TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/123091/1230100.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 6.7 KB | 140 lines

                                                                                NATION, Page 18

POLITICS

At Last: A No-Go From Mario


Why the New York Governor toyed with Democratic hopes and G.O.P.
fears for 10 tortured weeks, then finally rode off with an
emphatic "Fuhgedaboudit!"

By MICHAEL KRAMER


    What happened? He had communed with himself for 70 days,
exposing his innermost calculations in near hourly briefings to
anyone who cared. He had authorized the gathering of troops and
moneymen. He had signed the legal papers and glowed as
expectations soared. Everything and everyone was ready. And
then, at the eleventh hour, with political junkies and hopeful
Democrats in a state of emotional exhaustion, Mario Cuomo said,
"Nah, not this time either."

    Such as it was, the Governor's thinking had less to do
with politics than with his self-image, with his concern that
a giant poised to lead a crusade might ultimately appear small
and personally ambitious. Strange thoughts for a politician. Par
for the course for Mario Cuomo.

    More than anything, a trial lawyer fears being unprepared.
And more than anything, Mario Cuomo remains a trial lawyer.
"You've got to know your brief 110%," Cuomo explained several
years back. "Unless I know it all better than anyone, my
performance is flat. I may never get the questions that expose
my weaknesses, but if I know they're there, waiting to be
discovered, then I can be as mediocre as anyone. So I have to
know it all. I never pretend. I'm too afraid of making a
mistake."

    The last time Cuomo declined to run for President, back in
1987, he had been studying nonstop for months. In a hotel room
in New Orleans on Feb. 16, he was trying his best to get a
handle on U.S. farm policy. "Does anyone really understand this
stuff?" he wondered. "What happens when I have to be cogent on
parity or price supports? You remember what happened to Gerry?"
Cuomo's reference was to Geraldine Ferraro, who confused an
arcane bit of nuclear-war fighting strategy -- the difference
between "first use" and "first strike" -- during her
unsuccessful 1984 vice-presidential race. "The worst thing that
can happen to you in this business is the same as the worst
thing that can happen in the law," said Cuomo. "You're made to
look foolish." Three days later, Cuomo shied away from the 1988
presidential race.

    Earlier this year, Cuomo again confronted his fear that he
wasn't fully prepared. He blundered by suggesting that the U.S.
consider a negotiated settlement to the gulf crisis that could
have left Iraq with some Kuwaiti territory and oil. But the real
obstacle this time was a different worry. On one level it was
as the Governor stated: he had -- and has -- an obligation to
resolve New York's fiscal crisis. At another level it was
politics, pure and simple. Cuomo knew what an aide to George
Bush confided only a few hours before the Governor announced
that he would not run in 1992: "We don't want to face Mario. But
if he goes, the Republicans in Albany will tie him up for
months. His budget will never be resolved, and he'll look like
he's put his personal desire for the presidency before his
public responsibility. It'll kill him."

    That Republican "got it right," says a Cuomo adviser.
"Mario would have tortured himself about appearing to abdicate
his first obligation. He would have seen himself as small and
petty. That's really why he decided not to run, but he had to
look deep inside to figure it out."

    At the end, the decision was Cuomo's alone. After working
with the Governor for four hours last Friday morning, Cuomo's
top assistant, Andrew Zambelli, told a colleague, "You'd think
that I, as the chief of staff, would know if the Governor were
going to run for President. But you'd be wrong." A few days
before, Cuomo's political advisers, sticklers for order and
slaves to planning, had connived to convince their man that
they, at least, had to know his plans 36 hours before the 5 p.m.
New Hampshire primary filing deadline. Their ace, they thought,
was Cuomo's personal frugality. Chartering a press plane to
accompany the Governor for the symbolic trip to New Hampshire's
capital costs real money. Why part with the cash if Cuomo was
going to say no? But Cuomo was unmoved. "It's only money," said
the Governor uncharacteristically, "and timing is everything.
It would be silly to make a decision before you have to." At a
loss for guidance, the advisers prudently got the plane.

    What might have been? Using his words as fists, Cuomo
offered a brief foretaste several days before he bowed out.
Calling Bush's economic prescriptions a "fraud" and a "phony,"
the Governor stared straight into a television camera and
challenged the President: "You want to talk about what you call
the `New York nightmare,' " said Cuomo. "I'll meet you anytime,
anyplace. You can have all the memos and all the aides with you
that you want. I'll come alone without a note."

    The same combative spirit and sense of command was evident
during the question period following Cuomo's somber announcement
of noncandidacy. In a spellbinding, extemporaneous critique
that spared no one, Republican or Democrat, Cuomo began softly,
"Especially this year, the message is ((most)) important . . .
But it must be a responsible, complete, persuasive one. You
can't and shouldn't win with a slogan. You're going to have to
earn the presidency . . . with plans that are real. I don't
believe we've done that yet.

    "It's easy to criticize," Cuomo continued, warming to his
indictment. "You want the criticism, I'll give it to you in one
line: `Is your life better today than it was four years ago?'
The answer is so dramatically clear that the contest is over.
But you shouldn't win because he loses. You should win because
you're right. You need specific answers, not sweet speeches. You
need to say how you're going to put ((people)) to work, and the
hard part, how you're going to pay for it. What we need is a
dose of plain truth."

    What now? Cuomo's fans see none of the six major
candidates emerging decisively. They hope for a fractured result
and dream of a second season, when Cuomo enters late or is
drafted at the July convention in New York City. "It doesn't
work that way," says Cuomo, being more truthful than modest.
Well, what about 1996, when Cuomo, who is now 59, will still be
six years younger than Ronald Reagan was on Inauguration Day
1981? In politics, says Cuomo, 1996 "is an eon away, perhaps an
eon and a quarter." Of course, it is really only four years
away, and unless Bush or his successor gets a grip on the
nation's problems, well, who knows?

    Meanwhile the race for the Democratic nomination is now
truly wide open.