I keep up with politics. Or so I thought until yesterday when I drove through my town and saw a storefront with the requisite red, white and blue and a sign that read, “Joe DioGuardi for Senate.”  My first thought was, “We have a Senatorial campaign this year?  Is Chuck Schumer up for re-election?  Is DioGuardi his Republican opponent?”

   

Way to pay attention, dumbass.  In fact, there are two campaigns: Schumer’s, in which he will be effectively unopposed, and Kirsten Gillibrand’s, in a special election to fill out the remainder of Hillary Clinton’s term.   DioGuardi, an ex-Congressman, is the Conservative Party candidate against Gillibrand, though he’s petitioning to get onto the Republican primary ballot.

  

This got me to pondering the rather checkered recent history of New York state politics.  New York will never be South Carolina, where you need a verifiable psychological disorder to run for public office.  Nor will it be Illinois or Louisiana, where the State Penitentiaries feature a Governor’s Suite.  But let’s just say that when New York holds elections, there are no reported absences at Mensa meetings.

  

My first political memory is my idealistic 13-year-old self in 1964 sticking out my hand to try to shake Bobby Kennedy’s as he campaigned in my town for the Senate.  (Couldn’t quite reach far enough.)  Kennedy began a grand tradition of carpetbagging in New York, later continued by Hillary Clinton and hopefully discontinued after Harold Ford’s decision not to run shortly after a disastrous appearance on The Colbert Report in February. ("Evidently, six minutes at my interview table counts as New York State residency.")

  

For a time in the 1970s, the New York Senate seats were held by two of our more honorable legislators, Daniel Patrick Moynihan and liberal Republican Jacob Javits.  (Remember liberal Republicans?  They went out with 8-tracks and pet rocks.)  Unfortunately, Javits is best remembered now as being the namesake of a West Side convention center boondoggle, for which there is no nearby subway stop and which has been reportedly rife with Mob influence.   

   

Oh, and Javits is remembered for losing the Republican primary in 1980 while suffering from ALS and refusing to decline the Liberal Party nomination, splitting the ballot so New Yorkers could elect a yutz named Alfonse D’Amato.  Not to cast aspersions, but I could easily picture Al sitting at the bar of the Bada Bing while Tony Soprano passes him an envelope full of cash. I shan’t bore you with the details of his H.U.D. bid-rigging to obtain inexpensive housing for family and friends, nor shall I dwell on how his brother, who was friends with mobsters, used D’Amato’s Senate stationery to bid for contracts, nor will I list the numerous offensive comments for which he had to apologize.  I will admit, however, to having a soft spot in my heart for a guy who reads the D.C. phone book aloud during a filibuster.  (Have you ever said about an actor, “I’d pay to see him read the phone book”?  Well, I’ve done it!)  

   

After New Yorkers got tired of D’Amato’s act, electing Charles Schumer, about whom Bob Dole famously said, “The most dangerous place in Washington is between Schumer and a television camera,” Republicans seemed to give up, nominating a succession of empty suits, most of whom barely merit a Wikipedia mention, of whom the most notable is Hillary Clinton’s 2000 opponent, Rick Lazio.

   

Hillary’s election was not a given and her lead was only single digits until they held a debate where Lazio pulled the equivalent of Dukakis-in-a-tank.  Lazio was trying to goad Hillary into a signing a pledge not to accept soft money, not unreasonably, but during the debate, he left the podium, marched over in front of Hillary, and waved the papers in her face, insisting that she sign them.  By the time he had returned to his podium, his poll numbers had plummeted, as moderate women abandoned his sinking ship.  For the next few days, New York papers were filled with testimonials from women saying that Lazio reminded them of ex-husbands angrily waving divorce papers in their faces.  (And what is Lazio doing now?  He’s the leading candidate to get the Republican nomination for Governor.  Who says Republicans don’t support recycling?)

   

Now we have the return of DioGuardi, the father of American Idol judge Kara DioGuardi, who served two terms as a Congressman in the 1980s.  His Wikipedia page doesn’t tell you why he’s an ex-Congressman, so I will.  During DioGuardi's 1988 re-election campaign, Joseph Crabtree, a local car dealer and chairman of DioGuardi’s campaign finance committee, gave his dealership employees large bonus checks for – talk about coincidence! – the exact amount they had donated to the DioGuardi campaign, over $50,000 total.  Crabtree, who eventually pleaded guilty to violating federal election and tax laws, claimed that DioGuardi concocted the scheme.

   

But if you think I’m just bashing Republicans – and I’d need a whole other column to do justice to former Republican District Attorney Jeanine Pirro and her sleazeball husband - just remember that blue state New York is nominally run by the Democrats, though the word “run” should only be used if followed by the phrase “into the ground.”  Have you met our two most recent Governors, Eliot Spitzer and David Paterson, or as I call them, “Client 9 and Plan 9?” 

  

Spitzer, famous for vigorously prosecuting any prostitution ring of which he was not a client, resigned after being caught with his pants down and his socks on.  Apparently, Spitzer was following in the fine tradition of Nelson Rockefeller, who dropped dead in his mistress’ apartment, not exactly the definition of “getting stiff” that he had in mind. On a side note, politicos who apologize for their "lapse [singular] in judgment" remind me of the song from Chicago, where a murderess proclaims innocence: “He ran into my knife!  He ran into my knife ten times!” 

  

After Spitzer resigned, Paterson spent his first day in office regaling reporters with admissions of past infidelities and drug use, as if he was trying to prove he belonged in the big leagues.  He later “distinguished” himself by interfering in a domestic violence probe of his buddy.  You would have thought that Paterson could have at least compensated for these faux-pas with a little competence; excuse me while I suppress my giggles.  In fact, Paterson’s search for an appointee for Hillary’s vacant seat was so inept that it made Rod Blagojevich’s attempt to sell Obama’s seat seem principled.

  

With Paterson essentially a lame duck since the day he took office, the real power in Albany is in the State Senate, or as local columnist Phil Reisman calls it, “The Insane Clown Posse.”  In the summer of 2009, it pulled a series of stunts that would have been rejected as implausible if included in a Hollywood script.

  

Democrats held a Senate majority of 32-30 – until two Democrats announced they were switching parties, throwing power to the Republicans.  What, you think the two must have been very principled to make this move?  C’mere, come closer so I can smack you upside the head. 

  

The first clown was Hiram Monserrate, who at the time was awaiting trial on charges of slashing his girlfriend’s face with a broken glass; when Monserrate was convicted several months later – though not of the most serious charge – he was expelled from the Senate. The second clown was a bozo named Pedro Espada, who nominally represents the Bronx though everyone knows he lives in Westchester.  (We’re kinda lax on residency requirements.)

   

After a week, Monserrate returned to the Democratic fold, creating a 31-31 tie and a true checkmate since Paterson had never been replaced as Lieutenant Governor. (Guess which state has no provision for filling a vacant Lieutenant Governor’s post.)  During the chaos, Espada had gotten himself chosen Temporary Senate President and tried to claim, not very convincingly, the tie-breaking vote.  (Guess which State Senator threatened to sue Paterson when he tried to appoint Richard Ravitch as Lt. Gov.)

  

Meanwhile, the Democrats were frustrated that, since Republicans refused to show up for work, they were unable to claim to quorum to vote on any Important Legislation.  Until one day, when Republican Sen. Frank Padavan, frustrated by the amount of reporters clogging the hallway, took a shortcut through the Senate chambers to get a cup of coffee.  Democrats immediately declared a quorum – you can’t make this stuff up - and began passing legislation without so much as a discussion.  Even Paterson found this beyond the pale and refused to sign anything.

  

Several weeks later, Espada switched back to the Democrats and things returned to “normal,” though not before a $120,000 state job had miraculously opened up for – c’mon, you can guess it – Pedro Espada Jr.  But it wasn’t a no-show job, oh no sir.  In fact, Espada Jr. allowed a New York Post reporter into his office.  This is what’s known as a Bad Idea:

 

But Espada -- who arrived at the building only after being told that The Post was on the scene -- seemed unfamiliar with the layout of the office suite. At one point, he appeared to take direction to his office from a Senate spokesman who chaperoned the interview. The room was dark when Espada arrived, with nothing on the desk. He appeared nervous and fiddled with his BlackBerry when asked to recount activities of the day.  He was unable to log on to the computer or point to a single item in the room that could confirm the office had belonged to him.

 

Espada Jr. resigned his job a few days later.  You’re probably thinking, “Wow, his dad got royally screwed by that deal.”  Come on now.  Who do you think is the current Majority Leader of the Senate?

  

I haven’t mentioned the wife-beating mayor of White Plains.  Or the Westchester County Legislator who, a few months ago, thought nobody would notice his upstate bust for cocaine possession.  Or Charlie Rangel who, despite being Chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, may have been a bit careless in filing his taxes.  And wow, I haven’t even mentioned New York City, now there’s a treasure trove….