Yesterday, the Republican minority in the New York State Senate teamed up with the two worst Democrats in the Senate caucus (one recently indicted for felony battery of his girlfriend, the other a walking campaign finance disaster) in a hamhanded attempt to wrest control of the chamber from the Democratic majority elected last November. Although the status of the attempted coup is sure to be litigated, it appears clear that the Senate was adjourned at the time when the Republicans claim that their reorganization resolution was passed, and that consequently, the Democrats remain in control of the chamber. The Secretary and Sergeant at Arms of the Senate control access to the chamber, and as the Secretary was appointed by the current Majority Leader, Democrat Malcolm Smith, it's highly unlikely that the Senate will again convene until it is definitively established that yesterday's circus was null and void.
What will happen at that point is extremely hazy, and will depend on a number of parliamentary, legal, and political factors that are simply unknowable this morning. But what's clear as the waters of zebra mussel-purified Lake Erie is that the happenings in Albany are critical not just to the 19 million New Yorkers who just seven months ago voted to replace the corrupt, dysfunctional, Republican Senate majority, but to all Americans who demand progressive and transparent government.
For 13 years beginning in 1995, Joe Bruno, a Republican from Rensselaer, ruled the Senate as his own private fiefdom. He dispensed favors like a godfather, and expected favors in return. He had effective veto power over any state action, and abused that power with relish, exacting tribute from citizens, legislators, and governors alike. During Bruno's reign as Majority Leader, New York was saddled with one of the least transparent governments anywhere in the nation -- Albany was the place where "three men in a room" would make all decisions of note, and Joe Bruno made sure he got his as part of any deal. But as the state grew bluer and bluer, as the ire of New Yorkers grew at the sclerosis in the capital, and as Bruno finally came under criminal scrutiny, something had to give -- and last summer, Joe Bruno stepped down as Majority Leader. It was like Erich Honecker resigning as East German dictator -- you knew it wouldn't be long until his regime followed him into ignominy. And sure enough, in November, the Republican hold on the Senate was broken.
With the Democratic majority came real reform. Things weren't perfect, obviously -- Hiram Monserrate, the aforementioned alleged girlfriend-beater, and Pedro Espada, the aforementioned campaign finance scofflaw, were now in the majority -- but the years of a Senate that refused to be accountable to its owners were over. There was a lot of work to do:
Democrats took control of the State Senate last month after more than four decades of Republican rule, then set out to determine how the Senate's own budget of nearly $100 million and its attendant perks were being distributed.
They are still trying to figure it out.
They recently realized there are some 75 employees working at the Senate's own printing plant, a plain brick building on the outskirts of Albany. On Long Island, they found a small television studio, which had been set up — all with public money, with two press aides on hand to help operate it — for the exclusive use of Republican senators to record cable TV shows.
Democrats also came across what they are calling the "Brunomobile," a $50,000 specially outfitted GMC van, with six leather captain's chairs (some swiveling), a navigation system, rearview camera and meeting table. Joseph L. Bruno, the former Senate majority leader who was recently indicted on corruption charges, traveled in the van after his use of state helicopters sparked a feud with the Spitzer administration.
Then there are the parking spots, always at a premium near the Capitol. Democrats had been given roughly one spot per senator — there were 30 Democrats last year — and guessed there were perhaps double or even triple that controlled by the majority. Instead, they have learned, there are more than 800.
And Democratic leaders must determine what to do about 45 workers toiling away in a building close to the Capitol who appear to have been engaged in quasi-political research for the Republicans.
"Every time we nail something down, we uncover another rock and there's another 30 people there — it's all over the state," said Angelo J. Aponte, who as the new secretary of the Senate is the top aide to Malcolm A. Smith, the Queens Democrat who became majority leader last month.
But as Citizen Bruno was busy getting indicted on massive federal corruption charges, the new majority was taking bold steps to fix the basic way that New York works -- reforming the state's notorious Rockefeller drug laws, seeking to limit outside pay for legislators, and -- perhaps most impressively, from our perspective in the netroots -- introducing unprecedented transparency via a new website streaming all Senate business and providing novel opportunities for citizens to get involved in the Senate's business.
This, of course, would not do. A state Republican Party used to treating the Senate as a piggy bank and patronage ATM was not going to let the arriviste Democrats just dismantle everything they'd built. Moreover, the GOP recognized that Democratic control of the Senate meant that the upcoming, post-census federal redistricting process would actually be conducted in a fair and responsive manner, instead of in a way guaranteed to preserve the gerrymandered seats of the three remaining Republicans in the state's House delegation. And billionaire Rochester plutocrat Tom Golisano, who thrice failed to buy the governor's mansion in "independent" bids, and who spent millions to try and bolster the dying GOP's hold on the Senate last year, was appalled that the new Senate wouldn't cut his taxes -- so appalled that he moved into Florida tax exile.
The answer was simple: a coup. A coup which would thwart transparency and reform, restore GOP perks and pork, follow Tom DeLay's playbook for undemocratic redistricting shenanigans, and cut Tom Golisano's taxes. The needs of the many for responsive government would be sacrificed for the needs of a very, very, select few.
And so Tom Golisano, who claimed to be the tribune of clean government, helped broker a deal to give Espada -- a man who spat on basic campaign finance laws -- the president pro tem's seat in the Senate. And the Republicans crowed that they had taken back the majority, and undoubtedly began wondering how long it would take them to reopen their private TV studio and print shop. And somewhere in Texas, Tom DeLay smiled, proud that state legislative hijinks could still result in more House Republicans.
Now, New York Democrats are going to fight this coup. And they're going to need our help, and I'm confident that they'll be asking for it in specific ways in the hours and days that lie ahead. But even if you live 3000 miles from Albany, and even if there's no real way that you can help the Empire State, take heed of what's happening in Albany. Because it's something that could happen in any state capital where Democrats hold a narrow majority, and where powerful interests seek to thwart democracy to get their way. Make no mistake -- this isn't just a New York story.