The power broker : Robert Moses and the fall of New York

by Caro, Robert A

  The reason Moses gave for his 180-degree change of heart was that "after considerable discussion, the Governor included in his proposal a paragraph on protecting the rights of Triborough bondholders." Actually,

  however, nothing new of any major significance to the bondholders had been added to the proposal. Levitt and Duryea knew the real reason: the Governor had bought Moses' support with the only coin in which Moses was interested —power, a promise that he would have it under the revised transportation setup. "I know for a fact that Rockefeller felt he had bought Moses' support," Duryea says. "How [do I know]? I know because one Monday in Albany—it was at one of those Monday-morning so-called leadership conferences—Rockefeller announced that Moses would support his transportation unification program. I said, 'What'd you give him?' And Rockefeller said, 'A promise that he wouldn't be thrown in the ashcan,' that he would be given something substantial in the MTA reorganization." Levitt had even more conclusive proof. To gain maximum impact for his "figures," Moses knew they should be released by someone other than himself, someone who could not be accused of having a personal stake in the defeat of the transportation proposal. On March 8, the day before his conference with the Governor, he had telephoned Levitt, who recalls: "He called me up and said, T want to see you. I have figures . . . and I want you to use them and blast Rockefeller.' The very next day, I had to go to Fifty-fifth Street for a meeting of the state pension fund. I didn't know what room to go in, and I was wandering around from room to room, trying doors, and I opened one, and there, to my surprise, was Moses and his whole coterie. I said, 'What are you doing here?' He said, 'Oh, waiting to see the Governor.' I said, 'Where are those figures?' He said, 'Oh, I'll send them to you,' in a hedging tone of voice. And the next day he comes out for MTA. I never got the figures."

  Van Arsdale and Brennan knew the reason, too. Rockefeller had also told it to them. The day after Moses' announcement of support, Brennan— previously conspicuously silent on the Governor's proposal—chimed in with his. The Times story announcing the arrival on board of the powerful unionist contained a sentence whose source was apparently Brennan himself: "It was learned . . . that Governor Rockefeller had offered Robert Moses a seat [on the MTA board] ... as well as continued direction" of Triborough. Brennan himself confirms that Rockefeller had given "Van and I" that impression: "The Governor said he would have an important part [for Moses]." Not satisfied with that vague statement, the two unionists asked Rockefeller precisely what that meant. He told them he had given Moses what Moses wanted: "He told us Moses wanted a part of the construction." "Will he have a part?" Brennan asked. "And the Governor said, 'Oh, absolutely. We know his talents, his ability, and we want to use them.' " Rockefeller was careful to leave the same impression with the public. The Governor told reporters that each of the authorities, while being merged, would "retain [its] identity and be under the administrative direction of an executive head in charge of operations," who, the Times reported, "would possibly have the title of president of the agency." President of Triborough — that sounded even better than "Chairman."

  Moses appears to have had no doubt that the Governor would keep

  his promise. His statement announcing his support of the referendum had stated: "If the verdict is favorable, all the talent and available Oil

  be recruited to realize the exceedingly complex, long-term improvement He had no doubt that that talent would, in the field:- of highways and bridges, continue to be his own. And with that assurance in hand, he proceeded during the seven months prior to the referendum to prove that he would violate any principle—even that most sacred one to which he had always sworn allegiance, the sacredness of the bondholders' covenants— to keep power. He outdid himself in support of the referendum; when Rockefeller didn't contact him, he called the Governor's office to ask for an appointment so that he could learn how he could best be of assistance in persuading voters, and following that meeting, he lied for the referendum (although he knew that bond revenues were slated for approach roads to his proposed Long Island Sound Crossing, he told the press: "Statements . . . that the pending transportation proposition is to be tapped to pay in whole or in part for the Long Island Sound Crossing . . . are wholly irresponsible and malicious. Not a cent of state subvention, aid or credit is required. . . ."); poured money behind it, using Triborough funds to pay for a full-scale advertising campaign ("Traffic—Commuter—Transit Delays Got Your Goat? Don't Sit And Grumble. Get Out And VOTE!"), plastering Triborough's toll booths with huge "VOTE YES!" signs—and repeatedly flattered the Governor so enthusiastically and obsequiously ("Governor Rockefeller has . . . guts"; "It takes a lot of courage and faith to ask the voters to approve a $2.5 billion . . .") that at times he seemed to be almost desperately trying to reassure Rockefeller that the Governor wouldn't have to worry about his loyalty after the reorganization, that he could be a loyal member of his team.

  After an almost equally frantic statewide campaign by Rockefeller, the referendum passed, but there remained another, equally important reason to keep Moses on board. There was still the possibility of a legal fight over whether the Triborough bond covenants would be violated by the merger of the Authority into a larger authority—a question which, it seemed likely, could, if pressed, be resolved only one way: in the bondholders' favor.

  Any party to a contract can bring suit if he feels it has been violated. There were two parties to the contracts that were the Triborough bonds— the Authority and the bondholders, represented by the trustee Chase Manhattan Bank.

  Prior to his March 9 meeting with Rockefeller, Moses had prepared to have the Authority bring suit; he had instructed Sam Rosenman to gear up for a full-scale, no-holds-barred legal battle. But after his March 9 meeting with Rockefeller, he had Rosenman stand down, at least in part; the attorney, on behalf of Triborough, joined Dewey, representing Chase Manhattan, in attacking the proposal to use the Authority's surpluses, but let the former Governor carry the load, following through only pro forma, and he dropped opposition to the merger, the part that would have deprived Moses of power—because, of course, Moses believed Rockefeller had

  promised him power after the merger as well. "I understand that he had a promise that he would be part of the MTA board," Dewey was to recall. "I don't think Rosenman would have been so cooperative with the MTA if Moses hadn't thought that he'd have a place."

  Of the circumstances surrounding the final removal of Robert Moses from power, the key one—the resolution of the suit against the merger that, if successful, could have kept him in power—remains shrouded in mystery.

  Two things are clear. One: that, in the opinion of almost every legal expert on municipal and public authority bonds, if the suit had been prosecuted vigorously, it would have been successful—the merger would have been voided. Until all its $367,200,000 bonds had been redeemed, the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority would have remained an independent, autonomous agency, and if the Authority chose not to redeem its bonds, it would have remained independent and autonomous indefinitely. Two: that the suit was not prosecuted vigorously. Why the suit was not prosecuted vigorously is not known.

  Chase Manhattan had certainly given the impression that it intended to press the suit to the limit when it was filed in June 1967. The retaining of Dewey as counsel seemed proof enough of that, and the bank's initial sixteen-page, thirty-six-count complaint instituting the action seemed determined. Transfer of the Authority's surpluses or income to the Metropolitan Transportation Authority would, the bank's complaint stated, cause the bondholders the bank represented "irreparable injury, for which they have no remedy at law." Both state statute—the New York public authorities law —and the Authority's contract with its bondholders forbade such a financial merger until all bonds were paid off and the contract thus voided, the complaint stated. An administrative merger was similarly illegal, the brief stated, forbidden by Federal and State Constitutions and state law as well as bond covenants, and was injurious to bondholders because the a
ims and interests of the TBTA and those of the MTA contained a basic, irreconcilable conflict: "Triborough must facilitate the use of its projects by motor vehicles whereas the MTA and the TA must facilitate the use of their respective train and subway service systems, therebv diverting traffic from Triborough bridge and tunnel projects."

  Following passage of the referendum, the suit was resumed, but all through December and January, intensive negotiations were being carried out between representatives of Governor Nelson Rockefeller and those of his brother David, Chase Manhattan's president and absolute boss. And the suit was finally settled not in court, open or closed, but in the Governor's Fifty-fifth Street townhouse. shortly after 9 a.m., February 9, 1968, at a fifty-minute meeting attended by the two brothers, each attended by one aide, Dewey for David and Ronan for Nelson. At this meeting, a three-page stipulation previously drawn up by attorneys for both sides was signed by Nelson Rockefeller on behalf of the State of New York and David Rocke-

  The Last Stand jj^i

  feller on behalf of the Chase Manhattan Bank. Following the meeting, the stipulation was taken to the chambers of the judge who would have

  sitting on the case had there been a case—State Supreme Court Justice William C. Hecht, Jr.—and sealed, not to be seen by any outsider or newspaperman. Under the stipulation, the Governor's family's bank dropped all opposition to the Governor's transportation merger, the merger under which the Triborough board—Robert Moses, chairman—was supplanted by the MTA board—Dr. William J. Ronan. chairman. The point that Moses had always believed would keep him in power, therefore, was not contested— even by Moses. On his instructions. Rosenman agreed on behalf of Triborough that the merger was constitutional and legal. The crucial point was not contested bv anyone.

  What Chase got in exchange is not known, although it continued to head syndicates—as it had in the past—that underwrote and purchased tens of millions of dollars in state bonds, immensely profitable to banks.

  Even such a bonus would probably not have persuaded the normal bank—run by a board of directors responsible to a multitude of stockholders —to abrogate its legal obligations, thereby leaving itself open to stockholder action. A bank controlled by a single family could do so, however. In the entire United States, only one bank large enough to be a trustee for $367,200,000 in bonds is still family controlled. What was necessary to remove Moses from power was a unique, singular concatenation of circumstances: that the Governor of New York be the one man uniquely beyond the reach of normal political influences, and that the trustee for Triborough's bonds be a bank run by the Governor's brother.

  Why did Moses choose to rest his future on Rockefeller's word? At least part of the answer is probably understood by the perceptive Duryea. who says he had little choice but to do so. "He didn't have much left to fight with any more," the Speaker says. And probably another part is provided by Shapiro, who, asked why his boss had not exacted a promise in writing, says: "I suppose because he couldn't really believe that they wouldn't want him in the picture at all. I mean, they wanted the bridge [Sound Crossing] built, didn't they 0 They wanted the program pushed, didn't they? And he was the only one who could push it like it should be pushed. He just couldn't understand that they might not feel like that, I suppose. I mean, it had always been like that before . . ."

  Rockefeller promise to Moses had served its purpose well. It had kept Moses quiet for almost a year, persuaded him not to oppose Rockefeller's transportation merger or the referendum which had funded it. The Governor's promise had, moreover, persuaded Moses to withdraw the lawsuit which might have invalidated Rockefeller's transportation merger. It had enabled Rockefeller to use his name.

  And now, having used his name, having gotten everything out of him that he could, the Governor threw him away.

  Up until the very day on which the crucial stipulation was signed and sealed, all was honey between the Governor and the old man, now seventy-nine. On February 9, the day it was signed, Moses still believed he had a firm promise that he would have a substantial role in the new setup, possibly as president or executive head of Triborough, certainly as a member of the MTA board. Then, with less than three weeks before the merger was to take effect, the mask dropped away.

  Immediately following the stipulation signing, Moses telephoned the Governor for an appointment. He got one—and when they met, Rockefeller apparently repeated his promise. Moses says that the Governor "told me I would be appointed to the MTA and would have the title of president or something of the sort at the head of Triborough under the general supervision of the MTA." But, Moses says, "Dr. Ronan did not like this." Perry Duryea says that "Moses asked me—really to intercede—with the Governor and Ronan to attempt to guarantee that he would get a meaningful position. He didn't ask me himself; he had someone else [Shapiro says it was he] ask me if we could get together and I went to his apartment in New York. He had met with Ronan and Rockefeller the week before and he left that meeting with a very bad taste in his mouth. He felt the Governor hadn't given him the time he deserved. The Governor was in and out of the room, the conference was interrupted. It was left that Ronan would call him in a week. And he hadn't heard from Ronan. And the deadline ..." The deadline—the date for the merger—was midnight, February 29. At 12:01 a.m., March 1, the Triborough board would go out of existence. He would be out of a job— out of power completely.

  Duryea felt sorry for Moses. "It was his dream to be part of the new transportation setup," the Speaker says. "He still felt the drive and the involvement, the old fire horse when the bell clangs. Here was this great new thing going forward—he wanted to be part of it." Duryea agreed to intercede on the old man's behalf, and thereafter, no more than a day or two at most before the merger took effect, Ronan contacted Moses.

  He offered Moses a post as "consultant" to the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority. The post, he said, carried with it a salary of $25,000 a year and continued use of his limousine, his chauffeurs and his secretaries. Moses would be in charge of "coordinating" Triborough's present construction program, and his "primary responsibility" would be the Long Island Sound Crossing.

  Whether Moses could bring himself to question Ronan further about the "details" of this offer himself, or whether he had an intermediary do it, is not known, but with each answer he received, his humiliation must have deepened. For there were no further "details." That offer was all there was. He had thought he had been promised a seat on the MTA board; there was no mention of such a seat now; during the next day or two, in fact, Ronan announced the names of the nine members of the board of the agency that would be responsible for all intrastate public transportation in the New

  York metropolitan region—the name of Robert Moses was not among them Moses had thought he had had a promise of Triborough : presidency; 01 at least its chief executive officer, whatever the precise title might be; Ronan did not make any mention of such a promise now; in fact, when Moses or his intermediary asked Ronan directly about it, Ronan replied that there would be a chief executive officer—but it would be Joseph F. Vermaelen. Moses' chief engineer. Vermaelen, and Lebwohl, and the rest of Moses' team, would report directly to the MTA staff.

  Analyzing the offer only deepened the humiliation. "Coordinating" Triborough's current construction program was a meaningless phrase: that program consisted only of a relatively minor reconstruction of the Cross Bay Bridge and the adding of a second deck on the Verrazano—and those projects were already under way. The Sound Crossing would be a great project, but no one knew when it would start—and it would probably not start soon. And that was only one project—one for a man accustomed to directing dozens. "Don't take all Bob's toys away," Moses' wife had begged the Governor. Well, the Governor hadn't. He had left him one—or, to be more precise, the promise of one. When the implications of what Ronan was saying sank in, Moses realized that he was being allowed, almost as a gesture of charity, to keep the perquisites of office—the car, the chauffeurs, the secretaries—but not so muc
h as a shred of power. He could if he wished stay on at the Authority he had created and made strong and great, but not only would he no longer be in charge of it, he would no longer have any say in its affairs. Even the men around him, his muchachos, the men who had looked to him for leadership for so many years, would now be reporting to someone else.

  The offer was a slap in the face. But there was no other offer. The fatal deadline of March i was upon him; he had no choice but to accept it; on the very last day before the merger was to take effect, he did so. His statement to the press, issued the following day, the day the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority, the last remaining arm of once twelve-armed "Triborough," became a unit of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, was one sentence long:

  "The Metropolitan Transportation Authority has offered me an advisory post in the metropolitan transportation enterprise, and I have accepted."

  More poignant than his statement on the day of the merger was his attitude. Ronan had scheduled for that day a ceremonial tour of some of the Transit Authority and Triborough facilities by the members of the MTA board. Believing he would be one of them, Moses had invited Ronan and the board to lunch with him at Randall's Island, and Ronan had accepted. Now, though he sat at the head of the big table in the big dining room as he had sat there at a thousand lunches during the thirty-four years he had been head of Triborough, he had to know that he was sitting there only by sufferance, that he, who so loved to be the gracious host, was in reality not