price of one" philosophy to a whole nuther level. The McGreevey marriage had no problem coping with the Governor’s baser instincts, but it could not survive his nobler ones. In the end, the marriage was brought down not by sex, but by love. Ms. McG's problem with her husband's continued refusal to withdraw from Golan was that, while she understood there would be boys, she could not tolerate there being ONE BOY, especially when that boy had succeed in morphing from his Monica into his Hillary, a role she had zealously guarded for herself.
By contrast, Mr. Spitzer thought that he owed his wife a refusal to partake in "The State Capital Lifestyle" (Texans call it “The Three Bs” for booze, beefsteak and broads), something he shared in some measure with both his predecessor, and McGreevey’s successor, albeit for different reasons. Both Geroge Pataki and Richard Codey refused to move into their Governor’s mansions; Pataki didn’t want to spend nights in Albany because he had so little interest in the duties of his office (as opposed to the perks); Codey didn’t want to spend the night in Trenton because he was interested only in the duties of his office. By contrast, Spitzer’s refusal came from a misapprehension of wherein lied the risk. As my buddy Roscoe Conway observed:
"all the other broken rules aside, how could he have been so stupid as to lay -lie? – with someone who had less to lose than he did? A 22 year old aspiring singer and formerly homeless druggie? Sweet Mary, Mother of God! If you're going to pay for it, at least do it with someone who doesn't advertise on the internet! It's a 100% risk proposition, with absolutely no cover whatsoever.
He paid retail. If only he'd had the good sense and true hypocrisy to find a love puppet to put on the State payroll somewhere [EXAMPLES DELETED]…This is a case where not only _can_ you fuck where you eat, but you ought to. Having someone on the payroll eliminates the need to explain where you were, who you were with and why. The cover is built in, with a need more for a five-o'clock shadow than a true beard. All I can think is that this was his way of compartmentalizing. If he paid for it with his own money, it kept him from being like those bad men – those…. politicians!"
Apparently, such uses of the public till are, like Joe Bruno’s taxpayer financed fundraising junkets, permissible because the public and pubic purposes are so commingled as to be inextricably indistinguishable, much like some of the bodies involved.
Once again, New Jersey may provide the transcendent example; there the Governor’s former mistress was the head of a large public employee union. Though the exchanges of cash involved (a large gift to enable Carla Katz, the woman in question, to buy out her home from her ex-husband) far exceeded the cost of all of Eliot Spitzer’s dalliances, they were paid in one check, so there was no question of structuring; moreover the funds flowed in exactly the wrong direction to interest any prosecutors; would that Spitzer were so lucky (former Newark Mayor Sharpe James, currently on trial for allegedly helping his paramour to acquire some real estate, must also be feeling a twinge of jealousy). And since the unions involved had delivered big for the Governor in his campaign, any undue influence was almost like buying the cow when you’d already paid for the milk in-kind (one way or another). For Jersey public employees, the result was truly the Katz Pajamas as the Governor and his friend shared victorious secrets.