Mario Cuomo

by O'Shaughnessy, William;

  So I feel most inadequate indeed to the task of presuming merely to thank you for your marvelous gesture in bestowing your prestigious Gold Medal on Mario Matthew Cuomo, from whom words cascade with such grace and beauty and precision and power on all the great issues of the day.

  The governor, who has graced our influential podium to kick off several seasons, deeply and dearly wishes he could join you. And recently, in a voice laden with emotion and regret, asked me to assure you of that. He loves the Dutch Treat Club, and he loves especially the “give and take” of the question-and-answer sessions that always followed his formal presentations. Every time he appeared I would get a call: “Can’t we just do Q and A? They’re so damn bright!” But Donnelly and Fox always insisted he pay for his lunch with a major address!

  And speaking of which, I hope you’ll allow me just a personal observation while we’re on the subject: I don’t think we’ve encountered—any of us—nicer individuals than our two leaders, John Donnelly and Ray Fox!

  Dutch Treat has a lot of luminous and vivid characters, many here assembled at the Harvard Club tonight.

  Now I won’t intrude for very long on your evening. You’ve struck your Gold Medal for the governor with the lovely—and accurate—phrase “Lifetime Achievement in the Arts.”

  I’ll tell you who would have loved this night: Kitty Carlisle Hart, who for many of her ninety-six years headed the New York State Council on the Arts. Mrs. Hart loved Mario Cuomo. For one thing, he never failed to reappoint her or denied a request for funding! Maybe that’s why she called him “Governor Darling!”

  Come to think of it, I think she called Nelson Rockefeller and Hugh Carey the same thing. But Mario was her absolute favorite!

  When he heard of your generosity and the Arts Gold Medal, the governor dispatched an immediate e-mail touched with his marvelous wit: “I don’t dance; I don’t sing; what do you want of me, O’Shaughnessy?” I’ve thought about this and what we “want” from him even in his eighty-second year. Especially in his eighty-second year.

  We want him only to continue to be Mario Cuomo, to instruct us, to enrich the public discourse all about and around us, to enlighten us, to inspire us. And, to use his own favorite word, to make our world “sweeter” than it is.

  You have chosen well. He’s a great man. And, like I said at the beginning, I’m not worthy to loose the strap of his sandal. He is surely one of the very greatest of our time, who has had a lot written and said about him—as when the Boston Globe called him “the great philosopher-statesman of the American nation.” So a lot of recognition in his already long life; a lot of encomiums for this extraordinary man are appropriate and well deserved.

  And now, by your generous hand, one more: he now has a Dutch Treat Gold Medal, thanks to you.

  Of course Mario took great pride in the accomplishments of his own children. He would be proud of them to this day. A recent example: After Lady Gaga had performed the haunting and beautiful song “ ’Til It Happens to You” at the 2016 Academy Awards earlier this year, Chris Cuomo was telling all his CNN colleagues and Facebook friends that the song was “from my sister Maria Cuomo Cole’s documentary The Hunting Ground, about sexual assault on campus.” Chris reminded his followers that Maria also “runs one of the nation’s largest homeless operations in the country . . . and makes socially conscious documentaries on the side.”

  And then the youngest of Mario’s progeny observed on Facebook: “When I say I never had to look outside my family for role models . . . people rightly assume I’m referring to Pop. And, of course I am. But not just Pop. My family is filled with people who guide my personal and professional behavior. No one does more than Maria. Oh, and she has three amazing daughters and a husband [Kenneth Cole]—and all are trying to make the world a better place in their own ways.”

  The apple doesn’t fall . . .

  Still, on more than one occasion I asked Mario, “Did you ever think about becoming Father Cuomo, a priest?”

  I became Grandfather Cuomo instead. My grandchildren make it very easy. No matter how many elections I lost, strikeouts I suffered when I played baseball, and bad moments I endured, I contributed to the birth of eleven new beautiful creatures, granddaughters, and before them, five others who produced the eleven.

  It’s a good feeling. I know you have grandsons, O’Shaughnessy. When we decide to have grandsons, we are going to have twelve!

  Mario’s departure leaves in Matilda’s care and keeping three daughters—Margaret, Maria, and Madeline—and two sons—Andrew and Christopher—as well as fourteen grandchildren: Emily, Amanda, and Katharine Cole; Samantha, Kristine, and Tess O’Donoghue; Cara, Michaela, and Mariah Cuomo; Christina Perpignano; Mariana Maier; and Bella, Carolina Regina, and that one grandson, Mario Cuomo.

  Those thirteen granddaughters, it should be noted, all arrived in this world well before the grandson, Mario. And in the weeks preceding young Mario’s natal day, his grandfather was telling friends: “Something’s up. Chris has been on the phone to his sisters, inquiring if there are any ‘good girls’ names that haven’t already been taken.’ He’s trying to throw us off the track, I’m sure of it. I think it could be a boy this time!”

  It was. And his name is Mario Cuomo.

  His grandfather also leaves behind his three sons-in-law, who adored him: Brian O’Donoghue, a handsome fireman who, at Mario’s urging, became a successful lawyer; Howard Maier, a wealthy telemarketer and entrepreneur; and the estimable Kenneth Cole, the internationally known designer, merchant prince, philanthropist—and a lovely guy—with whom Mario had breakfast most mornings in recent years. Mario also took special delight in his daughter-in-law Christina Greeven Cuomo, a well-known editor and publisher of upscale magazines, wife of CNN’s Chris Cuomo (and mother of Mario); and Sandra Lee, companion, friend, and very significant other of Andrew. She has become a lifestyle multimedia phenom and is as smart as she is attractive.

  Mario has got to be looking kindly and with great enthusiasm on the enlightened papacy and ministry of Jorge Mario Bergoglio—although his “candidate” during the conclave, let the record show, was Cardinal Timothy Michael Dolan. When a friend suggested they put together a “ticket” with Mario for pope and Mariano Rivera, the great Yankees relief pitcher, for “vice pope,” Cuomo promptly killed the idea. But he did say, “I would take Mariano on the ‘ticket’ if he would show me just once how to hold the ball for [Mariano’s famous killer pitch] the cutter!” But the “Cuomo–Rivera” ticket went nowhere when the power brokers of the Curia gathered to elect the spectacular Jesuit from Argentina who took the name Francis.

  Mario’s friends suggested over the years that he would have made a wonderful priest. His glib but probably true answer was, “Well, I did think of it, for a few brief, fleeting minutes—until I met Matilda Raffa that day in the cafeteria at St. John’s.” Still, one of his favorite quotations was from the Jesuit priest Teilhard de Chardin: “By means of all created things, without exception, the Divine assails us, penetrates us and molds us. We imagine it as distant and inaccessible, whereas, in fact, we live steeped in its burning layers.” Indeed, he did just that.

  His life was a gift, as his son and heir Andrew reminded all those assembled in the big, beautiful Jesuit church on Park Avenue in New York City on that sad but ultimately joyful day in early January where, just a few weeks earlier, the swells from the fashion world had prayed over Oscar de la Renta. De la Renta, the Dominican fashion icon, it should be noted, was praised for the elegance of his eye, whereas Mario M. Cuomo was eulogized for the elegance of his soul. Or, as Hillary Clinton remarked at the end of 2015, the first year without his brilliance and powers of articulation among us, “Mario was not just a great man, he was a good man.” Perfect.

  At the funeral Vice President Joe Biden said Mario was “a man of great intelligence and a moral force who shamed the nation into doing things we should have been doing all along.” The vice president, with a catch in his throat, then added, “I’ve been
in politics in this country since I was a twenty-nine-year-old kid, and the minute I saw Mario Cuomo, I knew he was better than I was.”

  Such was Mario’s impact on his time among us that as of the end of February 2015, more than 10,000 personal notes, letters handwritten and typed, Mass cards, and sympathy and condolence cards were dispatched from all over the world to members of the Cuomo family. Not including the thousands of heartfelt e-mails and social media tributes delivered via the Internet. If, indeed, the measure of a man or woman is related to the lives he or she may have touched, these tens of thousands of expressions of love and admiration show that Mario Cuomo was certainly a man without peer!

  As long as a man’s name is spoken, he is not dead. . . .

  I bless the day we met.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book, which I’ve undertaken as only a “memoir of a friendship,” is not at all intended as a formal biography of Mario M. Cuomo. Others of much greater gifts will in years to come produce more complete and much more learned biographies of the great man who so enriched our lives and elevated the public discourse during our lifetimes.

  I have not the scholarship or the skill to attempt a formal biography. In this personal memoir I’ve tried to let the governor speak for himself in selected excerpts from his soaring speeches, candid radio interviews, notes, musings, commentaries, and correspondence.

  There is so much more to the man awaiting scholars, historians, and even theologians who will one day discover anew Mario Cuomo’s towering genius—and relentless goodness—as more of his work is discovered.

  The greatest and most exhaustive confirmation of Mario’s skill and handling of the dazzling array of issues that daily confront a sitting governor can be found in the New York State Archives and in his personal files, which now reside in the care and keeping of his daughter Maria Cuomo Cole and her husband, the designer-philanthropist Kenneth Cole. She is herself working on a tribute to her father.

  I would also direct those interested in learning more about the governor’s keen knowledge of and great skill in handling the minutiae of governance and his rigorous mastery and attention to the everyday details of running New York state’s $970 billion economy to the bright, dedicated associates who served with him in state government for those heady and productive twelve years, from the first day of 1983 to the last day of 1994.

  Information and specific examples of the governor’s considerable skills at statecraft can be found in the collective—and individual—recollections of Michael DelGiudice, Steven Cohen, William Eimicke, William Mulrow, Drew Zambelli, Jerry Crotty, Al Gordon, David Wright, Tonio Burgos, John Marino, Ellen Conovitz, Stan Lundine, Bob Morgado, Martin Begun, Michael Dowling, Martha Eddison, Stephen Schlesinger, Robert Milano, Mary Porcelli, Pam Broughton, Mary Tragale, Judge Joseph Bellacosa, Bishop Howard Hubbard, Meyer “Sandy” Frucher, Jason P.W. Halperin, Larry Kurlander, Jennifer Cunningham, Dennis Rivera, Jim Cunningham, Dan Klores, Andrew Stengel, Ken Sunshine, Joe Mahoney, Ken Lovett, Vincent Albanese, Martha Borgeson, Pat Caddell, Dan Lynch, Joel Benenson, Hank Sheinkopf, Paul Grondahl, Steve Villano, Luciano Siracusano, Peter Quinn, Kathy Behrens, Leonard Riggio, Joseph Mattone, Dr. Nick D’Arienzo, Marc Humbert, Judge Sam Fredman, Floss Frucher, Vincent Tese, Todd Howe, Lincoln scholar Harold Holzer, Royce Mulholland, John Iacchio, Joseph Percoco, and Joe Spinelli. Researchers should also refer to the papers and archives of the late Tim Russert, Fabian Palomino, Governor Hugh Leo Carey, Geraldine Ferraro, David Garth, Rabbi Israel Mowshowitz, Howard Samuels, David Burke, Judge Judith Kaye, Thomas Constantine, and Joseph Anastasi.

  Another great source for reflection on the governor would be that cadre of Albany political-watchers, which includes the brilliant and cerebral observer Fred Dicker, who as state editor of the New York Post is dean of the Albany press corps. He also broadcasts daily on WGDJ and WVOX. That cadre also includes the stunningly bright Dr. Alan Chartock, who publishes the Legislative Gazette; he also heads a network of public radio stations throughout the Northeast and broadcasts on WAMC and WVOX. Other keen Mario Cuomo observers include the cerebral and erudite Professor Gerald Benjamin and his daughter Liz Benjamin of Time Warner Cable; the WCBS-TV veteran reporter Marcia Kramer; the New Jersey professor, journalist, and author Terry Golway; and the great Wayne Barrett, formerly of the Village Voice. The New Yorker’s Ken Auletta is a great student of Mario Cuomo as well.

  And who, indeed, knows more—then and now—about the levers of government than Governor Andrew Mark Cuomo, who was, in every season, Mario’s confidant and most trusted advisor.

  A great deal of valuable information that may one day be useful to journalists and historians of far greater gifts than I possess resides in the archives of Whitney Radio here in Westchester: Actually, more than eight file drawers filled with correspondence, interviews, notes, pictures, and Cuomo memorabilia await the review and inspection of future scholars, for which permission is hereby granted. Some of these radio conversations, as broadcast over WVOX, are included within the covers of this book, illustrating not only the brilliance and goodness of the man but also his magnificent sense of humor. We also have a complete bound set of Mario Cuomo’s Public Papers, which were given to us by New York State Assemblyman Gary Pretlow.

  Finally, there is also much to be learned—and savored—from the incomparable Matilda Raffa Cuomo, whom Mario once called “the single most effective instrument of our success.” Nobody knew Mario like Matilda, who once told me, in some frustration, “He spends and handles the state’s money like it was his own. He’s very frugal, and very careful.”

  So there will be other—and better—books about Mario M. Cuomo, and maybe someday they’ll even make a movie about his life, the people he inspired, and the lessons he taught us. Incidentally, I’ve got the perfect guy to play the governor: Kevin Spacey. Perfect. Just perfect.

  One of my previous books for Fordham University Press was titled It All Comes Back to Me Now. In the pages of this new book, I have really relied only on my own poor memory. So I hope these deeply personal flashes of déjà vu will do justice to the memory of a great man.

  Thomas Fogarty, a wise man from Pelham, New York, once told me, “Two hundred years from today no one will ever know you existed.” I expect that’s true of thee and me. But as I’ve opined elsewhere in this memoir, I’m absolutely persuaded that Mario’s graceful powers of articulation and his relentless goodness will stand the test of time.

  I’m sure of it.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This has not been an easy book to write.

  By profession, I’m a community broadcaster, and my day job has afforded me a career spanning fifty-eight years. I’ve also stood in great cathedrals and in country churches and given a lot of eulogies for all kinds of friends and acquaintances, politicians, business associates, in-laws (and out-laws!).

  And with the indulgence of the generous inhabitants of the New York area, I’ve also sat the before microphones in our Westchester radio studios reciting tributes and encomiums to the departed—some famous and others merely wonderfully colorful “townie” characters in our home heath.

  But this book is not at all intended as a eulogy. As I suggest elsewhere in these pages, I would have no objection if it might be categorized only as a heartfelt missive or even as a love letter to a unique and special friend. By any name, it was first envisioned as a standalone chapter in my fifth anthology for Fordham, the great Jesuit university press in the City of New York.

  The scholarly and erudite—and altogether forgiving and generous—editors of my previous collections for Fordham at first suggested we again insert “An Obligatory Mario Cuomo Section in Every O’Shaughnessy Book” in my next anthology.

  But with Mario’s passing on January 1, 2015, my wise and prescient editors opted instead for the expanded book you now hold. Like I said, it didn’t come easy, as I had a difficult time, which lingers still, putting Mario Cuomo in the past tense.

  My gratitude to the elders of Fordham
University Press again thus knows no bounds.

  Fordham has an enviable national reputation for bold, timely, and relevant scholarship. And much of the credit for Fordham’s estimable rep goes unequivocally and directly to Director Fred Nachbaur and his brilliant associates, including the stunningly bright Eric Newman, managing editor, who is a literary maestro, and Fred’s assistant, Will Cerbone. I also thank Jennifer Rushing-Schurr, who provided the indexes on some of my earlier books for Fordham as well as for this one.

  This book—and all of Fordham’s recent issues, you should know—also owes a great deal to the dazzling creativity of Ann-Christine Racette, their multitalented production chief and designer. These dedicated folks—all of them—do their magic in a nondescript three-story building that sits cheek-by-jowl next to Fordham’s magnificent Rose Hill Campus in the Bronx. Other stellar denizens of the Press include Kate O’Brien-Nicholson, who justifiably waves Fordham’s banner higher than the standard of any other university press these days, and Margaret Noonan, the “Mother Glue” of this extraordinary publishing enterprise. In 1999 when I came calling down from Westchester with great trepidation bearing the manuscript for my first anthology, Airwaves, a collection of interviews, commentaries, and profiles of the great and the good as well as profiles of the townies and characters in the Golden Apple, Margaret was the first to welcome me.

  This book also owes so much to Anthony Chiffolo, a dear man of many talents who himself once served as managing editor at Fordham. Anthony is a multimedia phenom. He’s a brilliant photographer. He writes prayer books. And he gently and generously forgives my clumsiness with the English language (although he did once remind me that he “edited a pope” and that I might be well advised not to mess with him). Anthony’s enthusiasm—and that of Fred Nachbaur—was essential to this “labor of love.”